Andrews Brothers 02 - The Rescue (17 page)

“This is a bad idea.”

Brigitta stopped admiring the fireplace and enjoying the radiant heat to face her sullen husband. She arranged her skirts, and settled beside him. He drew her hand to his lips. The familiar sensation still brought a flush to her cheeks.

“I fear for your safety. A journey of this magnitude—”

“Will be perfectly all right. Don’t you know how excited I am to visit my family?”

“Hmm.”

She withdrew her hands, rose, and twirled. When she stopped a mad dizziness clouded her vision. Luke steadied her.

“Whoa. You must slow down or the only place you’ll go is to bed.”

“Is that a promise?” She winked and clung to his arms.

He groaned and cradled her against his chest. “You are a vixen.”

“I know,” she said, tweaking his nose. She played with the folds of his cravat and tugged the silken material free from his collar. The alone time she’d spent in the antechamber off the library had convinced her to speak with Luke. She knew they could help her cousin if only they made the journey north.

He hadn’t been happy about her insistence, but after nights of coaxing, he’d finally given in.

Luke hoisted her in his arms and carried her to the foyer. His foot landed on the first step just as a door slammed behind them. Luke spun, and Brigitta tightened her hold on his neck.

The visitor reddened and shifted his vision downward. “I bring a message for the Baron of Stockport.”

Luke released her and she smoothed her skirts, fighting her own embarrassment.

“I’m the Baron.”

The messenger handed over a folded paper and waited with his hat in his hand.

Luke gave him a shilling. The messenger smiled, shoved his hat in place, and fairly skipped to the door. When they were alone, Luke studied the note. “I think he was wrong.”

“What?”

“This letter appears to be for you.”

Brigitta took the note and hurried to the library. The setting of the room was lost on her as she broke the seal.

Dearest Brigitta,

I must apologize for my continued harping, but my need of your assistance escalates. After Father’s erroneous actions, I’ve been placed in an impossible predicament. Mistakenly, I assumed the worst had occurred,
yet I find now I was misled. Indeed the worse is yet to come!

Upon awaking this morning a host of brothers arrived and laid claim to Flannigan lands. This wouldn’t have been nearly
as troublesome had my maid not went
mad
and attacked
me! If not for
Lord
Greywold, yes,
you heard correctly,
then I would have surely been sliced.
I flung a vase, it shattered, and she
swung the shards at my face!

I must pause and take a deep breath. While the incident is over,
the memory has failed to fade.

I received your letter,
and have decided I can wait only a little while longer. Without your assistance I fear I will be forced to
escape
to the shore and reach out to Angus. I know you consider my idea an illogical solution,
but I fear it may be my only recourse.

Know that I wish not to pressure you. I hope all is well. Your loving cousin, Farrah Burrows
Brigitta laid the letter on a low table and fell onto the sofa cushions. Head back against the frame, she massaged her temple and pondered how soon they could leave Stockport.

****

Light shone through the thick glass panes and struck the teak wood furniture. The brightly colored drapes and wall hangings failed to distract Chadwick as he paced the library. The portrait of his imaginary father mocked him. He wasn’t even allowed a moment to revel in his good fortune!

Above him Farrah slept, paced, cursed, combed her hair—who knew what young ladies did?—whilst he was relegated to pacing the library and throwing visitors off her scent. Already Garrett had knocked upon the door and insisted on meeting Rowena.

Immediately Garrett’s less than cordial behavior stuck him on Rowena’s naughty list and she sullied up and refused to speak. Chadwick had kept out of sight and hid his laughter with great restraint. Frustrated with Rowena’s lack of cooperation the footman had taken his leave, promising to send someone else in his stead.

Chadwick needed a plan. He couldn’t keep Farrah secreted away in the attic forever. Sooner or later the house would be searched and then where would they be? She would be thrown back into the snakes den that was her new home and he would be without a cause. A very dangerous place for him at the moment.

He ran a hand through his thick black hair. Passing a mirror, he considered his reflection. If he closed his eyes, he could visualize his brother. They were so similar in height and build, the darkness of their eyes the only distinguishing factor. He found it hard to believe the duplicity he’d enacted in Stockport. It seemed like a different world, another lifetime.

