Page 27 of The Noble Servant

“Are you sure?”

“I bought three for you. You said you were hungry enough to eat three breakfasts.”

“I would look like a pig if I ate more than you.”

“I’ve already eaten two.”

She laughed and took another roll, again closing her eyes at how good it tasted. Her family’s cooks at Mallin had never made anything like this. Bacon was not considered elegant enough for a baron’s family, and neither were these stuffed rolls, no doubt, but from now on—if she was ever restored to her rightful place—she would ask for bacon, potato, and sauerkraut rolls every day. And bacon. Copious amounts of bacon.

When she had eaten half of the second roll, she suddenly felt guilty. Here she was eating this wonderful food when Katrin and the other servants were undoubtedly still hungry. She took out a cloth from the bag at her belt, wrapped up the half-eaten roll, and tucked it away so she might give it to Katrin when she saw her tonight.

“You know.” Steffan stared at the ground as he used a stick to stab at the dirt. “Wolfberg did not always treat its servants so poorly.”

She waited for him to go on, admiring the soft waves in his dark-brown hair.

“They had better food, at least.” He ceased stabbing the ground and just stared across the meadow. Then he threw down his stick and reached into his big leather bag. He pulled out a thin wooden board and some paper.

“Here is your paper. I only bought three rectangular sheets. I hope that’s enough.”

She took the paper from his hand.

“And here is the ink.”

It was in a tiny glass pot with a cork stopper. Where did a shepherd get enough money to buy paper and ink? Wherever he got it, she had a funny feeling in her chest as she stared down at the paper in her lap. How humbling that someone would go to so much trouble to bring her paper and ink and even food, a man who hardly knew her. If she thought about it much longer, tears would sting her eyes.

He could have demanded that she give him the information he wanted before he gave her the food. Would he not force her to tell him her name after all? But she had promised him.

“Now for my end of the bargain.” Magdalen cleared her throat.

“Yes. You will tell me your name and what you plan to do with the ink and paper.”

She smiled to cover her uncertainty. How much should she tell him? How much could she get away with concealing?

Chapter Ten

Steffan watched her. She stared down at her lap, then away at a goose that had separated itself from the rest of the mean-spirited creatures.

“Everyone here calls me Maggie—well, only a few people speak to me at all, but they call me Maggie.”

Why was she so nervous?

“But you said that was not your name. Is it short for something?”

“Short for Magdalen, actually.” She finally looked him in the eye.

Of course it is, because you are Lady Magdalen, the daughter of the Baron of Mallin.But why was she working as a goose girl? It made no sense, unless someone was forcing her out of her place. But who? And for what purpose?

Until he figured it out, he’d better not tell her who he was. He couldn’t prove he was the Duke of Wolfberg yet anyway, and she obviously didn’t recognize him with the beard and shepherd’s clothing.

“You were also going to tell me why you need the paper and ink.”

“I need them to write a letter. Two letters.”

“Letters to whom?”

“Letters to my mother and to a friend.” She looked away from him again, signaling that she was either lying or holding something back.

“How did a goose girl learn to read and write?”