Mr. Cantrell’s companions forced a crate up the ladder, then another, sweating and cursing their way through the tight opening.
“What’s in them?” Mr. Sinclair asked, crossing his arms.
“Goods, alcohol. You name it. I don’t ask questions.”
Mr. Sinclair shook his head. “Pity. For you put your aunt in a dangerous position.”
“One too late to be avoided at present.” The candlelight flickered as he motioned to the ladder. “May I escort you both aboveground where we can be a bit more comfortable? Miss Delafield looks about ready to drop.”
Mr. Cantrell’s business arrangement must have rankled Mr. Sinclair to no end, but we’d little choice but to follow his instructions considering what I carried around my neck.
Mr. Sinclair touched my back. “You do look tired. You should retire immediately to your room.” He motioned to the ladder. “After you.”
The merest jingle from the coins in my bag accompanied the climb back into the garden with Mr. Cantrell a step behind me and Mr. Sinclair bringing up the rear. When everyone was clear of the hole, Mr. Cantrell closed the grate, turning to face us in the moonlight. “I won’t ask the obvious questions concerning the two of you; however, I shudder to think what such a discovery might do to Miss Delafield’s reputation.”
An alarming look skirted across Mr. Sinclair’s face.
I slipped my hand through the crook of Mr. Cantrell’s arm. “And I know you won’t speak of it, will you?”
He patted my hand. “Of course not, my dear. Not for all the world.”
I flinched beneath the gaze of his kind green eyes—the same eyes that had cared for me since the moment of my arrival, with or without a family to speak of. His lips softened into a smile. Mr. Sinclair was right. Mr. Cantrell did plan to renew his offer. I took a deep breath. There was much to clear up between us. “Mr. Cantrell, would you be so kind as to help me back to my room? Mr. Sinclair must see to his horse.”
Mr. Sinclair shot me a hard glare as he turned and walked toward the garden’s gate, his arms stiff at his sides.
I’d shocked him, but I couldn’t bear Mr. Cantrell to go on thinking for one more moment that I accepted his affections. Regardless of what happened between Mr. Sinclair and me, after tonight, Mr. Cantrell would no longer be an option.
His hand grazed my back. “It would be my pleasure.” He offered me his arm. “This way. I, um, hardly think the front door appropriate for your attire. Don’t you, my dear?”
Why did he keep calling me that? He rarely had before. Mr. Sinclair looked ready to call him out every time Mr. Cantrell repeated it, but he’d said nothing yet and neither did I. Our situation was far too tenuous. Like a servant, Mr. Sinclair held the garden gate and averted his eyes as I brushed by him. My hand wandered to my neck. Surely he knew what I intended to speak with Mr. Cantrell about.
Mr. Cantrell led me around the back of the garden wall to access the east servants’ entrance, and Mr. Sinclair headed around the front of the house—to speak with Mrs. Chalcroft if I had to guess. He had no reason to hide. He was not an unchaperoned young lady caught returning home in the wee hours of the morning.
Fog had rolled in across the fields, gathering like an ominous cloud around the house, snuffing out my view of the trees and the ground floor. At least Mr. Cantrell and I would be concealed. That is, if Mr. Cantrell had spoken the truth about the dragoons.
I slowed my steps as we approached a narrow walkway. “You do understand my need for secrecy?”
Mr. Cantrell stopped. “Part of it.” He grasped my hand, tugging me into the shadows of a nearby tree. He must have known there was a bench there, for he spun me around, guiding me to sit beside him. “But not all.”
I landed a bit harder than I would have wished. “Oh my.”
He brushed a bit of soggy hair from my shoulder, leaning into my ear. “My darling. Tell me you’ll marry me this instant, and I’ll never ask you the rest of what happened tonight.”
My head pounded and I licked my dry lips. “That is what I wish to speak with you about.”
His hand slipped to my waist, drawing me closer. “Everything changes today. I will make a great deal of money, and we’ll have a nice start of it.” He kissed my cheek. “You must know, the terrible risk, I did it for you.”
I pushed against his chest, but he had no intention of letting me go. “Mr. Cantrell, I need to breathe. Please. I have something to tell you—”
His hands stilled. “Tell me what?”
