A Scorching Dilemma

by Shereen Vedam

  “I have no such recollection.” Daniel kept her attention on him. “A blow to my head sealed off my early childhood.”

  “Then allow me to refresh your memory, for that time was most pleasant for me. You were a whiny child, much like your brother is now.” The back of her hand flicked toward Andrew. “Always clinging to your mother’s skirts.”

  The door opened wider and Sir Phillip entered. Daniel saw Faith and Andrew get the command for silence. Behind him came the Prince Regent and then Faith’s mother. Faith ran to hug her and Daniel inched to the left so that the Duchess of Morton would not catch sight of that silent family reunion.

  “Your mother adored you,” the duchess said. “She wove tales of all you would achieve once you grew up.” She chuckled. “Little did she know the plans I had for all of your futures.”

  Daniel blocked out her ravings and focused on the little bit she had revealed of his mother’s love. Warmth spread through him as a faint memory surfaced, of being held close, loved and tended by a woman whose gentle voice wrapped her hopes and dreams around him like a warm blanket.

  “Why?” He had to know. “What did my parents ever do that brewed such hatred in your heart?”

  “What did they do? They destroyed my husband! Your father threw him out on the flimsy excuse of theft, while my Tom was deathly ill. His demise is on all of your heads.”

  The depth of her grief surprised Daniel. “I am sorry for your loss, your grace.”

  “Sorry?” She stepped closer, her eyes wild. “Sorry! Do you think that absolves you, sir? For it does not! You will pay and pay again. I saw to it that everyone in your family paid the price, beginning with your mother.”

  Daniel’s heart froze at the venom in her voice.

  “After I finished her off, Charles and I engineered your kidnapping. Oh, that was enjoyable. You were still grieving your mother’s death and you attached yourself to Charles like a veritable cub. Talking you into a secret picnic by the river at night was dead easy.” She gave him a cross look. “Why are you still alive?”

  “It appears that I am not as easy to kill as my parents were.”

  “Your father was a fool, so long in mourning his wife and son. He made me wait the full year before he would consent to dine with me in private. And a further six months went by before I could become his duchess. And then, I had to conceive a child. Seducing him was as distasteful as giving birth to his spawn.” Andrew cringed and Faith put her arm around his shoulders. The regent looked disgusted.

  “Every time he touched me,” the duchess said, “he did so with the blood of my Tom on his hands. But I finally got with child.” She jabbed her thumb at her chest. “I did it for Charles’s future. You will not take that away from me.”

  “It is too late,” Daniel said in a cold hard voice. Sir Phillip was in the room now to safeguard Faith, leaving Daniel free to deal with this murderess once and for all. “I have the misfortune of informing you, your grace, your son is dead.”

  The duchess stilled, her eyes widening. Then with a scream, she charged him. The force of her attack landed them both on the floor, her hands clenched around his throat.

  Sir Phillip and Andrew ran to pull her off, but she continued to scream, her warm spittle splattering on Daniel’s cheeks and her nails digging into his throat. Sir Phillip finally pried the woman away while Andrew helped Daniel to rise. Feeling the skin of his neck sting from his second throttling of the night, Daniel glanced anxiously at Faith to make sure she had come through this encounter safe and sound.

  The Duchess of Morton was taken to private quarters under guard. She left screaming vile obscenities. As the door shut bringing blessed silence, Daniel hugged Faith, relieved to have her in his arms. Uncaring who saw them, he kissed her, long and hard until a man cleared his throat.

  Faith chuckled and whispered in his ear, “I believe His Royal Highness wants our attention.”

  The prince’s rapier gaze speared Daniel. Beside him, Faith’s mother’s eyes were like saucers. She looked more stunned at seeing him kissing her daughter than when he had come over to untie her. He carefully released Faith and stepped away.

  “Jones,” the prince said, “Enough dilly-dallying.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Daniel who stood beside Faith with his arms now crossed to resist the overwhelming temptation to touch her again. “That young rapscallion claimed that his brother has my buckles. Note sir, that despite you being on the case for weeks, it is I who uncovered this clue to their whereabouts.”

