Morgaine2005 – I actually considered having Armorique use Salic Law before I decided that it was probably too late to introduce such a major element like that into the story.

The Duke and Duchess

Cinderella had hoped - rather too optimistically, in hindsight - that her conversation with Princess Frederica would last only for a single dance. It was actually midway through the fifth dance before Cinderella, with Frederica a step behind her, returned to the ballroom from the out of the shadowy corridor. As Cinderella made her way through those who, for whatever reason, were sitting out the dance and congregating around the fringes of the brightly lit ballroom, she beheld Eugene dancing with a rather beautiful woman with soft, dark brown hair, dressed in a gown of lace that swirled around her as she danced with Eugene. Distance and twirling motion kept Cinderella from getting a good look at her, but she easily seemed one of the prettiest women in the ballroom. Yet Cinderella couldn't recall seeing her before, in spite of the fact that she seemed - allowing, again, for the fact that it was difficult to tell - to be older than Cinderella was.

I suppose that no one knew me when I first arrived at the palace, and I was a little old for a debutante, Cinderella thought. But unless this lady has been kept as a servant by her stepmother too it is a little strange.

"Do you know who that is, dancing with your husband?" Frederica asked from behind Cinderella.

Cinderella glanced over her shoulder. "No, I don't. I thought you might; you seem to know so many things."

Frederica chuckled. "I'm flattered, but no, not in this case. I've not met her either but then, I have only been in this country a little longer than you've been in society. I only came for Prince Eugene's ball. I wasn't supposed to stay unless I could secure His Highness' hand."

"Why did you?"

Frederica shrugged. "I like it here. I prefer it to my home, or anywhere else that I might go." She smiled. "So, a mysterious and beautiful stranger in the palace. Are you worried?"

Cinderella snorted. "No, Frederica, I'm not worried in the slightest."

Frederica was smirking, Cinderella could see it as she came to stand alongside her. "She is very pretty."

"And I am the mother of Eugene's child, his wife, his princess," Cinderella said calmly. "I'm not afraid of losing him any more." In the early months of her marriage that fear, verging upon an irrational terror, had gripped Cinderella's heart and soul: the fear that one day Eugene would wake up to what he had done in marrying a poor servant girl like her and cast her aside in favour of a wife more suitable, from a more appropriate station in life. It was a fear that had, for many of Cinderella's enemies, been a fondest hope. Serena, Grace, even Theodora perhaps, they had all dreamed of the day when Eugene would come to his senses, put Cinderella aside, and marry one of them instead. But it had never happened, and eventually Serena had resorted to trying to make it happen in an admission that it would not occur of its own volition. Cinderella was beyond such fears now, they seemed almost childish to her; and in any case she had - thank God - never been inclined to jealousy. Certainly she felt no need to be jealous of every other woman Eugene might dance with, however beautiful she might be. He had chosen Cinderella and she had faith in that choice, and in their love for one another. It was too great to be so swiftly broken, if at all.

"I envy you your confidence," Frederica said softly. "Although I worry I should pity it at the same time."

"Why?"

"Even men who love their wives can stray, especially when their wives are pregnant," Frederica said. "You may find that he-"

"No," Cinderella said firmly. "Eugene wouldn't do that."

"You seem very certain."

"If I wasn't absolutely certain I couldn't stay here," Cinderella said. "I'd rather go back to my stepmother and slave for her than stay with a husband who would treat me that way." At least my stepmother's cruelty would be honest. Even at her worst and most insecure moments Cinderella had never thought that Eugene would betray their marriage bed; she had feared he might dissolve their marriage, yes, but not that he would take lovers within the marriage. Never that.

Frederica was silent for a moment. "I hope you're right," she said. "Truly, I do. I suppose that I cannot fully embrace your optimism...although fate certainly appears to have blessed your faith so far."

