He laughed out loud and Rose felt her cheeks turn pink, knowing he must be drawing the attention of every person in the castle courtyard.
“Not only that, but you are the maiden who sewed up my brother’s leg.” He grinned down at her. “This is indeed an honor.”
His demeanor, the jauntiness in his voice, and the tilt of his head, made Rose surmise that he was not entirely sincere.
“I look forward to seeing you at our ball. You are coming, aren’t you?” He fixed his light blue eyes on her.
“Yes, Frau Geruscha and I will be there.”
“I shall count the hours.” He bent forward, holding out his hand.
He was waiting for her to lift her hand so he could kiss it. Her heart jumped, but she stood motionless, her head slightly bowed. Finally, he let his hand drop.
“Until tomorrow night.” He winked then turned and sauntered toward the castle.
Wilhelm sat in the Great Hall with the musicians. It was the last day to practice their songs for the ball, and he was anxious to learn this new one.
As he strummed the strings of his lute, his mother swept in, her skirts dragging behind her. She crossed her arms. He cringed inwardly and pretended not to see her.
With that lofty air of hers that he disliked, she said, “Son, may I have a word with you?”
“Of course.”
The musicians started to rise from their stools, but Wilhelm motioned for them to remain seated. “I’ll return in a moment.”
He followed his mother into the hallway. Here it comes.
“Now, Wilhelm, I know you usually prefer not to dance. However, I love to see our guests having a good time, and there are sure to be several young ladies who shall need partners.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but his mother rushed on. “And more important, this is only Lady Anne’s second week here. I would like you to make her feel at home by dancing with her.”
“I’ll give you three reasons why I cannot.” He forced himself not to smile at her dire expression. It would only provoke her. “I am betrothed. You and Father have warned me—more times than I can count—that I must guard my heart. Dancing is not conducive to that end.”
“Yes, but—”
Wilhelm held up a finger. “Wait. I have two more reasons.”
She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.
“I’m also helping to provide the music, which means I can entertain more of your guests by not dancing. Third, I’m injured, or had you forgotten? You wouldn’t expect me to dance on this gashed-up leg, would you?”
“You hardly limp at all now. Our dances are not so vigorous that you couldn’t attempt at least every other one, resting in between.”
“Ah!” said a loud voice from behind Wilhelm.
Rupert strode toward them and clapped him hard on the back. “My brother wouldn’t give a fig for dancing, would you, Wil? He loathes it. As for me”—Rupert inhaled audibly, pushing out his chest—“I am prepared to dance with every woman in the room, whether she be fair or not.” He wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders and drew her to his side. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll keep the whole room entertained, to the best of my ability.”
“Of that I have no doubt, but I ask you to spare my nerves and contain yourself. No carousing.”
Wilhelm glared at Rupert. He’ll carouse—if he gets drunk. Wilhelm planned to have a talk with his brother.
Rupert had already shaken off his mother’s plea and turned to Wilhelm. “I met our talented little storyteller-healer, Rose. The one who sewed you up.”
“Yes.” Wilhelm studied his brother warily.
“Well, she’s a beauty, is what I say. Very well could be the fairest maiden at the ball tonight.”
Wilhelm despised the eager look in his brother’s eyes. It reminded him of an incident involving Rupert and a serving wench back in Heidelberg. The thought turned his stomach.
“Yes, the dear maiden,” the duchess said affectionately. “I am anxious to meet her. But I hardly think you would be interested in her, Rupert. Her family can have neither money nor noble connections. In fact, I believe her father is a woodcutter. But perhaps I’m mistaken.” She shook her head as though it were not possible.
“No, it is true, Mother.” With effort, Wilhelm held his voice steady.
“We are grateful to her for what she did for you, Wilhelm, to be sure. But instead of our healer’s apprentice, Rupert should have his eye on Lady Anne.” The duchess lowered her voice, looking pointedly at her younger son. “Laws being what they are and you being the younger son, you must make prudent life choices.”
“Lady Anne!” Rupert cried.
His mother put one finger over her lips and looked at him sternly.
“Lady Anne is spoken for, Mother, or have you not heard the rumors that she is Wilhelm’s betrothed?” With a gleeful smile and a raised eyebrow, he turned on Wilhelm.
Wilhelm fought the urge to throttle his brother.