The sound of footsteps faded and Luke breathed a sigh of relief. It was short lived as he glanced at his companion. Brigitta rocked; wild mutterings flowed from her lips and tears coursed along her cheeks mingling with her freckles.
He lit candles then retrieved a basin of cold water that sat on the table, freshened from the morning. He dipped a rag and wrung it out, then bent to wipe her face and was stunned when she struck him with her fist.
He rocked backward, crashing against the wooden floor. She took the opportunity to scramble to her feet and run. Pushing off the floor, he took off after her.
They met at the door. With her hand on the knob, he grabbed her and twisted her into his arms, her chest rising and falling rapidly in the damp chemise.
****
“Why did you do that?” he said between gritted teeth.
Brigitta struggled, but his arms tightened around her. “Let me go!”
“I will do no such thing. Now stop behaving like an insolent child and let me wipe your face.”
Reluctantly, she gave in. She relaxed her rigid muscles and allowed him to lead her to a seat and use the cold rag to cleanse her tears. When he finished, he leaned back on his haunches.
The flickering candlelight lit his visage and gave him a soft glow. “Does anyone else know you’re here?” she whispered.
“You shouldn’t worry about that.”
The resemblance to her husband caused her heart to pound. The same brown hair arranged in the same style; the same breadth of shoulder and trimness of waist. The main difference lay in the eyes. This man’s eyes glowed bronze, while her husband’s were almost black.
He pursed his lips. His gaze lowered and she followed its descent. Her chemise sagged in the front and left little to the imagination. She jerked it upward and heat flushed her face.
Gruffly, he said, “I think we should find you some clothing.”
Brigitta muttered, “Perhaps I should have dressed before lowering myself from my window.”
He laughed and leaned back on his haunches.
“Perhaps there is a shirt in the wardrobe that I could wear?” she asked.
He scrunched up his features, his lips mimicking a frown. He didn’t seem to like the idea of her procuring clothing from this room. Cold made her teeth clack so hard that her head jittered.
He knelt before her and she stood and pushed past him. She walked to the wardrobe, opened the door, and rifled through the contents.
Grabbing a long white nightshirt, she climbed inside the wardrobe and pulled the door closed until only a sliver of light shone through. Quickly, she changed and climbed out. The material clung to her thighs and she wiggled until it released. It struck the back of her knees and fell softly against her skin.
She hung her chemise over the fireplace grate. Still cold, she gathered a quilt from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shivering body.
Cold wafted through the soles of her scantily clad feet and she resumed her seat on the chair, kicked off the wet slippers, folded her legs underneath her, and wrapped the quilt around her legs. Why was he so still? She wished he would snap out of his state of inactivity and start a fire.
When he didn’t move, Brigitta stood and circled the room in search of more coverings. The view from the window caught her eye and she stopped and stared outside. Tall pines towered for as far as the eye could see. The vastness wasn’t an unwelcome sight. However, the more she looked at the crowded forest, the more her fear of being hemmed in increased.
She turned to resume her seat and ran into him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m freezing.”
“That I can rectify,” he said, a smile lifting his lips. He moved the fireplace grate aside and stacked logs.
Brigitta turned and stared longingly out the window. A single tear dropped onto her cheek and she swiped it away. She imagined the village cottage, empty and cold. Had Jewel even noticed her absence? Did she even now attempt to break in and take Brigitta’s few remaining belongings?
Come what may, she was married to Chadwick. Whether he cast her into her room for all eternity or allowed her to roam the grounds freely didn’t matter.
The quilt wrapped about her shoulders and she played with the edges. The man joined her on the sofa, slid his arm around her, and massaged her shoulder.
“That should warm you up soon enough.”
She nodded.
“Again, I am sorry I dragged you inside the estate, but you can’t be out in this weather.”
She studied the quilt’s intricate stitches.
“Lesser men have died attempting to cross the creek, and—”
“You were trying to protect me,” she whispered, staring into his face, consumed with a rush of wonder.
“Yes,” he said, moving his hand from her shoulder and clasping it into a tight fist on his lap.
The flames rose and Brigitta focused on them. Warmed by his generosity and feeling, she felt heat rush to her face. She stared at her own clenched hands, mortified when her belly growled.
He snickered. “It appears someone has worked up an appetite.”
“I did miss the afternoon meal.”
He stood and bowed. “Then please allow me to commandeer you some sustenance.” A grin covered his entire face as he backed from the room. She lifted her hand to stall him, but it was too late; the door closed.
Alone and staring at the flames, fears and doubts assailed her. Who was this man who’d rescued her? True, he said he was her brother-in-law, and true, he did favor Chadwick. And true, the relationship would explain how he knew so much about the estate’s secret tunnels. But rumors had cast him as one with an unsavory reputation. Something didn’t add up.
Worried, she gnawed at her lip. Did this suite belong to him? He had seemed fairly comfortable. Her heart raced. She needed to get out of here before he returned. The kindness he’d afforded her notwithstanding, he had delivered her back into her prison. Who knew what plans he had for her? He might at this very moment be telling Chadwick of her attempted escape.
