The Fairest Beauty (5 page)

Roslind turned toward the “traveler,” and Sophie watched the interaction between her and their guest as she continued her work of dipping candles.

Roslind chattered away at him, innocently inquiring, “Where are you going to? We almost never see strangers here. Are you lost?”

The stranger, who called himself Gabe, smiled. “No, I’m on my way to Aachen Cathedral.”

“Where is Aachen Cathedral? Is it very near?”

“It’s many days’ ride from here, to the northwest.”

“Where do you come from? Have you seen much of the world? I have heard there are large waters a long way from here — waters so big that you can’t see the other side of them. Have you been there?”

She continued to ask him lots of questions, and he patiently supplied answers.

The stranger had a gentle, though guarded, expression, and he was obviously being evasive with Roslind. He might fool Roslind, but he wasn’t likely to fool the other servants or Duchess Ermengard. And it was a dangerous thing to try to fool
the duchess. The last person who’d tried had ended up buried behind the old cemetery in an unmarked grave.

Gabe simply didn’t know who he was dealing with, and someone needed to warn him.

Roslind went inside the kitchen to help Petra prepare the midday meal, leaving Sophie alone again with the stranger. She approached him as he sat on his stool, still drinking the tankard of wine she’d given him. He looked up, much too boldly for a poor pilgrim, and met her gaze with the warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen. For a moment she felt a bit startled and almost forgot what she was about to say. She cleared her throat.

“I would advise you to not approach Duchess Ermengard with any requests. Our mistress, the duchess, isn’t given to hospitality.”

He smiled at her, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen anyone with such an unworried look on his face. It was quite a contrast to her fellow servants, who looked out of hunted, desperate, bloodshot eyes more often than not, their teeth stained and uncared for. But his teeth were even more perfect than the huntsman’s.

He was more handsome than Lorencz too, and he completely lacked the hardened expression Lorencz often wore.

She glared at him, uncomfortable with her own reaction to this stranger. But she must make him see the danger he was in. It would be tragic indeed if this handsome young nobleman ran afoul of the duchess. He wouldn’t even live long enough to rue it.

“You must be careful,” Sophie said in an urgent whisper.

“Careful? Of course. I am always careful.”

His lack of fear frightened her. How could she impress upon him the need to hurry on his way?

He had found her. There could hardly be another servant here named Sophie with such black hair, fair skin, and rose-red lips. He was not sorry at all that he’d come on this quest. He had the oddest impression that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, that his whole life had been preparing him for this.

Sophie’s eyes were a deep blue, framed by the longest, blackest lashes he’d ever seen, making her Brittola’s exact opposite. She wore a tattered dress and an even-more-tattered apron, but the state of her dress didn’t seem to diminish her loveliness. Her movements were captivating — even the simple act of rubbing the sleep from her eyes before going straight to work dipping candles.

He could see that he would do well to bring Brittola to mind from time to time.

The other servants — the cook and the large, burly guard — had warned him that their mistress the duchess would not tolerate being disturbed at this time of day. If he was determined to speak to her, the best time was just before the evening meal. So here he waited, alone with Sophie.

Using a stick to hold the candles, which dangled from one long wick, a candle on each end, Sophie lowered the candles into the hot beeswax in the pot over the fire. Two by two she dipped the candles, then hung them over a piece of twine that stretched across the back courtyard. Each time she dipped a pair of candles in the hot wax, she let the excess drip back into the cauldron before hanging the candles back over the line to cool and harden. It was a long process to form a good-sized candle, but each time the candles were dipped, it formed another thin layer of wax.

Her hands were red from touching the hot wax. Gabe imagined how rough and callused her hands would be if he were to turn them over and examine them. The hands of a servant, not a noblewoman.

Again, he wondered if the old woman had told the truth.
Was Sophie actually the daughter of Duke Baldewin? For some inexplicable reason, he believed it.

Abruptly, Sophie stopped her work and looked around shrewdly, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Duchess Ermengard doesn’t like strangers. She is not a person to trifle with. You should leave while you have the chance.”