“Mr. Cantrell.” I wriggled away from him a bit. “You have been nothing but kind, and you do me a great honor by offering me something so precious, but I must tell you that . . . I have already given my heart to someone else.”
His hand slipped down my arm, his eyelids narrowing. Even his voice turned cold. “I had hoped for much more from you.”
The wind shifted. My skin tingled beneath his fingers.
“Then tell me, what is it you were doing out all night . . . with Sinclair?”
“I . . .” I bit my lip.
“If you intend to utilize my protection, you will answer me.”
My chest ached. The Mr. Cantrell I knew had vanished. In his place was the one I’d overheard questioning Miss Cantrell. He grasped my shoulder. “Now.”
My feet itched to retreat, but I willed the feeling away. He was merely angry that I’d not agreed to his plans. This emotional display would pass as it had before. I drew back as far as his hold would allow. “I had a letter to deliver for Mrs. Chalcroft.”
“To Mr. Barineau, perhaps?”
My heart stopped. “You knew.”
“Of course I knew. My aunt is not so foolish as to keep me in the dark.”
I couldn’t imagine Mrs. Chalcroft sharing such a secret with him. She had been so adamant about telling no one. “But I-I was unsuccessful in my quest. I plan to go to her as soon as possible, if you would excuse me.”
“You were unable to find Mr. Barineau because even now, he waits for me in the woods.”
My eyes grew wide. “Waits . . . for you?”
He motioned to the stables with his chin, his hand relaxing on my arm. “He’s the man I’m to bring the crates to.”
The hair lifted on the back of my neck. I still had a way to deliver the package, risky as it was. Yet could I trust Mr. Cantrell, whose passions rose and fell like the wind?
I cast a quick glance at the Towers where I imagined Mrs. Chalcroft waiting in her room for word of my success. It didn’t matter if I was her granddaughter or not. Somewhere along the way, I’d moved beyond that. I cared for her and she was counting on me. Life or death was what she’d called it. I touched the bag. Mr. Sinclair would definitely tell me not to go, but I couldn’t involve him. Mr. Cantrell had seen too much between us in that little room and likely knew exactly where my heart lay. No, it was up to me.
Finding my voice, I met Mr. Cantrell’s shifting gaze. “Will you take me with you?”
His fingers formed a steeple under his chin. “Now, in the coach?”
“Yes, to see Mr. Barineau.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “If that is what you want.”
My stomach quivered, but I fought it, remembering instead how fondly Miss Cantrell spoke of her brother, how he’d helped her all these years. Mr. Cantrell would help me too. “I do. Please, just an escort to see him briefly and a ride back home as soon as possible.”
“As you wish, my dear.”
I had no time to question my hasty decision as he sprang to his feet. “We leave at once. Our ride is behind the stables. My good men must have loaded the crates by now.”
Like two children escaped from school, we flew across the milky ground, my feet aching to keep up, down the fence line and around the corner of the barn. The frigid temperature continued to nip at my fingers, but the wind had calmed and my core was dry. I’d have to worry about all that later. I had a promise to keep.
We rounded the stables and at first I thought the
small grove empty, but Mr. Cantrell gave a little whistle into the trees and one of the rowdy-looking men emerged from the fog. “This way.”
We followed his bulky form about ten yards, then the cart took shape, crates strapped to the back, a chestnut horse hooked to the front. Within a few steps we were upon it and Mr. Cantrell’s hands circled my waist. A lift and a shove deposited me onto a wooden seat. No question came for my comfort, but a blanket was thrust over my legs.
“Thank you,” I said coldly.
Another horse trotted beside the equipage, and I recognized the rider as the other man from the priest hole. Mr. Cantrell swung up next to me, claiming much of the bench, his caped riding coat blowing in the breeze. He slapped the ribbons and we were off. A fluttery feeling filled my chest, but I didn’t move. I’d made my choice.
The cart was heavy and the going slow through the fog. Mr. Cantrell remained quiet at first, but I had questions. “How long till we arrive?”
“Patience, my dear.” He touched my knee. “We’ll be there soon enough.”