Without thought to consequences, she hobbled toward the door. If she could just quit his room and find another, then perhaps she would have time to devise a plan. The quilt hampered her progress. Hand on the door’s handle, she twisted the knob only to be thrown backward when the door thrust open.
She stumbled and landed on the unforgiving floor, all the while scrambling to hold the quilt in place. She opened her mouth to chastise herself, only to shut it upon seeing her visitor’s face.
“My lady?”
“Roland,” she breathed.
“My lady, what are you doing here?”
“I—I—”
Roland clutched her arm and pulled her to a standing position. She drew away in disgust and fear, and he tightened his hold and narrowed his eyes. “Come. We must return you to your rooms.”
The words sank in and she protested. “No, I won’t go!”
“You will.”
“I will not.”
Roland moved close and whispered, “You will do as I say or I will have to tell the baron, and you don’t want that to happen, do you?”
Fear gnawed at her insides. Constantly Roland insinuated her future felicity depended on her compliance. Vision downcast, she jerked her arm free, drew the quilt tighter around her frame, and wiggled toward the open door.
Roland took the lead. They approached footmen and he sent them away until she passed. Whether he did this because of her scant attire, or because he didn’t wish to embarrass Chadwick with her escape, Brigitta wasn’t sure. The gentlemanly deference he showed toward her made her want to scream. When they arrived outside her suite, he dismissed her “guard detail” and ushered her inside.
The room looked as it had when she’d scampered from the window, except the bed frame had moved a few inches closer to the window and a puddle of water covered the sagging mattress. The makeshift rope, made of gowns, still dangled through the open window
and shutters.
“My lady, what happened here?”
She blinked back tears, straightened her shoulders, and enacted an air of haughtiness. “It is of no consequence.”
“I will have Letta assist with the clean up.”
“No. I prefer to do it alone.”
“Very well. The mattress will be replaced.”
She nodded.
The door clicked behind her and she allowed unhappy tears to fall. She dropped the quilt, removed the nightshirt, and found one gown still lingering at the bottom of her wardrobe. Dressed, she began the process of retrieving the rope.
Waterlogged from hours in the rain, the makeshift rope took all her strength to gather and pull inside. Once untied and wrung out, the gowns hung near the fire to dry. The action was hopeless, however, as the gowns were stretched beyond repair and faded from the wet.
Leaving the gowns, she worked on the mattress. Scooping and dumping the water into a basin, she flung the contents out the open widow.
She muttered under her breath, the words increasing in intensity with each full basin. “How could I have let that man who looked so much like Chadwick distract me from my goal? I should have lifted myself from his person and run.”
She leaned against the bed frame and pushed. It didn’t budge and she abandoned scooting it back into place.
“It was those eyes. Those bronze colored eyes did me in. Now I’m right back where I started.” She punched the pillows and water squirted onto the lavender wallpaper.
By nightfall, Brigitta’s hands clenched in pain, her arms throbbed, and her back muscles quaked. She rested in a chair and stared at the door. The new mattress never came.
Grabbing the quilt, she spread it on the floor, laid herself inside it, and rolled up. What was she going to do? Yes, she’d reentered the estate. What other choice had she when the brother was prodding her like cattle? But now that she was back inside her prison and alone, she had to make plans for her future. It was all well and good to say she was married to Chadwick and needed to make a go of it. But what if he didn’t agree?
Embers in the fireplace died and she reached out to stoke them. The poker close by, she closed her eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Chapter Nine
Luke balanced the tray of food on his hip and opened the door. “My lady, I’ve brought meat, cheese, and crackers. I believe there should be enough—”
He stopped in mid-sentence. The room was empty, Brigitta and his quilt missing. Tray placed on a table, he walked to the window. The shutters were closed and he pulled them apart and looked into the yard.
No sign of her outside. Luke searched his suite and the surrounding hallways and rooms, revealing nothing. About to give up, he chanced to see Roland stoking the fire in another room.
The aging man had been with the family since Chadwick’s birth. His stepmother, Carol, had insisted that Chadwick have his own valet and his father had relented. Over the years, Roland’s competence had elevated him beyond that initial position and now he carried the title of butler.
Luke stepped in front of him.
Roland backed up a step and scowled. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Roland, it is good to see you as well.”
Roland exclaimed, “My lord! W-why, I did not realize you had returned. Do forgive my impudence. The light, you look different, wetter. I was, um, momentarily stunned.”
Luke waved the words away. “I have been about for some days.”
Roland’s face reddened. “You should have let us know. We would have had a special meal in your honor.”
“No need.” Luke steepled his fingers under his chin. “Tell me, how is my brother?”
“Ah,” Roland gulped, “quite well.”
“Oh, good. And the household staff? How are they? Is everything running as smoothly as when I left?”
Luke waited while Roland rolled his tongue in his mouth and searched for answers. The opportunity for Roland to tell of Chadwick’s scheme was there. What would Roland do with it?
