“No.” Rose gave him a smile. “I’m sorry. Only having a little trouble with my mother. It’s nothing. Go ahead and tell me about your hunting trip.”
“There is something else I need to discuss with you.” He lowered his voice. A glimmer of excitement shone in his eyes, and something she’d never seen before. Was it nervousness? She hadn’t known he was capable of the emotion.
“Rose, you know by now that I love you,” he whispered. He leaned close to her ear, keeping an eye on the storage room where Frau Geruscha was working. “I need to talk to you. Can you meet me later?”
“Later?”
“Please, Rose. Something has been decided. I don’t want to talk about it here. I need to ask you something very important. Your answer,” he said slowly and deliberately, “will determine my future joy.”
The solemn expression of his eyes fascinated her. “Where do you want to meet?”
“In the rose garden.”
“I’ll try to meet you this evening, a few minutes before vespers.”
Lord Rupert smiled. He leaned down slowly, covered one side of her face with his hand, and Rose knew he meant to kiss her. She didn’t move. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers.
The thrill of her first real kiss sent a tingle all the way down to her toes. Her heart tripped at the thought of Geruscha suddenly coming in and seeing them.
Lord Rupert pulled away, a tender gleam in his eye. He leaned in and kissed her again, then ran his fingertips along her cheekbone.
“Until this evening.” He stood and left.
Rose lifted her hand to her face, cherishing the lingering sensation of his touch. She closed her eyes. What could Lord Rupert possibly have to ask her? What, except those much-longed-for words—Will you marry me?
Unbidden, Lord Hamlin’s face appeared before her eyes.
What was wrong with her? She had to forget about him, stop wondering what he was doing every day, stop wishing to tell him every time something good or bad happened to her. Anyway, he would be married, to his precious Lady Salomea, in a few months.
She closed her eyes and imagined marrying Lord Rupert. She had a few misgivings about his attitude toward certain things—responsibility, for instance—but if what Hildy had said about marriage was true, she would be able to overlook all of his faults.
Chapter 19
Rose anxiously waited for six o’clock to draw near. In order to get away without raising Frau Geruscha’s suspicions, she planned to make an excuse about having to visit her parents. Their new home was very near the castle gatehouse, and she would visit her parents, but only to leave Wolfie with her sisters. She thought Lord Rupert would appreciate being completely alone with her when he asked her to marry him. After he asked her, she would go back to her parents’ to fetch Wolfie and tell them the happy news, that she would soon marry the most coveted man in the region of Hagenheim.
Maybe her mother—the only mother she had ever known—would finally be proud of her.
Frau Geruscha approached her. “Rose, I’ve wanted to talk to you about what you said about your parents.”
Not now. She needed to leave soon. “Yes, Frau Geruscha?”
“Rose, sit down.” They both sat on the bench. “I know it must have been devastating to learn that you were not born to your father and mother. But that fact doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”
Rose stared out the window at some clouds and patches of blue sky. “I understand that.”
“You are a wonderful maiden, with excellent qualities, virtues, and talents.”
So you’ve told me before.
“It doesn’t matter who your parents are. That doesn’t determine your worth, Rose.”
“According to the wisdom of the world, it does.”
“But not according to God’s wisdom.”
Rose spoke softly. “I know that.” Do we have to talk about this now?
“Your father loves you very much, and you have always been a blessing to him. You owe your parents love and respect, but you don’t owe it to your mother to marry a rich husband. You don’t have to marry anyone, Rose. You can stay here with me, helping me with my work.”
Rose looked into her eyes. Would Frau Geruscha be hurt if Rose said she wanted to marry instead of becoming the next healer? “I know you don’t want me to marry…”
“It isn’t that, my dear. I do want you to marry—to marry the person you love, who loves you in return.”
Could she mean Lord Rupert? She sighed in happy relief. “Thank you for saying that.”
Frau Geruscha patted her hand and smiled. “All right, child.”
“May I go for a visit now, to my parents’ home?”
Frau Geruscha looked surprised. “Of course.”
