Where would she go? Letitia closed her eyes, assured her rescue was at hand.
Soon she heard more boards being torn away with fury, and blissful light covered her. Pressure weighted her wrists and ankles as a knife sawed through the cords. The gag was unbound from her mouth. Strong arms lifted her with ease and held her with supreme gentleness. She laid her cheek against the muscled shoulder beneath a coat that felt like serge and forced herself to look at him.
The eyes of peace stared back at her.
“Edward,” she rasped, her throat like fire. Weary, her eyelids fluttered closed again.
“Shh.” His lips brushed her forehead. “You’re safe.”
She was barely aware of him carrying her to the manor or upstairs to the room she shared with Marian. But when Edward laid her upon the counterpane, she roused enough to grab his sleeve. “You must stop him.”
“Who?”
“The marquis. He robs Lord Bellingham this morn.” With that, she fell back, and her fatigued mind and body relinquished themselves to rest.
Chapter 10
Inside the carriage, alone, Edward grimly recounted the facts. How could he have been so blind? Despite the little information he’d gleaned, he hadn’t wanted to believe the truth, had avoided it for weeks. But there it was, staring him in the face. He’d been a fool! And he’d almost lost the woman he loved because of his folly.
To find Letitia bound and gagged. So pale … at first he’d thought her dead. The sick feeling returned, the abject fear that he might have lost her, the terrible ache in the center of his being, but he forced such memories away. She was safe and warm, and he must keep his mind on the present situation.
Almighty Father, I’m new in my service to You. I humbly ask that You help me to be successful this day, to remember Your Son is the anchor to which I must hold. I cannot accomplish this in my own strength.
When the shouts of riders came, Edward was ready. Before Lord Bellingham’s carriage rolled to a full stop, he withdrew his pistol and flung open the door. There was a scurry of surprise, but he aimed his weapon at William before he or his men could get a bead on Edward.
“It’s over, Lord Dalworth,” he stiffly addressed the kerchiefed rider on horseback, who wore a brace of pistols, one on each side. “Tell your men to throw down their weapons.”
Instead, William made a frantic grab for one of his guns. Edward was saved shooting him when five riders burst through the trees on horseback, pistols aimed at the three.
The two highwaymen threw down their firearms. William lifted his hands in the air, his chuckle terse. “Bully for you, Edward. You win. This time.”
Instead of rising to the bait as he’d done all his life, Edward walked toward him. “You possess something that doesn’t belong to you. Allow me to relieve you of it.”
William glared but pulled off the loose ring that had slipped around his finger and placed it in Edward’s outstretched hand.
“You almost killed her!” Edward tightened his hold on the ring, attempting a calm he didn’t feel. What he desired was to pull the man from his horse and knock him senseless.
“I was confident you’d find her in that storage area where we played as children. And you did, didn’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. But if not for me, my men would have killed her.”
As the constable led him away, hands bound, William called, “She’s not the type to wink at lies and deceit as Lady Salinger did. She’ll never forgive you, Edward.”
He bit back a reply. In his heart, he prayed such wasn’t the case.
Letitia dressed, anxious as to why she was being summoned. Three days she’d remained bedridden to regain her health and strength. Except for Grandmama, the Ackers party had returned home to London. Soon, Letitia must go, too. Yet she’d learned a hard lesson. Just as the marquis had hidden behind his title to do evil, she’d hidden behind her masquerade, desiring to be someone she wasn’t. Well, no longer. From this day forward, she would accept her role in life, whatever that may be. She would be content and embrace each day cheerfully. Having almost lost the opportunity, Letitia was grateful to receive a new start.
She’d been shocked to discover Marian had imparted helpful information to Grandmama, telling how she’d observed three men with Letitia near the maze. Later, she’d recognized one of them by his fairy-like costume as Puck on the outside steps and had eavesdropped on their conversation. Both men were upset that William prevented them from killing Letitia, and they’d quietly discussed returning to end the deed. Near dawn, Edward learned the information and met the stable boy running with news of finding her.