Whatever Cinderella might have said in reply to that was forestalled by the appearance of Brigadier General Etienne Gerard, wearing the gaudy uniform of a hussar with gold brocade stretched covering the breast of his scarlet jacket. Tall, a little gaunt and with a nose that made him look a little like a bird of prey, Etienne was Prince Eugene's oldest and his closest friend. It was being neither unkind nor unfair to say that he had been no friend to Cinderella when first they met, but now she hoped and thought they understood each other better.

The fact that he was engaged to Cinderella's dressmaker Lucrecia, with their wedding now mere days away, was of some help in that regard.

Etienne sidled along the front of the crowd before offering Cinderella a bow. "Good evening, your highness."

"Good evening, general," Cinderella said, holding out her hand for him to kiss. "How are you? How is Lucrecia?"

"We are both well, although Lucrecia is growing a little impatient," Etienne replied. "It seems that our engagement seemed much longer for her here at home than it did for me in the field abroad."

Cinderella chuckled. "Well, neither of you have much longer to wait. I can't wait to see what Lucrecia looks like."

"Neither can I, ma'am," Etienne remarked. "And how are you feeling?"

Cinderella smiled fondly at the familiar question. "Very well, general, or as well as can be expected at least. Whatever discomfort I suffer, I know that it will be more than worth it in the end."

"I'm glad to hear it, ma'am," Etienne said. He glanced towards Eugene as the dance came to an end. "I understand Her Grace has engaged His Highness for the next dance also so, if you will do me the honour?" He held out his hand to her.

"I'd be delighted, general, but what does Lucrecia say to this?"

"Lucrecia says it's a crying shame for such a beautiful ball gown to be standing idle instead of dancing, ma'am," Etienne said.

Cinderella laughed. "I've no idea if you just made that up or not, but very well. I would be honoured to take your hand, General Gerard."

She placed her fingertips in his open palm and allowed him to lead her out onto the dance floor. It was a slow dance, and not too tiring to Cinderella as began to move across the ballroom. General Gerard was not a great dancer like Eugene, but he was precise in his movements and he knew the steps well enough.

"I confess, princess, that I had something of an ulterior motive in asking for your hand," he said.

Cinderella raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, general?"

"I thought that you might like to know just who has claimed Prince Eugene for the moment."

"I don't think I've ever seen her before," Cinderella said.

"No, you wouldn't have," Etienne replied. "She is the Duchess of Cornouaille, and she and her husband have been abroad since before you were discovered. Greece, I think. They've only just returned, I was a little surprised to see them here."

"Cornouaille," Cinderella mused. "I've read that name somewhere, but I can't quite remember where."

"The Duke is Prince Eugene's cousin, only son of His Majesty's late brother," Eugene said. "At present he stands second in line for the throne, although of course your child will knock him back into third place once born, and any future children will only push him further down the succession."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. She had known from her lessons in history and politics that His Majesty had been the elder of two sons, but the books she had been given to read had said little more than that, and Cinderella had gathered from speaking to Augustina that the two brothers had not gotten on with one another, and indeed had barely seen each other once they grew up. The younger brother had received a dukedom and had rarely stirred from it afterwards until his death. Augustina couldn't tell her why, and what she could say was mostly just gossip anyway. Cinderella hadn't asked His Majesty about it; it wasn't her place to pry into his past. "I suppose I should introduce myself to them once the dance is over."

"I'm sure that they will introduce themselves to you as soon as they notice that you have returned to the ballroom," Etienne said. "That is the proper way."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you're right," Cinderella said. "When you say you were surprised to see them here, what did you mean? I've heard that the King's brother was a little reclusive, but are they the same?"

"Perhaps not reclusive, but…" Etienne hesitated for a moment. "I honestly cannot think of anybody who can claim to know them well. Make of that what you will." He frowned briefly. "I apologise, princess, it isn't my place to tell you what to think. You should make up your own mind."

Cinderella smiled. "I'll try my best, general; thank you."

The dance concluded, and Cinderella curtsied to Etienne – who bowed to her in turn – before she turned towards Eugene, who looked to her in turn with what seemed to Cinderella to be almost like relief on his face.

