The Viscount's Bride

by Ann Elizabeth Cree

  “In fact, I must forbid her to do so.” Brandt smiled down at Chloe. “Come and talk to me for a moment instead.”

  “After that you may stand up with me,” Lady Farrows told him.

  Arthur levelled a frown at Brandt. “I trust you will refrain from doing anything that might cause gossip.”

  “I will endeavour to do my best.” He held his hand out to Chloe. She placed hers in his and he led her near a small alcove. He looked down at her. “I am serious, you know. I want you to meet me in the garden at midnight. By the grotto. Do you recall where it is?” He paused, his expression suddenly less certain. “Only if you wish to. Perhaps I am being presumptuous.”

  “No.” She held his gaze. “I want to be there. I will be there.”

  His eyes darkened in the way she had seen Justin’s when he looked at Belle. Instead of wanting to flee, she wanted to go to him, and press her mouth to his.

  Was this what it was like to be in love?

  The realisation hit her with such force she nearly reeled. She stared at his familiar face, and wondered why she had not known this before. Perhaps she had but had not wanted to admit it, out of a fear that she would be badly beyond her depth.

  “What is amiss?” His eyes were watchful.

  “Nothing. Everything is quite all right.” She touched his sleeve. “You must go dance with Lady Farrows.” Everything was suddenly moving too fast and she needed a few moments to sort her tumultuous feelings.

  “I will see you at midnight?” It was a question.

  “Yes.”

  She watched him go and then nearly jumped when Lady Kentworth appeared beside her. “Another assignation, Lady Chloe? At least this time it is with your fiancé.” She gave Chloe a malicious smile before walking off.

  The glow of happiness faded as a feeling of unease stole over her. How much had Lady Kentworth heard? Enough, apparently, to know she planned to meet Brandt alone. Such behaviour was not quite proper even for an engaged couple, but certainly meeting him was nothing Lady Kentworth could turn against them.

  Perhaps she should have insisted on meeting somewhere else, or at another time, but she sensed this was too important; that whatever Brandt wanted must not be put off because of propriety or doubts, or anything else. And certainly not because of Lady Kentworth.

  If only she could have a few minutes alone to collect her thoughts. First Lydia approached her and after that Belle insisted she must sit so she might watch the dancers. She was never alone after that. Finally Sir Preston stopped to speak to her and she recalled she had promised to help him with Emily. She finally spotted Emily and Mr Rushton near the same alcove where she had stood with Brandt. She rose and asked Sir Preston to escort her to Emily. Emily pasted a strained smile on her face when she saw them. Chloe was too tired to dissemble. “Sir Preston wishes to dance with you, Emily.”

  Sir Preston tugged at his cravat. “Only if you wish, that is. No obligation to at all, Em…Miss Coltrane.”

  “I have promised Mr Rushton…” Emily began.

  Chloe cast a meaningful look towards Gilbert. “I am certain Mr Rushton will understand.”

  Gilbert’s face was bland. “Most certainly. Care for a turn about the room, Lady Chloe?”

  “I think I would prefer to sit. My feet are rather sore.”

  “Of course. I will escort you back to your chair.” He smiled paternally at Sir Preston and Emily. “Time to take yourselves off to the dance floor.”

  Sir Preston held out his arm. “Miss Coltrane?” Chloe was pleased to see he looked her directly in the eye.

  “Yes. I suppose.” Emily placed her gloved hand on his.

  Rushton watched him lead Emily to the floor before turning to Chloe. “Almost as entertaining as watching you and Salcombe dance circles around each other. Glad to see you two have finally come to your senses. Well, let us find your chair and then a glass of lemonade.”

  He saw her back to her chair and then left to procure the drink. She quickly spotted Brandt moving through the dance with effortless grace. Had she really fallen in love with him? Was that what this attraction was all about? This half-hope that she would see him, the disappointment when he was not there, the breathlessness when he looked at her? The desire to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers?

