“At least,” he said, his lips twitching.
“I believe I will retire to my room and wash up. When I finish, I will gladly take that walk. Thank you for the offer.”
He didn’t argue with her and for that she was grateful. While she was able to assert herself more with her brother-in-law than her husband, her bravery would only take her so far. She would do well to remember not to push her luck.
She rose from the table and walked toward the exit. She stopped, looked over her shoulder, and said, “Do I call a servant or…”
“I’ll bring the water.”
“Oh.”
“There should be dresses in the wardrobe. While they are not of the latest fashion, I’m sure you will find something to your liking.”
Brigitta hitched her skirts and climbed the stairs, a trifle confused by the lack of servants. Not a stranger to taking care of her own needs, she rifled through the available gowns as her mysterious benefactor carried pails of hot water. The tub was little more than a bowl with a high back. She would have to sit in it and hang her legs off the sides. Still, it was preferable to washing from a basin.
When he quit the room, Brigitta chose a light pink gown and laid it across the bed. Quickly she used the tub, dried, and dressed. She was just arranging her hair when he knocked.
“May I enter?”
“Yes.”
“I’m ready to escort you around the grounds.”
Brigitta stood and scooted the chair back beneath the dressing table. Together they descended the stairs and walked outside. As they rounded the house, the fresh scent of pine struck her.
Treading a worn path, they stepped from beneath overhanging limbs and the lake opened before them. Wind lifted tendrils of her hair and created ripples across the glassy top.
“Fine afternoon for a walk,” said Luke.
“Yes.”
“Would you mind if I asked you a question?”
Her heart pitter-pattered against her ribs as they continued to walk along the lake bank. What could he possibly want to know?
He said, “You seem a most unlikely girl to marry the baron.”
The statement left her disappointed. “I do?”
“Yes. You aren’t at all what I expected.”
She forced herself not to stop and place her hands on her hips. Instead, she leaned against a broad tree trunk and thought about removing her slippers, taking a step closer, and allowing the water to rush over her toes. The sky was blue with white puffy clouds and she felt as if she had entered paradise. “What did you expect?”
He watched her with a cocked brow, and she felt a hint of pleasure.
He said, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I thought he would marry a voluptuous blond with crooked teeth, little brains, and a sizable inheritance.”
She covered the giggle that escaped her mouth.
“Tell me, how did you two meet?”
Brigitta fiddled with the folds of her gown. She leaned down and picked up a rock. The speckled exterior caught her attention. She turned it over in her hand before pulling her arm back and skipping it across the lake. A smile lifted her lips. How was it possible to be so relaxed in her brother-in-law’s presence?
Placing her hands behind her, she said, “The story isn’t terribly interesting.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
She told the story of running out of firewood and entering the woods, and how Manny had delivered her to the baron. “It was all a very frightening experience.”
“I can imagine. But what I don’t understand is how you went from villager to being the baroness?”
Brigitta moved a strand of hair behind her ear. “It is quite simple, really. He allowed me to stay overnight and he spent time making me feel special, then he proposed.”
“And you said yes, just like that?”
“Well, I did think about it for a moment, but I did say yes.” The wind kicked up, rustling the leaves overhead, while the silence between them grew to uncomfortable proportions. “The weather seems to be growing particularly violent.”
“So it seems. You should be here in the evening hours. The sun sets over the mountains and casts a halo above the trees.”
Staring along the stretch of river bank, she imagined the scene he set. They walked a few paces and she bumped into his side. The feel of their hands brushing, caused her heart to race. Quickly, she said, “Perhaps I chose the wrong time to visit.”
“Perhaps.”
“Maybe I should stay at least until I can experience what you describe. I’m sure I won’t be missed at the estate. The next tour isn’t until tomorrow at noon.”
“So you want to stay?”
The question was asked with a mingling of pleasure and delight, and hope soared in Brigitta’s breast.
“I will think on it.” She looked out over the vastness. The lake encompassed the valley for as far as the eye could see. Frogs jumped from lily pad to lily pad. Reeds bent in the quickening breeze. The calm clouds from before darkened and the atmosphere took on a sinister state, much like her morphing mood. How could this be paradise when she wasn’t with her husband but rather with her brother-in-law, a man she didn’t really know? She gulped as her palms sweated and her heart raced. What would it be like if he had been the one she’d married?
She didn’t look at him when she said, “If I stay, I will need a favor.”
“You will?” he asked.
“Yes, I will.” She faced him. “I must know your name. I cannot continue in the same vein, thinking of you as my nameless brother-in-law throughout the evening, or I shall lose my mind.”
“And we wouldn’t want that,” he said, his lips lifting in a grin.
She slapped his forearm playfully, something she would never have done to Chadwick, before turning serious. “Please, I really do want to know your name.”
“My name is Luke.”
“Luke?”
“Yes, just Luke.”
“Hmm, well, just Luke, I am glad I know your name. It shall be much easier to yell at you now.”
