The Beautiful Pretender
Melanie Dickerson
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR The Beautiful Pretender
“When it comes to happily-ever-afters, Melanie Dickerson is the undisputed queen of fairy-tale romance, and all I can say is—long live the queen! From start to finish The Beautiful Pretender is yet another brilliant gem in her crown, spinning a medieval love story that will steal you away—heart, soul, and sleep!”
—JULIE LESSMAN, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE DAUGHTERS OF BOSTON, WINDS OF CHANGE, AND HEART OF SAN FRANCISCO SERIES
“I couldn’t stop reading! Melanie has done what so many other historical novelists have tried and failed: she’s created a heroine that is at once both smart and self-assured without seeming modern. A woman so fixed in her time and place that she is able to speak to ours as well.”
—SIRI MITCHELL, AUTHOR OF Flirtation Walk AND Chateau of Echoes
PRAISE FOR MELANIE DICKERSON
“Readers will find themselves supporting the romance between the sweet yet determined Odette and the insecure but hardworking Jorgen from the beginning. Dickerson spins a retelling of Robin Hood with emotionally compelling characters, offering hope that love may indeed conquer all as they unite in a shared desire to serve both the Lord and those in need.”
—RT Book Reviews, 41/2 STARS, ON The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest
“I’m always amazed at the way Melanie Dickerson creates a world. Her writing is as fresh and unique as anyone I know, and I am always pulled into the story and taken far away on a wonderful, romantic, and action-packed journey.”
—MARY CONNEALY, AUTHOR OF Now and Forever, BOOK TWO OF THE WILD AT HEART SERIES, ON The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest
“Melanie Dickerson does it again! Full of danger, intrigue, and romance, this beautifully crafted story will transport you to another place and time.”
—SARAH E. LADD, AUTHOR OF The Curiosity Keeper AND THE WHISPERS ON THE MOORS SERIES, ON The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest
“Melanie Dickerson’s The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest is a lovely, romantic read set during one of the most fascinating time periods. Featuring a feisty, big-hearted heroine and a hero to root for, this sweet medieval tale is wrapped in a beautiful journey of faith that had me flipping pages well after my bedtime. Delightful!”
—TAMARA LEIGH, USA Today BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF Baron of Godsmere
“Melanie Dickerson weaves a tantalizing Robin Hood plot in a medieval setting in The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest. She pits a brave heroine with unique talents against a strong, gentle hero whose occupation makes it dangerous to know him. Add the moral dilemma, and this tale makes a compelling read for any age.”
—RUTH AXTELL, AUTHOR OF She Shall Be Praised AND The Rogue’s Redemption
“The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest is a wonderful romantic tale filled with love, betrayal, and forgiveness. I loved this book and highly recommend it for readers of all ages.”
—CARA LYNN JAMES, AUTHOR OF A Path toward Love
“The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest reminds me of why adults should read fairy tales. Author Melanie Dickerson shoots straight to the heart with a cast of compelling characters, an enchanting story world, and romance and suspense in spades. Reaching The End was regrettable—but oh, what an ending!”
—LAURA FRANTZ, AUTHOR OF The Mistress of Tall Acre
“For stories laden with relatable heroines, romantically adventurous plots, once-upon-a-time settings, and engaging writing, Melanie Dickerson is your go-to author. Her books are on my never-to-be-missed list.”
—KIM VOGEL SAWYER, AUTHOR OF When Mercy Rains, ON The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest
“Ms. Dickerson deftly captures the flavor of life in medieval Germany in a sweet tale filled with interesting characters that will surely capture readers’ hearts.”
—KATHLEEN MORGAN, AUTHOR OF THESE HIGHLAND HILLS SERIES, Embrace the Dawn, AND Consuming Fire, ON The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest
OTHER BOOKS BY MELANIE DICKERSON
THE MEDIEVAL FAIRY TALE NOVELS
The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest
YOUNG ADULT
The Princess Spy
The Captive Maiden
The Fairest Beauty
The Merchant’s Daughter
The Healer’s Apprentice
The Golden Braid
The Silent Songbird (available November 2016)
© 2016 by Melanie Dickerson
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Thomas Nelson titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-7180-2629-5 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Dickerson, Melanie.
Title: The beautiful pretender / Melanie Dickerson.
