A Scorching Dilemma

by Shereen Vedam

  Daniel laughed at that absurd proclamation. How could she not see what was obvious to anyone who met her?

  She looked confused and hurt by his humor.

  “Trust me, my lady,” he said, softening his tone, “you are more than ready.”

  She blushed becomingly. “Would I . . .”

  “Would you what?”

  “Would I react to my husband the way I do to you?”

  The idea of any other man laying intimate hands on her killed his humor. “I do not wish to discuss this further.”

  “But—”

  “Let us leave.” He took her hand and tugged her along.

  “Daniel.”

  There was an adorable smudge on her cheek. He wanted to kiss it clean. Instead, he said, “You must address me as Mr. Trenton. Once you are married, your husband will protect you. At this moment, your safety is my duty. So, come along.”

  She stumbled over a branch.

  He helped her find her footing. Their every touch was bittersweet. She did not belong to him. She never would.

  “But, Mr. Trenton, who will protect me from my husband’s family? My suitor, the Duke of Morton, is very young and not of a strong character. I doubt he can stand up to either his mother or his half-brother, not even on his wife’s behalf. I fear them.”

  Daniel’s mood sank even deeper. Why should this news surprise him? Who would Faith, Lady Faith, marry but someone from her level of society? But must this man be Sir Phillip’s other suspect? He frowned. Could her worry about Morton be justified?

  It was none of his concern. “If the Duke of Morton or his family proves to be a problem, ask your parents for help.” He led her back the way they had come. “Oh, and do not walk alone again on Bond Street or any other street in London. That man who followed you was still watching as your carriage left Mayfair.”

  She looked grim at that news and slowly nodded.

  “Promise?” He stopped to look into her eyes to be certain she took his warning to heart. “No more walking alone?”

  “I promise.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  He led her back the way they had come. At the border of the woods, he squeezed her fingers to show that he cared what happened to her, even if he was not permitted to speak the words. “Your father wields much power. If anyone bothers you, tell him about it. He will protect you.”

  “My father, too, has been acting strangely of late. It is unlike him to push for this union so insistently.”

  Could the change in Burley’s behavior have something to do with the theft of King George’s buckles?

  No, no, no! He would not become involved in this mess. The sooner he ended all connection with Faith Rosemary Went, daughter of a duke, the better. And he realized he could not hurt her by implicating her father in a royal theft. It would ruin her life. So he decided to tell Sir Phillip that he could not assist him with his case. Daniel’s shoulders slumped at that decision, for it meant there was no reason left to stay at Lady Roselyn’s townhouse.

  He was terrible as a butler since he invariably balked at Sir Phillip’s orders and was easily distracted. And now his one chance to earn an honest living at Ravenstock Manor had burst into flames.

  With fast-dwindling funds, no proper job, and no home, he had nothing to offer any woman, never mind a duke’s daughter. “I will wait here until you reach your garden gate.”

  “I do not wish to return home yet.”

  “Your family will be worried if you tarry longer.”

  Reluctantly, she stepped away, and then rushed back. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him again. A sweet tender touch that inflamed his heart. Then she ran off, leaving him more frustrated than ever. He stood there, not even hearing the flow of water behind him. When Faith looked at him, when she touched him, he forgot everything but her presence. Yet, their odd relationship must end, for he had no rights to her. That truth tugged at his soul. He stood unmoving as Faith entered her world, and left him behind.

  Daniel walked all the way home. It took him a good portion of the late afternoon. By the time he trudged through the servants’ entrance, it was after sunset and his feet were throbbing. He avoided eye contact with everyone in the kitchen, ignoring all who called out to him.

  He would have gone straight to his attic room if the housekeeper had not followed him. “Sir, the mistress is looking for you.”

  “I will see her shortly, Mrs. Pollard.”

  “She said you were to come see her the moment you returned,” she called as he raced up the stairs.

