Alex went to a dressing table upon which were items for a woman’s toilette. He picked up a comb and ran a fingernail along its teeth. ‘As you are such a woman of good sense, I will broach a matter that is on my mind. Have you considered the likelihood of Lady Elizabeth refusing to help you and your stepbrother seeking you out and forcing you to go with him?’
Rosamund said, ‘I do not believe that she will refuse me. I have not been completely honest with you concerning Lady Elizabeth. I kept from you that she is my godmother.’
Alex dropped the comb and whirled round to face her. ‘Your godmother! Why did you keep this a secret from me?’ he demanded.
‘Because you would have questioned why the person I was pretending to be had a lady for a godmother,’ said Rosamund. ‘I am certain there is that in your life that you have not told me—and why should you when we scarcely know each other? Besides, I have not seen my godmother since before my mother died. Yet I have this hope that she will welcome me like a daughter. Then when Harry comes home I could keep house for him.’ She paused. ‘Which reminds me of something that religious said when she thought I was Harry.’
Alex fixed her with a stare. ‘What did she say?’
Rosamund concentrated. ‘Something like “Why did you have to go off the way you did? There was really no need. You won’t know it, but Alex left London. Although perhaps you met with him on your travels?”’
Alex swore beneath his breath in his own tongue.
‘Obviously it means something to you,’ said Rosamund.
He nodded. ‘It was Ingrid you spoke to.’
‘Ingrid! But isn’t she the woman who—?’
‘Aye. And it seems I have misjudged her.’
‘And my brother? How upsetting! She must have taken the veil because you both broke her heart.’ She could not prevent a touch of sarcasm invading her voice.
‘I do not think so,’ said Alex drily. ‘A nun’s habit was one of her favourite disguises.’
Rosamund could not believe what she was hearing. ‘You’re not saying that Ingrid is a spy, too?’
‘I really should not be discussing such information with you,’ said Alex, feeling he needed to be alone for a while. He made for the door. ‘I must go and bathe,’ he said abruptly.
‘No! Don’t go just yet,’ said Rosamund, holding out a hand to him. ‘I would like to know how you met my brother.’
Alex flicked back a lock of damp, tawny hair and his expression was moody. ‘All right. I will do so.’
Rosamund’s heart was suddenly beating ten to the dozen.
‘It was in the port of Visby in my own country twelve years ago. I found him hiding amongst some merchandise that had been carted to the port, ready to be shipped overseas for my grandfather,’ said Alex. ‘Harry looked half-starved and was covered in sores—his clothes were just rags. It was obvious that he needed help.’
‘Poor Harry! Why was he in such a state?’ she asked in distress.
‘At that time we did not speak the other’s language, but my grandfather knew enough English to discover that Harry had escaped from a pirate ship. I might have told you a little about pirate ships already. Anyway, one can encounter many a pirate ship in the northern seas—not that their captains would appreciate being called by that name. But you will find Scottish ships raiding English merchant vessels and English ones attacking their Scottish neighbours. It is not unknown for both to mistakenly attack vessels from my own country, as well as others from the Baltic.’ He paused and held her gaze. ‘It must be stopped, for it is disastrous for trade. That is why England and Scotland are signing a Pact of Perpetual Peace and Henry is marrying off his elder daughter to James of Scotland.’ He frowned. ‘But you will want to know what happened next to Harry.’
‘Please.’
‘We took Harry home with us and my grandmother fed him. That summer we spent getting to know each other. I taught Harry Swedish and he taught me English. We fished and sailed around the islands and were given work to do by my grandparents. Eventually Harry asked my grandfather if he could find him a position on one of his ships. This he did to their mutual satisfaction. Harry and I saw less of each other after that, but the friendship that was forged that summer remained and, when possible, we met up at various ports throughout Europe.’ His voice trailed off and his expression was bleak. ‘I’ve said enough. I will leave you. Sleep well.’ He made for the door.
‘No! Wait!’ She hurried after him and seized his arm. ‘You cannot leave the story there. Tell me—where does Ingrid come in all this? Where did you both meet her?’
Alex allowed himself to be persuaded to sit down again. ‘I met her in Stockholm at a masque. She was young, lovely, charming and I believed her to be a lady.’ He fell silent.
‘And was she a lady?’ prodded Rosamund, wondering what he had been doing at this masque. Spying?
A painful smile played about his mouth. ‘That’s what she believes, but I doubt it is true. The next time we met I was with Harry and we were unloading a cargo in Visby. She looked just as lovely, but was not so well dressed. She gazed right through me as if she did not recognise me, but she spoke to Harry, asking him about the cargo.’ He frowned. ‘I could see that he was just as bewitched by her as I was that night in Stockholm. The next time we met was in Bruges and then London. It was then I began to have my suspicions about her.’
‘What suspicions? She certainly travels a lot,’ said Rosamund, almost enviously.
‘That is because sometimes she has to leave a country swiftly. She is not a real lady, but lives by her wits and has a definite gift for disguise and getting men to talk.’ He rose and said firmly, ‘I believe I’ve given you enough to mull over.’
‘Aye. But I would hear more,’ said Rosamund, wondering how much secret information Ingrid had managed to get out of him. ‘You will tell me more tomorrow?’
He did not answer, and this time, there was no keeping him.
Rosamund returned to the bed and perched on it. She had no doubt that Master Nilsson had saved her brother’s life that day in Visby. For that she would be eternally grateful. She longed to see Harry and get some answers from him about this woman, Ingrid. It seemed to her that Ingrid had truly woven a spell over both men. But for what purpose? And did she know Edward? After all, hadn’t she heard his voice at the Steel Yard? Surely he was the person who Ingrid implied would like to meet her? And where was Harry if Ingrid did not know of his whereabouts?
Rosamund prayed that he was still alive. It would have been far better for her never to have known that Harry had not drowned all those years ago than to discover now, after having such hopes of being reunited with him, that he was dead after all. She felt a lump in her throat and tears pricked the back of her eyes. She needed to talk to Master Nilsson about this matter, but no doubt he was thinking of Ingrid. Perhaps he was full of hope that they could be lovers again, now he believed her innocent of betraying him with Harry.
If only Rosamund had know it was she that was much on Alex’s mind, then she might have felt much more cheerful. As he immersed himself in hot water and rested a leg on the rim of the wooden tub, he had been shocked to realise that he no longer wanted Ingrid. He had spent too many months thinking of her with Harry and feeling hurt. Of course, there were questions he needed to ask her, but somehow during the last week or more he had become accustomed to Mistress Appleby’s company. He thought how enjoyable it would be sharing a large tub with her. But there was no way that he could have Harry’s sister as his mistress. A pity, but there it was. He had promised to find Harry for her and he meant to keep his promise.