“Don’t I look like a man who can take care of himself?” He smiled and lifted his eyebrows at her in a way that always made young maidens blush and giggle.

But Sophie placed her hand on her hip, cocked her head to the side, and said, “I am not seduced by your
charm
” — she said the word as if it were a disease — “and flirting. You’re lying about who you are. I’m no fool, and neither is Duchess Ermengard, so if you are wise you will leave now.”

He may not have charmed her, but he was beguiled by her flashing blue eyes and lovely face. He tried again to make himself look humble, then took a different approach. “You are obviously a maiden not to be trifled with. I was hoping to ask the duchess for work. I can play the lute and sing.” He patted the bag that was slung over his shoulder, out of which protruded the handle of what Sophie assumed was a lute.

“Oh no. That is not a good idea.” She looked over her shoulder and shuddered.

“Why not?”

“Walther already told you — the duchess doesn’t like music or musicians.”

“It’s hard to imagine someone who doesn’t like music.”

Sophie shrugged. “Strange, but it is indeed true.”

He’d finished his wine and set the tankard down on the ground.

“So you are leaving now? You should not tarry.”

Her eyes became hopeful, anticipating his imminent departure. Was she really that concerned? Or did she only want to
get rid of him? Sophie had no idea she was the whole reason he was here. Not that he would tell her yet. He had to focus on his next course of action — finding out if Sophie truly was the duke’s daughter and learning why the duchess was keeping her existence a secret.

He stepped toward her until they were face-to-face, only an arm’s length from each other. He lowered his voice. “Do you know who your parents were?”

She narrowed her eyes, obviously suspicious. “Why do you ask about my parents?”

He was as subtle as an ox. But perhaps it was better to go ahead and tell her the truth. “Did you know a woman named Pinnosa?”

“I know only one Pinnosa, and she died a few weeks ago. She was buried beside her husband in the churchyard.”

“Was she a servant here in the duchess’s castle?”

Sophie stood silent and unmoving. Finally, in a soft voice, she answered, “Yes. She helped Petra, our cook, in the kitchen.” Her expression turned defensive. “What do you know about me? About Pinnosa?”

“She told me you were in danger.”

“Ridiculous. She’s dead, and you’re the one who’s in danger.”

Why was she being so stubborn? He was here to rescue her. The least she could do was give him a chance to prove himself. “Is it so strange that I would come here to help you?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Yes.”

“You’re the one who’s being ridiculous.”

“Am I? I’m a servant, while you are clearly not from Hohendorf and are lying about being a poor pilgrim.” She sneered when she said those last two words. “Now you tell me a dead woman told you I was in danger.”

This was not going as he’d hoped. He needed to gain her trust, and he’d done just the opposite. But she was not even
giving him a chance. She didn’t even appreciate his smiles and attention. Why was this girl so distrustful? Well, she wanted the truth. He’d give her the truth.

“Pinnosa did not die a few weeks ago, and she’s not buried in the churchyard.”

“Is that so?”

“She only pretended to be dead.”

“You’ve lost your senses.”

“I know it sounds farfetched, but she walked all the way to Hagenheim to tell us that you are in danger. I’ve come here to help you.”

Sophie spun around on her heel, picked up her stick, and resumed dipping candles. “You’re the one who needs help. I can take care of myself. Besides, who goes around thinking they can save servants from their cruel mistresses?” She shook her head and refused to look at him.

He’d imagined her heaping thanks on him for going to so much trouble and endangering himself to save her. Instead, she didn’t even believe him. Didn’t trust him one whit.
Ungrateful girl
. Perhaps she wasn’t Duke Baldewin’s daughter after all.

She was only a servant. Why would he ask about her parents? This stranger was behaving very suspiciously. And this story about Pinnosa only pretending to be dead … Sophie had seen them close the coffin. She had seen it lowered into the ground. But now that she thought about it … some of the maids had been whispering the following day about the grave being disturbed and how strange it was that grave robbers would have bothered to dig up a penniless old woman.

