She could hardly believe she said it. No one of her station should speak in such a way to Lord Hamlin. But there was something liberating in saying exactly what she thought, instead of making the humble, deferential replies expected of her.
“Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I’m thankful you didn’t injure yourself.” A slight smile tugged at his mouth. “But perhaps I saved you from falling from an even greater height.”
Rose folded her arms across her chest. “I could easily climb this tree. I’ve climbed it many times.” She wanted to add, when someone wasn’t sneaking up on me, but managed to muster a bit of self-possession.
Lord Hamlin ducked his head, but Rose saw the smile he was trying to hide.
“You don’t believe me.” She suddenly wanted to prove to him that she could do it. However, climbing a tree while wearing a dress, with a man below her, did not seem wise.
“No, no, I believe you. I of all people know that you are a maiden of many talents.”
Wolfie ran up, barking wildly, and planted himself between Rose and Lord Hamlin’s big black horse.
“Wolfie, stop that.”
The horse began to graze, as if to show that the dog was beneath his notice.
Lord Hamlin reached out a hand to Wolfie. The dog sniffed him then allowed Lord Hamlin to rub his shaggy head. Rose held her breath, fearing Wolfie would bite him. Instead, Wolfie relaxed under his touch, moving closer to him.
Rose shook her head at her dog’s unusual behavior. “He must like you. He doesn’t let people get that close.” Especially men.
Lord Hamlin stroked him behind the ears. Wolfie grinned up at him, saliva dripping from his tongue.
“I had a dog once,” Lord Hamlin said. “A good one too. Unfortunately, he got trampled by a horse and died.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” And she truly was. How sad to lose a beloved dog.
Lord Hamlin looked up and their eyes locked as his features softened. His earthy, leathery smell drifted over her, warm and pleasant. Aware of his close proximity, Rose’s heart beat erratically.
As though also conscious of their nearness to each other, he moved a couple of paces away. “My sister, Lady Osanna, told me you’re coming to the ball next week.” He sat down on the grass, one knee pointing toward the stream, and picked a tall weed. Staring at it, he twisted it between his fingers.
“Yes, although I’m sure I won’t know anyone.” Rose frowned, wondering if she should have revealed her insecurity.
“At least there will be music, and I know how much you like music.”
“Yes.” How did he know that? “I do love music.”
He smiled and twisted his upper body to face her. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his white shirt as he propped one elbow across his knee. “Do you sing?” he asked.
“A little. Do you?” She couldn’t believe she was asking personal questions of Lord Hamlin. Their whole conversation was unthinkable. Yet here he was, looking relaxed and quite interested in answering her questions.
Wolfie, on the other hand, must have grown bored, because he dashed off to chase a chipmunk.
“Osanna and my mother like my singing. I’m not sure anyone else could appreciate it, and I’m certain I don’t sing as well as you tell stories. You have the gift of storytelling. It is remarkable that you know how to read and write. Did Frau Geruscha teach you?” He fixed his eyes on her face.
Rose didn’t feel offended by his statement, as she knew it truly was remarkable. None of her friends knew how to read. “Yes. Frau Geruscha started teaching me when I was very young. She said she’d never seen anyone so eager to learn.” Rose felt a bit smug and then laughed at herself.
She met his gaze. He was smiling at her. His deep blue eyes absorbed the sunlight and sparkled like gems. His dark curls shifted in the breeze and brushed against his forehead.
Oh, but you are handsome.
Rose drew in a quick breath, shocked at herself.
At that moment Lord Hamlin stood and pulled something from the leather pouch that hung behind his horse’s saddle. It was a lute. He sat back down and smiled at her, the light dancing in his eyes.
“Will you sing for me if I play?”
Rose shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
She could hardly believe she was refusing a request from Lord Hamlin, even though she couldn’t imagine actually singing for him. But it could hardly matter what he thought of her. She could never hope to be anything to him except a servant, a healer’s apprentice working for him in his castle. Besides, he would never think twice about her when he had nobly born ladies around him like Lady Anne, who might even turn out to be his betrothed. Nonetheless, Rose was glad he didn’t seem angry at her refusal to sing. He simply stared down at the stringed instrument.