  It was a much worse feeling than she had ever anticipated. When she had been with him, everything had seemed to fall into place but suddenly she felt less certain, less happy and much more frightened. If she met him as she had agreed, she would be giving herself to him; perhaps not in the most physical, intimate sense, but in every other way. If she did not go, she would be telling him that she did not want him.

  If only she could draw Belle aside and ask her what to do. But this was not something she could discuss with Belle. She must make up her own mind.

  She saw Mr Rushton returning with the lemonade. After that, her mother came to sit with her. She scarcely saw Brandt, but when she did she found his eyes on her in a sober, considering way. She was quite aware of passing time and, as half-past eleven approached, she felt as if she was on pins and needles.

  It was after eleven thirty that she made up her mind. She was about to excuse herself from Emily and Lydia when a footman appeared next to her. “I have a message for you. I am to tell you that it is imperative that you read it immediately and then wait for your reply.”

  “Thank you.” She took the paper and opened it. It was brief. Meet me in the west wing chamber. It is important. Salcombe.

  Why would he wish to meet her there? Except for the library, she had never been to the west wing and doubted she could even find her way there. But why else would he send her a message unless he had a reason for changing?

  “Is something wrong?” Emily asked.

  “Nothing at all.” The footman still waited for a reply. She took a breath. “Yes, I will be there.”

  “I am to escort you.”

  At least that would be better than wandering around on her own. She followed the footman from the room and across the hall to the corridor that led to the older wing. He carried a brace of candles, but they provided little light in the dim passage. He finally stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and waited for her to enter. She stepped inside, grateful to see a burning candle on the heavy table near the door. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. “Brandt?” she said softly.

  She heard footsteps and nearly screamed.

  “Lady Chloe? What the devil are you doing here?”

  To her astonishment, Sir Preston appeared. He looked as taken aback as she was.

  “I was to meet someone here,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was to meet someone here as well.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t suppose you came to meet Emily, did you?” “No.”

  “Deuced odd. Got a note from Emily saying she needed to see me urgently but shouldn’t tell anyone where I was going. Thought it strange but didn’t want to not show in case it was important.” “Yes, I know. My note was very similar.” It must be very close to midnight. Brandt would be waiting for her. “I must go. There is something I must do.”

  “Will accompany you back. Rather dark.”

  “I think it would be best if you did not.” She nearly ran to the door, but when she turned the handle it would not budge. She tried again, but still the door would not move. “Drat!” Growing desperate, she pushed then she turned and found Sir Preston behind her. “The door will not open!”

  “Let me try.” He waited until she stepped aside and then tried the handle, but his efforts were no more successful than hers. He shoved and finally said to her, his face mirroring her own frustration. “Appears we are locked in.”

  “We cannot be!” Brandt would think she had changed her mind. And if she was discovered locked in this ancient bedchamber with Sir Preston… “There must be some way to force the door. Or another way out!”

  “Door is thick oak. Don’t think I can break it down.” He looked at her with a d
oubtful expression. “Not planning to have hysterics are you?”

  “I never have hysterics.” However, if she were going to, this would be the time. She went over to the heavy curtains and pushed them aside; the cloud of dust that rose from them making her sneeze. She tried the window sash, then realised she had forgotten to unlock it. She managed to work the lock only to find the sash would barely move.

  “Don’t think climbing out is a good idea,” Sir Preston remarked over her shoulder. “The roof has a devilish pitch. Probably end up in the garden with a broken leg, or worse.”

  She whirled around. “But what should we do then? I cannot stay here. I promised Brandt that I would…would meet him and if I do not…I cannot imagine what he will think!”

  “No doubt he’ll understand once he sees the note. Kept mine.”

  “I kept mine as well.” But it would not be the same. Tears pricked her eyelids. She would not cry because then she would never be able to think, but she was beginning to feel hopeless.

  Sir Preston suddenly straightened. “Thought of something.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a panel in this room. Leads to a passage.”

