A Scorching Dilemma

by Shereen Vedam

  Daniel’s shoulders dropped as his obligation to this young woman settled over him. An honorable man would do what was needed, no matter the cost. It was what the late Duke of Morton would likely have done if he had been put in the same position—Daniel could not bring himself to call the man his father yet.

  After fleeing the Morton’s London house with Sir Phillip, Daniel had promised himself that he would do his very best to become a man who would make the late duke proud. If he was to live up to that vow, only one road lay open before him.

  His spirits lowered tremendously at what he must do. Mindful of the eavesdropping postboy, he kept his voice low. “When we return to London, Miss Wood, I will apply for a special license. Be assured, you will not be labeled a loose woman because of this night’s ride.”

  Miss Wood glanced at him with a startled face, and then burst out laughing.

  He ground his teeth. Did she not realize how difficult it was to act with such honor? That, by offering for her, he gave up the last shreds of his dream to be with Faith?

  “I may not always act the gentleman,” he said in a cool voice, “but I am one.”

  “You cannot seriously be proposing to me, Mr. Trenton?” she whispered back. “That is preposterous. Besides—” she argued, and then broke off.

  He could not leave it at that. “Besides what?”

  “Nothing.” She sounded uncommonly reticent.

  “I insist, Miss Wood.” Did she think him beneath her notice? “Please, finish your sentence. Besides what?”

  “Well, if you insist.”

  “I do.”

  She heaved a sigh. “We would never suit.”

  That was the last thing he had expected. “Not suit?” Then her meaning dawned on him. “You prefer someone with better prospects.”

  “That is not what I said.”

  “That is what you implied. I admit, I am not yet a very good butler. However, I am applying myself to become a better one. I assure you, I will take excellent care of you.”

  “Mr. Trenton,” Miss Wood said, “I believe we should consider finding a place to rest for the night.”

  She was changing the subject. He was certain that once she considered his proposal, she would not fail to see its merits. So he decided to play along. “Yes, that had occurred to me as well. And our quarry must feel the same need. Though I do not like the idea of Lady Faith spending the night in Granger’s company.”

  “No, indeed, sir.”

  “I cannot see Granger taking her to an inn, where questions might be asked.”

  She nodded gravely. “Yes, I see your meaning. Have you noticed that he has taken pains to hide the fact that Lady Faith is inside the carriage? So where could he take her?”

  He met Miss Wood’s eyes. “Family,” they said at the same moment. And then they smiled at each other in excitement.

  “The Mortons must have a family estate in Lincolnshire!”

  “It is the only place he would feel safe stopping for the night.” Daniel’s blood pounded in exhilaration. “At our next stop, I will inquire if anyone hereabouts knows of Morton, or his property.” He gave her a crooked grin. “For an annoying librarian, you are quite useful during a crisis.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Trenton. I think.”

  He did not again bring up the subject of his proposal. Despite her protests, he had embroiled her in this business and was answerable for her welfare. The Duke of Burley would see to Faith’s future. It was time for Daniel to let go of chasing after unattainable dreams and accept what life offered him.

  He glanced again at Miss Wood’s anxious face outlined in the moonlight. This woman had helped him so much on this harrowing day, and must not suffer any undue consequences for coming to Faith’s aid. And if that meant Daniel’s marriage to her, so be it.

  FAITH REMAINED curled up in a far corner of the bedroom, ignoring the four-poster bed and all it threatened, her eyes trained on the door. Someone else had arrived downstairs. There was a lot of shouting, but she could not distinguish any words. She waited for the sounds in the house to die down and then checked the door to the corridor. She turned the handle and chair legs outside scraped along the floor, as if the guard had shifted in his seat. The door remained locked.

  “Please, sir, will you help me?” she whispered.

  There was no answer. She tried again, pleading with him to release her, but the guard would not respond. Sighing, she moved to the only other door in the room. It opened. She fetched the one tiny flickering candle Granger had left her and peered inside. It was a little dressing room, no more than a closet, with paneled walls that led nowhere.

  Returning to the bedroom, she placed her stub of a candle on a side table and approached the windows. Wrapping her hands around each cold steel bar, she shook and twisted and pulled. Then she stubbornly repeated the same useless exercise on the next window. Her candlelight flickered out and died as she attacked the last bar. But it was no use.

  Not wanting to wait in the dark for Granger to find her so close to that bed, she felt her way along the walls until she reached the door to the small dressing room. With the door shut, she had the illusion of being hidden away from any nightly intruders, even if she could not lock the door.

  She sat on the floor beside a tall cabinet. Wrapped in despair, she hugged her knees and rocked back and forth. No one was coming to rescue her. Her parents did not know where she was. Daniel, who had warned her about Morton and his family, did not know she had been taken.

  If she hoped to escape, she must rely on herself. But how? The rocking calmed her and allowed her to focus her senses on the movements and sounds around her. Only then did she realize something odd.

  The air in the small room moved. How could that be? The bedroom windows were all shuttered and she had shut the closet door after entering. Where did the draft originate? On hands and knees, she palmed along the floor and paneled walls after that elusive breeze until she came across a slender seam well hidden between carved boards. A breeze tickled her fingertips.

