Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse (3 page)

Luke shrank back against the
cushions and eyed the wall of detestable objects once more.

“Do you like to read, your
lordship?” asked Lilli.

“Yes, actually I do. I just
finished
Gulliver’s Travels
by Jonathan Swift and found myself most
entertained.”

Zilla fanned her bosom. “I detest
reading. What does a woman need with dusty books and useless knowledge? It is
not like she will ever be allowed to put it to use. Much better that she stay
in the home and instruct her husband.”

“But, Zilla,” said Lady Elis,
shyly, “how can you instruct your husband wisely without knowledge?”

Zilla replied, “Seriously,
Mother, I can’t believe you, of all people, asked this question. You’ve
survived all this time without intelligence or wit, so I would think the answer
would be obvious.”

The crowd shifted uncomfortably
as Lady Elis buried her chin in her chest and gazed downward.

Cold rage surged through Luke’s
veins as he stood and bowed; the slight to her mother was more than he could
handle. Perhaps marrying the twit would be worth it just so he could place her
over his knee. Tugging his coat in place, he said, “I do apologize, but I must
be on my way.”

Zilla fluttered her lashes over
the edge of her fan. “Must you be going so soon?”

“Aye, I must. I’ve received word
from my family that I’m needed at home.”

Zilla jumped to her feet and
grabbed his arm. “Oh, do tell me you plan to return? The party circuit will be
so boring without you.”

Luke studied her face. Short
dark-blond hair mingled in thick curls around her thin face. Her pointed nose
and high cheekbones combined with hazel eyes had often been touted as a noble
trademark. Tall and reed thin, she would never be a beauty. Her wealth,
however, would continue to draw attention.

She batted her thin lashes. Was
she really as heartless as she seemed? Or was her attitude born more from a
sense of immaturity and boredom? Did he care if he ever discovered her true
nature?

He answered, “I cannot promise.”

She protruded her lip like a
child who had lost a favorite toy. “But you must promise! I will simply die if
you do not!”

Luke bowed again. “I will
endeavor to return.”

Zilla must have taken his words
as a pledge because she clapped and said, “Excellent. We shall make plans to
receive you in a month. That should be plenty of time for you to take care of
your family business and return to my side.”

Luke didn’t answer. He paid his
respects to Lord and Lady Elis, thanking them for their hospitality before
quitting the room. No sooner had he turned his back than he heard Zilla calling
after another gentleman.

Chadwick reviewed his plan from
all angles. The way he saw it, it was the only way to pay off his gambling
debts and replace the money in the estate coffers before his brother returned.
Complications, such as where to find a partner for his little adventure, were
shoved aside under the overwhelming need to acquire coin. His pulse raced. The
challenge drew him as much as his need and the thrill of the anticipated
escapade brought excitement to his dull existence.

In the hour since he’d formulated
the idea, he had confided the plan to Roland, the butler, who simply shook his
head but agreed to help in any way necessary.

Chadwick drummed his fingers on
the library’s chair arm. The sounds of shouting and slamming doors echoed
through the wide halls and he jumped to his feet, startled, as the door was
flung open.

“What is that terrible smell?”
asked Chadwick, pinching his nose.

“Sir, I apologize. The young
wench retched.”

Chadwick opened his mouth to
chastise the footman but closed it just as quickly. Indeed, the footman did
hold two legs encased in pale muslin, the rest of the figure presumably tossed
over his shoulder. “A lady?”

“Aye.” Manny dropped her on the
floor.

She rose on her elbow and moved
hair from her eyes. “I demand to know where I am.”

Chadwick twitched his lips. The
young lady had long curly auburn hair, pale blue eyes, and a splattering of
freckles across her pert nose. If she hadn’t looked like a street urchin who
had just crawled out from under a rock, her presence would have had a
devastating effect on his passionate nature.