Cinderella picked up the folds of her gown and crossed the floor to where he stood side by side with the Duchess of Cornouaille. She was, Cinderella could see more clearly now that she was standing still and presenting her face, a few years older than Cinderella, although she was by no means old; she was, as Cinderella had thought when she first caught sight of her, very beautiful, with hazel green eyes accentuated by the dark shadow she had applied over them. Her hair, dark brown and soft looking, was worn in a large bun at the nape of her neck, and her head was crowned with a pearl-and-diamond tiara that was, if anything, even more magnificent than Cinderella's own. A luxuriant diamond and ruby necklace descended down from around her neck towards the neckline of her gown, which was fashioned of lace and almost transparent in places, so fine that the Duchess' skin showed through from beneath it.

As Cinderella approached, she was joined by a man whom Cinderella took to be the duke, Eugene's cousin: tall, with fair hair that was receding on top to leave him with a bald crown much like his uncle the King, his nose and chin alike were sharp leaving him with the impression of something of a glare in his blue eyes as he faced Cinderella.

Eugene held out one hand to her as she approached; a hand which she silently accepted. He said, "Cinderella, I'd like you to meet my cousin Henry and his wife Anne, the Duke and Duchess of Cornouaille."

Cinderella smiled. "I'm very pleased to meet you, your grace. I heard that you've been in Greece."

"Italy, actually," said Duchess Anne. "We were there for the last year, we've only just returned. Rome, Venice, Naples, all of the usual haunts, although we stayed mostly in Milan didn't we, darling?"

"Yes, dear, we did."

"Was it very pleasant there?" Cinderella asked.

"Oh, you have no idea, your highness," said Duchess Anne. "The culture, the history, why, we have brought back some twenty pieces of classical art and sculpture that were simply being left to decay, weren't they Henry?"

"Thirty pieces, dear, not counting the reproductions."

The Duchess smiled brilliantly. "My home is a temple to the relics of antiquity. The truth is I would live in Italy permanently but Henry insists that we must return home, if only infrequently, in order to take care of business."

"What sort of business calls you home this time, cousin?" Eugene asked. "Whatever it is, your business rarely leaves you the leisure to attend balls or galas."

Eugene had spoken in a light, almost frivolous tone, but Duke Henry's expression remained still and on the verge of seriousness. "I was as astonished as anyone in the world to learn that you had married while I was in Italy, your highness. I had resigned myself to the fact that the burden of the succession would fall upon me. Now I return to find that you are not only married but expecting an heir, how could Anne and I not come and meet the author of your good fortune?" He bowed his head to Cinderella. "You have done what I thought no woman could or would wish to do, and given this disreputable rogue a future."

"You're too kind, your grace," Cinderella said. "Eugene has given me so much more in turn."

"I'm so sorry that we missed your wedding day, your highness," said Duchess Anne. "We would have returned, but I was with child myself at the time and we didn't want to risk a sea voyage."

"Oh, I quite understand. So you have children?"

"Three," she said. "Two boys, Louis and Roland, and a girl, Matilde. They're my little angels. They fill up your life, that's true, but they also make it so much more than it was before, as you'll find out soon enough."

"I can hardly wait," Cinderella said.

They talked inconsequentially for a while, or rather the Duchess talked while the Duke said very little, so much so that by the time Cinderella realised that she and Eugene had been separated, with the Duke pulling Eugene in one direction while the Duchess linked arms with Cinderella and led her the other way, it was already a fait accompli for the moment.

Cinderella glanced over her shoulder, to find that Eugene had his back to her as the Duke held him in conversation.

"Why-" she began.

"Don't worry, princess, I've no designs upon you," said the Duchess with a laugh. "I simply wanted to have a word with you without your husband or mine listening in."

Cinderella looked at her. The two were of a height, both of them dwarfed by their much taller husbands, although the Duchess' slightly larger tiara made her seem a little taller than Cinderella at present.

"Very well," Cinderella said, though she would really rather have danced some more with Eugene, but she didn't want to appear rude especially not to Eugene's cousin and his wife. "What would you like to discuss, your grace?"

The Duchess smiled. "What was it like, ruling the kingdom?"