Hands clasped behind his back, he stalked the length of the room, skirting around triangular-shaped tables. The area reminded him of the music room at the lake house. Perhaps he should whisk Farrah there. No one would ever think to look for them in a secluded lake house far from Rochdale. He could take his time and woo her properly. If they ever returned, the situation with the Flannigan land was sure to be resolved. Devlin would have been found out and ousted, and the property would be rightly returned to Farrah as Clovis’ only living wife.

But what if he took Farrah to the lake house and Luke and Brigitta decided to visit? Was he ready to face his brother? Was he ready to witness Luke’s disappointed face? Or to perhaps feel a noose about his neck? There was no way his brother would forgive him. Best just to stay away.

There had to be another solution. There was always another solution.

“Andrew!” The shrill sound of Lady Rowena’s voice echoed throughout the hallway.

“I’m in the library, Mother.” The word sounded strange, but good, and Chadwick ignored the pang of guilt at the continued lie.

“Oh, there you are.” She settled upon one of the sofas, the back of her hand to her forehead. “I’ve been distraught over Garrett’s visit. The audacity of the man! Why how dare he visit and accuse me of harboring Farrah. The miscreant.”

Was Rowena implying that Farrah was the troublemaker? Or Garrett? Chadwick was afraid to ask. He poured her a glass of sherry and settled beside her.

“Thank you.” She sipped the drink and waved her hand agitatedly through the air. “Why must they insist on bringing their problems to my doorstep? Years ago, when Holly brought Clovis home I told her she shouldn’t marry him, he would be nothing but trouble. But she never listened. That woman had her head so high in the clouds, thinking she was in love. Pshaw! What did she know of love? Clovis was young at the time, and not quite bad to look upon.”

Chadwick swallowed and tried not to visualize the image she suggested.

“In fact, I fancied he would be attracted to me. I did tell you that he asked me to marry him?”

“Yes, Mother, you did.”

She patted his knee and took another sip. “It was 1752. Holly was considerably older than me, twenty years my senior. But we were the only two ladies around. Bless her heart, no one expected her to die so young.” Rowena sighed and played with the folds of her skirt. “Anyway, what are we going to do about this situation? I can’t have Flannigan’s or Burrows’ footmen showing up at all hours of the day accusing me of harboring Farrah. While I like the child, and I had an affinity for her mother, I won’t have fingers pointed at me for something I had no part in.”

Chadwick cleared his throat and scuffed the toe of his boot beneath a rug.

“Andrew? Is there something I need to know?”

He lifted his chin. “Yes, Mother.”

“Well, what is it? If I sit here wondering too much longer I might die of old age!”

Chadwick snickered under his breath but quickly straightened. “Mother, there might be a bit of truth to Garrett’s accusations.”

Skirts ruffled as she adjusted to face him. She placed her hands on either side of his face. “Now, what have you done?”

He gulped.
Try the truth
. “Well, I-I, Kingsley helped me hide Farrah in the attic storey.”

Rowena removed her hands. She blinked rapidly. Then she burst out in raucous laughter, slapped her thighs, jumped to her feet, and danced a jig. Chadwick feared an episode and angled himself in a position to spring and retrieve Kingsley.

“Who would have ever thought you had it in you! You said you wanted to protect Farrah and you did.”

Stunned, he couldn’t move.

She plopped beside him. “Now we just have to think of a way to throw them off the scent. We can’t have them snooping around here all the time. You need an opportunity to woo the lass.”

He widened his eyes surprised by her behavior and her words.

“Oh, don’t think I haven’t seen the eyes you been making at the girl. If you’d had a chance to meet her before Clovis I’d say we’d all be a sight happier. If that fool Winlock hadn’t went on and signed his fortune away then this would be easier. But no matter. I have a plan.”

****

“Andrew, don’t slouch. Remember you must remain confident. There can be no chinks in your armor or Lord Greywold, Garrett, or Lord Mountjoy, will see through it immediately. We must enter with our heads lowered and angst about our person. Garrett informed us that Farrah has gone missing and we are prepared to assist in searching for her, no matter what.”