“Thank you, Frau Geruscha. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Rose ran toward the door, and Wolfie jumped up and followed her.
“Be careful, Rose.”
Rose’s sisters, Agathe and Dorothye, met her when she opened the door. “Rose! Wolfie!” they squealed, throwing their arms first around Rose’s neck, then around the dog’s.
“Listen. Can you keep Wolfie here for a little while? I’ll be back to fetch him before bedtime.”
They nodded, their words tumbling over one another. “Come back, I have something to show you.” “Me too.” “Hurry back, Rose!”
Rose gave them each a kiss on the cheek and scurried away. She paused in the street just long enough to pull her bracelet from her pocket and fasten it onto her wrist.
The iron gate to the rose garden hung ajar. Shadows stretched long as the sun hung low in the west. Her heart fluttered. She opened the gate and walked in, shutting it behind her.
Lord Rupert stood in front of a huge red rose bush, the vines of which covered the wall behind him, studding the gray wall with dark red roses. His eyes glinted. A jaunty smile on his face, he stepped forward, took her hands, and led her to the iron bench.
He spoke with fervor, gazing into her eyes. “Rose, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Her heart jumped inside her. His ice-blue eyes held her prisoner in the glimmer of twilight.
“You see,” he said, turning her hand over and playing with her fingers, “the Bishop of Hagenheim died two days ago.”
“Oh?” What does that have to do with us?
Lord Rupert stared down at her fingers. “My father has granted me what I’ve always wanted, Rose.” He looked up. His pale blue eyes pleaded with her, giving Rose a strange feeling of foreboding.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m asking you to become my wife, Rose, in spirit, because we won’t be allowed a legal wedding. My father has appointed me to be the new bishop.”
In spirit? Rose instantly understood his meaning. The breath rushed out of her. She jerked her hands out of his grasp.
He spoke quickly, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. “But we will be no less married, Rose. You know as well as I do that the Church’s doctrine against priests marrying is unfair and unbiblical. Rose—”
She recoiled from him, leaning back against the armrest of the bench. Her stomach twisted in horror. It was as though a curtain had been pulled and she now saw him as a vile, traitorous snake instead of the tender lover of mere moments before.
“Rose, truly, no one will think of you as anything other than my wife. You will be respected—”
“Stop it.” Rose’s voice came out raspy and foreign, even to her own ears. “I will not be your mistress. Never.” She stood, clenching her fists in defiance. “I will not be anyone’s mistress, do you hear me?”
“Rose, listen to me!” He stood toe to toe with her, grasping her arms hard in his hands. “I’ll make you happy. You shall have all the music, all the beautiful clothes, everything you could want. You can run the household, read books—”
“Let go of me.” Her body went rigid. She could barely see. Tears of rage blurred Lord Rupert’s image. She glanced down and her eyes f
ocused on the bracelet he had given her, glinting on her arm. Her face burned as she grasped it and ripped it off. She threw it at his feet. “You think I’m a nobody, nothing. How dare you ask me to live in sin?”
“Stop saying that and listen to me! It isn’t like that, Rose!”
“It is! It is! And you know it is.” Rose suddenly hated him, hated his detestable fingers gripping her arms. She had to get away from his voice. She couldn’t bear to listen to another word out of his mouth.
Rose violently twisted her upper body and wrenched herself out of his grasp, throwing herself backward. He made a wild grab and caught her sleeve. She heard the fabric rip as she landed on the ground on her left hip. Cool air brushed her shoulder. Her right sleeve was torn and hung awry across her upper arm. She grabbed it and held it up in a feeble attempt to cover her exposed shoulder as she scrambled to her feet, ignoring the hand he offered her.
“You’re being unreasonable—”
“You stay away from me.” Rose gave him her fiercest look, determined to scratch his eyes out if he touched her. “Don’t ever come near me again. Do you hear me?”
She turned and ran out of the rose garden, leaving the gate swinging on its hinges. She skirted behind the castle, across the courtyard, and through the castle gate, keeping her head down as she made her way out of town and then ran across the meadow toward the forest.
