A Scorching Dilemma

by Shereen Vedam

  That halted his brother’s agitated pacing.

  Daniel waited, giving Andrew time to absorb the news.

  The rain was falling hard now, streaming over Andrew’s stunned pale face. Finally, he shook his head. “No. No, you must not.”

  Daniel’s heart shuddered at the blunt refusal. “It is unfair. You have believed all of your life that you are the Duke of Morton. If I had died, as I was meant to, there would be no question about that. But, I did not die, Andrew. And this is the only way I can save you and Faith.”

  “I forbid it.” His fists clenched, Andrew retreated toward the house, his rapid steps turning into a run.

  Daniel chased after him, finally catching him by the shoulders and swinging him around. Andrew fought back, his boots connecting painfully with Daniel’s shins. Feeling wretched, Daniel ignored the pummeling and held fast to his brother. Lightning flashed and thunder roared directly overhead.

  “Andrew, I have to claim the title. Your mother’s crimes must be exposed. It is the only way to stop her and the only way I can protect you.”

  The fight abruptly left his brother. Daniel released him and Andrew backed away, wiping his eyes with his fists.

  Heart heavy, Daniel gave him time to gather his wits. The house was partially visible from where they had stopped. The flames had died down. The servants and the thunderstorm had acted effectively to put out the blaze. The greenhouse was charred and smoldering. The smoky air reeked of burnt wood.

  “Does being a duke mean so much that you will risk your life to retain the title?” he finally asked his brother.

  “Mother tried to murder you today because you hit Charles,” Andrew said in a fierce voice, glaring at him. “What do you think she will do when she discovers you want to take away her livelihood, her place in society and her son’s future?”

  Daniel’s thoughts churned as he sought a logical frame on which to hang Andrew’s confusing reaction. “Are you worried she will suffer if her crimes are brought to light?”

  The young man’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “If she murdered our father and your mother, I would see her punished.” He bit his lip and glared at Daniel. “But I need you to stay alive.”

  The young man’s fervor touched Daniel, and relief coursed through him like cool spring rain. “Andrew, I am capable of defending myself. I am no longer a child. I grew up among cutthroats in unsavory places. She will not best me.”

  Andrew turned away, his arms crossed. “You do not know her. She is ruthless. And she has Granger to assist her.”

  Daniel strode up to him. “And we have each other. Better than fighting alone, is it not?”

  Andrew gave him a surprised nod.

  “You have done well, to survive in her company this long. You did better than our father or I.”

  “She did not need either of you,” he said in a soft voice. “She needs me.”

  “For how long?” Daniel offered him another piece of meat.

  Andrew declined.

  Daniel chewed on his own food, more from nervousness than real hunger. “I intend to see that she is no longer a threat, Andrew. Unfortunately, I lack definitive proof of my parentage.” He put his left hand on the boy’s shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. “We are in this together. Brothers forever, yes?”

  Andrew’s gaze was transfixed by his left hand.

  He followed the boy’s gaze and on seeing his deformed finger, he quickly hid his arm behind his back.

  Andrew’s gaze returned to Daniel. “I might have proof.”

  Daniel’s heart leaped in surprise and then beat rapidly with excitement. “What proof?”

  “Mother destroyed all the old family portraits. But a long time ago, when I was playing in the attic, I found one she missed. I tore it out of the frame and hid it.”

  “Why?”

  “It had a picture of a boy standing beside my father. It was you.” Andrew smiled for the first time. “I used to pretend you were alive and we were friends.”

  The comment brought a lump to Daniel’s throat. He could have used a friend at that age. He could use one now.

  The news brought hope. “Is it my finger? Does the portrait show I am missing the tip of my left little finger?” He spread his hand out to show Andrew the stump on the far end. “A hint at my deformity is mentioned in the notes the runners took, but it does not give specifics. If the portrait shows that deformity, it would indeed be the proof we need. I have seen a portrait of our father. And indeed, I am his spitting image. However, my birth could easily be the result of a tryst he had with a maid. I had hoped you might know of some written correspondence or a witness who knew me.”