  “A panel? I thought that was in the library.”

  “One here as well. Goes to the library.” He strode over to the wall near the cobweb-draped tester bed and she hurried after him. He shoved a small table aside and began to push on the panels then suddenly jumped when the wall opened and Emily stepped through.

  Sir Preston goggled. “Emily? What the devil!”

  Dust covered her gown, but she appeared as composed as ever. “I came to rescue you. Actually, I came to rescue Chloe.”

  “How the devil did you know we were here?” Sir Preston demanded. He looked quite stern. “And what do you mean by coming by yourself?”

  “It will take too long to explain.” She looked at Chloe. “You must hurry, Lord Salcombe is waiting for you. You must go through the passage and continue to your right and then you will come out in the library. Take my candle.”

  “Yes.” Chloe took the candle and took a step towards the dark hole and then paused. “You and Sir Preston are not coming?”

  “Not for a while.” Emily’s face wore a peculiar little smile. “I will see you tomorrow and tell you all about it.”

  Chloe stepped into the passage and took a deep breath. She would not panic, she would find the library.

  And Brandt.

  —

  Brandt glanced at his pocket watch but it was not necessary. He knew it was past midnight, nearly twenty minutes past, and there was no Chloe.

  She had changed her mind. He was not prepared for the bitter disappointment that washed over him. For a moment in the ballroom, when she had looked up at him, he had hoped that she perhaps wanted him after all, but she had not. For whatever reason, she did not trust him.

  He could hear the faint laugher and music issuing from the house. Soon it would be time for Justin to make the formal announcement. His hopes of having her consent to marry him before the announcement were dashed. Instead, he would stand next to Chloe and know that the betrothal was truly a façade.

  He must return to his guests, and find Chloe. He left the bench in the grotto and headed towards the terrace and the newly installed French windows that led inside. At the top of the terrace steps he was hailed by Tom. “Lord Salcombe!”

  Brandt turned. “What is it?” He knew he sounded curt, but he was in no mood for idle talk.

  “Have a note from Emily for you. She wanted me to find you and give it to you directly. She said it is imperative that you read it straight away. Had no idea you were in the garden or would have given it to you earlier.”

  “At least I have it now. Thank you.” He started to fold it. “She wanted you to read it as soon as possible,” Tom insisted. “She looked worried. Can’t find her now. Or Lady Chloe, and the Duchess has been asking for her.”

  Brandt opened the note. Lady K. locked Sir P. and Lady C. in west wing chamber. Have gone to rescue them through the passage. I will send Chloe to library through passage. Emily Coltrane.

  She had not changed her mind! His relief was short-lived. He had to find Chloe and then he would deal with Lady Kentworth.

  “Something wrong?” Tom asked.

  Brandt looked up. “No. Your sister is fine. I am going to find Lady Chloe. You may tell the Duchess not to worry.”

  The best way would be to go through the side entrance, which would allow him to proceed directly to the library. If Chloe had gone through the passage, then he would meet her. Unless she had become confused and taken the wrong turn. He cut around the corner of the terrace and then leapt lightly to the ground. The side entrance was nearly hidden by overgrown ivy, but the door was unlocked. He nearly ran to the library and then realised he had not brought a candle with him.

  He prayed Chloe was already there.

  The room was empty, but a candle burned in its holder on the mantel. Thank goodness for Miss Coltrane’s never-failing efficiency. He took the candle and bent down. The heavy door was unlocked so he pulled it open and climbed through the grate into the dark passage. He would go first to the bedchamber, then, if she was not there, head for the sea. And hope Chloe had not gone very far at all.

  —

  Chloe leaned against the wall, hugging herself with her arms, trying to stem the rising tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The passage was completely dark and she was completely lost. Her candle had blown out moments earlier. From the sudden cool breeze that touched her cheeks she knew she was near the sea, far from the passage to the library.

