He placed his hands on her upper arms, his grip tightening as he captured her mouth with his. She melted against him, completely engrossed in the passion of the moment. Her heart skipped a beat as his hand cupped the back of her head. He wound his fingers in her hair, and guilt assailed her. Panicked, she pushed at his chest and kicked at his shins. When he let go, she staggered back, stunned. Her legs weak, she fell back against the sofa.
He breathed heavily, the sound echoing in the room, as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized the statement was a lie.
He eased to his knees beside the sofa. “I must tell you something.”
The passion in his eyes spoke of a life-changing secret and she placed her finger across his lips. “No, don’t say it.”
“But I must!”
“No, I say!” She stood, faced away from him, stroked her finger over her swollen lips, and ran from the room.
****
Luke buried his face in the sofa cushions. What had he done?
The forced kiss, the attempt at sharing his feelings? It was too soon. He should have proved the marriage false, then confessed. He should have confronted Roland and made him tell Brigitta about the phony wedding ceremony and subsequent phony marriage. And yet, seeing her sitting there at the pianoforte, with her hair curling against her creamy neck, had been more than he could take.
He sat on the couch and stared at the empty fireplace. Damp, humid air crawled across his skin and he shivered. He would need to gather wood. He also needed to prepare dinner, think of a supper meal, and find a way to return to the estate by nightfall.
If he hadn’t just scared Brigitta, he could have asked for her assistance, but he feared now it was too late.
Struggling to his feet, he drew on a cape and walked out into the seemingly incessant storm.
****
Chadwick squinted at Luke’s floor. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he gathered the tiny rock-like granules and went in search of Roland, who stood at the sitting room window, viewing the deluge.
“Roland, I must speak with you.”
He didn’t spring into action as Chadwick expected, but rather continued his observation of the weather and said, “Sir?”
Chadwick rolled his eyes and shoved the handkerchief in Roland’s face. Roland backed up, peered down his long nose, and appeared to try and focus. Chadwick asked, “Do you know what this is?”
Roland took it from him and poured a sample into his palm. “It appears to be tiny rocks, sir.”
“Exactly. Now, why would you think Luke’s floor would be covered in rocks?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You saw him the morning after the ball, correct?”
“Yes, when I questioned him about Brigitta.”
“Where did you see him?”
“When I saw him he was abed.”
“What was he doing?”
Roland squinted. “If I remember correctly, he was reading.”
“And what time of night did you say it was?”
“It was early morning. Naturally, I assumed he couldn’t sleep because of the racket of the ball and the subsequent ghost chase. I questioned him as you suggested, leaving out details of Brigitta’s disappearance but dropping hints, yet he gave no indication of having met with the lady.”
Chadwick paced the small sitting room. The rocks he’d collected were from the lake alongside the summer house. But the idea that Luke could have moved Brigitta there and returned to his room so quickly was utterly preposterous. He stopped and asked, “Have you seen him since?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Not at meal time or to give him the mail?”
“No sir, the mail has been piling up on his desk.”
He smacked a fist into his other palm, then shook his bruised hand. “I must see Brigitta.”
Roland frowned. “Sir, I am afraid no one has seen the baroness since the night of the ball.”
Chadwick gnawed his lip. So Luke had taken his threat to heart and done something with Brigitta, so Chadwick couldn’t prove him wrong.
Roland continued, “It was the chaos. Letta ran in and declared she’d seen the ghost, and everyone scattered and lights winked out. I spent hours searching the west wing before I returned to the ball and found Brigitta missing. Of course I looked in the baron’s suite, as you ordered, but when I saw him in bed I assumed he knew nothing of Brigitta and I instructed the footmen to look in other places.”
Of course the footman had checked, but he had to see for himself. Chadwick didn’t wait for more explanations and excuses but rather ran to Brigitta’s room. He flung the door open. No one was inside. The fireplace was devoid of warmth. The room had a stale odor. He stalked to the closet and filtered through the new gowns.
Confounded villager! He’d married her, well, sort of, given her everything she could want, and she let herself be kidnapped and taken in by his brother’s charms. What could she want with Luke when she was married to him?
Contemplating his disappointment and vexation, Chadwick slouched back to the sitting room and resumed his pacing.
Roland clutched his hands in front of him. “I’m so sorry, sir. I should have sent someone to the village to find you when she didn’t return but—”
“Have the grounds been searched thoroughly?” Chadwick asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Roland.
“The west wing?”
“Extensively, sir. Every inch of the place. I believed she ran back to her home in the village, but since I don’t know exactly where that is, I haven’t sent anyone in search of her yet.”
Chadwick walked to the window and stared outside. Rain slashed sideways and struck the glass panes. Wind lifted lofty branches and leaves drifted to the ground in waves. He faced the butler. “I want you to send the carriage around.”
“Sir? But you can’t go out in this.” Roland waved his hand at the downpour. At that moment the thunder boomed and the lightning flashed and lit the room.
“Do as I say.”
“But sir, how will you know where to go?”
“I have a suspicion my brother has taken Brigitta to a place he considers home.” He paused before adding, “Hurry, Roland, there is not a moment to lose. If Luke tells Brigitta who I am, then all will be lost.”
