He would confess this sin in the morning to the chapel priest. But no. He couldn’t wait until morning. He would confess it now, to God, in his own chamber. He fell to his knees in front of the slit of a window. The moon’s light, void of any warmth, fell on his face as he clasped his hands.
“O God, I am a miserable wretch. I vowed to remain pure for my betrothed, but my feelings for Rose…” He closed his eyes. “Forgive me. I will conquer this. I can’t avoid her, but I will think of her only as a sister. I will, God. And she is blameless. It was I who looked at her too long, who chose to dance with her, who, like a fool, allowed my mind to dwell upon her. Forgive me, God. I will try not to think about her, and I will never touch her again. I will marry Lady Salomea. I cannot, now or ever, marry Rose.”
He knew what he had to do. Rupert had asked Wilhelm for his help, and he knew it hadn’t been easy for him. He would be glad Rupert had apparently given up his avaricious goal of becoming the next bishop. As surprising as it was, Rupert truly must want to marry Rose. And Wilhelm would help him convince Rose that Rupert’s intentions toward her were good. Rupert hadn’t used the word “marriage,” but he said he wanted to commit to her, to love her and only her for the rest of his life. It was the best thing for Rose—and more than other maidens in her position in life could ever hope for.
The kindest thing he could do for Rose would be to convince her to marry Rupert.
But what if something else was preventing Rose from accepting Rupert’s suit? What if she felt the same way about Wilhelm that he felt about her? He groaned deep in his throat, sinking his head into his hands. He never should have danced with her. It was a foolish, weak thing to do. Of course, she might not care for him at all. But if she did…he needed to do something to turn her thoughts from him to Rupert.
What was it he had told himself more than once? That he would never be in danger of losing his heart to a mere woodcutter’s daughter. He had been prideful to think that way, to believe the poorer classes were somehow less noble in character. Rose had shown him how wrong he had been. Maybe if he could prove to her that Rupert was not prideful…He wasn’t sure how he would do it, but he would find her tomorrow and convince her that Rupert was the one who could offer her a future. And that he, Wilhelm, could offer her nothing but pain.
As he tried to change his thoughts away from Rose, something more troubling entered his mind. He’d never stopped searching for Moncore, so why hadn’t he found him yet? He knew Moncore was good at disguising himself. As much as he hated to admit it, the man did seem to have a certain amount of supernatural power, a demonic force that was keeping Wilhelm from finding him. But wasn’t God on Wilhelm’s side? Certainly God’s power was greater.
“O God, I vowed I would find my betrothed’s enemy, that accursed conjurer, Moncore. I’ve tried.” He ran his fingers through his hair, tightening his hands into fists. “I’ve tried everything, traveled everywhere, searched out every rumor, sent out spies. I need to find him, and soon. I can’t let him get to her. If I do, I’m an utter failure.”
Wilhelm groaned. A trickle of sweat ran down his neck. He pressed his burning eyes with the heel of his hands. Never had he failed at anything. And this was so important.
O God, why can’t I find him? He wasn’t sure he’d ever asked God for help before. Perhaps that had been his mistake.
“Help me now, God. Help me.”
Chapter 10
Frau Geruscha finished bandaging a cut on a boy’s hand and sent him on his way home. Rose cleaned up the room, getting down on her knees to scrub the floor clean of the boy’s blood. As Rose finished up, a bearded man wearing the purple and gold livery of the Duke of Marienberg appeared in the doorway.
“Frau Geruscha?”
“Yes?” Frau Geruscha’s expression changed from expectancy to shock as soon as she saw the man, and she hurried to the door.
The man held out a folded parchment. Frau Geruscha snatched it and held it against her apron, as though to hide the wax seal on the front. But Rose had already glimpsed the purple and gold ribbon hanging down from it—the colors of the Godehard family.
The back of Rose’s neck prickled. Why would Godehard, the Duke of Marienberg, send Frau Geruscha a message?
Her mistress put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a coin. She pressed it into the man’s hand.
“I will be back in an hour for frau’s reply.”
“Very good.” Frau Geruscha nodded to dismiss him. The man turned and left.
“What is that, Frau Geruscha?”
“What?” Her head jerked up. “Oh, it’s nothing, child. Nothing.” Frau Geruscha slipped the letter into her apron pocket. “Why don’t you take Wolfie and gather some liverwort and feverfew? We’re almost out, and it’s a beautiful day for a walk.”