For a reason unbeknownst to him, her smile faded and she lowered her gaze to the floor. “I fixed lunch.”
“I see. Thank you.”
“I thought you might be hungry after working.”
“I am.” He dropped into a seat and grabbed a spoon, preparing to shovel soup into his mouth. She cleared her throat and he looked up.
“Yes?”
“Well, don’t you want to wash up? Perhaps close your shirt before you eat?”
He flashed his most wicked grin as he placed his spoon back in its place, stood, and approached slowly, hoping he wouldn’t scare her away. He looked into her pale blue eyes and tweaked her nose. Shock widened her eyes. He laughed as he quit the room and headed upstairs.
****
Luke’s laughter still rang long after he had left the kitchen. She was frozen in place. In her mind, all she could see was Luke, standing in the doorway with his shirt open. She would never be able to erase the image.
She fell into her seat and cradled her head. She must erase the image. She must! Whatever would happen if the baron finally allowed her residence in his room? The image would be imprinted in her mind and she would never look at her husband as she should.
A groan ripped from her. Oh, why had she ever tried to escape? Patience was a virtue and if she’d found more of it, then she wouldn’t be in this impossible situation.
Brigitta needed to speak with Luke immediately. She would demand he return her to the estate. But outside the sun shone, and she opened the back door and absorbed the warmth.
“You shouldn’t stand in the sun overly long. It will highlight your freckles.” Now properly dressed, his cravat tied, Luke resumed his seat at the table.
She braced her hands on her hips. “And whatever is the matter with freckles?”
“Absolutely nothing,” he whispered with a smile as he took his first bite, and she pondered his words.
Chapter Twenty
The afternoon came and Brigitta sought out the music room. Luke sat in a high-back chair with his feet propped up on an ottoman and his nose buried in a book. She bit her tongue. She should ask him to take her home. She should do it now.
Stroking the keys of the pianoforte, Brigitta took a seat instead and played a romantic tune. The music consumed her and she lost all sense of where she was.
Memories scrolled through her mind of her happy parents, holding hands and frolicking through a field of flowers. The scene changed from the field to the lake bank. Chadwick held her hands and gazed at her longingly. She looked at his chest and when she lifted her chin, she no longer stared at her husband, but at Luke instead. He stroked her cheek and she sighed. The touch of his ghost-like fingers lingered against her skin until the very last note faded.
Startled, she jumped at the real Luke’s clapping. “That was delightful. You should play more often.”
“Thank you,” she said, lowering her head in embarrassment.
“I have heard very few with your acumen.”
She looked closely to see if he lied. When she didn’t notice deceit, she said, “Again, thank you.”
“Do you play at the estate?”
She frowned.
“If you do not, then you should. The stodgiest of crowds would be impressed by your skills.”
“Why do you torment me?”
“Pardon?”
“You know as well as I that I’m not permitted to live like the baroness I claim to be.” She rose and covered her cry with her hand.
He grabbed her arm and tugged her to a gentle halt. She was captured by his gaze. “I meant no harm in my statement.”
She shook her head. “It is of little consequence. Would you please release me? I wish to retire.” His grip slackened and she stepped away. “Good night, Luke.”
“Good night, dearest Brigitta.”
She kept the tears at bay until she reached her bedroom, then they burst forth with no hint of stopping.
****
Luke fell back into his chair with a sigh. This was not working. He had thought to take her away from her prison and perhaps endear her to himself, but she was so caught up in her duty she couldn’t see him.
Perhaps if he made Chadwick and Roland confess their plot, then she would be more amicable to him? Or perhaps she would tell him to get away from her forever. The fact that he’d known nothing of the original plan to pretend she was the baron’s wife, not until after the fact, would probably have no bearing on her decision to cast him aside.
He paced the music room. Lifting a curtain, he studied the road before the house. Perhaps bringing her here had been a poor idea. But if he took her back to the estate, how could he endear himself to her with Chadwick’s confusing interference?
In her mind, she was a married woman. And in honesty, he thought her feelings admirable. Indeed, he hoped to benefit from her loyalty someday.
Tapping his finger to his chin, he pondered his choices. They could stay here and she would probably continue to deny her feelings. Or he could take her back to the estate and she could deny her feelings there instead. The situation was positively hopeless.
Sore from the day of hard labor and confused by his lack of options, Luke took Brigitta’s hint and retired early. Perhaps on the other end of sleep, he would know what to do.
****
By nightfall Chadwick reached the shack. A lantern hung on the veranda rafters and swung madly in the howling wind. The inclement weather had begun to pass yet he desperately desired to remove himself from the remaining vestiges.
Hesitantly, he knocked on the door. A young woman, her brown hair lifted in a tidy bun, wearing a threadbare maid’s gown in last year’s fashion, stared at him and said, “Yes?”
“My carriage threw me and I’m seeking shelter from the storm.”
“Do you have coin?” He frowned and she explained, “I don’t want your money but my father might.”
