The ribbons Chloe could take now; the rest would be delivered in a few days. She was admiring the colors as she placed them in the trunk when there was a knock at the door.

Richard stood in the doorway, a bundle in his arms. “I had one of my tunics and hose cut down to fit you until your gowns are ready.” He looked at her clothes. “Your garments attract undue attention, even for Bainford. I would burn them if ’twas me, but if you must keep them, put them in the trunk and lock it.” Then he handed her a pair of beautiful leather boots and a pair of knitted socks. “For you.”

The black tunic and hose were soft from being laundered, the leather soft and supple. The socks were a natural color. Her toes would finally be warm.

“This is too much, thank you. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble.”

“Nay. You bring light to Bainford.” He filled up the room with his presence. She noted the daggers in his boots, the sword at his hip, and thought of her granda, who always had a dagger somewhere on his person.

“When you have dressed, I will walk with you on the battlements,” he said. “I know you like to look at the snow and the land.”

“That would be lovely. I won’t be long.”

He shut the door behind him, and she held the clothes to her nose. They smelled like him. The scent of the woods, leather, and the outdoors. If she could bottle it, she’d make a fortune.

The tunic was long enough to be a dress, and the hose sagged a bit around the knees, but otherwise, the girls had done a great job. Then Chloe noticed a small detail and laughed. One of them had embroidered a cat chasing a ball of string on the sleeve. The socks were warm and the boots fit well. All she needed was a dagger and she’d feel very medieval.

Her sneaker mules were trashed, but she didn’t dare burn them—the smell would be horrible—so she put them on the stool and folded her clothes on top of them. She’d ask for the clothes to be laundered and then she’d pack them in the trunk in the knapsack she’d found in there. The sneakers couldn’t be buried—what if she needed them to get home? To be safe, she’d wash them herself; no sense in having the girls look too closely at the laces or the tag inside. Maybe she’d better wash the jeans and t-shirt too; the zipper on her jeans would cause way too many questions.

A blue ribbon that reminded her of Richard’s eyes went around her hair, tied in a low ponytail. Comfortable, she opened the door only to find him there, one booted foot touching the wall, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

“I didn’t know you were waiting right here. I would have hurried.” Was it hot in here? Or was it him?

“I would gladly wait all day.” He proffered his arm. “Shall we?”

Richard had bested the three men who had ridden through his gates and demanded to fight the beast without breaking a sweat. The gold would pay for him to replant the gardens and the orchards in the spring.

Restless, he had run through the rest of his guard and spent the day teaching the lads swordplay.

He removed his sweat-soaked tunic and wiped his face when Chloe entered the solar bearing a cup of ale. Richard liked her watching him as he fought. Knowing she was there, he’d fought harder, caring what she thought, and did not want her to look upon him with revulsion.

“I’ll fetch you more ale.” She turned and fled. Was his form as disgusting as his visage? A sigh escaped as he sat in the chair and brooded, his booted feet in front of the fire.

Two weeks at Bainford Castle had Chloe totally revising her opinion. The serving girls she’d first encountered in the tavern were nothing more than gossips. They’d probably never even seen Richard, simply repeated and embellished the stories they’d heard.

Out of all the kids and servants, there were several adults who still crossed themselves whenever Richard passed by. The last time he’d fought for gold, she’d seen the looks, heard the whispers, and was so angry that she could hardly hand Richard the cup of ale without screaming. The man had been sitting in front of the fire, scars on his back and arms from the battles he’d fought in—the battles he’d fought to make money to keep everyone he was responsible for fed. And those jerks still couldn’t see past his face.

Then today, she’d had enough. After the morning meal, she’d organized a cleaning crew to tackle the second floor. When they thought she was out of earshot, she’d heard them talking about Richard. To his face, they called him “my lord,” but behind his back, they still called him the beast. They told tales of how the cats running around were the devil’s familiars.

She should have laughed it off, but she was furious on his behalf. So she stomped down the stairs, yelling for Edwin.

“Mistress Chloe, I fear you have been spending too much time with my lord. You are beginning to sound like him.” The steward winked at her.

“Sorry.”

Edwin had been favoring his shoulder, rubbing it. One of her gram’s friends, Esmeralda, had done the same thing, and said it was arthritis.