But it wasn’t soon enough. Reedwick faded to a memory behind us and still we didn’t arrive. Worry took hold as I feared I’d not make it back before morning. Of course, had I really expected to? Either way, Mrs. Chalcroft would give me a reference. I’d be able to find another position—far away from Mr. Cantrell and the Towers.
We turned off the narrow road we’d taken for several miles and into a dense forest, the cart tossing about the rutted road, if you could even call it that. Mr. Cantrell grasped my arm. “You keep your mouth shut until I call for you. Understand?”
“Yes, but—”
“Shh.”
A light appeared in the distance and a horse and rider took shape in the glow. Mr. Cantrell reined his horse to a stop, and the mare snorted and pawed the ground. I pulled the blanket closer to my chest as icy drops of rain dripped from the branches high above our heads, pinging the ground in hushed beats all around us. A smoke scent met my nose and I wondered if there might be a cottage close by.
Mr. Cantrell raised his hand in greeting. “Tom—”
The man waved back. “You’re late.”
“We had a bit of a situation.” Mr. Cantrell jumped down from the cart. “But it’s been handled.”
Mr. Barineau raised the lamp, shining it on the cart. “Is that a girl you have with you?”
“Of course, as well as the crates you requested. I won’t ask for my payment . . . yet.” Mr. Cantrell gave him a wide smile.
“The devil you won’t.” Mr. Barineau laughed.
I carefully slipped the bag from my shoulder as the two men rounded the cart. Mr. Barineau cracked open one of the crates at the back, then whistled. “Oh, he’ll be pleased with this, quite pleased.”
“Then let us be off. We’ve to reach the coast by tomorrow.”
We? A heavy feeling hit my stomach. “Mr. Cantrell,” I whispered. Had he forgotten all about me?
He stopped. “Right, Tom. My fair lady has a package for you.”
Mr. Barineau tipped his hat. “You don’t say?”
They approached the side of the cart, and I extended a shaky hand. “Mrs. Chalcroft asked me to bring this to you.”
He snatched the bag. “Much good it did me. She was supposed to have it to Pasley’s by six o’clock yesterday.”
“I’m sorry. It was my fault. There were patrols and a storm. I must have missed you.”
“It better be all in here.” He cast a quick glance at Mr. Cantrell. “Or you’ll get yours, I ’spect.”
Mr. Cantrell held out his hand. “No need to be crass in front of the lady.”
“It’s awfully hard dressed as she is.” Mr. Barineau chuckled then plopped the bag into Mr. Cantrell’s open palm. “Your last and final payment, my lord. It better be the lofty one you demanded this time.”
“Don’t worry, my aunt will not disappoint us. I daresay when I included my newfound information, I struck fear into the old lady’s heart.”
My gaze shot to Mr. Cantrell. “What?”
He took a quick breath, a look of satisfaction crossing his face. “It’s mine, of course. My money. It shall set us up quite well for our first few months of marriage.”
A cold feeling washed over me. Surely I had misheard him. “M-Mr. Cantrell,” I stammered. “What do you mean?”
It was then I noticed the bend to his eyebrow, the hard lines etched across his forehead. His eyes looked ashen in the waning light, so completely unlike his usual handsome countenance. He tapped his watch fob before casting me a shrewd smile. “Darling, I’m afraid you have few options now, and we have no time to discuss them here. However, there shall be hours enough on our little trip across the channel.”
Pain spread through my chest like a crawling spider, the truth of my situation sinking in. He meant for me to go with them. To France. I had made a terrible mistake.
“Oh, come now, love, marriage to me won’t be all that bad.” His gaze slid down the length of my body. “I believe you thought quite differently at one time.”
I swung to slap him, but his hand caught my arm and jerked it back against the side of the cart. I raised my chin. “I told you there is no future for us. It doesn’t matter what happens tonight. Ruined or not, I’ll never go with you.” My gaze fell on the bag I’d carried through the rain, and I saw now what I’d been too blind to see before. “Mrs. Chalcroft would never send you money unless—”
“Unless what? She’s been doing so for the past four years or more.”