  Entering his room, he carelessly flicked his finger until his thumb burst into flames. He lit a candle on a small table beside his bed, then shaking his hand to douse his fire, he laid back on his narrow cot.

  Someone knocked.

  He ignored it.

  The rapping came again, sounding imperative.

  “I will see her ladyship when I am good and ready,” he shouted in an irate tone, not moving an inch.

  The door creaked open and then came the swish of skirts as a woman entered. He sighed and closed his eyes. If he courted a swift dismissal with his recalcitrant attitude, it was his business. He had a mind to tell the maid to get out.

  Before he could speak, several more shoes and skirts scraped across his worn wooden floorboards. Then something sopping wet landed on his chest and sank claws into his skin.

  He roared in outrage and reared up. An equally infuriated feline hissed at him, its fur standing up in soapy angles. The wide-eyed kitten then inched forward to sniff him. That was followed by a surprised yowl before it scampered up to cower in the crook of his neck.

  “Good evening, Daniel,” Lady Roselyn said.

  Elbows holding him up, his stunned gaze took in the lady of the house. She came here? And she looked irate. He jumped up to stand at attention and the kitten scrambled to stay on his shoulder. “My lady, my apologies if I kept you waiting.”

  At that blatant fib, Lady Roselyn’s lips quirked into a half smile that transformed her frazzled appearance into a breathtaking vision. Beside her, Mary stood, holding up a lantern. The maid’s hair was back to a dull brown and fell about her face in wet streaks. Next to her was young Hope, appearing bedraggled and the wettest of the three.

  The washing of the filthy kitten must not have gone well. All three ladies were not only dirty and soaked, but also scratched. Even Lady Roselyn. An angry cut ran the length of her right forearm. Mary sported several fresh scratches on her neck. Hope held out her hands for his inspection.

  He knelt and murmured sympathetically over the fresh scores on the back of both her small hands.

  “You brought home a bad kitty, Mr. Trenton.” Hope’s lower lip jutted out and tears beaded her eyes. “It does not like me.”

  “I doubt it cares for anyone, Hope.” Lady Roselyn laid a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Except, apparently you, Daniel.” She uttered that last with some surprise.

  The women all took turns to study the kitten now lying calmly across Daniel’s left shoulder, easily holding its balance as he stood again. The kitten’s wet tail swished while it studied the women. Daniel could not see its expression, but that tail whisking across his left shoulder spoke of defiance.

  “How strange,” Mary said. “It does like you.”

  “What is so surprising about that?” he asked, annoyed.

  The women returned his glance with a longer silence than he cared for. He frowned and stroked the kitten behind its ear. It leaned into his touch and purred even louder. “Obviously, it has better taste than some.”

  “That is settled then,” Lady Roselyn said.

  “What is?” he asked, suspicious of her complacent tone.

  “The kitten. You brought it home, so it is now your responsibility. We have spent enough of the af
ternoon chasing it up and down the stairs, searching in every nook and cranny from attic to cellar to find where it was hiding. Now that it has had its bath, we are returning it to your care.”

  “But—”

  Before he could finish, the women left, closing his door sharply, as if afraid he or the kitten might follow them out.

  With a sigh, he sat on the bed and leaned his forearms on his legs. The kitten jumped down to rest on his arms and gazed at him with adoration. And then it began to groom itself, busily putting its fur back in order. One hind leg was stretched straight up so it could clean the underside and Daniel realized that it was not an it, but a he.

  No bigger than his palm, and wet, the kitten looked even leaner than when Daniel found him. The poor creature’s ribs were clearly outlined against his wet fur. Remembering the scratches on the ladies, Daniel was impressed how, despite its, his, puny size and low place in society, the kitten had found a way to make his presence felt. It was an ability Daniel had yet to master.

