Free Moonlight and Ashes by Sophie Masson Page A

reputation for glamour, I thought it appropriate.
    â€˜My name is Mademoiselle Camille St Clair,’ I announced loftily, ‘and I am expected.’
    I don’t know if it was my confident tone or my borrowed glamour but the guards offered no resistance or protest. They only nodded a little bemusedly and let me through without even asking me where my carriage was.
    I went through the courtyard towards the lights and music of the ballroom. At the door a footman took my cloak while another asked who he should announce, thenI was sweeping in, straight into the bright hubbub of the ball.
    Couples whirled about the floor and for a moment I could not see my family amongst them. I spied Odette first, whirling in the arms of burly Count Otto (I recognised the ‘face like a bulldog’ at once!). Then Babette, dancing with a man I recognised at once to be the Prince. Dressed in the sky-blue uniform, he was just as I’d seen in the miniature, with golden epaulets on his shoulder. He was blond and good-looking, though not quite as handsome as in the pictures. His eyes were a paler shade of blue, his hair less golden, his lips a little thinner and the expression on his face not as appealing. Still, he was a handsome man. Of my father there was no sign but I caught sight of Grizelda, sitting at a little table on the opposite side of the room with the ladies she called her dearest friends. She was looking like the cat that got the cream and they were looking like that same cream was choking them!
    It would have been quite amusing if I hadn’t been so nervous. All my old doubts and fears came rushing back and suddenly all I wanted to do was to turn around and walk away. But at that moment the dance stopped. As the Prince bowed to Babette, the footman stepped forward to announce me and the Prince looked straight at me. He smiled and, leaving Babette standing there, he came towards me.
    â€˜May I have the pleasure of this dance, Mademoiselle St Clair?’
    â€˜It would be an honour,’ I stammered, aware of all the eyes on me, especially those of my stepmother and stepsisters. But I need not have worried; though an expressionof slight puzzlement flashed across Grizelda’s face, neither Babette’s nor Odette’s expressions showed a flicker of recognition – only spiteful curiosity. The protective glamour of the hazel tree must have dazzled them so that they did not see any familiarity in my face or what I was wearing. I offered up a silent thanks to my mother as the Prince took my hand and led me to the centre of the room.
    Fortunately my mother taught me to dance – although I think the shoes would have helped me if I had needed it, for I felt as though they hardly touched the floor as the Prince and I glided around the room.
    Close up, those first impressions were reinforced. Yes, he was handsome – even very handsome – but there was a hint of temper to the tight lips and a touch of arrogance in his blue eyes that made me feel a little wary. He was an excellent dancer and he soon set out to be charming as he whirled me around the floor, asking me about myself (I said I was a visitor from Champaine) but mostly showering me with compliments and claiming that his evening had been dull till I had walked into the room. I can’t say I disliked what he said – I especially liked imagining how furious Babette would have been had she heard – for it was sweet balm after so many years of spite and disregard. But it did not go as deep as my heart, for despite the fine words and the admiring looks, there was still something about him that I did not warm to.
    But when the dance ended, he asked me for another. And by the end of the second dance just about every mother in the room, and most of their daughters, were looking daggers at me – especially Grizelda and her daughters. I could see them whisper to each other, probablywondering who this interloper was who had