He reared his head back and laughed heartily. A sprinkle of rain struck her arm, then her head. By the time she looked at Luke, it had become a downpour.
Grabbing her hand, he yelled, “We must run!”
They ran to the house and entered through the servants’ entrance in back, falling inside the door in a fit of giggling.
“You look like a drowned kitten.”
“That bad?” she asked.
“No, that adorable.”
Heat infused her cheeks and she turned away. “I really should go upstairs and get out of these wet clothes. It wouldn’t do to catch an illness while I’m away from the estate.”
“Indeed not. I would be most distressed if any harm befell you.”
She tilted her head and stared at him. His facial expression gave nothing away. Shivers raced along her skin. “I’m not sure what game you’re playing at and I may regret following along, but I must say I find you extremely intriguing.”
He bowed. “I live to serve.”
She shook her head and fled before more occurred.
****
Puddles highlighted her path to the suite above and Luke smiled as he bent and wiped them away.
As he straightened again to his full height, his back muscles clenched. This being a gentleman and being the housekeeper at the same time was taking a toil. Perhaps he should consider bringing in a few servants, if their stay seemed likely to become extensive.
Retiring to the music room, Luke removed the drop cloths from the furniture and piled them behind the sofa. He sat on the pianoforte bench and stroked the ivory keys. The caretaker tuned it yearly per his request. It had been his mother’s favorite piece of furniture. The one thing she’d brought from home when she’d married, and the one thing she’d insisted stay in the house she’d loved the most.
Often he thought of moving it back to the estate, just to have the memory nearer, but he always decided against
it. His mother would have wanted it to stay here. His throat closed off and he stood and walked to the long windows facing the lake. The music room had been his favorite place as a child. He would sit in a high-backed chair, cuddled under a thick blanket, and listen to his mother play tune after tune until she ordered him to bed. His father would be in the room across the hall, working on estate business, but he’d always kept his door open and urged his wife to keep playing, even after she tired of the exercise.
Placing his hand on the cool glass, he released a sigh. What was he doing? Brigitta wanted to be at the estate. She wanted to influence the baron. Poor soul. What would she do if she knew she wasn’t even married? What would she do if she discovered that Roland and Chadwick had tricked her? What would she do if she knew that even now, she influenced the true baron?
He needed to think of a way to tell her the truth, without letting on that he’d known of her deception all along.
Sudden fluid music poured into the room around him. Enchanted, he closed his eyes and allowed the sound to flood his soul. Forcing himself to turn slowly so as not to scare her away, he faced Brigitta. Her fingers captivated him with their grace and elegance as they drifted across the pianoforte’s keys.
“Don’t look so stunned. I may have been raised in the village, but I do have certain accomplishments.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
“My father worked on pianofortes.”
“Ah.”
“And my mother played at church.”
“I see.”
“You could say I was born to play.” The smile that lifted her lips carried all the way to her eyes and his heart threatened to explode. The picture she presented reminded him so much of his mother, he almost found a blanket and curled up on a nearby chair.
“Is there a tune you particularly like? I might be able to play it.”
He mentioned Love in a Village and she struck the keys. It was the moment he knew he couldn’t live without her. He had to find a way to release her from her position. He had to find a way to marry her and make her the baroness for real.
****
Lady Vonda laughed as she laid down the winning hand. “I heard you were a gamer, but I couldn’t believe it.”
“Vonda, please be quiet, I have a terrible pain in my head.”
She laughed. “I can see why. You owe me, what now, about ten thousand pounds?”
He groaned.
Lady Vonda leaned back in the velvet brocade chair. Her parlor, which had once seemed light and airy, was now closing in on him. Shadows flashed across the curtained windows, darkening the room and matching his darkening mood.
“Not to mention the money you owe Lord John.” She tilted her head and dropped a grape into her mouth. “I’m sorry to say he is not quite as forgiving as I.”
Chadwick eased to his feet. Like a coiled snake, he sprang and swept his arm across the gaming table’s top. Lady Vonda jumped, raised her hands as if startled, and then laughed hysterically.
“Temper, temper. And to believe they say your wife is the one who steals the show.”
Chadwick ignored the jab, grabbed his hat from the footman’s hands, rammed it on his head, and stalked out her front door without even giving her a good day. Strong drink loosened the tongue and during his game perhaps he’d shared more of his ruse than he should have. What had possessed him to tell Lady Vonda that he wasn’t really married to Brigitta? When would he learn to keep his mouth shut?
The urgency to find his brother and Brigitta grew desperate.
The manse was quiet. He’d been gone for two days. Surely by now his brother had come to his senses and returned Brigitta.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Chadwick burst into his brother’s room. This time he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
A blast of cold air assailed him and a shutter flapped nosily in the breeze. Instead of lighting a candle, he stalked wordlessly to the bed. A frown tugged at his brow. The bed was empty. Ashes covered the bottom of the cool fireplace.