He bent and offered his hand.
Grudgingly she accepted and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Welcome to
the Andrews estate. I’m B-Baron Chadwick Andrews,“ he stuttered, looking at
Manny, who narrowed his eyes but offered no comment. “With whom do I have the
pleasure of speaking?”

The girl cast a wide-eyed look at
the footman, made no notice of his claim, and replied, “I’m Brigitta Blackburn.”

“Aye, Brigitta Blackburn. A
beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

The head footman scoffed and
Chadwick sent him what he hoped was a scathing look. Returning his attention to
Brigitta, he said, “I’m sorry for the manner in which you were brought to the
manse. Manny is normally more gentle when he escorts a woman.”

“Begging your pardon, but that is
no woman. She is a cat, or a devil. I’ll have scratches for the rest of my
life.”

Chadwick lifted his hand, palm
out. “Silence, Manny. Thank you, but you may go.”

“But, sir! Don’t you want to know
what she did?”

“I didn’t do anything!” yelled
Brigitta.

Chadwick moved his hands up and
down. “Please, calm down. I’m sure whatever it is can be explained.”

She folded her hands demurely in front
of her and said, “Of course it can be explained. I was hungry so I took a few
broken branches to start a fire.”

“There, you see, Manny. She just
took a few sticks to start a fire.”

“Sir, this might not sound like a
bad thing, but this is the way it starts. First one young lady takes a few
sticks, and then more people come and they take sticks and the next thing you
know the entire population of Stockport is taking your wood. What will you do
when—”

“Silence!” said Chadwick, his
voice rising. His chest heaved and he swallowed several deep breaths to calm
himself. He placed a hand on Manny’s shoulder and squeezed until the footman
again narrowed his gaze. “I understand your concern. Now, if you will politely
leave my room, I assure you I will deal with the issue.”

The footman took the hint, bowed,
and exited. Left alone with Brigitta, Chadwick felt like giggling in delight.
The answer to all his plan’s complications unfolded before him. In fact,
she
stood before him.

In hopes of calming her aroused
nerves, he poured them both a drink of sherry and handed Brigitta one glass. “I
do apologize for Manny’s behavior. As I said—”

“He is normally more polite to
women.”

“Exactly.” He pointed to the sofa
and she hesitated to sit. “Do not mind your clothing. The servants have very
little to do and they will relish the opportunity to wash the sofa.”

Brigitta perched on the edge and
cradled the glass in her lap.

He took a sip. “So you say you
used sticks from my woods to fuel your cook fire.”

“Yes.”

“Am I correct in presuming this
was not your first choice?”

“Yes,” she said, gaze downcast.

“Perhaps you would care to relate
to me why you found yourself in my wood preparing your supper.”

“I see no need.”

He chuckled. “That’s delightful;
you
see no need.” He sipped and leaned forward. Firelight caught his face and he
was aware of his heartfelt look. “Here is what I see. I see a young woman whose
clothing is tattered, whose hair is dirty, yet who has intelligent eyes and a
gentle face. A woman who under the correct tutelage could have aspired to
greater things than to steal from a peer.”

Tears pooled in her eyes and she
sniffed.
Oh, he had her now.
He settled against the sofa and almost
shouted with happiness. Now that he had her on the line, all he needed to do
was pull her in.

He patted her knee, compassion
flowing from his every pore. “Please forgive Manny for causing you such great
distress and allow me to rectify the situation.”

“There is no need. If you will
just let me go—”

“Nonsense! The weather has turned
particularly nasty and I insist you stay here for the night.” Before she could
brook an argument, he pulled the servants’ bell rope.

“Letta, you will escort Miss
Blackburn.” He faced her. “I am correct in assuming it is Miss?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now, Letta, I want you to
escort Miss Blackburn to an empty room in the east wing. Draw a bath, find her
something clean to wear, and when she is properly attired, bring her to supper.”

Letta bowed. “Yes, sir.” She
waited as a wary Brigitta followed her from the room.

