Page 34 of The Noble Servant

“Oh, I am so glad!” She laughed and nearly threw her arms around him but controlled herself. “I am so glad it is you, so glad to finally find someone who knows who I am. But why are you a shepherd? Please explain to me what is happening here.”

Was this the man she would marry? Her stomach fluttered again. He was handsome, and he possessed an appealingly confident way of walking and talking.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “Why is a baron’s daughter herding geese?”

“No, I asked you first. Please.”

“I suppose you saw who was getting married at the cathedral, and it was not you and me. I can only tell you who the groom was, because I do not know the bride. The groom is none other than my cousin Alexander van Verden.”

“But how can anyone think he is you? He looks somewhat similar, but it is still easy to tell the difference.”

“I thank you for those words, my lady.” He gave her a slight bow. “It seems while I was away at the university in Prague trying to learn things that might help my people to prosper, my uncle, Lord Hazen, got rid of the house servants who would be most likely to recognize me and replaced them with people from Arnsbaden who either didn’t know Alexander or were loyal to them. Then he brought his son in and began saying he was the Duke of Wolfberg.”

“Oh my.” Magdalen shook her head.

“He sent some men to kill me on the way home.”

“Oh!” She covered her mouth. Poor Steffan! To be so betrayed by his own family!

“But with God’s help, I managed to defeat them. I grew a beard to disguise myself and got hired as a shepherd. I plan to sneak into the castle and find proof that I am the Duke of Wolfberg.”

“That’s even worse than what happened to me.” But at least the real duke didn’t marry Agnes!

“And what did happen to you?”

She felt herself start to blush as she said, “I was on my way here to Wolfberg to marry you.” She paused a moment, but he said nothing, and her face burned. “On the last day of our journey, my maidservant and her father, who had accompanied us, forced me to change places with her. They took my clothes and all my things and gave me hers, and when we arrived in Wolfberg, everyone at the castle simply believed she was Lady Magdalen. I could not have fought back, even if I had a weapon, because they threatened to kill poor Lenhart if I told anyone who I was. And now he and I are here, working as servants.”

He did still plan to marry her, didn’t he? Perhaps he was feeling as shy as she was, thinking that they would be married soon, as soon as they were able to get their places back from their usurpers.

“I’m sorry I did not recognize you,” she said. “The first time I saw you, and many times after that, I thought you looked like the Duke of Wolfberg, but I wasn’t sure. After all, you were a servant.”

“I do not blame you.” But he kept his head down, as if staring down at his clenched fists.

A coldness settled in her middle at his awkward silence. Then a thought struck her. “You did not send me the letter asking me to marry you, did you?” She suddenly went numb all over.

“No,” he said quietly.

“Then who sent it?”

“My uncle. And I don’t know why.”

Magdalen’s cheeks burned even hotter, and she felt as if he had punched her with one of his clenched fists.

Chapter Twelve

Magdalen had imagined that Steffan often thought about her after the dance at Thornbeck. She had thought the duke had fallen at least a little in love with her, that he wanted her. She had been pleased to marry him, to leave her home for his.

She felt sick, her stomach rising into her throat. He must think her a lack-wit.

Meanwhile, he said nothing. What could he say? He did not want to marry her, had never intended to marry her. Truly, she should not feel angry at him. It was all his uncle’s fault and he had nothing to do with it, but in spite of this, she suddenly hated his calm demeanor and silence.

“How daft you must think me.” The words slipped out before she could halt them. She turned away as her lips trembled with impending tears.Stop!How she hated herself for those tears, for trembling lips!

“I don’t think you’re daft,” he said, a groan in his voice.

And she hated his groan! He did think she was daft. And pitiable. If only she could disappear. But she couldn’t run away. She had to stay with the geese.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Magdalen.” A hand touched her shoulder.