  Sir Phillip gestured Daniel forward. “Sir, may I present the rightful heir to the Duke of Morton’s title and estate?”

  “If you are the true heir, sir,” the prince studied him with his monocle, “as the ravings of that mad woman who just departed indicate, then you, sir,” the royal monocle pointed to Andrew “as his brother, must have my shoe buckles!”

  The young man swallowed convulsively, and then reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out the rubies. With a deep bow, he offered them to the prince.

  “Ah ha!” The prince snatched up the items. “Excellent. Well done, Jones, though I insist that you give me some of the credit for solving this little mystery.”

  “Entirely correct, sir,” Sir Phillip said with a straight face.

  “It is time I returned to the festivities then.” He glanced at Faith’s mother. “Would you do me the honor, madam, of presenting these to Wellington on my behalf?”

  With a curtsey, the duchess agreed. On rising, she brushed sand from her beautiful gown before taking his arm.

  The regent paused at the doorway to glance at Sir Phillip. “The matter of the murderess will be handled discreetly?”

  “I will see to it, sir.”

  “What do we intend for the thief and usurper?”

  Andrew bowed his head.

  Daniel stepped forward. “He had no choice in the role he has been made to play.”

  “Your Royal Highness, I, too, vouch for him,” Faith said. “Andrew Killian is an innocent in this mayhem.”

  “Even to the theft of my buckles?”

  Faith opened her mouth to speak but Sir Phillip forestalled her. “Sir, I must confess that both brothers are light-fingered to a fault, besides possessing other rather uniquely valuable talents.”

  Daniel was shocked by Sir Phillip’s words. Was he about to admit to Daniel’s fire-shifting abilities?

  The regent, however, broke into a wide smile as his knowing gaze rested on Sir Phillip. “Then, you had best recruit them into my service. For I will only countenance use of such talent if it is employed on behalf of the Kingdom.”

  “My plans exactly, sir,” Sir Phillip said.

  Daniel breathed a sigh of relief.

  The prince’s attention swung back to Daniel. “You, sir, may count on my backing when you officially lay claim to your title. As for tonight, when you return to the ball,” he regarded Daniel’s state of undress through his monacle, “I shall expect you to don both your shoes, for I refuse to proclaim a vagabond as the true Duke of Morton. And, sir, allow me to make myself perfectly clear. If you ever again leave my presence before I have dismissed you, you shall find yourself swiftly joining Napoleon in Elba. You have ten minutes to make yourself presentable before you join us.”

  Then, with a curt nod, the regent departed with the Duchess of Burley. Daniel had barely hugged Faith again when the door opened and the duchess rushed inside. Ignoring Daniel, she took hold of her daughter’s hand and tugged her along with her.

  While Sir Phillip grinned and slapped Daniel on the back, Lady Roselyn came in to say she had arranged for clean clothes and a new pair of evening shoes to be brought to the soon-to-be proclaimed Duke of Morton.

  AFTER THE PRESENTATION to Wellington, the prince urged Andrew to come forward onto the dais. Faith, her heart in her throat, stood with her mothe
r, clasping her hand on one side and Daniel the other. Though he squeezed her fingers in encouragement, he looked concerned. They had yet to see what proof Andrew had brought.

  The prince waved and those assembled quieted. He gestured Andrew forward.

  Andrew walked over and, facing all those assembled, he held up a rolled parchment. “This is a portrait of my late father and his first wife. With them is their son, my elder stepbrother, Edward Michael Killian.”

  His words were like a pebble tossed into the lake as mutters spread outward in waves. With a flick, he unfurled the parchment and, holding it open, he slowly turned clockwise, showing the portrait to their audience. Faith finally saw Andrew’s proof. It was a family portrait of the late Duke of Morton, his wife and his young son.

  She gasped with shock and joy at the sight of the duchess’s left hand, resting possessively on her young son’s shoulder. That left hand was missing the tip of her last finger.

  At the prince’s nod, Daniel released Faith’s hand and approached the dais.

  “That lad saved my life,” her mother said to her.

