She put a hand on Steffan’s back as they both rushed out the door and ran until they reached the servants’ stairs. Magdalen started to go up, but Steffan caught her arm and motioned her to follow him as he went down one flight of stairs. Then Steffan dashed into an open doorway and pulled her against the wall. He stood with his finger over his lips, still holding on to her arm.
She was breathing hard but trying to stay quiet. The room they were in was dark, as the shutters on the windows were closed. She listened, very aware of Steffan’s nearness, his hand on her arm, his shoulder pressing against hers.
“Did they see us?” she whispered.
“Wait.”
They stood silent and unmoving. In the dim light, his face was pale. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.
“You are in pain,” she said.
He said nothing for a moment. Then, “I am well enough.”
They stood for several more moments. Finally, Steffan said, “He must not have seen us, or else my uncle would have his guards looking for us. I think we can go now.”
Her breathing had finally slowed to normal as she followed Steffan out of the room and back up the stairs. He was moving slow and breathing hard. She followed him all the way up to the room he shared with the other menservants, then touched his arm.
“Let me see you.” She got in front of him. At least he wasn’t bleeding anywhere, but his puffy lip was purple.
“You should lie down.” She went and poured him a cup of water and brought it to him where he sat on his bed. “Is there anything else I can do?”
He shook his head and drank the water.
“You should not have been out of bed and engaging in dangerous activities.” She stood by his bedside.
Steffan pulled the cup away from his mouth. “And I told you to be patient and wait for a good opportunity.”
“It was a good opportunity. Hilde told me he was not in his chamber.”
“Who is Hilde?”
“The servant who changes his bed linens.”
“And when does she change his bed linens?”
“Every Wednesday. She said I could change them next week.”
He was either looking down or his eyes were closed. “I am sorry for my ill temper. You did well. And if Lord Hazen did not notice us running down the corridor or see anything amiss in his chamber, then he will have no reason to suspect that anyone is sneaking around and searching through his things. He will not be on his guard, and we shall have an advantage. I thought of another place where I used to play as a child, so I will need to look there if it’s not in my parents’ old bedchamber.”
“I can look in Hazen’s bedchamber next week when I change his linens, and we can also sneak in when we know he’s in the Great Hall or doing something else.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything for several moments.
“I should go. Agnes will need me soon.”
“Magdalen?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
She had a sudden urge to reach out and smooth the hair off his forehead, but of course, that would be foolish, not to mention awkward. How brave he had been to take a beating from that burly guard. What kind of duke would take the punishment for an old man who was stealing bread?
But she didn’t want to let her heart soften toward him. He may have done a noble deed, but he was still a duke who had rejected her.
Magdalen sat in Agnes’s bedchamber waiting for her return. She wanted to search for Steffan’s portrait, but she was afraid Agnes would come back and find her gone, and she wasn’t ready to anger her.
With nothing to occupy her, her mind wandered to the letters she had written to Lady Thornbeck and her mother. Where were they? She had given them back to Steffan, but she wished she had asked him where he’d left them. He didn’t have a chance to collect his things before he ended up here in the castle.
If Agnes or Lord Hazen found those letters and read what she had written—the truth about what was happening here in Wolfberg—she and Steffan would both end up dead.
She needed those letters. She needed to send those letters! But how would she find a courier, and if she found one, how would she pay him?
Voices drifted in from the corridor.
“I don’t want you to be ashamed of me,” Agnes said.
Magdalen tiptoed toward the door and listened.
“How could I ever be ashamed of you?” a man answered.
“I only care about what you think,” was Agnes’s breathy comment.
No one said anything for several moments and Magdalen imagined that they were kissing. Ick.
A bit later, the man said, “I have to go to my father now.”
“You mean your uncle?”
“Oh, of course. My uncle. He wants to speak with me.”
So, Steffan’s cousin was still lying to his “wife” about who he was.
“Will I see you later?”
“Ja.”
Magdalen started tidying up, moving to the other side of the room, picking up and putting away some articles of clothing that Agnes had left on the floor or draped over the furniture.
“What are you doing in here?” Agnes said.
Magdalen looked over her shoulder, pretending surprise. “I was just cleaning. You told me you would need me.”