****
From the second-story window, Brigitta watched Luke walk into the storm. He appeared to be headed for an outbuilding. Fear swelled in her breast. What if she had offended him and he intended to leave her there alone?
Turning on her heel, she fled down the stairs and outside, chasing behind him. She smacked into the deluge and cold drops battered her; the dry gown she’d changed into earlier clung to her like a second skin.
Brigitta yelled, “Luke!” but he didn’t respond.
An old garden, with an apple tree and strawberry plants growing wild, extended to the wall, where a small building hunched in the rain. Luke seemed to be heading there. Brigitta hitched her gown and ran after him. Mud encased her shoes and wrapped around her ankles, and she struggled to take another step.
Through the sheet of rain, she thought she saw Luke disappear inside, but she wasn’t sure. She wiped soggy hair from her eyes and blinked, but it was no use; she still couldn’t see.
She dragged herself another step, but the old vegetable bed opened beneath her and the mud sucked her foot down to her calf. No matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t pull free. The weight of her wet skirt continued to press on her. Renewed vigor surged through her muscles and she exerted one final effort to drag herself to safety.
Her foot pulled free of the mud-sopped ground with a wet sucking sound, and she proceeded to fall flat on her face. Muddy liquid sucked up her nose and clouded her vision. She lifted her head and spit but to little avail.
Tears welled in her eyes when she saw the greatest sight — a hand.
Luke gra
bbed her arm and hauled her upright. She wiped strands of wet hair from her face and smiled. His scowl sent her back a step. She tried to slide from his grasp, but he hauled her to the house.
“What are you doing out here?”
Back inside the kitchen, he shed his cloak and boots. Brigitta stared wide-eyed. Who would have thought such a gentleman could behave in such an outrageous manner?
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself? And do take off those muddy slippers. I will have to spend hours cleaning the floor.”
She stared at him with her jaw hanging open. He scolded her worse than her parents ever had.
“Didn’t you hear me, Brigitta?” He peered at her suddenly and took a deep breath, the anger falling from his face. Then he stepped forward, as if afraid to frighten her, and massaged her upper arms. She trembled. “Poor soul, you are freezing. I would have brought wood, but unfortunately there is none cut and I don’t believe I can rectify the situation in this storm. I will turn my back, and you must remove your gown and hurry upstairs to change.”
As soon as his back faced her, she removed her filthy slippers, lifted her skirts, and quietly ran upstairs, still clothed.
Chapter Nineteen
Changed and back downstairs, Brigitta hid in the stairwell and listened to Luke’s mutterings. On his knees, he scrubbed the kitchen floor and muttered, “What to do? What to do? Where has the wood gone? There was always wood in the shed before. This is intolerable. I shall have to go into the forest and cut my own wood. Then I must cook our supper and now I’m on my knees cleaning floors. This can only mean one thing.” He leaned back on his haunches. “I have truly lost my mind.”
Heaven help her, she was locked up with a crazy man.
“Brigitta, do come out of hiding.”
She started.
“Yes, I know you are there. I can hear you thinking from here.”
“Humph.” She walked into the room and took a seat at the table, drumming her fingers upon the well-used butcher block.
He leaned back and looked at her. “I wonder what is going on in that head of yours.”
“I’ll be glad to tell you.”
“I’m quite sure you will.”
“What is going on in my head is a wonder at why so fine a house is left empty? No staff, no owner. Have you broken in?” Luke suddenly found a stain of particular interest and the intensity of his scrubbing increased. “I see how it is. I ask a question you don’t wish to answer, and you proceed to clean in order to ignore me.”
He abandoned the stain, sat back, and narrowed his eyes. “I know another who does the same.”
She placed her fluttering hand over her heart, deciding that being concerned with her behavior around Luke was utterly ridiculous. “Who, me?”
“Yes, you,” he said as he stood and dusted off his knees. Taking a seat across from her, he asked, “How does a girl from a small village speak with such an elegant air?”
Brigitta squeezed her hands.
“Not going to answer me? Just going to clench your hands and pretend I didn’t speak?”
She sighed and lifted her chin. “I told you my father worked on pianofortes.”
“Yes.”
“His work placed him in interesting places and I often tagged along.”
“And?”
“And, I listened. My mother always told me I was nosy.”
“So you watched and learned from those around you?”
“Yes.”
“So you learned how to appear elegant by being around those with elegance.”
“And I read.”
“Ah, reading is a worthwhile pursuit.” He paused, tapped his chin and said, “Earlier, when I asked why you followed me outside, I don’t remember receiving an answer.”
“I did not give an answer.”
He stood, cleaned his hands, and set about pulling dishes from the cabinets. “And why not?’
She leaned against the table. “Quite frankly, if you must know the truth—”
“I must.”
“Well, I was in a bit of shock. You’ve not spoken to me so harshly since we’ve been acquainted and I didn’t know what to say.”
He frowned with an expression of confusion and stopped working.
“As for what I was doing following you, my answer can only be the truth, which is that I feared you were leaving me.”