“I don’t mean to pry, but your shoulder?” She kept her voice low, not wanting to draw attention to him, as she knew he did not like to complain. “Do you eat fish?”

He blinked at her. “Nay. I find I do not care for the taste.”

“If you put heat on your shoulder at night it will help with the stiffness. So will willow bark tea.” She smiled. “And fish.”

“Think you?”

“A friend of my grandmother suffered from stiffness and aches. She said those three things helped a great deal. I know you do not care for fish. Let me talk to Merry and have her prepare it another way.”

Edwin eyed her dubiously but nodded. “It canna hurt. Thank ye.” He grinned at her. “Why were you stomping about and bellowing?”

“I’ve heard a few of the servants talking about Richard. I do not care for the things they say.”

Edwin sighed. “’Tis hard to find those who will stay. Most run away.”

“How can they say such mean things? I’ve seen the children left at the gates.”

“Changelings.” He nodded.

She scoffed. “Come on, you don’t really believe that, do you?” Chloe had worn Richard’s old tunic and hose instead of one of her gowns today, since she knew she’d be crawling around on the floors. It was so much easier to move around in pants than a long gown that caught on her heels and made her trip, much to the amusement of the kids.

“The parents believe the children are changelings. Now orphans come to Bainford in search of meals and a safe place to sleep. They are willing to face my lord.” Edwin shrugged. “We need the servants. I am too old to care for Bainford alone.”

“You don’t believe the stories about him, do you?”

He chuckled. “Nay. I remember when he rode through the gates.” Edwin looked sad. “He was so angry, the wounds terrible, and yet for all his grumbling, he has done all in his power to be a good lord.”

“I won’t have the servants talking about him. Can you get rid of them?”

“Who will do the work?” Edwin rubbed his shoulder, wincing.

“Will you get rid of them?”

Edwin patted her arm. “I am an old man. They will not listen.”

“The children are already doing most of the chores. The ones who are too young can take care of the cats and dogs. Chores will be good for them, keep them out of mischief.”

Chloe was making it up as she went. Thanks to Gram, she hadn’t had to do much growing up. The housekeeper cleaned and did the laundry, so that left making her bed every day and picking up her room so the housekeeper could clean.

Loading and unloading the dishwasher was also her responsibility. Her mom had offered to take over the cleaning, but Gram said no; her housekeeper had been with her for years and needed the work. So Chloe’s mom ran errands, took care of the grocery shopping, and cooked.

Gram and Mom had wanted Chloe to enjoy being a kid. But now? She wanted to pay Richard back for the clothes and to let him know with actions that she noticed how he cared for others.

“The children and I can take care of Bainford.” She pressed her lips together. “You won’t stop me?”

“Nay, lady.”

Full of purpose, Chloe gathered all of the servants and children together. She looked at each one, staring until they dropped their eyes.

“I have heard some of you talking about Lord Bainford. You have full bellies and a warm bed because of him, yet you gossip like the serving wenches in the village. I’ll not have it.” She went up to each person, one by one, that she’d heard talking about Richard. “All of you can leave. Do not return.”

Two of the men scoffed. “Says you. We aren’t going anywhere.”

“You cannot make us leave.” One of the women pouted.

Chloe stood there, hands on her hips, wondering how on earth she’d get them to leave if they refused. Then they straightened up.

“Mistress Chloe.” Garrick and six guardsmen stood behind her, hands on their swords. “You heard her. Be gone.”

The servants she’d dismissed grumbled and glared, but they left.

“See they leave, then close the gates,” she ordered Garrick.

“I shall see it done.” He waited until his men had followed the servants out before he leaned in close. “Does Richard know?”

She bit her lip. “No. What do I tell him? I don’t want him to know it was because of the things I’ve heard them saying about him. It might hurt his feelings.”

Garrick patted her shoulder, almost making her fall over. The man had no idea how strong he was. “Tell him they offended you. Who knows why women do what they do.” He grinned.

Afterward, she told the remaining servants and children what their new duties would be, starting with readying the hall for supper.

Hands on her hips, Chloe surveyed a job well done. Contributing to the household made her feel like she wasn’t taking advantage of Richard’s hospitality. The great hall was pretty as a peach. Wait until Richard saw how the second floor would sparkle when they finished.