  “I need to check the portrait to make sure it will serve our needs,” Andrew said. “If it does, I will bring it to the ball along with those other jewelry items you seek.” With a cheeky grin, Andrew bowed. “By your leave, your grace.”

  Then his brother turned and sprinted home. Watching him leave, Daniel hoped Andrew would remain safe from his mother’s anger.

  Sir Phillip eased away from the shadow of a mulberry tree where he had been hiding, a teasing look in his eyes. “I hope you do not expect me to address you as ‘your grace’ from now on. I need time to acclimatize myself to such unpalatable facts.”

  With a regal wave, Daniel replied, “I understand your need to practice. Being a butler, too, required learning the ropes.”

  Sir Phillip chuckled but then sobered and indicated Andrew’s disappearing form. “Did he mention the buckles?”

  “He intimated he might bring them to the ball.”

  Sir Phillip nodded, seeming happy with that. The storm had moved off, leaving behind a light mist of rain. They headed back to the wall they had scaled.

  “Despite your and your brother’s stalwart efforts to distract everyone from my search, I found nothing,” Sir Phillip said. “Let us hope your confidence in Morton is justified. Else the regent’s ire may see us both ousted from society.”

  Daniel checked on the dogs and found all in good shape. They would awaken soon. Then he followed Sir Phillip over the wall. As they headed back to Mayfair, the promise he made to Faith to marry her whether or not he found proof of his heritage dragged at his steps. He wanted the best for her. In his heart, he knew that if he remained a butler, that would be enough for Faith. Trouble was, his current life was no longer enough for him.

  ON THE NIGHT of the Burley ball, lilting music filtered from the open doorway of the grand ballroom into the foyer where Faith and her mother welcomed guests. Her father was too weak to attend, so his valet kept him company.

  The matter of the Killians attending the ball was vigorously debated between Faith and her parents. Her mother was adamantly opposed, while Faith and her father feared they might spark a scandal if the Duke of Morton and his family were refused entry. In the end, the invitation to the Killians stayed in place.

  As a precaution, her father asked for, and received, Sir Phillip’s full support. Now, several guards roamed Faith’s home in the guise of servants to ensure the Duchess of Morton and her son, Granger, did not pose any threat to guest or family. Having learned from Daniel that Ann, the maid who had alerted Faith to her father’s danger, was an alliance member, Faith suspected Sir Phillip’s people would have been roaming her home whether or not they had been requested.

  Despite the knowledge that her enemies were invited here, Faith’s spirits still rode high, for Daniel was to make his debut tonight. Her body tingled every time she thought of him.

  Compliments for the ladies of the house and commiseration over the duke’s absence mounted as London’s elite flowed through their entryway. Most of high society had chosen this event over others. The presence of a healthy crowd proclaimed the ball a success. The only ones who had yet to arrive were the main players.

  Moments late
r, Sir Phillip stepped through the front doors, in the company of his cousin, Rufus Marlesbury, Earl of Terrance, and his exceptionally gifted new wife, Belle, Lady Terrance. Faith’s heart sank with disappointment at Daniel’s absence.

  What could be keeping him?

  Tall and broodingly handsome, Lord Terrance bowed elegantly and wished Faith and her mother good evening. His beautiful wife wore a violet gown with a delicate band of gold silk pinched beneath her bosom. Faith was awed to finally meet the lady who had warned Daniel that Faith’s life was in danger. It was partially due to this amazing woman’s extrasensory perceptions that he and Miss Wood had raced to Faith’s rescue.

  The lady’s frown was disturbing. A sense of unease stole over Faith, but Lady Terrance and her husband moved past the receiving line before Faith could enquire what was worrying her intuitive guest.

  “You look enchanting, Lady Faith,” Sir Phillip said.

  “Thank you. Your wife does not accompany you this evening?”

  “Lady Roselyn comes with our houseguest.”

  “Am I acquainted with your guest?” her mother asked.

  “I suspect not, your grace. He has been absent from society for many years. His name is Edward Michael Killian.”

