Twenty-Four

**“Baron,”** said the knight as Fabian approached the steps. “I was just singing to the lady. I arrived to find her looking so lonely and melancholic I just had to try to make her smile.”
She looked towards him and could not know what to say. For all intents and purposes, that was what he tried to do. But she did not know she appeared sad when he came.
“I was told you were here to give me a message, Bertrand?” he asked in a formal voice, “and not to sing to my guest.”
“Yes. But your guest is so lovely and I can’t help but coax a little smile out of her lips.”
“Bertrand,” the Baron almost growled.
“You shouldn’t leave her unattended, then. Where were you, Fabian? The lady did need company.”
Adalene gasped. “Oh no, I am not a Lady, Sir,” she corrected, alarmed that the Baron might think she had let the man think that, or introduced herself to him as that. “I am just Adalene Duvre without a title. Though... I am wed, which means you can also call me Adalene Didier.”
The knight took a step back hastily. “You are married?”
She noticed the dread on his face and couldn’t help but say drily, “If I knew it would quickly help get me alone I would have mentioned that from the start.” Then she blushed profusely at her candidness. “Forgive me. I did not mean to be so bold.”
To her surprise, the knight, again, laughed. Loudly. And as she watched him, she did not know if she should be amused or offended. She took a confused look at the Baron. He looked exasperated, still scowling.
“If you are finished laughing at the expense of the lady, will you hand me the message?” the Baron asked as soon as Sir Bertrand paused to breathe.
“You are seriously not pleased with the beauty of the day, are you not, Fabian?” the knight teased, shaking his head but obviously not surprised by this.
“No. I’ve come from a long ride and have to hasten to come back. I did not like finding you forcing my guests to like you.”
“I am not forcing her to like me!” the knight protested, looking terribly offended.
“Should I ask Adalene?”
Both pairs of eyes turned to her.
“He sings well,” she hastily replied, as it was obvious she had to say something.
“See? She likes me.”
At the look on the Baron’s face, she blushed. “I like his singing voice.”
“She means you talk too much,” Fabian clarified, with more scowling.
“Well, I... I, too, do that.” The knight, too, scowled. “The maids in the house like me better.”
She winced. She did not mean to imply she actually didn’t like him. But he did talk too much.
“It is settled, then. I’ve asked the servants to prepare a meal for you in the hall. You can sing to them while you eat.”
Both scowling now, the two men talked for a moment and the knight handed Fabian a folded paper that had a seal on it. Then, he left them. But only after an elaborate goodbye to her that she had to patiently, and blushingly, accept. But by then, she knew he was deliberately teasing the Baron and they were good friends.
As they watched him disappear from the corner of the walkway, she could not help but say something to fill the silence. The sound of the flowing water in the pond did not count. It could not tell her if he was angry or if it was a show for the knight.
“He is not like your other men, my Lord.”
“Did you truly like his voice?” he asked almost accusingly.
She blinked, and her cheeks went warm again. “To be fair, he really does sing well.”
He looked away, but his face was neutral now. “He does, doesn’t he? He does get inspired by beauty,” he said, contemplatively. Then his face turned toward her again. “He also said you looked sad when he found you. Is that true?”
She could not look at him. His voice had gone gentle, but she didn’t want him to burden him with her feelings. He had done so much good for her already.
But she also couldn’t lie to him.
She sighed.
“Well, he suddenly appeared in the walkway and I was thinking about going back to Louis and I... I guess I did look miserable.”
“Miserable.”
“Yes. I... you know I did not want to go back,” she whispered.
He fully turned to her then, and as he stared at her like he had last night, she suddenly found it hard to speak. She felt rather like crying.
She was so aware of him, all of her was screaming for him, while inside her head a voice was screaming that this could be the last time she would see him like that. She could not help feeling the misery that again swelled up even if her life depended on it.
He had made her very happy, and he was also the reason why her heart was breaking. How could happiness feel so very painful? Every thud her heart made from that moment was slowly crushing her and shattering her soul.
No, she could not work here.
She couldn’t stay here.
It would be too painful to want him and know he could never return her feelings.
She would find another way to help the farm when the bride token was returned. Surely, her parents would allow her to stay while she thought of a way...
She suddenly realized that she had made a misstep. The deal was done and she was back to her station in life, and he was back to being the Baron. She scrambled to give him a most undignified curtsy that only an unpracticed peasant would do.
“My Lord!” she said, breathless. She straightened and tried not to look at him fully as she talked. “I’m sorry that I have forgotten to give you the proper curtsy when you arrived. I forgot this is the morrow and what... last night... is over. So I-I am ready to go. But I wish... I wish to ask something of you first, if you will let me speak further.”
He did not speak at first, and when she risked a look at his face, he was frowning heavily, like he was truly angry this time. His skin was even a little flushed with emotion. She continued before she loses her nerve.