She ran as fast as she could, until her chest burned as though her heart were on fire. She reached the beech trees and turned to make sure Lord Rupert wasn’t following her. Then she plunged into the evening shadows of the forest.
Tears coursed down her face and she panted for breath. Not caring where she was going, she kept running, only wanting to get far away. She came out on the other side of the trees, into the waning sunlight, and started toward the beech tree at the top of the grassy hillock.
Her shoulders shook with her sobs. She could barely see where she was going as she stumbled up the hill and sank to the ground under the tree.
She leaned against the tree’s gray trunk and wrapped her arms around it. Her heart throbbed, hurting more with each heaving breath she took. Her throat ached and her eyes burned, but the pain inside was the worst. How could she have ever thought Lord Rupert, son of the Duke of Hagenheim, could possibly marry her? Frau Geruscha had been right all along. She never should have trusted him. He never intended to marry her. Humiliation pierced her and forced out the tears, doing nothing to relieve the ache in her heart.
Rose heard only her racking sobs as they wrenched her whole body. Then, suddenly, horse’s hooves were pounding up the hill toward her. The animal was nearly upon her when she tore herself away from the tree to face the rider.
Chapter 20
Wilhelm held Shadow’s reins loosely as they walked back to the castle through the dense brush and trees. A faint noise toward the west stopped him. He listened but couldn’t identify the sound. Urging Shadow forward, he followed it.
They emerged from the forest. Someone lay crumpled at the base of the beech tree on the hill. His breath caught in his throat as he realized it was Rose, weeping.
He grasped the reins and catapulted onto Shadow’s back, urging him into a canter up the incline. They closed the distance in a few seconds. Wilhelm dismounted before the agile beast had even come to a stop.
Rose lifted her face and jumped at his sudden approach.
“What is it?” His heart constricted painfully at her anguished look. He reached out to her, but she shrank back, staring at his hand as though he’d suddenly grown claws.
He drew back, startled at her reaction, taking in her ripped dress and tear-stained face.
“Dear Lord of heaven, what’s happened to you?” He sank to one knee before her.
He longed to put his arms around her and comfort her but he remembered the way she had cringed when he had reached out to her.
“Who did this to you?” The impulse to tear her attacker apart set his muscles on edge.
Rose shook her head as fresh tears slid from her eyes and down her cheeks. “No, no.” Tears seemed to choke off any other words she might have spoken.
“Tell me, Rose. Who did this?” On his knees a mere two feet from her, he had to restrain himself again from pulling her into his arms.
She shook her head. “I—can’t—t-tell you.”
“Yes! You can tell me, Rose. Please. You can tell me. I vow before God I will never let him hurt you again. Was it Peter Brunckhorst? I’ll find him and make sure he never bothers you again.” Pain strangled him at the emptiness of his promise. You’ve been looking for one man for seven years and haven’t found him yet.
She shook her head again, and he yearned to smooth back the strands of hair that clung to her wet cheeks.
His heart pounded so hard it seemed to shake his whole body. He stared at her and felt the rage growing inside him. He had to know. “Rose, you have to tell me who did this. Tell me.”
“I can’t tell you!” She looked up at him, her eyes glinting.
He took a deep breath. “Why?” He softened his voice as he pleaded. “Please tell me, Rose. I don’t understand why you can’t tell me.”
“If I tell you, you’ll hate me.” Her face crumpled. Fresh sobs shook her as she covered her face with her hands.
“How could I hate you? Especially for something someone else did to you?” He yearned to pull her hands away from her face and kiss her until she stopped crying. An irresponsible, nearly irresistible thought.
“Because. Because you won’t believe me, and you’ll hate me.”
“Of course I’ll believe you, Rose. I only want to take care of you. I won’t be angry. Tell me.” A hard edge crept into his voice.
A muscle writhed in her jaw. Anger flashed from her eyes. “All right, I’ll tell you. It was your brother, Lord Rupert. He told me your father was appointing him the next bishop and he asked me to be his mistress.”
