Yet as he drew nearer, she saw that Lord Hamlin wore not a robe after all, but a plain cloak of dark wool. His bearing and the proud tilt of his head were what made him look so regal.
In contrast to his brother’s outerwear, a fur-trimmed surcoat of lustrous sapphire silk hung over Lord Rupert’s lean frame, with only the toes of his leather boots peeking out. The disparity between the brothers went beyond their clothing. Lord Rupert’s light brown hair was long and curled at the ends, and a blue ribbon gathered it at the nape of his neck. A jaunty glint shone from his pale eyes. Lord Hamlin’s black hair hung over his forehead, and he seemed oblivious to the crowd. He focused his gaze straight ahead, toward Hagenheim Castle, whose towers were visible over the tops of the town’s tallest buildings.
No, she’d say they hadn’t changed at all.
“Willkommen!” Hildy called out. “Welcome back, my lords!” She waved her hand high, as though hailing a messenger.
All eyes turned to Rose and Hildy. A spear of panic went through Rose. She wanted to hide, but it was too late. Lord Hamlin’s eyes darted in their direction, alighted on Rose, and held. His expression changed and his features softened as he looked at her. Then his gaze swept down, taking in her basket and her dress. He quickly faced forward again.
He realizes I’m nobody, a peasant girl. Heat spread up Rose’s neck and burned her cheeks.
Lord Rupert’s huge blond warhorse walked toward Rose and Hildy as the crowd suddenly took up Hildy’s cheer. “Willkommen! Welcome back!” The horse came within three feet of the girls and stopped, stamping his hooves on the cobblestone street and sending Wolfie into a wild fit of barking.
Rose threw her arms around Wolfie’s neck to hold him back. Her temples pounded at the sight of the warhorse’s powerful legs.
The younger nobleman swept off his plumed hat, bowing from his saddle. His eyes roved from Hildy to Rose, then he winked. “I thank you, ladies, for your kind welcome.” He grinned and swung his hat back on his head, then spurred his horse into a trot and caught up with the others.
“Did you see that? Did you see it?” Hildy pounded on Rose’s shoulder.
Wolfie calmed as the men rode into the distance. Rose let go of him and stood up, glaring at Hildy. “I can’t believe you called out to them.”
“Lord Rupert actually spoke to us. To us. And did you see how Lord Hamlin looked at you?” Hildy clutched her hands to her heart, gazing at the clouds. “Are they not the most handsome men you’ve ever seen? I could hardly breathe!” She turned and smiled at Rose. “I knew they’d like what they saw once they caught sight of you.”
“Would you keep your voice down?” Rose urged Hildy to start walking toward the Marktplatz. She glanced around, afraid the townspeople would overhear their embarrassing conversation. She imagined the miller’s skinny wife, who walked ahead of them, snorting in derision at Hildy’s compliment. The shoemaker’s buxom daughter, striding down the other side of the street, would laugh out loud.
Hildy and her romantic notions of love. She was a candle-maker’s daughter, dreaming about the local nobility as if she had any chance of inspiring a serious thought in them. As a woodcutter’s daughter, Rose held no grand illusions about her own prospects.
Hildy’s chatter faded into the background as Rose wondered at Lord Rupert’s flirtatious wink. But what stuck in her mind was the way Lord Hamlin had looked at her. Thinking of that, her face began to burn once again. She’d encountered her share of leering men and their crude comments, but Lord Hamlin’s look was different. It had made her feel pretty—until he noticed her clothing.
She should have worn her good dress, the crimson one with the bit of white silk at the neck and wrists that Frau Geruscha had given her. Hildy said it brought out the red tint in her chestnut hair. But how could she have known Hildy would draw the attention of both Lord Hamlin and Lord Rupert and that they would look straight at her?
Realizing her train of thought, she snorted. What difference did it make which dress she wore? Everyone knew Lord Hamlin was betrothed to the daughter of the Duke of Marienberg. But betrothed or not, he’d hardly be interested in her. And Lord Rupert, as the younger son, would inherit none of the family’s wealth and so would need to find a rich heiress to marry.
If, as an apprentice, Rose could impress Frau Geruscha with her skill, she would become the next healer—needed, respected. She could avoid the indignity of marrying someone out of desperation.
So she’d never experience love. Most married people didn’t, either.
Rose dipped her quill in the pot of ink and concentrated on scratching out the next sentence of the tale she was writing. Frau Geruscha encouraged her to write her stories, although she said it was probably best if she didn’t tell anyone about them.
Shouts drifted through the open window of the healer’s chambers. From her vantage point in the southwest tower of Hagenheim Castle, Rose peered out, seeking the source of the commotion.