“I’m afraid at the moment I’m penniless, but I do have access to a great amount of coin. If you will but shelter me for the night, you will be handsomely rewarded.”
She drew him inside, looking up and down the road as she closed the door. She offered to take his wet cloak and he handed it over. The room was filled with smoke, and she directed him toward the cottage’s rear.
“The game is in the back room.”
He frowned but followed her directions. A liveried footman opened the door. Several gentlemen sat around a small round table. Cards and coins were strewn in the middle of it.
What luck! He had stumbled into a gaming house. Taking a seat, he said, “Deal me in on the next hand.”
“And who might you be?” asked the eldest man of the party.
“Why, I’m Chadwick Andrews.”
The man cocked a brow. “You don’t say.”
“I do.”
“Well, that could be a problem for ye, then.”
“A problem?”
“Yep. Tales are that you don’t have a cent to your name. You’ve done gone and blown every coin the village of Stockport ever owned and put your grandchildren into debt, as well.”
The men around the table horse-laughed and slapped their thighs. Chadwick attempted to play it cool despite his rising temper. “I assure you the news of my losses are greatly exaggerated. I can afford to spend way more than I have already.”
A shadowy figure arose from the corner. Shocked to the core to see any lady in such a setting, Chadwick dropped his jaw. He grimaced as Lady Vonda stepped into the candlelight.
“Chadwick, welcome. Do take a seat and meet the fellows.” Lady Vonda introduced him around the table. “I don’t have to explain my need for secrecy. If anyone in London knew of my establishment,” she shrugged and clicked her tongue, “let’s just say I would be the talk of the town, and not of the good variety. It is one thing to host a game in one’s parlor, but I find the thrill of hiding like a bandit much more exciting. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this. We all have our secret pleasures.” She winked
and patted his arm.
He cringed and she continued, “And there is no reason to be so modest. We all know your debts are compounding. Perhaps if your brother had married Zilla Elis, then you wouldn’t be in such shape.”
She sipped at a drink and he lifted his brow. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, didn’t you know? Your brother went to London to woo Zilla Elis, but I fear her father will be extremely strict with her suitor, and either your brother didn’t measure up or perhaps after meeting her, he changed his mind.”
A plan formed itself in his mind within the second. Chadwick said, “Tell me more of this Zilla Elis. She sounds like a most fascinating person.”
****
Luke sipped at his coffee and Brigitta used a bit of bread to wipe up the last of her eggs.
He looked over her head, the events from earlier still fresh on his mind. He’d rummaged through his parents’ room until he’d found the bandages and the old package of herbs. The draught placed in his pocket, he’d slipped back downstairs and prepared breakfast.
Brigitta opened her mouth to speak and broke his revere. He interrupted. “Please collect your things.”
“What?”
“Collect your things, as I will be returning you to the estate today.”
“But—”
“Brigitta, do not argue; it is a detestable habit.’
She frowned but hurried upstairs. Luke went to the stable and harnessed the horses to the coupe. Moments later she joined him with her ball gown draped over her arm.
Outside Luke opened the coupe’s door, but Brigitta shook her head and refused to climb in.
“I would prefer to ride with you.”
He conceded, a thrill of excitement racing through him at the prospect of her proximity.
“Let me help you.” He held her hand and assisted her onto the driver’s seat.
As he guided the horses down the waterlogged drive, Luke gritted his teeth and prayed until they reached the main road. The pleasure he should have felt over the mud drying and creating a safe passage home was overshadowed by the idea of its necessity. Silently he cursed Chadwick for the entire business. Perhaps he should create his own ruse to keep from taking her back to the estate.
The ride was pleasant and she exclaimed frequently over the beauty of the area. “I do so hope you received permission to stay at the house. I would hate for you to come to any trouble because of me.”
“There will be no trouble from me staying there.”
“Good.”
She looked over her shoulder and he followed her gaze as she took one last look at the rippling water. She was silent for a moment but he could hear her gnawing at the inside of her cheek. “Please do tell me what worries you.”
“How did you know?”
“It doesn’t matter how I know. What matters is you are vexed and I wish for you to tell me why.”
The coupe bounced along the rutted road, causing the seat to rock back and forth. Only a few moments out and he already felt discomfort in his ankles, and he struggled to maintain control of his clacking teeth.
“Very well. I am increasingly worried that my disappearance, and subsequent reappearance, may be a cause for scandal.”
“I see.”
The coupe dipped and she grabbed his arm. He turned to see if she’d done so to stabilize herself or if it was something more.
“What will they think if they know I have been secluded with you overnight?” Warmth left him as she released his arm and clutched the seat. She added, “Oh, the baron will never accept me now.”
Quickly he closed his eyes and asked forgiveness. The powder felt hot in his pocket and his guilt grew. He cleared his throat. “They will not know where you’ve been.”
“But how is that possible? They will see us return.”
“Nay, they will not.”
“Do you mean to escort me through the tunnels again?”
“I do.”
“And what if they ask me where I’ve been? I will be hard pressed to come up with a convincing story.”