  Faith’s heart raced at Sir Phillip’s words. Daniel was coming to the ball. As himself.

  “Killian?” the duchess said. “Is he related to Morton?”

  “Closely related, your grace.”

  “I see,” her mother said in a cold voice.

  Sir Phillip bowed and moved on.

  Her mother took Faith’s hand and held it tightly. Faith squeezed back in comfort, surprised that her mother had not connected the name Sir Phillip mentioned with the young boy who had been presumed dead for so many years.

  Her mother’s thoughts must still be with her husband.

  As they were about to disband the receiving line, the young Duke of Morton arrived, thankfully alone. Perhaps the Duchess of Morton and her elder son had shown the good sense to stay home.

  Her mother stiffened.

  Faith curtsied. Morton’s gaze was trained on the floor as he bowed, but as he straightened, he winked at Faith. Her mother caught the motion and frowned. Faith’s fear that all would not go well tonight subsided, and she gave him a relieved smile.

  He walked away and her mother squeezed Faith’s hand until it hurt. “I hope you are not reconsidering your decision to reject a match with that young man. I will not allow you to marry into that family, Faith. That is my final word on the matter.”

  “Mother, do not rebuke me,” Faith whispered as she extricated her abused fingers. “All I ask is that you not be too quick to judge what happens this evening.”

  “What is to happen?” The duchess’s concerned gaze fell on Faith. “My dear, what are you planning?”

  “We should join our guests.” Faith kissed her mother’s cheek as they walked toward the grand ballroom.

  Her mother drew her back. “Faith.”

  “Yes, mother?”

  The duchess touched her cheek. “You seem changed.”

  Faith leaned and whispered, “I am in love, Mama.”

  Chapter Twenty

  IN A BID TO find her daughter a suitable husband, Faith’s mother had indeed invited every gentleman on Lady Roselyn’s suggested guest list. Her original purpose of acquiring a husband at this ball might have been easier to accomplish than she feared. However, her heart had chosen a particularly handsome man, ineligible as he might currently seem. Although, not for long, she hoped.

  Her mother had opened a series of ballrooms on the west wing of their ground floor to allow guests to freely mingle from room to room. Each chamber was as elegantly turned out as the next, with hundreds of candles highlighting the richly decorated walls. In the east wing, several rooms had been made available for guests to store baggage and cloaks, or serve as a place where a guest could retire to repair their makeup and see to other personal necessities. Two floors above, where the family rooms were located, the Duke of Burley recovered from his recent illness in relative peace and quiet.

  Chatter spilled among the guests, who seemed to be enjoying themselves. Many had come in order to see and be seen with Arthur Wellesley, recently made Duke of Wellington. He had yet to arrive. Eligible gentlemen abounded and several appeared extremely smart in army uniforms.

  The rooms soon felt stuffy with burning candles and thick perfumes. The noise level seemed particularly loud. Or was that the thumping of her impatient heart? Daniel still had not arrived. According to Ann, for the past two weeks, Daniel had been kept busy day and night in what Miss Wood had termed a transformation from pumpkin to pumpkin pie. In that description, Faith heard retaliation for Daniel comparing the librarian’s eyes to cow dung. He probably hated the polishing process but no doubt kept at it in a bid to be worthy of requesting Faith’s hand in marriage. What he failed to realize was that she was perfectly content with him just as he was.

  On returning to the main ballroom, Faith needed a few moments of peace to compose herself. She stepped behind a trio of enormous pots with palm fronds. Her body heat rose as she imagined being held in Daniel’s arms while he led her about the dance floor. It was an image she had not been able to shake since he had last visited, the day she thought he had died.

  As she fanned herself, a commotion at the front of the room caught her attention.

  The groom of the chambers announced the Prince Regent. Faith gave a sigh of regret as she spotted His Royal Highness entering. She should step up to greet him, but her mother was already there, curtsying to the portly prince. Faith remained in place, breathing deep to calm her rattled nerves. Surely Daniel would be here soon.

