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“Duchess of Jork and her daughters Anastasia and Drusella,” Stewart said to Charming as the three entered the ball room.
“Have I met them before?” he asked.
“Once in passing about seven years ago,” Stewart said quickly as they moved within ear shot.
“Your Majesty.” The Duchess courtsied, the action mirrored by the other two. “May I introduce my daughters.”
“A pleasure,” Charming said with a nod, “Anastasia and Drusella, correct? It is good to see you again.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Anastasia simpered.
“Come,” the Duchess said. “I’m sure His Majesty has many others he must greet before he can join the festivities. Let us not take up any more of his time.”
As the three disappeared into the throng of guests, Charming’s eyes resumed their glazed look. The trio wore gowns identical to everyone else at this unfortunate convention. Even their intricate hair styles resembled all of the others in their bid to be unique.
About an hour later, he just happened to look in the direction of the ballroom doors when she entered the room.
“Who is that?” he asked Stewart.
“I don’t know,” the man admitted, frowning at her. “She has never attended an event like this before.
The young woman wore a simple, silver ball gown. The style was up-to-date with the latest fashion, but it lacked the gaudy gem stones, sequence, and lace that the other dresses seemed to favour. Her hair was up in a bun with strands of curls deliberately framing her face.
"Stewart, tell me I do not have any other guests to greet,” Charming said absently, a true order hidden within the inquiry.
Stewart pretended to consult his list before saying dutifully, “No one of importance, Sire.”
“I think I am going to mingle for a bit, then.”
Less than a minute later saw Charming dancing with the woman as they talked quietly, smiling all the while. When she laughed at his favorite hunting joke, he knew he was in love.
The clock began to chime, and she pulled away a bit. “What time is it?” she asked.
Charming glanced up. “Midnight. It has grown late while we were talking.”
She jerked out of his arms. “I must leave!” she said hastily, turning quickly towards the exit.
He caught her hand. “What is your name?”
“I’m sorry, I must go.” She took back her hand and started running for the door.
He followed. “Then where do you live?" he called, desperate for some way to find her again.
She glanced back and stumbled. He watched her take several more steps before hopping on one foot to remove her shoe before taking off at a run towards her unusually bright-orange carriage.
With trepidation, he watched her pull away. As he was about to head back inside, he looked down to find a glass slipper at his feet. Picking it up, he stared at it hopefully. Perhaps this would help him find her, even if he had to ask every girl in the kingdom to try it on.
As the idea formed in his head, his determination grew, and the thought solidified into action. Yes, he would personally go door-to-door to every manor in the land so he could be there to see the look on her face when he found the one who fit the glass slipper.