  “You will need a name. How about Phoenix? That apparently suits both our natures.” With a sigh, he stood, wincing at the pain in his feet. He checked the underside of his right boot. In walking home, he had worn the sole so thin, he could see his stockings. With holes at both the top and bottom of that boot, it would not last much longer. He definitely had to scrounge up some money for another pair.

  “Come on, Phoenix, let us see if I am needed belowstairs. With two mouths to feed, I had best not slack off. And if you are lucky, Mrs. Pollard might float a chicken wing your way. Then your master must find a way to make a living outside this house that will feed both of us.”

  Chapter Five

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Faith was on tenterhooks as she waited with her parents for their unexpected guests, Sir Phillip and Lady Roselyn, to be brought into their drawing room. Her father paced before the French doors leading to the garden, as if he, too, was worried about this visit, though Faith could not imagine why.

  “Sit still child,” her mother said. “Ladies do not fidget.”

  But why was Lady Roselyn here? Could she have heard about Faith’s encounter with her butler yesterday? Why else make this sudden call to Faith’s home today? She wrung her handkerchief into a knot, smoothed it out on her lap with the intention of tucking it under her sleeve only to soon find it scrunched into a tiny ball in her fist.

  Did the lady also know that Faith had kissed Daniel? Mr. Trenton. He said she was to call him Mr. Trenton. Oh, was it not bad enough that she would never again feel such a delightful sensation as his lips teasing hers open? She had not known kisses could be so wickedly delicious. She wanted another one. Although that was unlikely, especially since her parents might soon find out about her liaison with a servant. And once they did, they would insist she marry Morton forthwith.

  Henley entered and announced their guests.

  After the couple made their bow and curtsy, they all took their seats. Her parents opened the discussion by mentioning the unusually muggy heat for May.

  The weather? That was what they were going to talk about? The conversation moved on to a recent social occasion they had all attended. Faith’s forehead perspired and she dabbed it with her knotted handkerchief while surreptitiously studying her guests. Sir Phillip was handsome and self-assured, exactly how a war hero should be, though he was young, only a handful of years her elder. His wife was a breathtaking blonde with delicate round features and intelligent, sea-green eyes.

  Lady Roselyn looked out the French doors. “Your garden is beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Faith’s mother said. “It is my joy. My daughter, too, enjoys taking a turn about the shrubbery. As a child, she spent more time outdoors than on her studies.”

  “Her wanderings will not be our worry much longer,” the duke said.

  “Papa!” Faith’s blood heated, burning her cheeks. He had promised no public statements about her possible match yet. She had two days. One day now. Faith sent him a pleading glance but he turned his gaze away from her.

  “Is there happy news in the offing?” Lady Roselyn’s speculative glance turned to Faith.

  She shrank from that penetrating stare.

  “Not yet.” Her mother patted Faith’s knee. The gesture, meant to comfort, merely terrified Faith with its implication of, but soon. “We were pleased to hear of your marriage, Lady Roselyn,” her mother continued. “You both seem blissful.”

  Then she raised an eyebrow at Faith, who could hardly miss her meaning. Then again, Sir Phillip was unlikely to be related to someone as odious as Mr. Granger or as terrifying as the Duchess of Morton. So Lady Roselyn’s happiness with him did not portend a similar happy outcome for Faith.

  “We are happy,” Lady Roselyn said and surreptitiously caressed her husband’s hand.

  The only reason Faith could imagine holding Morton’s hand would be to console him for having such a dreadful family. She tucked her moist handkerchief up her sleeve and clasped her trembling fingers. She caught Lady Roselyn watching her. Faith broke the uncomfortable eye contact by offering to pour.

  “Your grace,” Sir Phillip said as he proffered his teacup, “we have not been in your beautiful home before. I put it at least as early as the fifteenth century.”

  First the weather and now architecture? Faith did not know if she should breathe in relief or groan at having to wait for the hangman’s noose to be brought out.