Cinderella blinked. Of all the things that she had thought the duchess might say, she hadn't expected that. "I beg your pardon?"

"You were regent," the Duchess said. "Prince Eugene was away, His Majesty was ill, and you took on the burden of rule by yourself. What was that like? Was it thrilling?"

"Not particularly," Cinderella said softly. "It was a lot of work, and I'm afraid it made me rather ill."

"Then why did you do it? You had to know it wasn't what anyone expected of you."

"I was told that there was no one else who could take on the position," Cinderella said.

"Yes, but nobody expected you to actually do anything," the Duchess clarified. "You must have realised that."

Now Cinderella understood what the Duchess meant, or thought she did. "Are you asking me why I didn't just sign what they told me to?"

"I suppose I'm asking you why you dismissed and appointed ministers, defied the privy council, sent laws to the assembly, all these things that we heard about even in Italy," said Her Grace. "I suppose that I'm asking you why you ruled, and what it felt like to do so."

Cinderella looked down for a moment. "As I said, your grace, I was too ill to really remember what it felt like to rule. It wasn't exciting, if that's what you're asking me. For the most part…it was very tiring. But I did it because…because I had the power to do the right thing, and since I had the power how could I not do the right thing?"

The Duchess' smile was fixed in place. "You must have been sure of yourself."

Cinderella chuckled. "You probably wouldn't say that if you knew me better, but…in that case, yes, I was as sure as I've been of anything."

"And you weren't worried about the consequences?" the other woman asked. "What people might think, what people might do? What they did?"

"I didn't think they'd go as far as they did," Cinderella said. "But even if I had known…I wouldn't have changed my decisions out of fear of them."

"You must be very brave."

"Not really," Cinderella said. "It's more that…I've received such kindness from people, even from some of the very poorest; I have to earn that kindness somehow. If I didn't do what I knew to be right to help them just because I was afraid I wouldn't be worthy of their love."

"Ah, yes, the people," the Duchess said softly. "Yes, they came to your rescue, didn't they? Very fortunate." She laughed for a moment. "Ironic, isn't it, that the ordinary people came to rescue the monarchy from the aristocracy. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know, your grace."

"Well, it hardly matters now, does it?" the Duchess replied. "You survived, and now you carry the heir to Armorique inside of you." She was silent for a moment. "Come, I'm sorry to have dragged you away from your husband like that. Let's go and rescue both our men from the terror of each other's company, and then I shan't bother you again for the rest of the night."

By the time that Eugene realised that Cinderella had been dragged away by the Duchess it was already too late to protest the act.

It was not, however, too late to demand an explanation. "What does your wife want with Cinderella, and why does she need her alone to get it?"

"Such an accusatory tone, Eugene, it's hardly necessary," Henry said genially, slipping his arm into Eugene's. "Anne just wants to talk with her, that's all."

"Prince Eugene."

"Hmm?"

"We're not children any more, your grace," Eugene said pointedly. "There are formalities to observe. And if Anne just wants to talk why can't she do it here?"

"I want to talk to you, Anne wants to talk to your wife, your highness," Henry said. "This way we won't be talking over one another. She's a pretty thing, isn't she?"

"If you mean Cinderella, then she's beautiful."

Henry shrugged. "All men should say that about their wives, but for me I'll settle for pretty as a descriptor. Not what I expected, I must say."

Eugene's eyes narrowed. "What did you expect?"

"Someone who seemed capable of all the things that the papers report of her."

Eugene snorted. "I don't know whether to tell you not to believe everything you read or to tell you that there is a lot more to Cinderella than meets the eye. The answer depends on just what you've read in the newspapers."

"That you let her run the country in your absence."

"And she did a splendid job-"

"And that she kept a harem of lovers while you weren't here," Henry continued. "Are you absolutely certain that the child is yours?"

Eugene's jaw tightened, and his hand clenched into a fist as he pulled roughly away from Henry. "If you ever say anything like that again I'll break your jaw, cousin or no. If you'd dared to say it where Cinderella could hear you I'd have done it already. She's had a rough enough time of it without you or Anne dredging up all that old nonsense. There wasn't an ounce of truth to any of it."

