Read The Ugly Stepsister (Unfinished Fairy Tales Book 1) for Free Online Page A

wardrobe, her dancing and singing shall never match mine.”
    The carriage makes a turn. We pass a bookshop—how quaint it looks! The door is open, the windows are huge and transparent, displaying piles and piles of books, all of them hardbacks, stacked in teetering piles. A man in a waistcoat is smoking a pipe as he browses the selection. Another man wearing a big green apron is standing on a ladder, dusting the shelves. A crooked sign hangs from the roof: The Bookworm.
    Wow. I would love to step into that shop.
    “Katriona.” Bianca’s voice interrupts my reverie. “We’re here now.”
    I look up at a large white mansion about four stories high. A man (is he the butler?) steps down the terrace and bows as we disembark. In his hands he carries a silver tray, but there’s nothing on it. Not even a single teacup.
    Bianca pulls out a silver case from her reticule—I glimpse a large, loopy “B” engraved in the center of the surface. She takes out a richly colored card, folds the top left corner, and lays it on the tray. I wish I could read what’s written on the card, but the butler’s too quick. He bows and disappears in a second.
    I’m burning with curiosity, but I don’t dare to question Bianca. Anyway, I figure it’s some kind of name card they use, only it’s much fancier and conveyed by servants.
    Soon the butler returns. “Miss Bradshaw. And Miss Katriona. Miss Fremont is expecting your company. May I take your coats?”
    “Thank you.” Bianca hands him her heavy ermine cloak; I do the same.
    We are led into an elegantly-furnished parlor. Cream-colored wallpaper, rosewood chairs, several vases filled with roses and ferns. Two young ladies who are chatting together rise when we enter.
    One comes toward Bianca with open arms. She’s beautiful. Maybe not as beautiful as Bianca, but if the prince is into blondes, this girl has a definite advantage. Pale, translucent golden ringlets coil over her shoulders. Her complexion is perfect and blemish-free—the creamy glow of her skin with a touch of makeup reminds me of milk and roses. The color of her dress (apple green) matches perfectly with her sash (lily white), and her pearl necklace and golden bracelet go well with her outfit—a touch of extravagance, but not overdoing it.
    “Bianca! It’s been ages since I last saw you. Come and sit down. There’s so much I’ve wanted to tell you.” She gestures to a chair right next to her. “Oh, and your sister. Such a pleasure to have you here as well. Won’t you have a seat?”
    Judging from the way she holds herself as the mistress of the house, she has to be Claire.
    “And this is my cousin Poppy. You may remember her father is a squire in one of the counties up north. She spent her childhood there, but now her parents have decided that it is time she was presented. She has come to stay with us for her Season.”
    Poppy giggles. Next to Claire, she looks rather plain. She has straw-colored hair, a flat nose, round face, and like me, a splash of freckles over her nose. “Oh, I so looked forward to coming to town. Ain’t it—er—isn’t it the most exciting place to live? I’m so happy to meet you girls. It’s awfully lonesome in the country. The nearest town is half a day’s ride.”
    “Charmed.” Bianca’s tone is cool, but civil enough. She leans, I think, in reluctance to kiss Poppy’s cheek. I am not surprised. An ambitious girl like Bianca won’t be impressed by a country girl, even if she is nobility.
    “Tea, ladies?” Claire asks. She gestures toward a young woman dressed in an apron by the door. “Hannah, bring us a pot of black tea and the chocolate éclairs Cook brought home this morning.”
    Chocolate éclairs. Anything chocolate sounds good to me.
    We all sit down. I mimic Bianca, sweeping my skirts to the front and folding my hands on my knees.
    “So,” Bianca says, “any recent news you care to share with us?”
    Claire sighs. “Not much, except for Amelia Fairfax breaking