  “I know, Mama. Mine, too.”

  “Your father wants to adopt him.”

  Faith suppressed a delighted laugh. “Daniel is a little old for that, Mama. But he could become his son yet.”

  Her mother squeezed her hand and leaned in to whisper, “He is a scorching fellow.”

  Faith gave her a startled look, but her mother’s gaze was fixed on Daniel who had reached Andrew’s side. There was no mistaking the resemblance between Daniel and the man in the portrait. He might not realize it, but Daniel’s frown was a perfect replica of the child’s expression in the portrait.

  One gentleman in the room said, “So he looks like his father. How does that prove he is heir to the Morton title?”

  “Look at the mother’s fingers on her left hand,” Andrew said, nodding to the prince. “They are exactly like her son’s.”

  The regent looked closer at the portrait. “But the boy’s left hand is clenched.”

  An older gentleman came forward. “I knew Morton well and his wife and child. I can attest this portrait is of that family. And indeed, the boy’s left hand did have an abnormally short little finger, just as his mother did. He was self-conscious about it. Are you saying this young man is that boy?”

  “Yes,” Andrew said quietly.

  “Show us his deformity, then,” the first man said.

  The regent raised Daniel’s left hand high.

  There was a moment of silence and then the room erupted in laughter. Faith bit her lip hard to keep from laughing, so Daniel would not be offended.

  The regent glanced over at Daniel and finally noted his clenched fist. He snapped his fingers and Sir Phillip sprinted up to the dais to assist. While he and Andrew held Daniel’s arm extended, the prince pried open Daniel’s fingers, one by one, until the little nub at the end was blatantly obvious.

  The chuckles died, replaced by gasps. Meanwhile, Daniel frowned royally at the men who held him captive.

  No longer able to contain her mirth, Faith burst out laughing, and several people joined her, including the regent. Daniel alone appeared unamused by the situation.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Faith and her new lady’s maid, Ann, arrived at Sir Phillip’s townhouse at ten sharp. Ann carried a box, which held a present for Daniel. Faith knocked.

  The door opened to a giant, who asked, “Who be you?”

  Startled, Faith stepped back.

  “Stony, you know who I am!” Ann said.

  “And I am Faith Rosemary Went, the Duke of Burley’s daughter. We are here to see Daniel Trenton. I mean, the Duke of Morton. That is, I wish to speak with your butler.”

  “Then you must be the lad’s new fancy piece. Come in.” The giant held the door wide open. “I am Stony, the porter footman.”

  “How do you do?” Faith asked, surprised by the unorthodox introduction.

  “They are in the drawing room, wait’n on ye, milady.”

  “I will check in with the other servants, my lady,” Ann said and gave the parcel to Stony.

  Faith followed his tall form, wondering if Lady Roselyn grew beanstalks in her back garden.

  “Lady Faith!” Her hostess rushed to greet her at the door. “I am so glad you could come.”

  “Thank you. I am happy to have been invited.”

  As Lady Roselyn introduced her to a sea of strangers and some familiar people, Faith noted that Daniel was absent.

  “Come, have a seat.” Sir Phillip offered his recently vacated spot on the sofa beside Miss Wood.

  “Daniel is upstairs with Andrew,” Lady Roselyn said, “trying to coax his brother into coming down to greet you. The young lad took his mother’s death by her own hand very hard.”

  “I should have checked the duchess more thoroughly before leaving her at Newgate,” Sir Phillip said. “The guards found her dead this morning. She had taken poison that I suspect was intended for the Duchess of Burley. A tiny bottle was sown into a layer of her stays. The bottle was in her hand this morning, and torn stitches on her clothing told the rest of the story.”

  Moments later, the door opened and Daniel rushed in with Phoenix on his shoulder. “Faith, you came.”

  He looked handsome in his black morning coat and dark pantaloons and there was a devilishly delicious look in his eyes as he studied her. The kitten leaped down, sniffed Faith’s toes, then rubbed against her gown and strolled toward the hearth.

  Andrew followed Daniel into the room at a slower pace.

  Faith stood and smoothed her gown, looking from one brother to the next.