"You sound very certain for someone who wasn't here to witness any of it."

"I trust my wife!" Eugene snapped. "Would you believe any old reports about Anne? Would it make you doubt that your children were your own?"

"No," Henry allowed. "But my wife is a woman of good character."

It really was taking all the self-restraint that Eugene possessed not to haul off on Henry now, cousin or no, duke or no, crowded ballroom full of people who would be scandalised if he did it or no. In fact the main thing staying his hand at this precise moment was the knowledge that if he caused a scene and ruined the ball he would upset Cinderella, and he wouldn't have wanted to do that even without the fact that distress could be dangerous for a woman in her condition.

He forced his words out through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here, Henry? If you came here simply to insult my wife then you can clear out now."

"I meant no offence by it-"

"Oho!" Eugene gasped at the audacity of that. "You bring up false gossip, suggest that Cinderella has cuckolded me, insult her character and then you tell me that you mean no offence by it?"

"If any of those reports were true – and I believe you when you say that they were not – the fault would have been yours, not hers. Women are not meant to rule, it was wrong of you to put that burden upon her."

God help me, was I ever this insufferable?

"Are you having fun, you two?" Anne asked as she reappeared with Cinderella. "I'm afraid I promised the princess here that we'd let her have her husband back. Henry, perhaps we should think about leaving now."

"Perhaps, yes," Henry said. "Your highness, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Thank you, your grace, it was a pleasure to meet you and your wife also."

Eugene sighed with relief as the two of them took their leave. Hopefully they would go back to Italy soon and he wouldn't have to see them again for a few more years.

"Eugene?" Cinderella asked, slipping her hand into his. "Are you alright? What did his grace want?"

"You really don't want to know," Eugene muttered. "What about Anne?"

"She wanted to talk to me about my regency, although I'm still not quite sure why."

"I always suspected she was the cleverer of the two of them," Eugene said. "Although it's hard to say because she's never done anything with her cleverness. Not that it really matters, I expect they won't stay long. Did you speak to Princess Frederica?"

Cinderella's face fell. "I'm afraid that she isn't able to help. She doesn't want to encourage people to leave by paying them to do so."

"I suppose I can understand that, although it is a nuisance," Eugene said.

"What are we going to do?" Cinderella asked. "Or recommend to your father to do?"

Eugene smiled down at her. "For now we are going to forget all about it and enjoy our evening. Shall we dance? Or are you too tired."

Cinderella slipped gracefully into his hold. "Too tired? No, I've been waiting too long."

They slipped out onto the floor as the new dance began, as Eugene held Cinderella tight and whirled her around. Looking down into her face, at her smile, at the way her blue eyes sparkled…how could anyone doubt her? How could anyone look at this woman, this perfect creature, and believe that she had the malice in her to betray him? How could anyone suspect her faith?

There was more to Cinderella than met the eye, so much more that he had discovered since they were married. But there were still moments like this, moments when they pressed their bodies close against each other with the music playing and the other couples seeming to fade into nothingness on the floor around them, when what met the eye was quite enough to content him.

The carriage of the Duke and Duchess of Cornouaille clattered across the cobblestones as it conveyed them back to their townhouse.

Anne personally didn't like the townhouse at all, far too small and cramped, an insult from the King to the brother he disliked, but it would have taken far too long to return to the estate after a night at the palace, and so – for now – the townhouse it was. They would adjourn to the estate later. Possibly.

It was also quite possible that affairs in the capital might keep them here for some while after.

That would be a decision for Henry to make, of course. He was the master, she was but his wife.

"What did you think of Princess Cinderella?" Henry asked, looking out of the window as the carriage rattled along.

Anne fondled the engagement ring upon her finger for a moment: a sapphire surrounded by diamonds, a kind of mirror image of the ring that sat on Cinderella's finger. "I found her dedicated, righteous, I might even say passionate. She clearly works hard."

