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“But you wish for more?

Roland’s smile was not at all innocent. “I wish to retain them as well as my father, but the cost, for me, is too high.”

So Roland was willing to stand by his ideals even at the potential loss of the earldom. “You are quite noble, my lord.”

“Roland,” he reminded her. “I can be.”

What did he mean by that?

“Tell me of you, Amalia. How did you come to be here?”

She’d been staring at his hands. They were large, a scar running from his left thumb across to his pinky finger offering evidence that Roland did not simply play at battle. Was he as skilled as his father with the sword?

Amalia looked up into those cool blue eyes.

“I am a simple farmer’s daughter. Many years ago Lady Evelina and her father attended a market where we sold eggs and vegetables. Evelina had been walking past my father’s cart when she bumped a carton of eggs, which fell and shattered. I quickly cleaned it, and her gown too. Since she was without a lady’s maid, Evelina inquired if I might be interested in the position. Of course, I was.”

“From farmer’s daughter to lady’s maid. Not a common story.”

“Not at all. I’ve been grateful ever since and adore my lady.”

“And the baron?”

“My mother often chided me for speaking ill of someone when instead I could say nothing at all.”

He smiled. “Wise advice.”

“She is a remarkable woman, my mother. And yours?”

“Sometimes I believe my mother is the only reason I’ve not yet been disinherited. But when my father learns of this . . . ” He waved his hand toward the training yard. “Ours is not the only family split on two sides of this conflict.”

“Indeed, it is not. But perhaps with the king’s imprisonment, this conflict will be at an end.”

“Perhaps.” Roland did not appear convinced. “We speak of disinheriting, a topic you yourself are forced to navigate.”

“Aye.” Amalia could not look away from his eyes. It was as if they looked into her very soul. “I fear it will never be safe for Lady Evelina to return here, lest Lord Ashcroft attempt to repudiate her marriage.”

“You yourself bore witness to it. As did Sir Eamon. And I can assume it has been consummated many times over by now, so . . . ”

She looked down at her hands, not usually this shy about such topics. But Roland did something to her.

“Apologies,” he said. “I shouldn’t have spoken so crudely.”

Her chin raised. “I am not so inexperienced—” she began, and then quickly stopped talking. What had she been thinking, to speak that freely?

Roland’s eyes sparkled, as if he would tease her. Instead, catching his smile, he stood and offered his arm. “Should we continue our tour?”

Her arm fit easily in the crook of his. Roland’s nearness affected her more than it should, but Amalia found her voice. “Aye,” was all she managed.

After today, she would do well to stay away from this man until her lady returned. When Sir Eamon warned her about the men who might take advantage, he had not likely meant one of the very men meant to protect her.

Roland was honorable, aye. But politics and women, Amalia knew, were very different matters indeed.