While Marian’s farewell to Letitia days ago had been devoid of emotion, Letitia knew she had her cousin to thank for saving her life and told her so. Marian had flushed as if uncertain how to respond but hadn’t pulled away when Letitia gently squeezed her hands in farewell.
Following a servant, Letitia entered the private parlor in which she’d glimpsed Edward walking with the duchess on her first morning at Heppelwith. The duke stood near a gold-veined marble fireplace, and Eleanor sat on a damask-covered chair. Edward stood near her. Seeing Letitia, the girl smiled and moved to embrace her.
“I’m pleased to see you fully recovered, Letitia, and I’m confident there are others here who share my sentiments.” She glanced at Edward, whose face had reddened. “Alas, I must attend to my morning correspondence. We shall converse at tea, as we have much to discuss. Father?” She went to him and affectionately took hold of his arm.
The duke sternly eyed his daughter, though Letitia noted he patted the hand at his sleeve. “Very well, Eleanor. I’m not dim-witted. I’ll leave you to it then, Edward. I must tend to my songbirds.” The two left the room.
Puzzled, Letitia waited. Edward pulled at his cravat, looking ill at ease. For the first time, she noticed he wasn’t in his livery. Had he been dismissed?
She sank to the cushion. “Edward?”
He moved to the opposite chair, looked at her, then shot to his feet and began to pace. “First, it’s imperative you know I’m not a man who practices deceit. I had a sharp blow dealt me shortly after my arrival from India. My betrothed had proven to be a woman of immoral character.”
Letitia swallowed over a dry throat. This had been the first she’d heard that his heart was attached to another.
“So as to avoid her further pain, the engagement, arranged by my father, was quietly dissolved, but the experience bred caution within me. I don’t intend to return to India without a wife. No one of eligibility resides there—the few English women are married or are too young—and it’s time I settle down.”
Again he nervously pulled at his cravat, so hard, it went askew. “I devised a scheme to select a woman I could love who could love me in return. For such a plan to succeed, I had to take drastic measures. My family wasn’t in favor of the idea, but neither did they prevent me from following through with it. The recent robberies aided in their acquiescence, due to the fact that the first victims who’d been robbed are dear family friends. In my role, I was able to investigate the matter, piece together facts. That’s why I was in London.”
“Oh,” Letitia managed to breathe. She tightly clasped her hands in her lap. A sense of unreality teased her mind. Perhaps she was dreaming. This must be a dream.
He returned to his chair and brought it closer to hers. “My desire was to find a woman of virtue. One loyal and true. A woman who would bestow the same consideration to a servant that she would to a nobleman. However, in order to seek such a woman, it was imperative that I conceal my identity. How else would I know she wasn’t playing me false for selfish gain? I’d been deceived once and couldn’t let it happen again. Do you understand, Letitia?”
Face afire, she could only stare. Her spinning mind desperately rejected the words he had yet to say.
He leaned forward, covering her cold hands with his warm ones. “I am Lord Edward Dalworth. The marquis.”
His face blurred. She desperately
tried to force rational thought, to force any words to her lips at all.
Alarm lightened his eyes. Grasping her shoulders, he settled her back against the cushion and poured something into a glass. He put it under her nose, but she shook her head.
“Drink,” he commanded.
One small sip of the bitter brew burning down her throat was enough to revive her. Disgusted with herself, she pushed his hand holding the glass away. She wasn’t one to swoon. She must still be weak from her ordeal.
“What of Lord Dal—I mean, Lord William? Or … whoever he is?”
“He’s my cousin. We both work for our uncle in India. My father and my uncle, Lord Hathaway, own a silk plantation there. William’s father also had a smaller share, but he died of malaria.”
“He robbed us.” The words were inane, but Letitia couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say.
“I apologize for the harm William caused. While he masqueraded as me, I learned of his plan to implicate me in the robberies.”
“But I’d seen him, heard their plans! I knew he was the one.”