Could Gabe — if that was his real name — truly have spoken to Pinnosa? But his story was ridiculous. Pinnosa, faking her own death … it was preposterous. Pinnosa was a common-enough
name. But why? Why was this man making up these strange stories?

He ran his hand through his hair and frowned. “The truth is,” he went on, “I only met Pinnosa briefly, but she was adamant that you were in danger.”

He hesitated, watching her closely, as though trying to read her thoughts. His intense brown eyes and good looks made her heart beat faster. She would have to be extra cautious with this man. He was much too handsome and flirtatious to be trusted.

Besides, Sophie already knew she was in danger. Anyone the duchess hated — and she certainly hated Sophie — was in danger. But this stranger could no more protect Sophie from the duchess than he could have saved himself from the beating Walther almost gave him.

At least Sophie knew what to expect from Duchess Ermengard. This stranger had no idea.

“What did she look like, this Pinnosa? And what did she say?”

“She was very old,” he replied. “She was hunched and had a mole below her left eye. Her hair was white and her eyes were faded blue.”

It certainly sounded like Pinnosa. Sophie turned away from him, trying to collect her thoughts.

“And what did Pinnosa tell you?” she asked again.

He stared hard at her. “She said you were Duke Baldewin’s daughter.”

Sophie returned his stare. He looked perfectly sane and serious. Her mind went back to when she was a little girl: The priest singling her out to teach her to read. Pinnosa and Petra whispering in the kitchen. Sophie had heard her name and the name of Duke Baldewin, but when the two cooks had perceived her standing behind them, they abruptly stopped talking.

Could it be true? Was she Duke Baldewin’s daughter? The
duchess’s hatred of her would make sense, as the duke’s widow wouldn’t want to share Hohendorf with anyone. She wouldn’t want the king to learn of an heir’s existence either. King Sigismund might want to marry Sophie off to someone, after which she could safely reveal all the duchess’s evil secrets, including the fact that the duchess dabbled in magic and created potions and poisons.

But perhaps this was all a trap. The man could be lying. He could have been sent by the duchess to trick her. It was the sort of entrapment the duchess delighted in.

She turned away from him, as though the conversation were a waste of her time, and went on with her task of dipping candles. She pretended to ignore him while her mind raced. If this man knew she was the duke’s daughter, and if he forced the duchess’s hand, Ermengard would kill them both. It seemed so terrible, especially when she probably
wasn’t
the duke’s daughter.

Why would he come here, alone, to tell her this? Perhaps he was crazed, daft. After all, who else but a madman would climb the castle mount to Duchess Ermengard’s castle claiming to be a musician, wanting to play for her? And she was even dafter for thinking, even if it was only for a moment, that this inexperienced son of a rich man could help her. Could he defend her against the duchess’s entire guard?

She sent him a quick glare. “You shouldn’t have come here. You are in terrible danger.” She spoke carefully, pronouncing each syllable slowly. “Duchess Ermengard will kill you. She doesn’t like strangers entering her realm. And if she finds out you think I’m the duke’s daughter … you’ll find yourself dead before you even finish such a declaration.”

“But what if you are the duke’s daughter?”

Sophie pondered this. “I can’t prove that I am or am not. I never knew my parents, and the duchess claims I was an orphan she took in. Unless you can prove I am Duke Baldewin’s
daughter … You were foolish to come here.” She had to be practical. She couldn’t let herself hope.

As she continued with the monotonous task of taking cooled candles from the line, dipping them in hot wax, and hanging them back on the line, she could feel him watching her. She turned and stared at him.

“Why would Pinnosa tell you about me? Why would you care?”

“Sophie.” He took a step closer to her, his voice a deep whisper. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m here to find out if you are truly Duke Baldewin’s daughter. And if you are, I want to take you back to Hagenheim.”

Sophie turned her back on him. Against her better judgment, optimism rose up inside her. Her heartbeat quickened as something inside her told her he might be telling the truth. Again, she remembered whispers that stopped when she came into the room, the duchess’s special hatred of her, almost as if she were jealous. Something inside Sophie had always wondered if her parents were more than servants, were people who had enraged the duchess so much she was taking out her wrath on their daughter.