Chadwick raised his hands to the ceiling and screamed. Sheer agony and worry caused him to stalk about the room like a caged tiger. He picked up Luke’s book and threw it across the room. Pages tore and littered the floor.
Anger spent, he huddled against the wall and allowed the last bit of his rage to seep from him. When he picked up the torn pages, something sharp poked his hand. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the substance in the wash of moonlight. Fortune had smiled on him once again.
Chapter Eighteen
If she had not been used to awkward stares, then Luke’s obvious appraisal would have made her nervous, but as it was she funneled that energy into making her music better.
When the last note died away, Luke was sitting on the edge of the nearest sofa with his elbows on his knees, staring at her in awestruck wonder.
She placed her hands in her lap. The intensity of his glare made her pulse race. Now she was worried. “Did I do something to displease you?”
He shook his head. “What?”
“You are staring at me as if I have done something wrong. I wondered if I displeased you. As of yet you have been the perfect gentleman, but in honesty I am at your mercy.”
“No, you did not displease me.”
“Then perhaps you should stare in a different direction. I feel like a bird and you are the cat.”
“I will comply with your wishes, but know that if I wanted to devour you nothing would stop me.”
She gulped back her fear and forced her false bravado back into place. “Now that we have the levels of authority set, perhaps we can discuss what is on the agenda for the afternoon. Apparently I won’t be leaving for the estate.”
“Why not?”
“Why, the rain, of course. I can hardly be expected to run to the coupe in this deluge. I’m sure tomorrow will be early enough to return.”
He walked to the window and leaned against the sill. Staring at his back, she tried to decipher his expression. He faced her, a smile lifting his lips. “What will you tell people when you return?”
“Good question. I’m not sure. I guess if I knew what had Letta so distressed at the ball, then perhaps I could use it to my advantage. But the maid was twittering so and whispered, such a detestable practice, that I couldn’t make out a word.” She paused before asking, “Perhaps you know of the unusual happenings at the ball?”
“Ghosts.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, fighting to hide her shock.
“Letta thought she saw a ghost in the west wing.”
Horrified, she stuttered, “B-but how could that be? The west wing has been closed since the baron’s mother passed.”
“True.”
Brigitta covered her mouth. “You don’t think the baron’s mother has returned and now haunts the west wing?”
Luke laughed and she pouted. “I find that highly unlikely.”
Straightening herself upon the bench, she picked up a page of sheet music and pretended to glance over the notes, giving herself time to contemplate. After sliding the paper back into place, she said, “No matter. Whether the ghosts are real or fake is not my concern. The fact that Letta spread the nonsense through the estate, however, does assist with my dilemma.”
“How so?” The smile in his voice grew bigger as he strode closer and stroked the pianoforte’s gleaming framework.
Brigitta watched his hands perform the simple action, and fought her imaginings that the wood was her. She looked away and cleared her throat. “It is quite simple, really. I will say a ghost hid me in the west wing.”
“And what if the guests, and the baron, have investigated and discovered no ghosts exist in the west wing?” He leaned closer.
“Humph. Why should that matter? The guests have no say, and the baron was indisposed and unable to attend the festivities. The only one I will need to worry about is Roland. The nosy fellow will no doubt have searched the entire west wing by now and since he didn’t see me there, he will declare my theory impl
ausible.”
“Roland?” The smile faded from his voice and he pulled back.
Brigitta grew wary at the change in his tone. Hesitantly, she said, “Oh, haven’t you met him? Naturally I assumed he’d been in the household for a number of years, but perhaps I was mistaken. Anyway, he is the butler and assists the baron in all matters which the baron wants nothing to do with himself.”
Luke took a seat and crossed his legs. “You don’t seem to think too highly of him.”
“Not in the least. He is the one who kept me locked up in my room without exchanging my mattress.”
“You mean after your failed escape?” he asked, cocking a brow.
“Precisely. What I can’t figure out is why he was in the suite of rooms you brought me to. It seemed odd, but Roland is odd, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
His frown eased away and he seemed to relax. “No, what matters is whether you have a reason for your lengthy disappearance.”
“Precisely.” Brigitta tapped her finger to her forehead. “You know, I could say I fell and hit my head, which is true, and you found me and took me to your home, which I assume is also true, until I recovered. At which point I told you of my identity and you returned me to the estate.”
He paused as if to sort out his thoughts and when he did speak, he said, “I would prefer you not mention me.”
She gnawed her lip, disappointed by his first less than gentlemanly act, and said, “B-but why?”
“I have my reasons.” He rose from the chair and turned away.
Brigitta scrambled to her feet, grabbed his arm, and yanked him around as hard as she could. His blank expression angered her and she braced her hands on her hips. “I demand to know why I can’t use your name. If I go back and it is found out later that I spent two days in the company of an unmarried man, completely without chaperone, even if you are my brother-in-law, why, the baron might divorce me.”
“There’s an idea.”
Hot breath hit her face as he replied. His nearness caused her concentration to falter and her pulse to race. Blinking rapidly, she said, “What?”
Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse Page 12
