“Prove it.” Lord Thornbeck’s voice was raspy and harsh.
“I don’t have to prove it.” Geitbart pointed at her. “Just ask her. Just ask . . . Avelina Klein.”
Avelina sensed rather than saw Lord Thornbeck turn and face her. “Is it true?”
She did her best to hold her head up and meet his eyes. “Please forgive me. I was going to tell you.”
No one spoke for the longest moment. Father God, do not let me faint. She could barely breathe and the air was so hot and suffocating. What would he do now?
He said quietly, “Take her to the library.”
Someone took hold of Avelina’s arm.
She lifted her head enough to find Magdalen in the crowd. She was crying.
“I—”
Jorgen led her away as Lord Thornbeck said to the crowd in an even voice, “It is time to go to the Great Hall.”
Avelina had to hurry to keep up with Jorgen as he held her by the elbow and propelled her forward. Soon they were turning into the dark library.
Jorgen let go of her to light some candles. “You may sit.” His words were curt and his expression hard.
The closest chair was at Lord Thornbeck’s desk, and she sat down and laid her head on it. Lord Thornbeck would be so angry. How would he punish her? Would he yell at her? Beat her? Throw her in the dungeon? But worse was the thought of his strained voice, and Magdalen crying among all the strangers.
Her own tears flowed.
After what seemed like hours, she heard the step-step-tap, step-step-tap of Lord Thornbeck coming down the corridor and getting closer.
18
REINHART NEARED THE library, his breath coming fast. How dare she humiliate him? A servant. How could this be? How could he have chosen to marry a servant? He had tried to choose the woman with the best character and the most integrity, and instead, he’d chosen the deceitful one. An imposter. Pretender. Servant.
The back of his neck burned as he entered the room. There. She had the audacity to sit at his desk? After what she had done? “Get up.”
Jorgen moved to his right.
“Jorgen, you may go.”
Dorothea—but that was not her name—sniffled and stood as Jorgen left the room. How dare she try to gain his sympathy by crying? It would not work.
“What is your name?” he demanded.
“Avelina Klein, my lord.” She was wiping her face with her hands, keeping her head down so he couldn’t see her face.
“Get away from my desk. Come over here, to the light.”
She moved toward the table where the candles were lit and stood on the other side of it from him.
“Look at me.”
She lifted her head. Her eyes were puffy and red. Her chin quivered. A pang went through him and he clenched his teeth. She had made a fool of him.
“I would never marry you.” He infused as much coldness into his voice as possible. “I just declared my intention to marry you in front of all those people . . . You deceived me.”
“I had no choice. I—”
“You had no choice but to pretend to be someone you were not? You came here pretending to be Lady Dorothea. But you are only a servant. This is true, is it not?”
“Yes, my lord.”
She bowed her head, clasping her hands in front of her. “I am sorry. I do not expect you to understand. I must seem despicable.”
Why wasn’t she defending herself? Expressing those strong opinions of hers?
His insides twisted to think he had fallen for a servant, just like his brother, whom he had so criticized for the very same thing.
“Why did you do it? Did you want to humiliate me? Was that Lord Plimmwald’s plan? Did he send you to make a fool of me in front of half the country’s noblemen?”
“No, he did not—that is, he did send me, but he was not trying to—”
“Why did he send you?”
“He wanted you to help us. He was afraid of Geitbart—the duke—taking over Plimmwald. He did not want to offend you. And the real Lady Dorothea could not come.”
He gritted his teeth. He was a fool to even listen to her at all. Heat exploded in his head. He’d confessed to everyone there tonight—half the noblemen in this part of the empire—that he wanted to marry a servant girl.
He should ask her more questions, demand to know every detail, but he was losing his grip on his temper. He imagined yelling at her, shaking her. If she were one of his guards, he’d send her immediately to be punished—locked in the dungeon. Listening to her explanation for why she had deliberately deceived him would cause him to do something he would regret. Still, he could not allow himself to soften, and to add fuel to the fire inside, he had one question for her.