Her heart fluttered at the strange honor of Lord Hamlin playing the lute for her.
He strummed his thumb across the strings and a familiar tune emerged, the song of a maiden, fair and gentle, who walked alone, waiting for her lover to come to her. Rose listened, enraptured by the melody—and the sight of Lord Hamlin. She watched his hands, sunbrowned and strong, expertly evoking the song. And watched his face, his eyes half closed as he appeared to concentrate on his playing, sighing in spite of herself.
He looked up and caught her eye. Never had she felt so alive—alive to the sound of the music, alive to the sight of Lord Hamlin’s beautiful eyes gazing at her as though her soul was visible to his.
Rose tried to quiet her heart. She should not be thinking about Lord Hamlin this way. But if she believed in the songs that spoke of love, or believed what his eyes seemed to be saying to her…no, it was wrong to even think that she could be anything to Lord Hamlin, that he could find her in any way as interesting as she found him. It was simply the music playing tricks on her, making her feel strong emotions that didn’t apply to the situation.
As the last note drifted away, she cleared her throat. She should speak of something, anything, to distract herself from her reaction to the music. “That was beautiful. I suppose you have to practice a lot to remember all the songs…all the notes.” She was babbling.
“I play for my family a lot.”
Rose nodded, searching her mind for something to say. He was smiling at her in a way that made her even more nervous, so she picked up a chestnut from the ground and studied it.
“I noticed a new boy helping out at the stables.”
“You mean Lukas. I found him in the Marktplatz stealing an apple, so I put him to work.”
“Just for stealing an apple?” Rose heard the dismay in her voice. Part of her said to be quiet, but another part was indignant that he would punish a young child for such a minor offense.
“He seems to be an orphan. He says his mother is dead and he doesn’t know what happened to his father.”
“The poor thing.”
“He’ll make himself useful in the stable.”
“But he’s only a child. Will you force him to work with those rough men? Who will look after him, take care of him?” Rose knew she should hold her tongue, knew that boys often were put to work at a very young age, but she didn’t like it. Where was the justice in forcing a child to do dirty, hard work, merely because he had no parents to take care of him?
Lord Hamlin said nothing for a long moment. He stared into the trees across the stream bank.
Rose’s throat tightened. Perhaps he was angry at her ranting. Certainly she had spoken far beyond what her status allowed.
“You’re right. I myself shall make sure he isn’t worked too hard and has a few hours every day to romp with the town children. I’ll assign one of our matrons to look out for him, and I’ll make sure he has a comfortable, safe place to sleep with the women servants.”
She let his words sink in.
“Does that satisfy?”
She examined his face but found no hint of resentment. A bubble of joy expanded in her chest. He had actually listened to her.
“Yes,
my lord.”
His expression was unreadable. “My father needs an advisor like you. The region would be a more compassionate place, I dare say.”
Rose stifled a laugh at the absurdity of a female advisor and at the outrageous compliment. The tension between them dissolved.
Lord Hamlin tossed the weed on the ground and leaned back on one hand. “You must live near here.”
“I stay at the castle, with Frau Geruscha in the southwest tower, but my family lives near here.”
A shiver of horror ran down her back at the thought of him seeing the small hovel where the five members of her family lived. Desperate to keep him from asking where she lived, she stood abruptly. “I have to go…help Frau Geruscha…with something. Farewell, my lord.”
She turned and walked quickly down the grassy hillock, escaping her second unlikely encounter with Lord Hamlin, the future Duke of Hagenheim.
“Farewell,” he called after her.
Chapter 5
Several days later, one day before the ball, Rose held up her skirt as she walked across the dusty courtyard toward Frau Geruscha’s chambers. She was startled when Lord Rupert stepped from around the back of the castle, directly into her path.
He smiled and bowed low. “Beautiful weather today, is it not?”
