Page 11 of The Beautiful Pretender

“I am sorry,Lady Dorothea.” She frowned and raised an eyebrow. “As I was saying . . . you don’t know how to be flirtatious, how to make a man fall in love with you. I’ve seen you. You are very blundering around men you think are handsome, and you were naively oblivious when that stable boy, Hans, showed interest in you.”

Avelina tried to think of a retort. Irma had already stated that she need not worry that Lord Thornbeck would want to marry her, since he could not possibly want her.

These noble ladies might be better at flirting, but could any of them take care of a little brother and sister and a father who was lame in both legs, cook for her family, then go and work all day at the castle, fetching for and cleaning up after a spoiled earl’s daughter?

“Perhaps you will find a husband here, from one of the noblemen, a brother accompanying his sister. You are beautiful, after all.”

“I don’t think any of them would consider me a possible bride.” Avelina shook her head.

“They would if they thought you were the Earl of Plimmwald’s daughter.”

“Irma, I cannot deceive someone into marrying me. If I married someone under a false name, he would have the marriage annulled, especially when he found out I am only a maidservant.”

She kept eating the delicious fruit pastry. Perhaps if she gained some weight she would look more attractive to a tradesman, and when she returned to Plimmwald with her dowry, she might marry a butcher or miller or someone else who could improve her brother and sister’s situation in life.

But . . . the fruit pastry could hardly give her courage for meeting the margrave in a few hours.

Avelina went down the long staircase toward the ground floor of Thornbeck Castle wearing the deceased Lady Plimmwald’s silk dress. The looking glass in her bedchamber told her that the jewel-like plum color was actually very becoming, as it brightened her brown hair and pale complexion.

But when she entered the Great Hall and saw the clothing of the noble ladies already gathered there, she realized her style ofdress was somewhat old compared to theirs. Still, she held her head high.I am the daughter of an earl. I am of noble birth. I am Lady Dorothea of Plimmwald.She only had to pretend to believe it for two weeks.

A servant announced her as “the Lady Dorothea Seippach of Plimmwald” while she strode forward. Those standing around talking among themselves turned to stare.

Please don’t let me trip.

She stopped when she came within a few feet of the nearest group of ladies. A few men stood around as well, fathers and brothers who had accompanied them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a group of three young ladies giving her furtive glances and whispering. Her cheeks burned. Were they talking about her old-fashioned clothing? How long must she stand here, conspicuously alone, while no one spoke to her?

Finally, the servant announced, “The most honorable, the Margrave of Thornbeck.”

Everyone faced in the direction of the margrave and curtsied or bowed.

Avelina was almost too afraid to look. When she dared raise her eyes, Lord Thornbeck was staring right at her with a most severe expression. Her heart stopped.

He glanced away and her heart started beating again. Saints above, but he was handsome. His dark eyes pierced her, then moved on to delve into everything else they alighted on. His skin was dark, his chin square and strong, his chest broad and thick, and his cheekbones high. The contrast to his look of power and intensity was his slight limp as he walked with a cane.

She hoped no one could see her hands shaking as the margrave walked to the head of the enormous trestle table and sat down.The other guests gravitated to the long benches, obviously trying to get seats closest to the margrave.

Trying to sit in the least likely place to draw attention, she ended up at the farthest end from the margrave, sitting beside a young maiden wearing a pale-pink gown.

As a squire filled their goblets, the maiden said, “I am Magdalen of Mallin.”

To the friendly tone of Magdalen’s voice, Avelina replied, “I am Dorothea, from Plimmwald.” Even though she had said the correct name, she probably should not have stated it that way. She was notfromPlimmwald. She and her fatherwerePlimmwald. Or so everyone was supposed to think.

“That is, I am Lady Dorothea.” Now she sounded proud and presumptuous, since Magdalen had not called herselfLadyMagdalen.

“I myself have never been outside Mallin. You shall have to tell me what to do as I am completely inexperienced with parties and balls.”

“I am sure you must know more than I.” Truly, it would be the blind leading the blind if she looked for guidance from Avelina. “I do not even know how to dance. You shall look quite refined and noble beside me, I assure you.”

“If I cannot marry the margrave, my mother is determined to marry me off to the wealthiest person she can find who would want a poverty-stricken baron’s daughter. I was betrothed to an earl’s son, but when they found out I had no inheritance and no dowry, his father had our betrothal annulled.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, it is perfectly well. I had heard he was given to violent tirades and had impregnated two of his house servants. I do not wish to marry someone like that.”

Avelina shook her head and shuddered inwardly.