  Andrew bowed to her without saying a word. He then leaned the canvas he carried onto the empty seat beside Miss Wood and followed the cat to the hearth.

  Miss Wood unfurled the portrait and gazed at it in earnest. Then she gestured to Daniel.

  He took Faith’s hand, splaying his fingers through hers before walking over to the librarian.

  “Mr. Trenton, do you see this?” Miss Wood asked.

  “See what?” Daniel asked.

  Faith bent to look closely, trying to pay attention despite the thrill she felt at Daniel’s casual, yet intimate, hold on her hand.

  “There,” the librarian said. “Do you see that partially hidden crest on your father’s waistcoat?”

  “A family emblem?” Daniel asked. Then he surreptitiously leaned over to whisper in Faith’s ear, “I missed you.”

  “I have seen that somewhere before,” Miss Wood said. “In one of my books. It spoke of . . . an alliance . . . one that immigrated to Europe in . . . the sixteenth century, I believe.”

  Faith had been trying to pay attention, but lost track of Miss Wood’s words when Daniel kissed her ear.

  “Mr. Trenton, I mean, your grace, did you hear me?”

  “I believe,” Lady Roselyn said, “that he and Lady Faith have other matters on their minds than the alliance this morning, Miss Wood. I, however, am curious about what Lady Faith has brought with her.”

  “A present.” Faith retrieved the box from Stony.

  Daniel was going to be so surprised. At daybreak, she and her mother, accompanied by some of the regent’s guardsmen and several servants carrying a long chest, had gone to retrieve Granger’s body from the lake. After the men left, at her mother’s encouragement, Faith had hiked up her skirts and waded into the water to retrieve something that she hoped would be much more important.

  Her cheeks warm, she held up her gift. “With Wellington’s ball over, I advised my father that I was now ready to name the man I will marry.”

  The chatter in the room hushed.

  She opened the box’s lid and took out a cleaned and polished black evening shoe. Faith stepped closer to Daniel, her heart drumming like a r
unaway horse.

  He wore a bemused expression, his gaze focused with confusion on the shoe. Faith held it out to him. “I have informed my parents that I will only marry the man who can fit this shoe, for my mother tells me its owner is brave and kind and a hero in her eyes, as he has been in mine since the first moment we met.”

  Daniel tugged her close and kissed her. Thoroughly.

  “Do you have the matching shoe, sir?” Stony asked.

  “It is in my room,” Daniel said, his gaze never leaving hers.

  Sir Phillip sent Stony to fetch the other shoe, and said to Daniel, “Go on then, try it on. I want your departure from my wine cellar to be official.”

  Grinning, Daniel removed his brown, only twice-passed-around new boots and slid the evening shoe onto his right foot. It was a perfect fit.

  Faith took his hand. “Will you take me as your wife, sir?”

  He kissed her palm. “I most assuredly will, my lady.”

  A collective cheer went up and everyone rushed over to congratulate them. All but Miss Wood, who seemed lost in her study of Daniel’s family portrait.

  The celebration was still going on when Stony ran back with the missing shoe. It was scratched and muddy and reeked of fish. Daniel put that one on, too.

  Faith eyed the man standing in one polished shoe and one filthy one. Her man of two worlds. “They suit you, Daniel.”

  FLEXING HIS TOES, Daniel stared at his new shoes, overwhelmed by an odd sense of homecoming. “I shall keep them always, Faith,” he said, “so I never forget where I have been, and the world to which I am returning.”

  Andrew came over to them. “I did not say so before, but I, too, wish to add my congratulations.”

  His brother looked forlorn and it tore at Daniel’s heart.

  Faith took Andrew’s hands. “Thank you. Your blessing means a great deal to us, more than you can imagine.”

  “Thank you for everything you have done,” Andrew said.

  Daniel gave a harsh laugh. “I have made you miserable. Thanks are hardly necessary.”

  There were tears in Andrew’s eyes. “It was I who made you unhappy. But that will not be for much longer. You have no need to worry on my behalf. I shall catch a ship to the Americas.”