“Leaving you?”
“Yes.”
Luke slid away from the counter and knelt at her feet. “I would die a thousand deaths before I left you.”
She blinked rapidly, her throat clenched. She shouldn’t feel this way. He was her brother-in-law. Guilt-ridden, she needed to get away. She tried to escape, but his body hemmed her in place. The look of longing he gave her caused her heart to race and her breath to grow shallow. She fanned her face.
His charming smile spread across his lips. “I see I have embarrassed you.”
“Yes, you have.” She dipped her chin; her hair fell forward and covered her face, as a glow started to grow within her.
“It is not my intent to embarrass you.”
“Then what is your intent? You’ve kept me locked up and yet I know not the reason.”
“I told you I meant to rescue you.”
“And I told you I am precisely where I want to be.”
Hurriedly, he stood. “Pshaw! I highly doubt you desire to be in a loveless relationship, even if you do live in a prestigious manor.”
“And I told you I consider it my duty—”
“Duty!” He paced the kitchen. “I have had my fill of duty. That will not be your excuse to deny what I feel for you.”
With a hoarse whisper, she asked, “And what is that?”
She gnawed on her lip as she waited for him to say the words. Instead, he ran an agitated hand through his hair. Without looking at her, he grabbed his cloak, threw it over his shoulders, and opened the back door. “I need to find wood or we won’t be eating. Please stay inside.”
The door clicked shut and she wept with stark disappointment.
****
The road to the summer house by the lake was fraught with peril on the best of days, but taking it during a storm might be considered a fool’s errand.
Driving the curricle, Chadwick deftly guided the horses along the mud-slicked road. Roland had argued the folly of such a trip but he had refused to listen. The sooner he returned Brigitta to the manse, the better for them all.
Being around the young woman for overly long could give Luke ideas. Besides, the estate needed the funds from the tours. Perhaps it was past time he be honest with Brigitta. She was a rational girl. If he told her the truth, that the estate might fall or that he would need to increase the villagers’ rents until they bled coins, then perhaps she would be willing to do as he asked.
He flicked the whip against the horses’ rumps but the heavy rain protected them from the sting and they failed to move any faster. Frustrated, Chadwick whipped harder but to little avail.
The storm raged. The rain outwitted his cloak and soaked his clothing beneath. As it increased in intensity, visibility diminished. Even the lanterns that swung at the curricle’s sides didn’t offer enough light and he began to fear he would lose his direction.
Up ahead, the tiniest pinprick of light shone. Pushing the horses with yelled curses, he drove toward the light.
A wheel slipped into a rut and he urged the team to slow, but as they had listened before, they listened again, and his command was ignored. The next rut was severely larger and the wheel hit hard enough to dislodge him and throw him from the high seat into the air.
The entire episode felt like a bad dream. He tumbled and landed on the muddy road. The curricle wheel barely missed his head as it rolled past. Addled, he jumped to his feet and shook his clenched fist at the fleeing horses, the rain still pouring over him.
Bent over, he caught his breath before striking out on foot for the light that still drifted like a lifeboat in the distance.
> ****
The rain slackened. Luke found an ax in the shed and walked to the edge of the wood. Selecting a sapling, he set to chopping. Sweat gathered on his forehead and dribbled into his shirt collar.
In the shelter of the hanging tree limbs, Luke removed his cloak, coat, and shirt. The rain mingled with his sweat and cooled his flushed skin.
Every whack of the ax he counted as therapy. He had almost completely revealed his feelings for Brigitta. After their less than mutual kiss, he shouldn’t tell her too soon. She might shun him for flirting with a married woman. She might even demand he take her home instantly.
Of course, the rain would have caused the trip to be quite impossible. The summer home’s poorly maintained roads would be slick with mud and no carriage would make it away from the house for days. But she would likely not believe such a story, thinking he wanted to keep her for himself. And that part of her would be correct.
He paused, leaned on the ax handle, and lifted his chin to the sky. Raindrops trickled down his face and lips. He sucked the liquid into his mouth and wished for a cool drink.
The work was exhausting and he considered himself in fairly decent condition. Perhaps there was an art to chopping wood that he had yet to master. Maybe when he arrived back in Stockport, he would take lessons. He laughed under his breath.
There would probably be little reason to do so. He highly doubted he would be kidnapping another female and carting her off to the summer estate. His mother had always said that once he gave his heart away, he would never offer it again, and she had been correct. Brigitta had taken his heart by accident, but it did belong to her, and would never belong to another.
The rain stopped, the dark clouds cleared away, and the sun rose high in the sky and beat upon his back as he continued to work at the tree. At last the trunk gave way and fell. How long it took to cut into pieces, Luke didn’t know. By the time he finished, he was exhausted and ready to collapse.
He gathered his soaked, sweaty clothing and pulled his shirt over his head, allowing it to hang open. The cloak and coat he carried underneath several logs. The wood he placed on the back porch before stepping into the kitchen.
Brigitta stood, her hands folded neatly in front of her, a pleased smile on her face. The small round table sported a prepared meal and two place settings.
Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse Page 13