****

Luke raced around the room,
gathering his things. The sooner he left London, the better. With the stops he
planned to make, he wouldn’t reach home for at least two weeks.

A knock sounded. “Come in,” he
said, looking up from his open bag.

Mrs. Smith stood in the open
doorway and wrung her hands. “Oh, your lordship, I’m so sorry to hear the news.”

Baffled, Luke cocked a brow and
tilted his head.

“Of course I don’t know any of
the particulars, mind you, just what Paulina heard while she scouted the
market.”

“What are you talking about?”
asked Luke.

“Why, I’m talking of the news of
your family, your lordship. For whatever reason you need to rush home, I assure
you I will keep the place in top shape until you return…”

Mrs. Smith continued. Luke opened
his mouth to explain but she wouldn’t have it. “Like I said, I don’t know one
whit about what has happened in Stockport, but know that I’m still here if you
need someone to listen. I remember when I was young and my friends would come
and tell me their troubles and they always seemed to leave in a much better
mood than when they arrived.”

“Mrs. Smith, if I may interject?”

“Of course, your lordship.” She
blinked rapidly.

“Um, yes, well, the fact is, my
family is fine.”

“What?” Her hand fluttered over
her heart.

“That is to say, I don’t know of
any specific problem. Truth is, I find myself increasingly missing Stockport.”

“Oh.”

“That is not to say that the
company I’ve kept in London has been—”

“Say no more, your lordship.” She
lifted her hand. “I completely understand. That shrew of a young lady, what is
her name, Zilla, crazy family all named with Z. I believe her mother’s name is
Zola, why, I never heard of such a thing. But as I was saying, if I had to
spend hours in the company of Zilla, I’d be ready for Stockport myself.”

Rosabel left the room still
talking. Luke quit listening and finished packing. With any luck he would be on
the road by nightfall.

Letta escorted Brigitta to an
empty suite of rooms. The door opened and dank air invaded her lungs. A fit of
coughing assailed her and she covered her mouth as she entered.

“I’m sorry, miss. We keep these
rooms closed unless we are expecting company. But never you fear, I’ll have it
aired out for you soon enough.”

Brigitta twirled in a slow
circle, careful to take in the surroundings. Brightly colored hand-woven
tapestries covered three of the walls. The fourth wall sported a vacant
fireplace. Blue and violet oriental rugs swathed the floor. A four-poster
canopy bed dwarfed the bedroom while a long sofa and chair constituted a
sitting area.

Awed, she stroked the violet silk
fabric of the bed coverlet and swallowed.

Letta opened the shutters and
pulled dusty sheets off the furniture. Finished, she said, “I’ll be right back.
I gotta run and get the water boiling and have Manny bring up the tub.”

“Does it have to be Manny?” she
asked a little too quickly.

“I guess it doesn’t but he is the
easiest to get. Most of the other footmen are new and quite lazy.”

“If he is the only one…” The words
trailed off and she hoped Letta understood her meaning.

Letta lifted a brow and quietly
left the room.

Left alone, Brigitta searched the
wardrobe. Dresses of quality hung on the rack and she drew one down and draped
it across her body, studying herself in a full-length mirror.

The vision reflected back was
enough to make her want to retch again. Dirt smeared her cheeks, twigs poked
from her hair, and bruises covered her arms and hands. Sorrow threatened to
consume her but she buried it. Here she was in the baron’s manse about to enjoy
a hot bath, wear a new dress, and sit down for supper in a regal dining hall.
Regardless of what came afterward, for now she would revel in the experience.

Letta returned with Manny. He
carried a metal tub and set it down. He didn’t speak, but offered a grunt or
two as Letta instructed him to start a fire and move the tub closer to the
fireplace.

After Manny exited, grumbling,
slouching footmen carried buckets of water into the room. By the time they
finished, the water was an even temperature and Brigitta was able to slide
inside.