  She pursued that seam upward, pushing at the tall cabinet that blocked it halfway. It slid with little resistance across the hardwood floor. Heart pounding, she waited, breathless. Had the guard outside heard anything? No. She put her weight against the wall on either side of the outline. Nothing moved. Then her hand brushed a dent in the wall. She pressed and the panel swung inward, wafting a cool blessed current of air across her hot cheeks.

  Excitement licked along her spine as she probed the darkness with outstretched arms. Cobwebs and little insects scurried past her fingers. Cringing, she flicked them off, but kept moving forward. The opening was more than a hidey-hole. A narrow corridor led to the right and then her leg slid downward.

  She gasped and pulled back. Tentatively, she explored the depression on the floor with her right foot and discovered a steep stone stairway. To keep from tumbling down, she had to pull up her skirts and go sideways, like a crab. These stairs had not been designed with ladies in mind.

  Thoughts of mice and rats worried at her until she remembered the threat of Granger. Anything was preferable to being touched by that depraved man. As a precaution, she returned to the closet and slid the cabinet back across the opening. Then she shut the panel so no one would guess where she had gone.

  Her fate decided, she picked up her skirts, and climbed down the steps until it ended in what turned out to be another corridor. Without candlelight, it was terrifying to walk into empty blackness.

  Ears attuned to any sounds that might indicate she was not alone, she stepped out into nothingness. With any luck, this new passageway would take her not only far from her guard, but also out of the house. About a hundred steps on, her outstretched arms encountered a divide in the way ahead. The corridor branched in two. Which way to go? She listened intently, hoping for a sign.

 
Then she heard raised voices. One, she recognized. Granger. And a woman? Recognizing the Duchess of Morton’s sullen tone, Faith knew which way not to go. The duchess must have just arrived.

  As she retreated, a softer, hesitant tone reached her. Morton! He was here? But unlike the other two, he sounded hurt. What were they doing to him? Faith paused. And then calling herself all kinds of a fool for caring, she followed his voice to where it came clearest through a timbered wall.

  She peered in through a thin slit. Morton stood facing his mother, who sat on a settee. Her emerald brooch that held her shawl in place gleamed in the firelight. Granger was not in Faith’s line of sight.

  “You will do as I say, Morton,” the duchess said, “or you will rue the day I gave birth to you.”

  A suppressed chuckle warned her of Granger’s approach before his body blocked her line of sight. Her breath caught in her throat until he moved past.

  He apparently found both his mother’s anger and Morton’s fear amusing. “I think you are too late with that threat, Mother,” he said. “I am sure Andrew has rued that day since the moment he burst from your loins.”

  “Is your brother correct, you ungrateful brat?” the duchess demanded. “It is I who suffered. I had to watch you grow, knowing you owned what your brother deserves. It is I who rues the day you were born. Even as I knew you were the only way for me to stay connected to the dukedom, I cringed at every step you took. Your every breath sucked power from your bother. The son I loved had to kowtow to the one I despised. Oh, the pain of motherhood. How do I survive, open my eyes each morning, when I would rather close the shutters on your existence?”

  Faith touched the wall with her palm, wanting to comfort Morton. How often had his mother spoken to him like this? Had he grown up knowing his mother hated him?

  “Well,” the duchess said. “What do you have to say?”

  Morton hung his head low, not replying.

  “You disgust me, boy. Leave me.”

  Faith had seen and heard enough. She turned to go when her elbow struck a timber post. She stood still, heart in her throat. Had they heard that? Slowly, she looked toward the sliver of an opening. Granger stared back at her. She covered her mouth to keep her gasp silent.

  She reminded herself frantically that he could not see her. It was too dark in here. She stayed still, not moving a muscle, not breathing.

  A commotion in the room drew his attention.

  Faith looked, too. Morton was struggling with his mother. With a shove, the duchess sent her younger son sprawling across the floor, her shawl in disarray.

  Morton scrambled to his feet. “I am sorry, Mama.”

  “Get out of my sight, you fool!”

  Morton ran out of the room, accompanied by his brother’s laughter.

  Under cover of the confusion, Faith quietly crept to the fork in the corridor, thanking Morton for inadvertently distracting his brother enough to allow her to flee.

  Still, unsure if she had given herself away, Faith hurried. There were so many twists and turns, and then more stairs led her downward. Was it her imagination or was the air cooler and fresher now? Then the passageway she traveled abruptly ended.

  Had she come so close to escape, only to be trapped? Panicked, Faith felt along the stone wall. She would not go back to that bedroom. Should she have followed along the passageway that ran the length of the chamber occupied by Granger and the duchess? The thought of going back filled her with dread. Then her hand touched a cold rod and then one farther up. A ladder!

  Quickly, she tied her skirts to free her legs and, bracing her hands on the rung, she pulled herself up. Thankfully, there was another rung further up. Hand over hand, she climbed, using her feet against the wall and then on the lower rungs, for support.