Luke swallowed. “I doubt you will remember.”
“What? How will I not remember? I do not believe it possible I should ever forget this experience.”
He didn’t speak further. No matter how much she pressed, he remained silent.
By afternoon, they’d arrived at the outskirts of the estate. He hid the coupe behind a row of trees and helped Brigitta down from the driver’s seat. After unhitching the horses and leaving them to graze, he assisted her across the creek, and they slid together through the crack in the wall and into the garden. He easily found the tunnel entrance and moved a couple of branches so they could slide inside.
They entered the hallway and he searched for footmen. When no one came, he slipped into the hall and urged Brigitta forward. She hesitated a moment, and he almost feared she would change her mind, but then she stepped forward and grabbed his hand.
They arrived at her rooms, and he was surprised to find no one guarded her suite. He opened the door and looked inside. The bed had been repaired and the room put into order. Regret consumed him over what he was about to do, but he couldn’t stop now. It was the only way.
Luke pulled her inside. She stared at the room and her shoulders sagged as she perched on the edge of the bed.
“Thank you for returning me.”
Luke found a glass, poured water, and dumped in the powder. The concoction had been left at the summer home to help with his father’s pain. The doctor had claimed it would also help him forget. He hoped the doctor had been correct about its power.
“Drink this.”
Brigitta took the glass and downed the contents in one gulp. “Thank you.”
He nodded and set the glass aside. His gut tightened until he felt absolutely wretched.
Brigitta placed the back of her hand to her forehead. “I don’t feel so good. Is the room spinning?”
“Brigitta, when you wake up, you won’t remember me.”
“Luke,” she reached for him, “what is happening? What have you done?”
He grabbed her hands and placed them on either side of his face. Her touch was like acid and he felt burned to his core. “I’m doing what you want. I’m letting you find your place in the baron’s world.”
“You’re leaving me,” she said. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
Her sorrow made his heart break. He gulped. “Yes, I’m leaving. But before I go, I have to tell you something.”
She lay back on the bed and Luke lifted her legs. “What?” she asked.
“I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Brigitta grabbed her aching head. She attempted to sit up, but was immediately pushed back before she had time to glimpse her surroundings.
“You shouldn’t move, my lady,” said Letta.
“Wh-what am I doing here?” She groaned. “My head pains me dreadfully.”
“I’m sorry, my lady. Here, drink this.”
At first Brigitta sipped at the juice, but then she grabbed the glass and downed the contents, the liquid soothing her dry throat.
“My lady, do slow down. You’ve had a dreadful fright.”
Brigitta gave up the glass. “I have?”
Letta placed the glass on a tray. “You have. Don’t you remember?”
Brigitta settled back against the pillows and frowned. She was in her room? “I don’t. What has happened?”
“Oh, my lady, it was most dreadful. Three days ago I was in the west wing—”
“The west wing?”
“Yes, I know we aren’t supposed to be there, but I–I, well, I was invited, and anyway, something happened there.”
Brigitta blinked and Letta rushed to explain. “It was a ghost!”
“A ghost? Please, Letta, make sense.”
The maid paced and talked rapidly. “First the candles blew out, and then I saw a shadowy figure. I ran back to the ball to tell Roland, and while the matter was being i
nvestigated, you went missing.”
“Missing?”
“Yes, my lady. You were gone for days. The estate has been quite frantic to find you. I told them the ghost had you, but they didn’t believe me. But when they found you last night in the west wing, they knew I spoke the truth.”
“I was in the west wing?”
“Yes, my lady. There you were, surrounded by the extinguished candles, all curled in a ball and shivering. Roland ordered you brought back here.”
“And you say I was gone for days?” She glanced around the room. Morning sunshine spilled past the curtains in a cheerful, happy manner, yet something seemed wrong. Why was she here?
“Yes, my lady. I dare say Roland will be by any moment to question you about the event.”
“I dare say he will.” Brigitta gnawed on her lip before venturing to ask, “And what of the baron? Was he concerned?’
Letta looked away.
“Letta, you must answer me.”
“My lady, it is not my place.”
“Letta, I demand that you answer me. I might have very little personal influence within the household, but over you I have complete control,” she mentally added, I think, before continuing. “Now, answer my question.”
“Very well, my lady. He has been indisposed.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you were formally announced missing, he was nowhere to be found, either.”
“I don’t understand.”
Letta sat beside her on the bed and cradled her hands. Conspiratorially, she whispered, “Those that don’t believe a ghost took you, believe the baron whisked you away for a private tryst.”
“What?” asked Brigitta, aghast the staff would suspect such a thing.
“They believe it was the only way he could get you away from Roland’s prying eyes, and rightfully so. The man is everywhere Chadwick is, and we all believe the baron secretly wants to be with you.”
Brigitta massaged her temples. The maid’s explanation seemed flawed, but how? What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she remember more?
“Letta?” Roland spoke from the doorway. The maid twisted around. “You must leave the baroness to rest. She has had a very trying experience.”
Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse Page 14