Letta left the room with the
promise of returning shortly. Brigitta took her at her word and bathed as
quickly as possible. Dried, she dressed in the underclothes and afternoon gown
Letta had draped on the bed. Unfortunately, the dress was not one from the
closet. Pale yellow, the color washed out her skin. The white chemisette placed
underneath to cover her breasts and her arms did little to help.

She used her fingers to comb
through her tangled curls. Letta returned and had her sit while she applied a
brush to the long strands.

“I’ve never seen such thick hair,”
Letta complained as she dragged the brush through the mass.

“I get it from my mother,” said
Brigitta, biting her lip to keep from yelping.

“I think you should have given it
back,” said Letta, the corner of her lip tilted upward.

“Trust me, I tried, but my mother
refused to take it.”

They laughed, Letta coughed, and
the solemnity returned.

“I appreciate your kindness,”
said Brigitta.

“My kindness?” whispered Letta.

“I know you have been ordered to
assist me, but you don’t have to be polite while doing so.”

Letta opened her mouth to respond
but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“May I come in?” asked Chadwick
as he pushed into the room.

Brigitta took to her feet and grabbed
Letta’s hand and squeezed.

His jaw dropped and he clasped
the sides of his face. “Brigitta? Is that you? You look positively stunning!
And yellow is the perfect color.”

Brigitta struggled to maintain a
straight face.

“If you’ve finished, please allow
me to escort you to supper.”

Letta released her hand and
nudged her forward. Chadwick held out his arm and she gnawed on her lip and
stared at his offering hesitantly. Lifting her gaze, she studied his
expression. His lips twitched as if he were amused at her uncertainty, her
discomfort. Tilting her head, with a defiant air, she clasped his arm.

The trip from the suite to the
dining hall floated past in a daze as she worked to shore up her courage.
Portraits, tapestries, baubles, suits of armor, all flashed by and blurred
together. Chadwick kept up a running monologue.

“The house has been here since
before Stockport Castle was destroyed. However, we did acquire several pieces
from the old place. My brother likes to keep old things hanging about.”

They ended in the dining hall.
Brigitta glanced around; her heart thumped madly in her chest as her concern
mounted that she would never find her way back to her room. Chadwick placed a
hand on the small of her back until she took a seat. He scooted her close to the
table before taking his own chair at the table’s head.

Twenty people could easily sit
around the table but only their two seats were filled. Multiple candelabras
provided light. Food covered half of the tabletop and Brigitta salivated at the
smells.

“I’ve had the cook prepare a
variety of dishes. Feel free to eat whatever you wish and until you’re ready to
burst if you so desire.”

Brigitta would concern herself
with embarrassment later. For now she planned to feast. The meal was half
consumed and she patted her stomach before she realized she hadn’t tasted a
single item.

A short pudgy man, with a shock
of white hair, strode into the room. “Sir, may I have a word?”

“You will excuse me?” asked
Chadwick.

“Of course,” said Brigitta.

Chadwick left the room and Brigitta
broke off a piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth.

****

Chadwick followed Roland into the
hallway. “What do you think?”

“Sir, I’m not sure this is a good
idea.”

“No, it’s perfect. She is
perfect. All I need to do is woo her for a few days, find a minister willing to
pretend to marry us, and then invite the tourists. It will work like a charm.”

“But what if she doesn’t
cooperate?”

“That is why I need you. I can’t
make her angry yet; that would ruin my attempt to woo her. So I need you to assess
her behavior, her temperament. I need to know if she will show the character I
need when the time is right.”

“Forgive the question, sir, but
why don’t you just tell her what you want and offer her room and board for her
services.”

Chadwick patted his back. “Dear,
dear Roland, you just don’t understand good theater. If she isn’t a good
actress then my plan will fail. But if she really believes we’re married, and
the quarreling is legit, then I know she’ll be good.”

“What of the staff?”

“What of them?” Chadwick asked,
crossing his arms over his chest.

“They might not be willing to go
along with your plan.”

“Call them.”

Roland cocked a brow. “What about
the lady, sir?”