  Near the ceiling, she saw a handle for a trapdoor. It turned, and she pushed it up to see where the ladder had brought her. Soil and dirt dusted her face. She repressed her cough and waited with eyes closed for the air to clear.

  Once the dust settled, Faith pushed the trap door open wider and peered out. It was dark, but she could make out enough to know that she was inside an enclosed structure. The distinctive scent of manure, straw, and fresh hay danced in the air along with the warmth of many animals. The passage had led her into the stables! Close by, a horse snorted.

  Lady Luck at last smiled at her. As long as the household remained unaware of her absence, she might be able to ride out of this madhouse before anyone noticed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  SEVERAL LANTERNS lit the inn’s wide yard at their next stop. While Miss Wood went inside to arrange refreshments and sleeping quarters, Daniel spoke with the innkeeper to gain information about the possibility of there being a nearby Killian estate. He explained that he was traveling with his sister to visit their ailing mother and while in the neighborhood, they hoped to visit the Killian family, as they were distant relatives. But it had been a long time since he had visited.

  Parting with a generous bank note produced a profusely helpful innkeeper who directed him toward an estate not far from Ancaster. When Daniel discovered how close to the estate they were, all thoughts of spending the night vanished.

  The moment Miss Wood stepped back outdoors, he summarized his discovery and made his plea. “Are you up to continuing on, Miss Wood? This might be our best chance to rescue Faith before daybreak.”

  “Of course, we must go on, sir. I have had ample opportunity to nod off on the way. Are you able to carry on?”

  “I could not sleep if I tried.”

  “Yes, I see that,” she said with a slight smile.

  He left to find the ostler. “I need the carriage readied.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said. “I will find another horse.”

  “I plan to stay longer at our next destination.” Daniel did not need a postboy accompanying them to act as witness to this rescue. “So I wish to buy a horse outright.”

  “I will have to check with the master, sir.”

  “Tell him I will pay a handsome price.”

  The innkeeper came out to negotiate. He said he could not lawfully sell one of his horses, but his brother had a farm nearby where there was a mare he wanted to put out to pasture because he could no longer afford the taxes or feed for its upkeep. Once a price was set, the innkeeper added, “I need your address in London, too, sir.”

  As Daniel offered that information, the ostler returned. “One of the cabriolet’s wheels needs repair, sir.”

  Yet another delay, and more expense. He agreed to the necessary work and turned back to the innkeeper. They would be traveling at night and he did not want to get lost and lose any more valuable time. “Would you kindly give me specific directions to the Killian estate?”

  He rejoined Miss Wood. At the sight and smells of the refreshment ordered, his stomach growled. Then he and Miss Wood settled to their first substantial meal of the day.

  He had eaten two bites of his stew and bread and taken a good long swallow from a mug of delicious ale before Miss Wood spoke. “Mr. Trenton, what makes you love Lady Faith so much?”

  He inhaled suddenly, allowing drops of ale to sting his nostrils and irritate his throat. He coughed to clear his airway.

  Tearing off a large piece of bread, he stuffed it into his mouth and chewed. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. She was waiting him out. He swallowed. “Did I say I loved her?”

  “Why else would we be traipsing across the countryside all day and now in the dead of night in search of her?”

  “She is in danger!”

  “True, but Sir Phillip went to inform her father. Once we discovered the abduction, we could have told the duke and let him find his daughter. Instead, you took it upon yourself to pursue her and have even gone to the lengths of proposing to me in order to keep up the chase.”

/>   “Exactly. If I loved her, why would I propose to you?”

  She wiped the last dregs of her stew with a piece of bread and popped it delicately into her mouth. She chewed, lost in thought. Once she had finished, she asked, “Do you feel beneath her in status?”

  He did not just feel it, it was a fact. So how he felt about Faith was immaterial. Pursuing her would make him as bad as Granger, for a match with him would also ruin Faith’s life.

  The innkeeper stepped in with a basket of food they could take with them and the happy news that their carriage was ready.

  Glad for the interruption, Daniel jumped up and hurried the librarian outside and into the open carriage tethered to an ancient nag, which he now owned outright. The vehicle had two sound wheels and blazing lanterns hung from either side of the conveyance. The innkeeper rushed out with a wool blanket that Daniel tucked around Miss Wood’s lap.

  “Best of luck with your ma’s health, Mr. Trenton,” the innkeeper shouted as they set off.

  Under a quarter moon peeking out from behind dark clouds, he drove on, avoiding the larger ruts. Within an hour, true to the innkeeper’s directions, they arrived at the Killian estate.

  Daniel drew the horse to a halt by the closed gates, then gave over the reins to Miss Wood and jumped down. “Wait here.”

  “What if you need help? Or Lady Faith does? Should I come?”

  “No. Be ready. We will need to leave in a hurry.”

  She nodded and proceeded to expertly turn the vehicle around to face the direction from which they had come.

  Satisfied, Daniel turned his attention to the lock. He could effortlessly climb over the bars. However, it would not be so easy for Faith to do once he rescued her. So he took the time now to unlatch the gates. The lock gave way with a click and he threw it into the bushes to prevent it being reused.