Agnes huffed a breath, as if undecided about whether she should scold Magdalen. But she said nothing as she wandered over to a cushioned chair and sat down. Magdalen peeked at her occasionally as she folded Agnes’s clothes. Agnes stared at the wall with a pucker between her eyes, her lips pouty. Finally, she got up and came toward Magdalen.
“In two weeks Lord Hazen is giving my husband and me a wedding celebration and inviting the nobles from all over the northern regions. But your mother’s invitation will have to get lost. I cannot risk her being here, of course. And your friends, the Margrave of Thornbeck and his lady—that invitation will also be misdirected. My father has promised to take care of that.”
Magdalen forced her expression to remain unchanged.
“You are very quiet,” Agnes observed. “I heard that your imbecile friend, the shepherd who is so attached to you, was beaten by a guard again. You should keep a better watch over him.”
What a cruel, mean-spirited . . . “What would your husband say if I were to tell him that you are not Lady Magdalen after all, but are only a stable worker’s daughter and a servant?”
“If you dared to tell him such a lie, my father would—”
“Your father the baron, who is now in heaven? Or your father the stable worker?”
“He isn’t a stable worker anymore. Lord Hazen promoted him to be the assistant to the captain of the guard.” Agnes actually smirked.
“So you don’t mind if your new husband discovers your deception?”
Her smirk disappeared. “You won’t tell him. You wouldn’t want Lenhart or Stoffel to be harmed.” But fear shone from her eyes.
“Do you care so much what your husband thinks? You know you aren’t really married to him, since you were married under a false name.” Should Magdalen tell Agnes that her husband wasn’t the real Duke of Wolfberg?
“Please don’t tell him. He would be hurt if he found out I lied to him. And you do not understand how ruthless Lord Hazen is.”
Magdalen felt a tiny pang of pity for Agnes at the anxiety on her face. Could Agnes actually care that Alexander would feel hurt at her deception? Probably she was only afraid of what would happen to her and Erlich when Lord Hazen discovered the truth.
“You cannot tell him, Magdalen. Vow that you won’t.”
“Very well. I won’t tell him—yet. But in exchange you must not allow any harm to come to either Stoffel or Lenhart, because as soon as you do, I will tell your husband everything.”
“Well.” Agnes tossed her head, turning half away from Magdalen. “You have no proof. He won’t believe you.”
“Perhaps I do have proof. Proof I can show to Lord Hazen.”
Agnes’s lips parted and her chest rose and fell.
“But you must tell your guards not to beat Stoffel again, and tell your father and the stable workers to be kind to Lenhart.”
Agnes clamped her fists on her hips. “I cannot tell the guards not to beat some particular servant. What would they think? They might tell Lord Hazen. And I certainly can’t tell the stable workers what to do.”
“And why not? You are the Duchess of Wolfberg. I should think it would be well within your authority.”
“What would Alexander say? If I were to single out two obscure servants and tell the guards and other workers to give them special treatment, he would think I had lost my senses.”
Magdalen shrugged. “If you do not wish to risk it, that is all well and good. I shall tell the duke and the baron the truth.”
“Very well. I shall speak to the guards and the stable workers.”
Magdalen had never done this sort of bargaining before. It felt foreign, but her situation, as well as that of Steffan and Lenhart, was desperate.
She smiled. Avelina would be proud of her.
“You were ruthless enough to steal my place in life, but Agnes, surely you are too shrewd to fall in love with the duke.”
Agnes crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You probably think I’m evil for what I did to you. But it was all my father’s idea. He was tired of being told what to do. He said, ‘Why couldn’t we be the ones telling others what to do?’ He made it sound easy and as if we were entitled to do it. Why did you have all the privileges? What had you ever done to be the daughter of a baron? Nothing. But when I met my husband . . . I would do anything to keep him from discovering the truth.”
Perhaps Agnes did love Alexander, in her own warped way. Was Alexander evil? Or was he only a pawn of his father’s? Steffan called Alexander a whey-faced imbecile, and yet Agnes seemed to care what he thought of her.
“You need me as well, to protect you.” Agnes made her voice sound gruff, but the fear lingered.
As if Magdalen would ever accept help from Agnes. But if she and Steffan were not able to find his portrait so he could prove his identity, Magdalen would need help to prove that she was Lady Magdalen. She couldn’t expect to get that help from Agnes, however.
Regardless, in two weeks guests would arrive in Wolfberg to celebrate the fake marriage of Agnes and Alexander.