"Is she intelligent?"

"There are many different kinds of intelligence, I'm sure that she possesses some of them," Anne said. "I would not call her wise."

"Indeed not?"

"No," Anne murmured. "A wise woman in this world does not allow herself to be revealed as dedicated, righteous or hard working. Still less intelligent."

As she spoke those words there was a part of her that rankled at them. A part of Anne, Duchess of Cornouaille, that wanted to rage and scream at herself for even speaking such words, and rage harder and scream louder at any who would nod approvingly at them.

It was that part of her that was torn between burning envy and a kind of admiration for Princess Cinderella.

There was a time when people had thought Anne to be clever. There was a time when she had been known at finishing school as something of a swot. She hoped that she was still clever, and that marriage to a rather thoughtless man had not dulled all her wits away completely. She could still construe in Latin and Ancient Greek, and speak Italian, Spanish, Turkish and English besides for whatever that was worth, when she had the rare occasion to use them – when they were in Italy, Henry did most of the talking.

But for the most part she spent her days in a sepulchral silence, publicly at least. It was not her place to speak out on politics, to propose great change, to make her views known. She was a doll, to wear a smiling face and a pretty frock and let the world impose its own opinions onto her. That was the way of the world.

But Cinderella had not been content to suffer that. Though she seemed mild, much milder than Anne had expected of someone who had done what she had done, she had transgressed the unwritten rules, she had grasped true power, she had done things and said things and made the country listen to her voice.

It was extraordinary. Extraordinarily envy inducing. Did Cinderella even realise how lucky she was to have been given that chance, and to have a husband who would tolerate it?

If she doesn't appreciate her good fortune then I think I might hate her. But she didn't strike me as the sort of woman who took anything for granted.

"Eugene is taken with her," Henry declared. "Violently so, in fact."

Had she been a more expressive woman instead of a human sphinx, Anne might have rolled her eyes. "Did you provoke him to violence?"

"I only asked if she was sure the baby was his own."

Had she been a more expressive, Anne would have certainly rolled her eyes. In fact she allowed herself to do so in the comfort that no one was watching her do so. "My love, that seems hardly polite of you."

"I never took Eugene for a fool," Henry said, ignoring her comment. "Yet he seems to think he can lie down with a dog and not get any fleas on him. Very confusing."

Perhaps it's because she's a woman, not a dog. "What will you do?" Anne asked.

Henry said nothing for a moment. It could be that he was actually thinking.

Her husband wanted to be king. She knew that. She had known that from the moment she married him. His father had still been alive then, and he had dreamed of his line supplanting that of his detested brother on the throne of Armorique. And for a time that family dream had even seemed likely, if not yet in reach. Prince Eugene remained stubbornly a bachelor, with no known children, while she had given her husband one heir after another.

It looked less likely now, to say the least. An illegitimate son was one thing, but a legitimate heir on the way was something else altogether.

And yet…

And yet beneath the envy that she felt for Cinderella there was a trace of fear, too. Fear of what Cinderella might do. It was all very well to speak out, to take action, to do the things that you knew in your heart to be right without fear of consequence because your conscience and your morals wouldn't allow you to look back or hesitate but the truth was, and this was the only justification Anne could find for binding herself thus, the unwritten rules existed for a reason. Cinderella had almost brought down the monarchy with her ignorant and ill-informed meddling in affairs that were beyond her. She might yet do so. She hardly seemed the type to rest on her laurels, who knew what fresh crusade she might take up and what the consequences of it might be?

Who knew what damage she might yet cause?

Anne thought of her children. They should all be asleep at this hour, snug in their beds at home. She did not know if Louis would be king one day or not; she still had some hope for it, even if she was no longer certain. But even if he could not be king then she would at least see him become a Duke, inheritor of his father's title and estates.

She would not allow Cinderella to smash the monarchy and the establishment aside in her desire to effect change.

She would not allow Cinderella to take her son's inheritance away from her.

Henry had not answered, and continued to not answer, what he would do. But Anne already knew the answer.

For her children she would do anything.