Description: Nashville, Tennessee: Thomas Nelson, [2016] | Series: A medieval fairy tale; [2] | Summary: “The Margrave of Thornbeck has two weeks to find a noble bride. What will happen when he learns he has fallen for Avelina, a lovely servant girl in disguise? But something else is afoot in the castle. Something sinister that could have far worse—far deadlier--consequences. Will Avelina and Lord Thornbeck be able to stop the evil plot?”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015045318 | ISBN 9780718026288 (paperback)
Subjects: | CYAC: Nobility--Fiction. | Love--Fiction. | Impersonation--Fiction. | Identity--Fiction. | Middle Ages—Fiction. | Christian life—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.D5575 Be 2016 | DDC [Fic]--dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015045318
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CONTENTS
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
1
The year 1363, Thornbeck Forest, The Holy Roman Empire
REINHART STOLTEN, MARGRAVE of Thornbeck, spotted the pack of wolves devouring their fresh kill at the bottom of the ravine. He nudged his horse in their direction as he let go of the reins and readied his bow and arrow. He was still too far away for a good shot, but he urged him closer, until his horse brought him into range of the bloodthirsty killers.
Reinhart took aim and let the arrow fly, striking one of the wolves in the neck. It let out a shriek, causing the other animals to look up. Two of them kept their teeth in their meal even as they snarled and searched for the source of the danger.
Reinhart quickly nocked another arrow and shot, striking another wolf in the shoulder instead of the intended k
ill shot to the head.
The wolves had spotted him and started to run. Only one of them was more interested in his food than in the danger pursuing him. He kept hold of the carcass as he ran away with the others. Reinhart aimed and shot at the one lagging behind, dragging the dead animal, but the arrow missed him.
The wolf let go of his kill and ran harder.
Reinhart urged his horse after them. The wolf with the arrow in his shoulder ran along with the other six wolves.
Reinhart and his horse chased them up the ravine, through the heavily wooded hills of Thornbeck Forest, and eventually the injured wolf grew tired and fell behind. Reinhart was able to finish it off, but there was no use going after the others. They were too far ahead now.
He put his longbow away and turned his horse back in the direction of Thornbeck Castle. The sun was just coming up, sending a glow through the trees as he neared the castle mount.
His castle mount. He was in charge of Thornbeck—the town, the region, and the castle. He was responsible for all of it, and he did not want this pack of wolves roaming the forest, which would lead to tragedy when they ended up attacking and killing someone.
He arrived in front of the stable and dismounted, holding on to the saddle with one hand while he waited for the stable boy to retrieve his walking stick.
Where was that boy? Reinhart growled at having to wait, at the humiliation of needing a cane to walk.
Finally, the boy came around the horse with his cane. Reinhart took it and limped toward the castle.
He had been a powerful knight who could sword fight, joust, and anything any other soldier could do, and better. Now he had to depend on a cane, walking with a limp, with even the servants staring at him in pity.
He held on to the railing with one hand and his cane with the other as he very slowly made his way up the steps to the castle door. The pain in his ankle and lower leg was as bad as ever, and his scowl became a growl.
No one could pity him if he was growling at them.
“Lord Thornbeck.” Jorgen Hartman, his young chancellor, met him at the door.
“What is it, Jorgen?”
“My lord, a letter from the king has just arrived. His courier awaits your reply.”
“Well, where is this letter?”
“It’s in your library, my lord.”
Reinhart made it to the top of the steps and stumped down the long passageway that led to several rooms on the lowest floor of the castle.
“My lord,” Jorgen said, walking beside him, “were you out hunting wolves this morning? Alone?”
“I was.”
“Should you not take someone with you? A pack of wolves can pull a grown man off his horse.”
“Are you suggesting that because I’m now a cripple, I am unable to hunt alone?”
“No, my lord.” Jorgen did not look intimidated by Reinhart’s angry tone and scowl. “Any man would be in danger against a wolf pack. I also mention it because I think Odette—who you know is an excellent shot with a bow—misses hunting, and she and I could help you kill twice as many.”
Reinhart frowned at him. “I am surprised you are so quick to allude to your new wife’s lawbreaking activities.”
“She would not be breaking any laws by accompanying you on your wolf hunts, my lord.”
Reinhart grunted.
Finally, with his slow, halting limp, they arrived at his desk in the library. There lay the missive from the king, wax seal, ribbon, and all.
Reinhart broke it open and read it. He threw it down on his desk and walked a few steps. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, staring out the window.
“What does it say, my lord, if I may ask?”
“Read it for yourself.”
There was a rustle of parchment behind him, then Jorgen said, “My lord, the king is asking you to marry.”
Reinhart’s new role as margrave certainly came with a price.
“Do you know any of these ladies he’s suggesting you marry?”
“No.”
“Do you have one in mind you would like to ask?”
When he was the captain of the guard for the Duke of Pomerania, he could take all the time he wanted to choose a wife. But everything was different now.
“I do not believe I shall choose anyone . . . for now.”
“But, my lord.” Jorgen came to stand beside him and held out his hand to him, palm up. “You cannot ignore a command from the king.”
“I would not call it a command. It’s more of a . . . suggestion.”
