The Fairest Beauty

by Melanie Dickerson

  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.

  But how can I ever know for sure? “So you have no proof that I’m Duke Baldewin’s daughter?”

  “No, I don’t. Do you know anyone who might know? Someone who knew the duke or his first wife? Which servants have been here the longest?”

  Petra. She had come after the first duchess had died but before the duke had passed away — almost sixteen years ago. When Sophie was younger, Petra would sometimes tell her stories of the duke and how much he had loved his little daughter.

  Oh. The hair on the back of her neck seemed to stand on end. “Petra would know.” Her voice sounded hoarse. She cleared her throat. “But why do you care?”

  “Because if you are Duke Baldewin’s daughter, you are betrothed.”

  “Betrothed?”

  “To my brother Valten Gerstenberg, the Earl of Hamlin, who will someday be the Duke of Hagenheim.”

  Sophie felt as if the world had gone quite still.

  “Duke Baldewin and my parents were friends, and they arranged the marriage when Duke Baldewin’s daughter was only a baby. After the duke remarried, the duke and the new duchess only met once with my parents, and that was to sign the betrothal agreement. My brother was only six years old, but he remembers.”

  Sophie watched the stranger’s mouth as he spoke, as if seeing the words forming on his lips as well as hearing them would help her make sense of everything he said. Was she Duke Baldewin’s daughter? Was she betrothed? It was too strange to comprehend.

  “If I am to marry your brother, why are you here? Why didn’t he come to take me away from the duchess?” The thought — that she belonged to someone who would care for her and save her from the duchess — was so beguiling that it frightened her. Such things didn’t happen, and if she started to believe in them, her disappointment would crush her.

  “My brother wanted to come as soon as he heard you might be alive. But he broke his leg in a tournament less than a week before.”

  “So he sent you. Alone.”

  “Well, he didn’t send me.” Gabe rubbed his chin and shifted his feet, a wry half smile on his face. “My brother and father wanted me to wait until they could come with me, but I came without their permission.”

  “Why?”

  “Pinnosa said you were in danger.” He bent to pick up a stick and appeared to be examining it, turning it between his fingers. “I didn’t want anything to happen to you while my brother’s leg healed.”

  Again, she wondered if he was telling the truth. But if it was all a lie, why wouldn’t he simply say that he was her betrothed? If he wanted to take advantage of her, why make up the story about his brother? They stood with nothing to break the silence except a bird cawing in the distance and the occasional muffled banging of a pot in the kitchen nearby. Finally Sophie turned and began dipping candles again. Her thoughts echoed around in her head, confusing her.

  “I’ve only known you an hour and already you’ve lied repeatedly. Why should I believe you?”

  He let out an exasperated breath behind her. He was angry. Good. Maybe he would let the truth slip from his lying lips.

  “I don’t even know if you are the duke’s daughter. If you are, then I’m here to help you. If you don’t believe me …” He let his voice trail off.

  “If I did believe you — which would be the height of foolishness — can you explain how you plan to get away from the duchess without her killing us both?” The awful truth was Sophie desperately wanted to believe him. To be wanted, to belong to someone, to be betrothed … it filled her chest with the most delightful warmth and light.

  And to be proven a fool will only lead to coldness and pain.

  She hung another candle on the line. Gabe grabbed her hand and stood in front of her, compelling her to look into his eyes. She took a step back.

  “Take me to this servant, Petra. We will ask her together if you are Duke Baldewin’s daughter.”

  She closed her mouth and tried to veil her expression so he wouldn’t know how his words filled her with hope and joy, how the thought that he believed it was possible she wasn’t simply a poor servant encouraged her. To show emotion was to become vulnerable. And Sophie should never allow herself to become vulnerable to anyone who had the power to hurt her.

  She was almost afraid to ask Petra, to find out the truth. After all, would Gabe’s brother still want her after he saw how untaught she was in the ways and manners of noble society? When he saw that she had no idea how to behave like a proper duchess? When he realized she was awkward and clumsy, as the duchess was always telling her, that she was ugly and too wicked for anybody to ever care for?

  But Petra told her she shouldn’t believe any of those things the duchess said about her.

  And if Petra told her she wasn’t the duke’s daughter …

  The crackle of breaking twigs drew Sophie’s gaze to the forest at the edge of the courtyard. Lorencz emerged from the shadow of the trees. Another man I know better than to trust. His eyes were focused on Sophie and Gabe as he strode toward them. He stopped and stared, then called out a cautiously friendly, “Ho, there.”

  Gabe nodded, meeting Lorencz’s stare. “Guten Morgen.”

  The scar above the huntsman’s cheek seemed to stand out. The two stared at each other until Sophie broke the silence.

  “Lorencz, this is Gabe, a pilgrim from Hungary. Gabe, this is Lorencz the huntsman.”

  They appeared to be sizing each other up. The stranger was not as brawny as Lorencz, but he was just as tall and held his head high. He couldn’t have looked less like a humble traveler.

  Finally, Lorencz nodded, as though dismissing Gabe, then turned to Sophie and eyed her in a way that made her wary. “Are you ready for our picnic?”

  Chapter 5

  The huntsman had come at a very inopportune time, and it didn’t seem to Gabe as if Sophie wanted to go with him.

  “I’ll fetch our food.” Lorencz seemed oblivious to her strained smile and stiff posture.

  As soon as the overconfident lout disappear
ed inside the kitchen, Gabe turned to Sophie. “Are you sure it’s safe for you to be alone with him? You could turn him away.”

  “I know that.” She tried to look stern, but her eyebrows came together and her expression gradually changed. She hesitated, then whispered, “Since you are determined not to leave, I only ask that you don’t confront Duchess Ermengard just yet. Wait until I return, and I will tell you how you must approach her and what you must say if she summons you. There are rules you must follow if you hope not to incite her wrath. You have no idea how quickly she can become enraged.”

  Sophie appeared more worried about him than about herself.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to provoke her.”

  “It may not seem provoking —”

  The huntsman came out of the kitchen carrying a large basket and walked past Gabe as though he were a tree stump. Gabe didn’t trust him.

  Sophie started out beside Lorencz, turned, and gave Gabe a pointed look. He winked at her.

  She frowned and turned away.

  Gabe waited until they were out of sight, then followed.

  Sophie wasn’t sure she could trust Lorencz, but she always carried a small knife on her person. She’d only had to use the eating utensil as a weapon once, but at least she knew she was capable of defending herself.

  “Isn’t this far enough?” Sophie halted in a clearing near the stream bank.

  Lorencz smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “No, not particularly.”

  He ignored her comment and said, “I had a more beautiful spot in mind, with wildflowers and forest strawberries …”

  “I’d rather stop here.” Best to stand my ground with him.

  He frowned, but only for a moment. He stooped to set down the basket and pull out a blanket, which he handed to Sophie to spread on the ground.