“Unless she didn’t know it would eventually reach your hands.” I turned away. “Take me home at once. You promised me a safe return.”
Forcing my attention, he pressed his body against the side of the cart, his voice low. “I’ve promised a lot of things in my life, but I only keep the ones truly necessary for my own happiness.”
“What of Miss Cantrell? She needs you now more than ever.”
“She should have thought of that before getting herself with child. Besides, we’ll be back within the year. Mrs. Chalcroft can’t possibly live that long.”
I recoiled. “And then what? You’ll not inherit a farthing.”
“No, my dear, but you will.”
So that was his plan from the start. What a fool I’d been, basking in his attentions. He’d never loved me. I jumped down from the cart. “You are gravely mistaken.”
His dark eyes flashed in the lamplight. How had I ever thought them kind?
“Mr. Cantrell, you must listen to me. I don’t know how you came by the information, but I’m not Mrs. Chalcroft’s granddaughter. Anne’s child was a boy. Do you hear me? A boy. Mr. Sinclair knows; he’ll tell you. You mean to ruin both our lives for nothing.”
A flick of the fingers and Mr. Cantrell’s two thugs drew up behind me, as if I could possibly escape. Four against one, in the middle of nowhere—flight would be impossible.
Mr. Cantrell touched my cheek. “My dear Sybil, do you think I would be so careless as not to be sure of my plans? You’re right, Anne did have a son that night twenty-two years ago, but she also had a daughter—twins, my dear, are not so uncommon.”
I gasped. Twins.
“That’s right. We’re cousins, you and I.” He laughed. “Oh, I first learned Stanton had a child quite by accident years ago. The earl’s been a good friend of mine for some time, and as you know, Mrs. Plume can hardly keep her mouth shut. Lucky for me she was Lord Stanton’s housekeeper before her advantageous marriage, and she divulged the interesting information to me one day without even realizing she’d done so.
“Shocked to learn that not only had Aunt Chalcroft been part of such a devious endeavor but that she’d kept the secret all those years, I knew she would never stand for a family scandal, and I simply put that knowledge to my own use.” He gave a little shrug. “In exchange for secrecy about the hidden child, I only asked for a bit of extra money here and there, nothing to cause too much of a fuss . . . until now.”
Blackmail—so that was
how he supported Miss Cantrell’s failed London seasons. I swallowed hard, scrambling to put it all together. But what of the letters I’d delivered, the ones I’d risked my life for? My jaw clenched shut. I suppose they’d all eventually made their way to Mr. Cantrell’s greedy hands.
He stepped closer. “But all those years I never knew who the mystery child was exactly, not until I saw your resemblance to Lord Stanton’s painting in the tower. A few pounds to the earl’s solicitor, and I learned that Stanton’s been funding your education all these years. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t prove Anne was my mother.” I twisted the bracelet on my arm, the jeweled band raking against my skin. “I too noticed my resemblance to Lord Stanton.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, my aunt filled in the missing details the night of the storm when she was conveniently out of her mind. She likes to talk when she’s been given laudanum.” A look of satisfaction settled across his face. “Twins, she said. You, my dear, taken to a school in London and the other child to the Aberdeens in Reedwick. Only, Lord Stanton knew of none but you. My great-aunt was more devious than I thought. She was so desperate to hide your brother, the heir, you see, she’d have done anything.” He patted the bag. “And still is. Pity she’s not aware Stanton died in the West Indies a month ago and she no longer needs to pay her blackmailer.”
Mr. Barineau stepped forward. “Enough. We’re losing darkness.”
Mr. Cantrell grasped my wrist. “Quite right. We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the boat.”
I jerked away. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I was afraid you’d say that. Tom, bring me the flask.” Then to me: “You can make this easy or hard, but either way, I have something for you to drink.”
27
A flask was thrust into Mr. Cantrell’s hand and he met my gaze. “Can’t have you alerting the authorities till we’re safely on board the ship, now can we?”
“Please. Don’t do this.” I splayed my hands in front of me. How it rankled to beg, but I’d do anything to keep that foul-smelling liquid away. “Can we not discuss this?”
In the Shadow of Croft Towers Page 26