“A suggestion from most people is a suggestion, but a suggestion from the king is a command. No, my lord, I believe you must choose a wife, and you must choose one from among the noble ladies in his letter. He particularly mentions the daughters of the Duke of Geitbart and the Earl of Plimmwald.”
He was expected to choose a wife based on who her father was, and the king had suggested the ladies whose fathers had feuded the most with the margraves of Thornbeck before him—his brother and father. The king wanted peace and unity among his noblemen, and there had been more contention than peace in the last thirty or forty years.
The Duke of Geitbart had once controlled both Thornbeck and Plimmwald, but when Geitbart’s father defied the king’s wishes and married a woman the king did not approve, the king had taken Thornbeck away from him and given it to the Margrave of Thornbeck, Reinhart’s father, and he gave Plimmwald to the present Earl of Plimmwald. And now Geitbart wanted them back.
Reinhart would be expected to purchase peace and unity for the people of his country by marrying a lady without ever seeing her or knowing anything of her character or temperament. This wife would be thrust upon him, for as long as they both lived, for his personal good or for ill.
“You should choose a wife as soon as possible,” Jorgen said.
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“Perhaps . . .” He turned to pace in a short path from the window to the middle of the floor and back. “So you could meet these ladies and choose which of them you deem worthiest, we could arrange to have them all come to Thornbeck Castle. It could be a ball, or better yet, a party lasting many days. Odette could help plan it. We could invite every lady on the king’s list and even put them through a series of tests, based on what you want in a wife.”
Jorgen stopped his pacing and turned to him, his brows raised. “What do you think of this plan, my lord?”
“I think . . . I hate it.”
“But is it not better than choosing without knowing anything about them?”
Of course it was better. But how did he know how to choose a wife? He knew nothing of women. His own parents’ marriage had been arranged for them, and they had hated each other. They rarely spoke more than two words to each other, and both of them had lovers. Reinhart certainly had no desire for that kind of marriage. But neither did he believe that husbands and wives “fell in love” before they married.
Believing there was one woman among many with whom he could fall in love was a naive concept invented by traveling minstrels and addled youths. And yet, Jorgen and his wife had chosen each other. Though neither of them had anything of material value to gain from the marriage, they had chosen each other solely because of a fondness for each other. And even Reinhart had to admit, they seemed very content.
Perhaps he should trust Jorgen’s judgment. But at the same time . . .
“I shall feel a fool, holding a party to choose my own wife.”
“You shall not feel a fool, my lord, and the ladies will feel very flattered that you invited them. Odette and I can arrange it so the ladies do not know you are putting them through tests. And Odette, as a woman, can give you her thoughts and can help you discern—that is, if you wish it. The ladies will enjoy the party, and you can observe them and see who would make the most ideal wife.”
But would they consider him an ideal husband? A man who couldn’t even walk without a cane? Reinhart stared down at the floor, at his maimed ankle. His blood went
cold at the thought of appearing pitiable to the woman he would marry, of her scorning his weakness. But he had little choice but to try and choose wisely from among the ten.
“When should we plan it? Next summer?”
“Oh no, my lord. That’s nearly a year away. I believe the king will expect you to marry much sooner than that.”
“There is no knowing what the king expects. But even though I have more important things I should be doing with my time . . . you may begin the process now. I am leaving it in your hands.” Reinhart turned away from the window.
“Of course, my lord.”
Two weeks later, Plimmwald Castle, The Holy Roman Empire
Avelina stood behind Lady Dorothea, brushing her long golden hair.
What were Jacob and Brigitta doing today? Had they found the breakfast of bread and pea porridge she’d left for them? Would they remember to tend the vegetable garden and milk the goat? She would have to ask them if they had washed—
“Ow! What are you doing?” Dorothea spun around and snatched the brush out of Avelina’s hand. “Are you trying to tear out my hair?”
“No, of course not.” Avelina knew from experience that it was better not to cower but to look Dorothea in the eye when she was in a passion.
Dorothea frowned and handed her back the brush. “My ride this afternoon has my hair in a snarl. See that you don’t tear it out of my head.”
Dorothea turned back around on her stool, and Avelina continued brushing her thick, honey-colored hair, Dorothea’s fairest feature.
A knock sounded at the door, and Hildegard, one of the older maidservants, entered the room carrying a tray. “Lady Dorothea, Cook sent this up for you.” She smiled, flashing all her teeth. “She made it from the last of the cherries. A perfect tart for my lady.”
The last of the cherries. Avelina tried to keep her eyes off the tart, but the smell of warm fruit made her take a deep breath through her nose. Her mouth watered. She could almost taste it.
“It does look good.” Dorothea picked it up and took a bite.
She waved her hand. Did she want Hildegard to leave? Avelina continued brushing.
Dorothea turned and snatched the brush out of her hand again, glaring at her while her mouth was full. Hildegard glared at her too.