“The household is in excellent condition, your lordship. However, I was just on my way to take care of an urgent repair. If you like, I can order the cook to arrange something special for you.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“If there is nothing else…”
Luke shook his head.
“Then if you’ll excuse me, your lordship.” Roland bowed and walked away.
Luke shouted, “Roland?”
He stopped and turned. “Your lordship?”
Luke closed the distance. “Roland, I would appreciate it if you would keep my return quiet.”
“My lord?”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be staying, so there is no reason to upset the entire household, especially since Chadwick is doing such a good job.”
Roland ran his finger around his collar.
“I will of course require Jarvis’ assistance, but no others need to know of my presence. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your lordship. It will be as you wish.”
“You’re dismissed.”
Roland bowed and hurried away. Anticipating that Roland would break his wishes and hurry to Chadwick, Luke waited until Roland rounded the corner before following him. Excitement pulsed through Luke’s veins. It reminded him of the thrill of being on a hunt.
Roland walked outside through the terrace from the parlor, around the estate grounds, and stared upward at Brigitta’s window. He shook his head and muttered unintelligible words. Continuing on, he stopped at the blocked tunnel entrance. A grin split his face and Luke’s concern mounted. Could the butler know of Brigitta’s escape? Was that the reason she had disappeared from his room?
Roland walked farther and entered through a servant’s side door beside the kitchen. Luke hung back. He assumed by Roland’s direction that he wasn’t headed to see Chadwick immediately, so Luke snuck back the way he’d come. Inside the house, he found another tunnel entrance. With a lit torch he easily found the opening to Brigitta’s suite.
Luke peered through a hole behind a wall portrait. Brigitta lay upon the floor, curled in his quilt and snoring softly. He closed the panel and worked to control his rising anger.
The way he saw it, he had three options: confront Brigitta, confront Chadwick, or wait. All these options were riddled with complications.
Making his way back to his rooms, he had an epiphany. Inside his suite, he pulled the bell rope and waited.
****
Chadwick lounged in a tub of warm water. One upstairs maid massaged his shoulders while another massaged his feet.
A cool burst of air wafted into the room and he sat straighter. “What is the meaning of this?”
Roland entered.
“Oh, it is just you.” He slid back into the water. “Do close the door, will you? It is dreadfully cold tonight.”
Roland complied. “Sir, I need to speak with you.”
“Go ahead.”
“I mean alone.”
Chadwick rolled his eyes. “Ladies, be gone with you. But stay close; I may have need of you later.”
They scattered, clucking like hens. Chadwick rose from the tub and wrapped himself in a towel.
“Sir, your brother has returned.”
Chadwick twirled. “What?”
“The baron, he is here.”
Chadwick grabbed Roland’s shoulders. “B-but no, it can’t be! Where was the warning? He didn’t write of his return in his letters. Oh, this is terrible.”
Chadwick stalked the room like an angry cat. He waved his hands around. “I can’t believe this. It is too early. What am I going to do? We must find a way to make him return to London. That’s it. If he just goes for a little while, then all will be well.”
Roland cleared his throat and Chadwick faced him. “Is there more?”
“Sir, I’m afraid to report Brigitta escaped her room.”
“What! Impossible. Have you found her?”
“Bel
ieve it or not, I found her in your brother’s room.”
Chadwick blinked. Flustered, he paced to the fireplace. His brother’s secret return was a complication he had not anticipated. The last message he’d received insinuated his brother would return as a married man. Did that mean he’d brought a woman home with him? Or did the cad plan to steal Chadwick’s own fake wife?
He opened his mouth to speak his concerns but changed his mind. Stalking back to stand in front of Roland, he said, “Let me get this straight. My wife escapes her room and turns up in Luke’s bedroom.”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.” Wonderment filled him. How had Luke managed it?
“In all honesty, I believe it was a mistake. The young lady tied gowns together and shimmied down them into the garden. There she found the tunnel entrance and reentered the estate. She probably happened on his room by chance.”
“Believe this, do you?”
“It is possible,” said Roland.
“Have you spoken with my brother?” asked Chadwick.
“Briefly, yes.”
“Did he mention Brigitta?”
“No.”
“Did he say why he’d returned and if he planned to stay?”
“No, sir.”
“What did he say?” asked Chadwick, desperate to discover his brother’s motivation.
“He only asked about you and the household, and insisted I not bother telling the staff he had returned.”
“Ah, there it is. The rub. He expects me to fail, so he returned home to catch me. Won’t he be surprised to find, well, I guess in a way he is right.” He paused, before saying, “I didn’t exactly succeed in keeping the estate afloat while he was in London. But it does still stand, even if the coins to maintain it have disappeared.”
He paced the room and sighed. “This is hopeless. Perhaps I should bring him in on the scheme and he can help us.”
“I do not think that wise.”
Chadwick ignored Roland and tapped his forehead. This matter added another obstacle to his already difficult plan. It wouldn’t take long for his brother to discover he had impersonated him in his absence. If Luke hadn’t already met Brigitta, then it was only a matter of time until he did.
Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse Page 6
