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Flustered, I jerked out of his grip and backed up. Tears burned my eyes, surprising me. I shook my head at the young man. “I, erm, I’ve got to be going. So sorry.”
Without another word, I turned and sprinted away, down the street.
“Wait!” the young man said, but I was already turning a corner. Then another corner, avoiding a passing peasant who scowled at me as he shouldered me out of the way.
In the distance, I saw a flash of white—
Emma.
She was walking from one storefront to another. A disheveled two-story affair with a hanging gable and chipped door. She knocked on it and, a second later, it opened and she disappeared inside.
I ran to the door—it closed before I could get to her.
Doubling over to catch my breath, I glanced over my shoulder. No sign of the nobleman chasing me. I raised my fist to knock on the door, and stopped short.
I’ve already done quite enough today to disrupt the balance of things here.
I didn’t knock. Instead, I noticed thin alleys snaking down either side of the narrow building. I’d been running through the town square, where large congregations of people mingled, even as the evening dragged on. Merchants settled last-minute sales, carters loaded up, men chatted on street corners.
In the countryside of Wilford, it would be quiet and peaceful. Here, it was lively and loud. Chattering voices filtered out the window of a dimly lit tavern nearby.
Taking a deep breath, I opted to disappear for a while, not wanting to get seen by the nobleman or Rosco and his friends. Or anyone else for that matter.
I went down the left alley around the building Emma had walked into. I came to a window, its wooden slat partly open to let in a breeze. Poking my head up just enough so I could see in with one eye, I spotted Emma in a room, conversing with someone. I could only see the other person’s shadow from my vantage.
Shaking from the cold, my blood thundering in my ears, my boots suctioned in the mud, I stayed put.
And eavesdropped . . .
Chapter 6
Robin
“Please, just take it,” Emma said in a hushed voice.
I blinked, holding my breath as I stared through the window. Stacked crates along the wall blocked my view of her, yet I could just make out the soft alabaster sheen of her work dress.
“It’s too much,” said the man hidden in the shadows where I couldn’t see. His voice was cordial, deep, and kindly. “You don’t earn enough at the manor as it is, Emma. I don’t want to put you out.”
“All due respect, Father, you don’t know what I earn. I need to make sure my sister is safe.”
A gnawing pit grew in my stomach. I put a hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t make a sound. Emma has a sister? How have I never known that? And what is she doing in a dingy place like this? I thought Emma was an orphan, but she’s calling this man “Father” . . .
The man chuckled. “Gotten a bit snippy since mingling with the gentry, haven’t you?”
“A-Apologies, Father—”
“What have I told you about calling me that? I’m no longer ordained.” He sounded stern as he interrupted Emma. “Haven’t been for years.”
“You’re still our chaplain, sir. The best man I know. The only one worthy of holding a holy title, as far as I’m concerned.”
With a soft sigh, the man’s voice leveled out. “If I’m the best you know, you don’t know enough good men.”
“That’s for damned sure.”
The man chuckled.
“You should see the way the master of the manor treats his daughter. Worse than I experienced here.”
