Page 77 of The Beautiful Pretender

“You should go back to your chamber.” His voice was harsh and more abrupt than he meant.

He placed his hand on the bookcase to push it forward and send her away.

Geitbart’s voice barked, “Search the castle. He is here somewhere.”

He pulled the bookcase closed, leaving one inch for him to look through.

Footsteps entered the room again. “I want two guards posted here in the library at all times. Search his papers. Bring to me anything that looks important.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Reinhart peered through the crack. A single guard knelt by his overturned desk, picking up the papers scattered on the floor.

Avelina whispered, “I have something else I need to tell you.”

He turned. With the crack of light coming in, he could just make out her eyes and mouth. “Sit down,” he whispered.

“I will sit, but only if you listen to what I have to say.”

He imagined the sparks that were shooting from those pretty blue eyes. “We shall both sit. Put your back against that wall.”

She probably could not see where he was pointing, so he touched her shoulder and nudged her until her back was against the shorter wall. He held on to her arm while she slid slowly to the floor, her legs stretched out in front of her. He leaned against the wall and slid down beside her.

The tiny chamber was only about three feet wide and seven feet long, and they were sitting shoulder to shoulder at one end.

“What is this room?” she asked.

“My father used it to store valuables, until some things went missing. My brother and I also played in here. But I don’t think anyone has used it for years.” He combed a spiderweb out of his hair with his fingers.

“Is there another way out?”

“There is only one way in and out. We shall wait until the guards fall asleep or leave. Now what did you want to tell me?”

She sighed. “It is rather somber news. But I was speaking with a maidservant, Gerhaws, while we were churning butter—”

“What were you doing churning butter? Did someone say you had to work?”

“No. I did it to see if I could find out something about what Geitbart was plotting against you. And I did find out something, as it turned out. But first . . . Gerhaws was very drunk. I don’t know where she got such strong drink, but she was crying and saying that Geitbart told her to . . . kill your brother, the margrave.”

Reinhart’s blood went cold in his veins. “Explain.”

“She said she hid in his bedchamber, and when he—when they—went to sleep, she set the bed curtains on fire.”

Geitbart. He must have thought it would make it easier to take over Thornbeck. Rage and heat rose to his forehead.

“I am very sorry to tell you.”

Reinhart forced himself to take a deep breath. He could think much more clearly if he allowed his emotions to go cold. Someday Geitbart would pay for having his brother killed. The assurance helped the heat to dissipate and him to think calmly.

“You must not tell anyone else what you have just told me. If Geitbart finds out you know, he will kill you. I am surprised he has not killed Gerhaws yet.”

“Did you already suspect Geitbart?”

He did not reply immediately. Avelina had already deceived him once. How could he know if he could trust her? But she had come and warned him, had run to him on her injured ankle . . .

“No, I did not suspect Geitbart. I thought it was an accident, a stray spark from the fireplace.”

“He must have wanted people to think that you had killed your brother.” Avelina sighed. “I cannot comprehend anyone so evil.”