His bowing to her seemed a ridiculous gesture. She was hardly more than a servant.
“Yes, my lord.” Although she knew she shouldn’t stare, Rose glanced at him, curious. He was dressed fashionably in a violet doublet and a bright white shirt with sleeves that puffed out from shoulder to elbow. His light brown hair curled against the back of his neck and he carried a bunch of red roses in one hand.
“May I ask your name?”
“Rose, if you please, my lord.” She curtsied.
“My dear maiden!” He clutched at his chest with one hand while holding out the flowers with the other. “Why, just now I was in the garden and found these roses. I knew I was picking them for someone. Now I see they were meant for a maiden of the same name and beauty as the flowers.” He stepped toward her. “I don’t think I could have planned anything more appropriate.”
Rose hesitated. She did not want to accept them, thinking it rather inappropriate. But it was also inappropriate to refuse the duke’s son. She reached out and took the flowers, carefully avoiding touching his hand. “I thank you, my lord.”
He stood smiling at her for so long that Rose broke the uncomfortable silence. “You must have many important duties to attend to. I bid you good day.” She took a sliding step to one side to walk around him.
Rather than allow her to pass, he studied her, and she watched as his eyebrows shot up in recognition. “I know who you are. You’re the author of that amusing tale my family was so enamored of.”
He laughed out loud and Rose felt her cheeks turn pink, knowing he must be drawing the attention of every person in the castle courtyard.
“Not only that, but you are the maiden who sewed up my brother’s leg.” He grinned down at her. “This is indeed an honor.”
His demeanor, the jauntiness in his voice, and the tilt of his head, made Rose surmise that he was not entirely sincere.
“I look forward to seeing you at our ball. You are coming, aren’t you?” He fixed his light blue eyes on her.
“Yes, Frau Geruscha and I will be there.”
“I shall count the hours.” He bent forward, holding out his hand.
He was waiting for her to lift her hand so he could kiss it. Her heart jumped, but she stood motionless, her head slightly bowed. Finally, he let his hand drop.
“Until tomorrow night.” He winked then turned and sauntered toward the castle.
Wilhelm sat in the Great Hall with the musicians. It was the last day to practice their songs for the ball, and he was anxious to learn this new one.
As he strummed the strings of his lute, his mother swept in, her skirts dragging behind her. She crossed her arms. He cringed inwardly and pretended not to see her.
With that lofty air of hers that he disliked, she said, “Son, may I have a word with you?”
“Of course.”
The musicians started to rise from their stools, but Wilhelm motioned for them to remain seated. “I’ll return in a moment.”
He followed his mother into the hallway. Here it comes.
“Now, Wilhelm, I know you usually prefer not to dance. However, I love to see our guests having a good time, and there are sure to be several young ladies who shall need partners.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but his mother rushed on. “And more important, this is only Lady Anne’s second week here. I would like you to make her feel at home by dancing with her.”
“I’ll give you three reasons why I cannot.” He forced himself not to smile at her dire expression. It would only provoke her. “I am betrothed. You and Father have warned me—more times than I can count—that I must guard my heart. Dancing is not conducive to that end.”
“Yes, but—”
Wilhelm held up a finger. “Wait. I have two more reasons.”
She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.
“I’m also helping to provide the music, which means I can entertain more of your guests by not dancing. Third, I’m injured, or had you forgotten? You wouldn’t expect me to dance on this gashed-up leg, would you?”
“You hardly limp at all now. Our dances are not so vigorous that you couldn’t attempt at least every other one, resting in between.”
“Ah!” said a loud voice from behind Wilhelm.
Rupert strode toward them and clapped him hard on the back. “My brother wouldn’t give a fig for dancing, would you, Wil? He loathes it. As for me”—Rupert inhaled audibly, pushing out his chest—“I am prepared to dance with every woman in the room, whether she be fair or not.” He wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders and drew her to his side. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll keep the whole room entertained, to the best of my ability.”