His eyes were grave. “It would have been your word against his. He knew of my feelings concerning you and could have easily turned your words around to suggest that you were protecting me.”
Letitia dropped her gaze. He needn’t elaborate; no English court would believe the word of a domestic over that of a nobleman.
“He desired to take everything I possessed. I learned quite recently that he was the one to rob me of my fiancée by wooing her. Poor Lady Salinger.” Edward sighed, briefly looking to his hands clasped between his knees. Letitia could now see his ring with the family seal, the same ring William had worn all week. “I should have suspected his involvement, but he covered his tracks well and pretended to be a friend. Doubtless he hoped to rob me of my title by having me sent to prison and achieve a higher position with our uncle in managing the affairs of the plantation.”
“Is that what you do?” she whispered.
He smiled. “I manage the accounts. You would love India.”
“I?”
“Of course. Don’t you understand what I’m saying?”
She shook her head.
“Dearest Letitia, I wish to marry you.”
Again her mind grew vacant. She sought for words. “But I’m not. My mother—”
“Was a lady who committed no crime. I know all about your so-called family scandal. I’ve talked long with the dowager viscountess this past week. As have my parents. You’ve won my father over with your spirit; you’re the only one besides family who’s ever exhibited enough courage to stand up to his bluster.” He grinned. “And my patient sister was forced to hear the workings of my heart these whole miserable ten days.”
“But”—Letitia shook her head—“I cannot marry you. I’ve never been presented to the Queen.”
He chuckled. “That can be arranged. Lady Ackers seemed confident you would be agreeable. She sent a letter to Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, three days past.”
Letitia stared, hardly daring to believe what was happening.
“Yet perhaps the lady dowager erred, and you don’t return my feelings?”
At the worry in his eyes, she was quick to speak. “No, Edward. I’ve had great affection for you since the night you rescued me in London and took me into your coach.” Her cheeks warmed. “It was your coach?” Of course it was. The knowledge that Edward was the marquis and not William still bewildered her.
“Yes.” He shifted his gaze, again looking ill at ease. “Letitia, can you possibly forgive me for deceiving you by letting you assume I was a servant?”
She gave a faint smile. “It seems we both engaged in a masquerade. You as a servant, and I as a lady of worth.”
“Ah, but Letitia …” He took hold of her hands, bringing her up with him as he rose to his feet. “You are indeed a lady of great worth.”
He gathered her close to his heart, and Letitia relaxed her head near his shoulder. There was much more to say, much more to learn, but for now she was content to be held by the man she loved.
Epilogue
Three years later
Clothed in a gown of silver, Letitia stood beside Edward on the plantation’s open verandah and watched their guests dance. From behind, a night bird called out from somewhere beyond the fringe of mango trees. A monkey chattered, setting off a chain of jungle music as the strains of violins produced their own melody in the ballroom. The air was warm, the scents heady with nearby branches of frangipani. Letitia loved this beautiful, dangerous, exotic land, which no longer seemed foreign to her after having lived in it for almost three years.
“I would say that our first masquerade ball is a success, wouldn’t you, my love?”
Edward took hold of her gloved hand and kissed it.
“Oh yes. Quite.”
Childish giggling reached her ears, and Letitia looked to see their curly-headed daughter peering round the wall, bare toes peeking from beneath her white nightdress, a crumpled costume mask of the same color held to her eyes.
“Regina,” Edward warned, “shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Don’ wan’ bed, Papa.” The girl scampered to her father’s arms, and he hoisted her up. She kissed his cheek with a loud smack.
“Memsahib!” A young native woman with copper skin and a colorful tunic rounded the corner, out of breath. “Little missy leave her bed. She play in memsahib’s trunk with pretty dresses, then run away from her ayah when I was not watching.”
“Never mind, Yanni,” Letitia told the child’s nurse. “I’ll tend to her.”
“And you will read to the servant children again about the miracles of Jesus? I like to hear them, too.”