  The duchess rose and the two spoke for a few moments. Then the prince, wearing a mighty frown, made straight across the room in Faith’s direction. She gulped in fear at his determined stride until it dawned on her that he directed his irate royal steps toward Sir Phillip, not her. The knight stood on the other side of one of the larger palms. From the prince’s expression, she could tell that their conversation was not to be an amiable one.

  Hidden by the giant pots, she doubted either man noticed her. She stayed where she was, hoping they would move off. Instead, the regent gave a wave of his royal hand, and everyone else retreated, walking backward and bowing.

  Now it was too late to admit she was within earshot.

  Sir Phillip bowed.

  “Where are they, sir?” the prince asked in a harsh whisper.

  “The items should be here shortly, Your Royal Highness.”

  “Admit it, Jones, you could not find them, could you?”

  “I could use a little more time, sir.”

  “Wellington will be here at any moment. There is no more time. My father’s sanity has clung to him like a leech while he awaits news of tonight’s presentation. And my mother wishes for his continued health to prevail. I will not disappoint her, sir. Have I made myself clear?”

  “You shall have them soon, I assure you.”

  “Do you know the penalty for lying to a prince, Jones? Czar Alexander tells me Siberia is unpleasant in the winter.”

  Sir Phillip gave him a nervous glance.

  “Keep that in mind as you fetch my stolen goods.” The prince moved on.

  Faith wondered at Sir Phillip’s courage in standing his ground. She was glad her father’s name had been kept out of that discussion. Daniel had mentioned that Morton might have stolen the buckles. Had he brought them tonight? Is that why Sir Phillip seemed certain he would have them soon?

  She followed Sir Phillip’s gaze, and it did seem aimed at the Duke of Morton. Morton, however, stood guarded on either side by none other than his mother and Granger! Faith’s pulse hammered in alarm. When had they arrived?

  Mr. Granger’s bold presence sen
t shock waves coursing through Faith and left her trembling.

  The groom of the chambers made another announcement. Lady Roselyn and her guest, Edward Michael Killian.

  Instantly, Faith’s fear transformed into joy. He was here. In her home, in public. To claim her as his. Faith’s breath caught as Daniel stepped into the room. The murmur of voices subsided. How many present recognized that name? The Duchess of Morton certainly would have noticed.

  Faith was unable to tear her gaze from Daniel to care about Morton’s mother or Mr. Granger. Sir Phillip could worry about them. She drank in Daniel’s striking appearance. Despite his formal black pantaloons and jacket, plain white shirt, and simply tied cravat, Daniel outshone every other man in the room. His presence transformed the stuffy ballroom into a brightly lit colorful extravaganza.

  Chatter erupted and Faith looked around, eager to take in society’s reaction to her future husband. Fingers pointed in Daniel’s direction. The prince seemed shocked, having perhaps recognized the name “Edward Michael Killian.” He looked at Sir Phillip with a questioning eyebrow. Sir Phillip, his attention fixed on his wife, missed the prince’s silent communication.

  Faith’s gaze returned to Lady Roselyn and Daniel. This time, she noted what a beautiful couple they made. Lady Roselyn was breathtaking in a deep sapphire gown that showed off her blond curls to advantage. If she had met Daniel as a duke instead of a reprobate from the slums of London, would she have chosen him over Sir Phillip? A quick glance at the man standing motionless near her suggested Sir Phillip, too, pondered that possibility. Some of Faith’s enthusiasm for the evening waned.

  Lord Terrance, Sir Phillip’s cousin, approached him. “Who is that with your Rose?”

  “My butler,” Sir Phillip said in a disgruntled murmur.

  “Butler?”

  Both men leaned back on their heels, hands clasped behind them, as they studied the newcomer.

  “Is he any good?” Lord Terrance finally asked.

  The mundane question tugged at Faith’s humor, and her tension broke, relaxing the muscles knotted in her shoulders. Along with a smile tugging at her lips, came her confidence. Daniel might have been infatuated with Lady Roselyn once, but he loved Faith now. And that was all that mattered.