  How could she have been so stupid? She should have had Emily repeat the directions, but she had been so determined to reach Brandt she had not waited. She had come to the fork in the passage but could not recall at all what Emily had said. The passage to the right had been narrow and full of cobwebs and the left had been wider. So she had chosen the latter and been completely wrong.

  She had realised that when the path suddenly sloped downwards. She panicked then and had stood, immobilized, until she forced herself to turn around. But a few steps later, Chloe saw another fork in the tunnel she had not noticed before. Her mind had gone blank. She had suddenly had no idea where she was or how she had got there. She had forced herself to move and found herself in this gently sloping passage. Then, turning a corner, the candle had slipped from her hand.

  Chloe closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would not panic; she would not go mad. She would think of…of gardens. Roses and gillyflowers and daisies.

  Then she shrieked as cold water touched her slippers, and her eyes flew open. She looked down and saw the water lapping at her feet. She stared for a moment, wondering how that could be, then her mind began to work again. She was in one of the sea caves. One of the caves that would be submerged with water.

  She must move. Chloe forced herself away from the slippery wall and began the slight climb upwards. She must find where the walls and floor became dry. But it seemed to take an age before the surface was no longer slippery. Her feet hurt and her slippers felt as if they were worn to shreds. She slid down the wall and closed her eyes. She was exhausted, the effort to hold her fear at bay taking all her strength. Perhaps if she rested.

  “Chloe!” At first she thought she was dreaming, but when she heard her name again she opened her eyes. She could see a faint light down the passage.

  She stood. “Here.” Her voice sounded feeble to her ears.

  It must have been enough. “Stay where you are. Do not move.”

  Brandt was coming for her. She waited and then he came into view. He carried a candle. “Thank God,” he said, and then he was at her side.

  “I…I wanted to meet you,” she managed and then burst into tears.

  With one arm, he pulled her against him. “It is all right, Chloe. You are safe.”

  She couldn’t seem to stop the sobs, so he held her until they finally subsided and she leaned into him, spent. She w
anted to stay in the comfort of his embrace for ever, but he finally shifted. “We must return to the house.”

  “Yes.” She stepped away from him and shivered a little.

  “You can wear my coat. Can you hold the candle?”

  She took it. “I think so, but I dropped the other one.”

  “My poor girl.” His voice was a caress. He shrugged out of his evening coat and draped it around her shoulders, then gently removed the candle from her hand. “Come with me.”

  “I tried to think of gardens.”

  “Did it help?”

  “A little.” Until the water came. She did not want to think about that. In fact, she did not want to think at all. She followed him up the passage in a daze, aware of nothing but his solid, warm presence. She had no idea how much time had passed when they halted.

  “This leads to the library. You will need to bend down a little.” He stepped through and then held out his hand and helped her. In a moment, she was standing in the library with him. Brandt looked down at her. “You need a change of clothing and a bed. I will send for Mrs Cromby and let Belle know you are safe. But first I need to get you to a more suitable room.”

  She nodded. The ball, the guests seemed very far away. He took her hand and led her across the floor to the closed door. He tried it, but it would not open. He stared at it for a moment and then retried the handle again. “Damn.”

  “Is it locked?” Somehow it seemed almost natural for it to be so.

  “It appears to be.” He turned and looked at her with the same frustrated expression Sir Preston had worn earlier.

  “I suppose we could always go back through the passage to the bedchamber.”

  “We cannot,” he said flatly. “The door is locked from the bedchamber. I asked Miss Coltrane to lock it. It is doubtful they are still there.”

  He tried the door once more, this time pressing his shoulders against the wood, but it did not move.

  Her lethargy dissipated. “Could we call for help? Or climb through a window?”

  “The window is impossible. It is a straight drop down to the garden. I can try to call.” He sounded doubtful.

  Brandt began to pound on the door and shout. Chloe joined him. After a few tries, he finally turned to her. “I suspect they cannot hear us. I fear we must manage the best we can until someone comes to look for us. I would hope that would be soon since they should notice that their host and the guest of honour are missing.”