“Of that I have no doubt, but I ask you to spare my nerves and contain yourself. No carousing.”
Wilhelm glared at Rupert. He’ll carouse—if he gets drunk. Wilhelm planned to have a talk with his brother.
Rupert had already shaken off his mother’s plea and turned to Wilhelm. “I met our talented little storyteller-healer, Rose. The one who sewed you up.”
“Yes.” Wilhelm studied his brother warily.
“Well, she’s a beauty, is what I say. Very well could be the fairest maiden at the ball tonight.”
Wilhelm despised the eager look in his brother’s eyes. It reminded him of an incident involving Rupert and a serving wench back in Heidelberg. The thought turned his stomach.
“Yes, the dear maiden,” the duchess said affectionately. “I am anxious to meet her. But I hardly think you would be interested in her, Rupert. Her family can have neither money nor noble connections. In fact, I believe her father is a woodcutter. But perhaps I’m mistaken.” She shook her head as though it were not possible.
“No, it is true, Mother.” With effort, Wilhelm held his voice steady.
“We are grateful to her for what she did for you, Wilhelm, to be sure. But instead of our healer’s apprentice, Rupert should have his eye on Lady Anne.” The duchess lowered her voice, looking pointedly at her younger son. “Laws being what they are and you being the younger son, you must make prudent life choices.”
“Lady Anne!” Rupert cried.
His mother put one finger over her lips and looked at him sternly.
“Lady Anne is spoken for, Mother, or have you not heard the rumors that she is Wilhelm’s betrothed?” With a gleeful smile and a raised eyebrow, he turned on Wilhelm.
Wilhelm fought the urge to throttle his brother.
“I don’t believe that.” His mother’s voice was hushed but firm. “I don’t know where Wilhelm’s betrothed is, but I know who she is. She is the daughter of Godehard, Duke of Marienberg, not the daughter of Duke Alfred of Schweitzer.”
Rupert sh
rugged. “Rumors nearly always have at least an element of truth, Mother. You’ve said so yourself, many times.”
The duchess frowned.
“But don’t worry about me. I’m destined for the Church, remember? I think I’ve persuaded Father to make me the new bishop.” He faced his brother. “Don’t you think I’d make an ideal priest?”
“No. I think you should wed.” Wilhelm didn’t like this conversation. If he weren’t still considering giving Rupert the pounding he deserved, he would escape back to the musicians and his lute.
Rupert chuckled. “Ah, my brother knows me too well, I suppose.” He gave Wilhelm a friendly pat on the shoulder before starting down the hallway. “I’ll see you both tonight.”
Rupert. Always happy when there’s a party to go to or a woman to seduce. But if he dared set his sights on Rose…
“As for you,” the duchess said, turning her eye on Wilhelm, “I hope you will enjoy yourself tonight.”
“Yes, Mother, I’m sure I will.” He stared at the iron sconce on the stone wall of the corridor, hardly seeing it. Instead, he saw Rose, as she’d sat on the sunny, grassy hill several days ago. “I’m sure I won’t know anyone,” she’d said. The wind blew a strand of chestnut hair across her cheek at that moment, giving her a vulnerable look.
Wilhelm blinked to clear the memory from his mind. “Mother.” He looked into her faded blue eyes. “Please be kind to Rose. Remember what she did for me. I fear the other guests may look down on her because of her father’s occupation.”
“Oh.” His mother’s mouth opened in surprise, as though it had never occurred to her to be concerned for someone who might feel out of place. Her own self-assurance made her oblivious to such feelings in others. “I think she will enjoy herself immensely, having never been invited to anything so grand.” Her face took on a disdainful look. “She should feel honored.”
Wilhelm made an effort to unclench his teeth. “I’m sure she will be appropriately grateful. Just don’t slight her, that’s all I ask.”
“Of course not, son. You always were the thoughtful one.” She smiled and patted his cheek in a way that made him frown. She sighed. “I promise I will treat her with courtesy, not that I wouldn’t anyway. But I shall make an extra effort, since you are so concerned.”