Page 60 of The Noble Servant

“I said I was the daughter of the Baron of Mallin. I said whatever he had heard was a lie. I demanded he tell me who had said such a thing, but he wouldn’t tell me. I just pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about. Should I tell my father? He will try to kill Lord Hazen. And then Alexander will never forgive me.” Her tears suddenly dried up. Her eyes grew huge, and her face changed to a shade of ashen gray.

“Calm down. Take some deep breaths. It might help to wash your face. I brought some fresh—”

“Listen to me.” Agnes grabbed Magdalen’s forearms. “If heasks you, vow to me that you will tell Lord Hazen that I am Lady Magdalen.”

Magdalen did not wish to tell Lord Hazen anything. She knew the man was evil after what he did to Steffan. He might kill Agnes—if it was discovered that she had forced the real Lady Magdalen to switch places with her, Agnes’s life was in danger anyway.

Magdalen said, “I think it is best that Lord Hazen not know the truth and that your father not know that Lord Hazen suspects your true identity. Do you agree?”

Agnes’s mouth hung open for a moment, then she said, “Yes.”

“Then let us agree that neither of us will tell Lord Hazen our secret, and neither of us will tell your father about what Lord Hazen said today.”

“I agree. But why are you doing this? Why would you not want Lord Hazen to know the truth about who you are? You surely don’t care what happens to me after what my father and I did to you.”

She did not owe Agnes any explanation at all. “I have my reasons, one of which is ... Even after what you did to me, I don’t want to see you killed, since you might repent someday.”

Agnes stared at her a moment, then burst into tears again.

“Come. Wash your face.” Magdalen led her over to the pitcher and basin where Agnes washed her face and then went to lie down on her bed. Agnes soon began breathing loudly and evenly.

Magdalen went into the small changing room adjoining her bedchamber and took out the velvet object she had found in Agnes’s trunk.

It was a small red velvet pouch that was closed at one end by a drawstring. Magdalen pulled it open and dumped the contents in her palm. Her necklace lay in her hand.

Chapter Twenty

Steffan climbed the stairs after his work was done. His feet were heavy, and he could barely keep his eyes open. How would he ever have time to look for his portrait when he was so exhausted he could barely put one foot in front of the other?

“Steffan!” a whisper came from his right.

He lost his balance and started falling backward. A hand caught his arm and pulled him back solidly onto the step.

“Sorry to startle you.” Magdalen emerged from the dark staircase.

“Are you well? Do you need my help?”

“No, I am well.” She came closer and accompanied him up. “I wanted to tell you that Lord Hazen suspects that Agnes is not Lady Magdalen.”

For some reason, her raspy whisper made his heart beat faster. “What else does he suspect?”

“I don’t know, but apparently someone told him something to make him suspicious. Do you know who it could have been?”

He was so tired and she was so near him her arm kept brushing against his. “No. Do you have any ideas?”

“The only people who know are Agnes’s father, us, and Lenhart.”

Warmth and compassion imbued her voice. What made her so caring? He already knew she did not have a kind and compassionate mother. His grandmother had never let him doubt that she loved him, but she’d also been rather stern. And he did not remember much about his own mother except that she kissed his cheek every night at bedtime.

“I can’t help wondering if someone—even Lord Hazen—might have overheard you and me or Agnes and me talking.”

“Hmm, yes.”

“You are very tired. I should let you go to bed. But I am anxious to get those letters sent by courier.”

“Do you know a courier?”

“Well, no, but—”