“Of course, Mother.” Chadwick couldn’t keep the pride from his voice. Rowena was a better schemer than he ever thought about being. Now the question became could she enact the performance so everyone believed her.

Mortimer released the carriage door and assisted Rowena to the ground. She waited until Chadwick offered his arm and they strolled toward the front entrance together. No staff hurried out to greet them. The sentries that normally patrolled the yard were decidedly absent.

He whispered, “Where is everyone?”

“I’m sure they are about. Just keep your eyes forward. We must act surprised by whatever chaos we find.”

Chadwick lifted the knocker. The sound echoed, but no one appeared at the door. Minutes passed and Rowena trembled beside him. He took off his greatcoat and laid it across her shoulders.

“Thank you, dear.”

He nodded and went to lift the knocker again. His fingers touched the brass as the door was jerked roughly open.

“Yes?” said a breathless footman.

“We are here to see…” Chadwick paused and shot a glance at his mother. Who where they going to see? There were so many heads of household within, who did one ask for?

“Lord Mountjoy,” she offered.

The footman stepped aside and they entered. Rowena handed Chadwick’s greatcoat and her pelisse to the footman. “Where is Bennington?”

“Umm, I don’t know, my lady.”

“I see.”

Chadwick peered over the footman’s head. The corridor was empty of persons, yet the echo of raised voices reached his hearing. “It sounds like someone is having a party.”

“Oh, no, not a party, my lord, more like an argument.”

“Ah.”

The footman continued, “You see the young mistress has taken off, and they’ve all gathered in the library to discuss her whereabouts. The staff has a pool going. It could be she left for the coast where her original love has secreted himself to the sea, or it could be she returned home. That’s where I’d go, or it could be—” The footman stopped suddenly, his cheeks reddening. As if he just realized to whom he spoke, he said, “Come this way, my lord.”

They followed him to the library and stopped at the open door.

“Well I say I don’t know what happened to her! The Hagans haven’t spoken to the young lady since we arrived.”

“I saw how you looked at her,” added Lucretia. “Like you wished to devour her.”

“And we saw how you looked at her. Why, you tried to cut her up! Maybe you snuck and done it while she slept and you done buried her up on the hill,” said Cormac in his thick Irish brogue.

Winlock buried his head in his hands and groaned. Garrett patted his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

Chadwick searched for Devlin. He stood alone in a corner, his head bent. Chadwick pondered his actions. Should he inject into the conversation or wait until he was acknowledged?

The wail that rent the air sent his heart racing. Rowena ran to Winlock’s side and fell to her knees. “Oh, Lord Mountjoy, I’m so sorry to hear about Farrah. If there is anything that Andrew and I can do…”

Her words drifted away. Winlock cradled her hands and drew her to the seat beside him. Her actions had scared the crowd into silence, but only briefly.

“What are they doing here?” asked Cormac.

“They are our closest neighbors.” Trace nodded in Chadwick’s direction.

“So? Do we need more people? I say we gather and take some of them thoroughbred horses from
Daddy’s
stable and look for the lass. She couldn’t have gone too far.”

Trace bristled and lifted his balled fists. “I’m tired of you insulting our father.”

Cormac laughed. “You, with your fancy speech and stuff, was still nothing more to the old man than a servant. Did you wash out his pantaloons?”

Trace lowered his fists; his face transformed a bright red. “At least I was allowed in his presence! You were sent to live with a maid!”

Insults volleyed back and forth. Devlin didn’t move. Garrett didn’t move. Winlock didn’t move. Chadwick had to do something.

“Stop this foolishness!” The authoritative tone bellowed from Rowena. Everyone gazed with wide eyes as she rose shakily to her dainty feet. “One thing we know for certain is that Farrah isn’t in this room. Now get outside and look. She could be freezing to death.”

The lot of them rushed to the library door, fighting to get through the exit first. Rowena sighed and Chadwick fought a rising tide of laughter. The room cleared, and Rowena returned to Winlock’s side. Chadwick attempted to move closer, but was thwarted.