Chadwick peeked around the
corner. Brigitta popped bites of chicken into her mouth and sipped greedily at
her wine cup. “She is occupied. Call the staff.”

Roland nodded and flowed away.
Chadwick crossed the hall to the drawing room and waited. The staff poured in
and lined the walls, the maids taking a seat when he cleared his throat. Some groups,
such as the footmen and kitchen staff, sent only a representative.

“Is this all that is coming?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Roland.

Concentrating on filling the room
with his presence, Chadwick sucked in deep breaths. Playing to his audience, he
ignored the insipid color scheme and pretended scarlet curtains enfolded him. “Good.”
He flashed his most brilliant smile. “Ladies and gentleman, I’ve called you
here today on a matter of greatest importance.”
First rule of getting what
you want, appeal to their vanity.

A footman elbowed a maid in the
side and whispered something unintelligible. Chadwick cleared his throat and
all eyes reverted back to him. “As I was saying, a matter of greatest
importance.” He paced and tapped his finger to his forehead. “Most of you are
new to the estate, but I’m sure you have heard that in recent years the estate’s
funds have dwindled. Try as my brother might, he has not been able to stem the
flow. In his absence, he has given me permission to raise funds and Roland and
I have devised a plan. However, the plan will not work without your assistance.”

They leaned forward.

“A young lady has come into our
midst. Some of you have met her.” Letta raised her hand. “Others of you have
heard about her.” Others nodded. Manny grunted. “This young lady will be key to
raising funds for Stockport. How, you ask? This is how. A ruse.”

The servants narrowed their
gazes. Anticipation had them licking their lips.

“The young lady and I will
pretend to be married.” Gasps echoed around the room and he held his hands up
for silence. “During our pretense, she and I will take on the roles of Baron
and Baroness Andrews and we will put on a show for tourists. The show will
bring in the money needed to fund the estate.”

Whispers rushed around the room,
and Chadwick rose from his slackened position and fisted his hands at his
sides. “If you disagree with my plan, then say so now. For without what I
propose, you might as well pack your bags and head for home because the estate
will be broke within the month.”

The servants lowered their gazes
to the floor.

“That is what I thought.” He
straightened his dinner coat, and said, “Dismissed.”

Collectively they rose and
shuffled from the room. Roland was at the end of the line.

“Now, Roland, the staff has
agreed. It is time for you to help me.”

“One more thing, sir. What about
the banns? They will have to be read.”

“Then have them read.”

“But sir, they must be read for
three weeks unless you acquire a special license, which would require a trip to
London.”

Chadwick ran his hand through his
hair in agitation. This was a complication he had not planned for.

“And what of the vicar? He will
never willingly participate.”

Of course Roland was correct. The
old curmudgeon would never agree to the plan. Chadwick gritted his teeth. A smile
tugged at the corner of his lips. “What of the rector? Could he not perform the
ceremony?”

“The rector?”

“Yes, yes. Hasn’t the vicar been
ill recently?”

“I have heard—”

“We shall send the vicar home to
visit and recover with his family. Also, send a servant to the solicitor and
have a fake license created. Brigitta will not know the difference. And have
the banns read starting this afternoon.”

“And the rector?”

“I will converse with the rector.”

“But sir, the likelihood—”

“That will be all.”

Roland bowed and sighed. “As you
wish.”

“Good. Now, before you run those
errands, go into the dining hall and make her angry.”

“How do you propose I do that?”

“I don’t know. Stare at her,
insult her, say something, anything, to make her upset. I know you can do it.”

“Thank you for the confidence,
sir.” Roland stalked across the hallway and entered the dining hall.

The rector would be more than
happy to falsify documents and anything else on his behalf, after Chadwick
informed him he knew of his transgressions. Faro was a fine gentlemen’s game,
but rectors should abstain.

Chadwick edged around the door
facing and rubbed his hands in delight. He could practically feel the coins
jingling in his pocket.