“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?