“Tomorrow. I promise.” Letitia was happy that Yanni had recently accepted the Lord. After two years of difficult communication and improving on the servants’ English, Letitia had finally gotten through to them with the message of the Gospel while learning their language, too.
“I will tell them.” Before leaving, the girl smiled and pressed her palms together, bowing her head and bringing her fingers to her forehead in a respectful namaste.
“As for you, young lady, you’re being very naughty.” Letitia studied her two-year-old daughter.
Regina gave the sweetest pout, wrapping her plump little arms across her chest. “Don’ wan’ bed.”
The all-day excitement of preparations for the ball had buoyed everyone’s spirits, especially the children’s.
“If Mamá tells you the stories behind the mask, will you try?”
“Sto’ies?” Interest lit Regina’s big brown eyes. She laid her head against Edward’s shoulder and yawned. The hand holding the white satin mask hung down by her side.
“Sí, mi niña. The mask is almost one hundred years old and has many wonderful stories of adventure, including mine and Papá’s. But you must be a good girl and do as you’re told. Then I’ll tell you all its wonderful stories.” She kissed the small dimpled hand.
Regina’s eyes drooped, the long lashes sweeping over rosy cheeks. “Mamá tew sto’ies.”
“Tomorrow you shall hear them,” Edward promised then smiled at Letitia. “I’ll put her to bed.”
During his absence, Letitia again looked from her place on the verandah toward their thirty-eight costumed guests. Eleanor was visiting from England and was dancing with a British officer, a titled lord in whom she’d recently expressed interest. Judging from his unwavering attentions, Letitia felt certain the girl’s affection was returned. Eleanor brought news from home, too, of Marian, who recently gave birth to her firstborn son, having married a wealthy viscount twice her age. And Grandmama Ackers, as feisty as ever, had sent word that she planned to visit India for her upcoming sixty-first birthday, bringing Letitia’s parents with her.
Letitia smiled, eagerly anticipating the celebration she would hold. She hadn’t seen her parents or the dowager viscountess since before Edward and she had left for India directly after their marriage
. First, they’d visited Spain, and with Edward’s consent, she’d given her parents the hundred pounds Grandmama had given to her.
Hearing strains of a waltz begin, Letitia swayed to the music while staring up at the huge moon on its velvet canvas of black sky, bigger and brighter than it had ever been in all of England.
Sensing Edward behind her, she smiled when his hand slid around her waist then gasped as his other hand went beneath her legs and he swung her up into his arms. Automatically her arms flew around his neck. Nearby torches caught the mischievous twinkle in his blue-gray eyes.
“Edward, what are you doing?” She laughed. “What will the guests say if they see?”
“I don’t care,” he said. “Ever since I saw you that night three years ago on my father’s terrace at the masquerade ball, I’ve wanted to dance with you. Conventions denied me the pleasure of holding you in my arms then. My one regret is that I waited this long.”
She smoothed her hand along his lean jaw. “I’ve always wished I could dance,” she admitted. “And to do so with my husband whom I dearly love would please me.”
“Then, my Lady of the Moonlight, your wish is my command.”
He brushed a tender kiss across her lips before beginning to waltz with expert grace. While in the starry skies above, the great disk of the moon bathed them in its gentle glow.
FAYRE ROSE
by Tamela Hancock Murray
Dedication
To my husband, John
My knight in shining armor for twenty years.
Chapter 1
Scotland, 1348
Please, Laird Kenneth. Have mercy!” Witta Shepherd touched one knee to the ground and bowed his head. “If I had the few farthings ye request, I would hand them over without question.” He trembled despite the summer heat.
Why do they ask for more than we can give? Fayre felt her own body tense and then shake as she witnessed the scene between her father, Laird Kenneth, and two of his knights. The longer she watched her aged father’s humiliation, the hotter her emotions became. Rage and fright threatened to display themselves, but as a mere serf, she couldn’t afford such luxury. Only a fine lady of the king’s court could dare express displeasure to an exalted laird and his vassals.
British Brides Collection Page 38