  Sir Phillip sat back and sipped his tea, as if not in the least bit flustered by the bounty of historical information that poured forth as a result of his innocent question. Aside from her father’s experiments with medicinal herbs, this Tudor mansion was his main passion. Once onto either subject, he could expound for hours.

  “This house was once badly damaged by fire,” her father said, “but over the generations, we have restored a good bit of it.”

  On a normal day, Faith would love to listen to him explain about how new architectural ideas were emerging from Italy and influencing English reconstructions. Today was not that day. Her father suggested a tour and Sir Phillip immediately set his cup down and stood.

  Lady Roselyn declined, explaining she had an ankle that would not appreciate too many stairs. Her mother offered to keep her company but Lady Roselyn would not hear of it. “Lady Faith could show me the garden.”

  The suggestion dropped like lead into Faith’s stomach. She wanted to speak to her alone? Once Sir Phillip left with her parents, Faith escorted Lady Roselyn to the garden. A stone pathway enticed them toward a walled section where a variety of flowering bushes abounded.

  “This is indeed beautiful,” her guest said. “I see why you like to spend hours out here instead of indoors.”

  “It is peaceful.”

  “Are you in need of peace, Lady Faith?”

  Was she playing with her? Did she wait for Faith to confess what had happened in the woods with her butler? But what if she did not know? What if Daniel had kept their meeting secret? Why would he confess anyway? He was her Red Knight. He would never hurt her. Infinite relief washed over her in a cool wave, and that release of tension loosened her tongue. “I had not heard that you had the ability to read thoughts.”

  Lady Roselyn chuckled. “I only meant that you seem troubled. I hope my question did not give offense?”

  Faith shook her head as her shoulder muscles relaxed.

  “Are you enjoying the Season?” Lady Roselyn asked.

  Faith nodded but it was a polite lie. Thus far, this was the worst Season of her life.

  “I heard that your parents visited with the regent at Carleton House recently. Were you present?”

  “No. I did not go. But my mother mentioned that the Duchess of Morton was there with her sons.” Unfortunately, she had been unaware then that her parents were intending to match her to Morton.

  Pulling a budding r
ose closer, Lady Roselyn sniffed and said casually, “Do you know the Mortons well?”

  Faith shook her head, her gaze riveted by an angry red scratch on the lady’s wrist. “You are hurt.”

  “Oh, that. It looks worse than it is.”

  “I have an ointment that is good for minor scratches.” It was one of her father’s mixtures. “I pricked my palm yesterday on a thorn and it nicely soothed the wound.”

  “This is not from a thorn but a cat’s claw.”

  “Oh, I hope it was not from the kitten,” Faith said, concerned the lady might have thrown the poor animal out of her home if it had harmed her. Then she bit her lip, but it was too late. She had opened Pandora’s box.

  Lady Roselyn gave Faith a look full of curiosity. “You know of the half-starved little fiend that scratched me?”

  Faith sighed. She might as well confess her part in it. “I came upon it yesterday. Mr. Trenton rescued it for me and offered to take care of it.”

  “He offered?”

  “I might have insisted.”

  Her guest’s eyes lit with interest. “Strange that Daniel did not mention meeting you.”

  Daniel? She was on first names with her butler? That spoke of the lady having an uncommon intimacy with a servant. Her Red Knight had kissed her, but insisted she must address him as Mr. Trenton. Faith determined then that she would never call him that again! Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. “He did not know my name then.”

  “Then?” The lady’s eyebrow rose.

  “We met for a second time when he came to tell me how the kitten fared.”

  “Did he?”

  “Which is when we introduced ourselves,” Faith said.

  “How enlightening.”

  “I hope I have not brought trouble on his head by mentioning this, for he was a complete gentleman, both times.”

  “Now that does surprise me.” Lady Roselyn laughed. “I have never thought of Daniel Trenton as a gentleman. A rogue, perhaps, certainly a scoundrel.”

  Faith’s temper stirred. “If you have such a harsh opinion of him, my lady, why do you employ him?”