Her fury seemed to rush out of her with the last word. Her chin quivered and she bit her lip.
Wilhelm closed his eyes as he grasped her declaration. His whole body sank under the weight of it. Oh, Rose, what have I done? He fell to the ground, his face in his hands.
Rose drew in a breath as Lord Hamlin collapsed in front of her. Why did you make me tell you? Now he would hate her forever. He would never turn against his own brother, yet he’d vowed to punish whoever did this to her.
Now that she had actually spoken the words out loud, the flood of tears subsided, but she was horrified at Lord Hamlin remaining in so undignified a posture. “He didn’t hurt me, Lord Hamlin.”
Still he didn’t move.
“The rip in my dress was my fault.” Heaven forbid that Lord Hamlin should get the idea that Lord Rupert had assaulted her.
But what did it matter? She was a lowly nobody to him and his privileged brother. With all his talk of love, Lord Rupert hadn’t cared about her, had no respect for her. She wondered why she had ever found his face handsome or his pale blue eyes kind. Now he seemed cold, almost inhuman.
Lord Hamlin still lay prostrate, his face to the ground, motionless. What was he thinking? Was he embarrassed that he had thought Lord Rupert was going to ask her to marry him? Was he sorry for her hurt feelings and broken heart, or merely sorry he was to blame for making her think Rupert wanted to marry her? For causing her to trust him?
She hugged herself and shivered as a night breeze brought out chills along her arms. She wished she had not shrunk back when he reached out to her. At this moment his strong arms could be holding, warming, comforting her.
She closed her eyes. Of course he wouldn’t have put his arms around her. This was the man who had issued a proclamation saying that no man could touch a woman who wasn’t his wife or sister—and it seemed impossible now that she would ever be either to him.
Slowly, he raised himself and sat back on his heels. His eyes glistened as he locked his gaze on her.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice was low and hoarse. Anguish c
reased his forehead. “Please forgive me. Forgive me for my arrogance. Forgive me for telling you I thought—Oh, Rose. Rupert is a scurrilous knave. You didn’t deserve this…Will you forgive me?”
Her heart pricked at the pain and tension etched on his face. She shook her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I was arrogant, so pharisaical to believe that you would be better off marrying Rupert just because my family…”
He stared out at the sunset. His face glowed in the pale orange light, which played up his strong, square jaw and his prominent brows and deep-set eyes. “I was wrong, obviously. You are the virtuous one, Rose. You are the one with honor and pure love. It emanates from you. How my brother could have ever thought you would go along with such a plan…”
“He didn’t think it was wrong, doesn’t see it as a sin,” Rose said quietly.
Lord Hamlin scowled, his jaw clenching. “He knows better than that. He was only trying to make you believe it. He’s a manipulator, a rogue, a—”
“It’s all right. Please.” Rose shook her head. “Nothing’s hurt except my pride.” And my heart.
She pondered that thought. Pain filled her heart, yes, but she was surprised to detect a little relief hiding there too, relief that she wouldn’t be marrying Lord Rupert after all. She hadn’t trusted him. She hadn’t truly loved him. Did she even know her own heart? She obviously was a poor judge of other people’s.
“I was wrong too, for thinking Rupert was selfless enough to give up wealth and power for love. I never dreamed my father would actually give him the bishopric. Please forgive me for trying to convince you it was best that you marry him. You were always too good for him.”
“Please, Lord Hamlin, you don’t have to defend me this way. I’m under no illusion about my status or prospects.”
He looked at her a moment, as if about to speak. Then he stood abruptly and turned away. Gripping the pommel of his saddle, he leaned his head against his horse’s neck.
She hugged her legs to her chest, making sure her skirt covered her feet. She laid her cheek against her knees, tired from all her crying, and marveled at the cool, self-possessed Lord Hamlin leaning against his horse as though for support. How could the two men even be brothers? She couldn’t imagine Lord Rupert ever feeling so deeply sorry for anything. Would he ask forgiveness for arrogance? Would he care about a maiden’s wounded sensibilities? Would he cry over a brother’s lack of virtue?