The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(28)

The woman was still mumbling as though confused, but she complied with Jorgen and let him walk her up the stairs and away from the guests.

Lord Thornbeck nodded to the musicians as he rejoined Fronicka and several others at the perimeter of the room. The musicians soon announced another dance, but most of the guests remained clustered around Lord Thornbeck.

“Go back to dancing,” he said. “We shall have our dinner soon, so make the most of the music.”

“I wonder who that woman was,” the Duke of Wolfberg commented.

The woman could not be his mother, since his mother was dead. He didn’t have any sisters that she knew of, and the woman looked too old to be his sister anyway. Besides, she was wearing the clothing of a peasant or servant. But it was very strange to see a servant behaving in such a way. Lord Plimmwald would never have tolerated it. A servant like that would have been summarily sent away and ordered never to return to the castle. But Lord Thornbeck’s chancellor escorted her upstairs.

The ladies slowly rejoined the dance. It was the simplest type of dance, one of the two Magdalen had shown her and that she had practiced, so when the Duke of Wolfberg asked her, she accepted. She didn’t want to attract too much attention to herself, after all. If she only danced once, it might raise suspicions about her.

She concentrated on stepping correctly, keeping the other dancers in the edges of her vision, making sure she was moving in the right direction.

Lord Thornbeck was once again talking with Fronicka. Was he falling for her charming friendliness and big smiles?

Avelina made it through the dance without stepping on the duke’s toes. For the next dance, the Duke of Wolfberg asked Magdalen—they made a very good-looking couple—while Avelina stood alone, trying not to hear what Fronicka was saying to Lord Thornbeck.

However, she couldn’t help noticing the margrave glancing in her direction occasionally. Truly, she felt out of place just standing there, the only person who was neither dancing nor talking with anyone. Would she stand here alone for the rest of the night?

When that song ended, Magdalen and the Duke of Wolfberg came toward her.

“We are tired of dancing,” Magdalen said, “and decided we would come over and keep you company.”

For the next dance, most of the young people wandered toward Lord Thornbeck and Fronicka, prompting the margrave to turn away from her and talk to some of his other guests. Only a few couples remained dancing. Fronicka’s expression was quite dark as she glared at whoever dared talk to Lord Thornbeck.

Neither Magdalen nor the Duke of Wolfberg seemed to notice. They were near enough that Avelina could hear them talking about the time they had met each other as children, when his parents had come to Mallin. Magdalen’s father was still alive then.

Lord Thornbeck was scowling and did not look pleased with having more than one person trying to talk to him at once. He signaled the musicians and they stopped playing. A few moments later a servant announced that it was time to move to the Great Hall for the meal.

Some of the ladies were smiling and even laughing, talking with the young men as they all moved toward the doorway. Avelina fell back a bit behind Magdalen and the Duke of Wolfberg, when someone touched her elbow.

“Lady Dorothea.” Lord Thornbeck spoke in a quiet voice. “Will you step into the gallery with me for a moment?”

His face wore its usual brooding scowl, but there seemed to be something more than grumpiness in his eyes. What could he possibly want to say to her privately? Had he discovered that she was an imposter? How did he find out she was not Lady Dorothea?

Her heart pounded in her throat as she turned aside into the gallery.

His eyes bored into hers, but his expression was slack, as if he was trying to hide his thoughts. “Lady Fronicka said she heard a rumor that you were with child. I do not want to falsely accuse anyone or think of this rumor for one moment longer, so please tell me now if it is true or not, and I will accept your word.”

“I—no! No, I . . . I am not with child.” She shook her head as she had when she was twelve and Lord Plimmwald had accused her of stealing a pair of Dorothea’s shoes. Avelina’s hands trembled as she held them down by her sides, hiding them in the folds of her dress. “I cannot imagine where Lady Fronicka may have heard such a thing. I—”

“She said you were in love with one of your father’s knights. If this is true, you may tell me and I shall not judge you or tell anyone. I only want to know.”

“No, I am not in love with my father’s knight.” But wasn’t she being deceptive? Everyone believed her to be Lady Dorothea, and if she were Dorothea, then what she was saying was a lie. But she was not. “I am not.” She shrugged and shook her head, feeling breathless.

“She even gave me the name of the knight you were supposed to be in love with—a Sir Dietric.”

“I—I have heard of him. He is one of my father’s best knights. But I have never so much as spoken five words with him. I assure you, I am not in love with him, and I certainly am not carrying anyone’s child.” A nervous laugh threatened to escape her throat, which would have been quite out of place in this serious moment.

“Forgive me for asking and for bringing up such a thing. But she actually gave me the name of the knight.”

“Yes, she must have heard someone speak of Sir Dietric, someone who had been to Plimmwald. Now that I think on it, I believe I heard my father say that Sir Dietric had gotten one of the maidens of Plimmwald with child. He was very displeased with his knight, as I remember. Someone must have overheard and thought they said Lady Dorothea was the maiden.”