Forever Safe (Beacons of Hope) (10 page)

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“It is,” she said into her hands. “It’s utterly and completely ruined.”

“We can postpone—”

“I thought this time with Nathaniel, I could do it. I really did,” came her teary voice. “But I should have known it wouldn’t work. I should have known I’d end up doing something to ruin it.” Her sobs were muffled but heart-wrenching.

Tom sat back on his heels and wiped the perspiration off his forehead. He was accustomed to crying women. He’d been around theatrics and tantrums and drama as long as he’d been a bodyguard. But this was different. She wasn’t putting on a show or attempting to manipulate him. Her pain was genuine and went deep.

He watched her, unsure what to do. She didn’t need his platitudes or promises. And she didn’t need to hear all his doubts, especially that he hadn’t thought Nathaniel was right for her in the first place.

All he could think to do was lay his hand on her back. At his touch, she leaned into him and pressed her forehead against his chest. Her body shook with sobs. He knew he should set her away from him or, at the very least, help her stand and walk back to the grassy embankment. But with the warmth of her body so near, with her tears soaking into his shirt… He hesitated for only a moment before pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her.

She melded against him, and he held her, knowing he shouldn’t. But he was helpless to do anything else.

V
ictoria leaned against the closed door of her father’s study. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but after saying goodbye to Nathaniel, she hadn’t been able to ignore her father and Mr. Cushman’s voices deep in conversation, discussing all that had happened earlier in the day.

Mr. Cushman had been relaying details about the investigations he’d done that afternoon. He’d attempted to follow the perpetrator’s trail, had gone into town and asked around, had visited all the haunts where a criminal might hole up. He’d even questioned Davis several times. But the coachman hadn’t seen the attacker who’d knocked him out before climbing up and taking his place. Mr. Cushman had found Davis hidden under a hedge, unconscious and bleeding from a head wound.

Now her father and Mr. Cushman were talking about a letter that had been placed on the front step of the house only an hour ago. She trembled at the thought that the kidnapper was still on the loose and might try to come after her again.

“Do you think the letter and this morning’s attack are related?” her father asked.

“Yes.” Mr. Cushman’s voice was low and earnest. Victoria could picture him sitting in a chair across the desk from her father, his shoulders straight and stiff, the muscles in his jaw flexing, and his brows slanted in frustration. “Which means we can’t have the wedding tomorrow.”

Victoria had been so convinced earlier that she ruined everything again. That perhaps she was the one sabotaging her attempts at getting married. That her fears were rising up and causing all the problems.

When Nathaniel had reassured her that none of day’s events were her fault, she’d wanted so badly to believe him. He’d promised her that any dress she chose for the wedding would be sufficient, that he didn’t care what she wore. And he’d very gently and sweetly convinced her to reschedule the wedding for tomorrow.

The tables and chairs and decorations for the wedding breakfast were all still set up on the spacious veranda at the back of the house. The guests were still in town. Mother had insisted that the flowers could be put in water and preserved.

Even now her mother was down in the kitchen speaking with the cook about what could be salvaged from the food they’d prepared for today and what would need to be remade. Already, her mother had hired several more cooks who were willing to work through the night to prepare another lavish feast for the wedding guests.

“We have to postpone,” Mr. Cushman insisted.

“But if I hire a few extra guards, plan a different route—”

“It would still be too dangerous.”

When her father didn’t contradict Mr. Cushman, Victoria guessed the threat that the letter contained must be serious.

Mr. Cushman lowered his voice so that Victoria had to press her ear against the keyhole to hear him. “I suggest putting Victoria into hiding.”

Her father didn’t respond. She guessed he was sitting back in his leather desk chair, his hands pressed together at his chin, and pondering Mr. Cushman’s advice thoughtfully. Finally, her father spoke in the same low tone as Mr. Cushman. “For how long?”

“A month should be enough to find the attacker.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“Arch has offered to search for him. If he can’t track him down, we’ll bait him.” The words were spoken so softly she almost didn’t hear him. She didn’t understand exactly what Mr. Cushman intended, but the deadliness of his tone made her shiver.

Again, her father was silent in contemplation. “Do you have any suggestions for a safe hiding place? One of my horse farms? Perhaps my home in Chicago? Or do you think Europe would be best?”

“None of those. It can’t be any place connected with you.”

What if she didn’t want to go into hiding? Did either of them consider that? Surely they were exaggerating the seriousness of the situation.

But even as she attempted to stay positive, the memories of the dangerous ride down Ocean Drive came crowding back. The terrifying moment of not knowing who had captured her, where he was taking her, or what he would do to her. The terrible feeling of helplessness. One look into the maid’s frightened eyes had spurred Victoria to try to do something to save them while she still could. Of course, Mr. Cushman had scolded her severely for leaning out the carriage and throwing her shoes, but he had reluctantly admitted that the distraction had likely saved them.

“I have a place I can take her,” Mr. Cushman said. “Where no one will find her until I’m ready for them to.”

“What do you have in mind?”

The voices faded to whispers for several moments, and she sighed in frustration.

“And you’ll be chaperoned?” her father’s question was barely audible, but his concern was loud enough.

“Yes…” Mr. Cushman hesitated. “But Victoria will have to pose as my wife.”

The suggestion was so unexpected that Victoria sucked in a breath.

“No,” her father replied. “That’s taking things too far.”

“An unmarried man and woman traveling together would stand out. We’d be much easier to trail for anyone who might search.”

That made sense. If he acted as her bodyguard, his usual protective demeanor and habits would likely draw too much attention to them. But if they were disguised as a married couple. . .

Warmth coiled in her belly at the thought. Rationally, she knew that he wouldn’t have suggested it if there were any other feasible plan. Even so, the idea of spending a month with Mr. Cushman pretending to be his wife sounded deliciously appealing.

Another silence stretched in her father’s office, during which her mind spun with all the possibilities, particularly the thought of Mr. Cushman doting on her and calling her sweetheart and spending time with her, not in the background as her bodyguard. But always next to her side. As her husband.

“No,” her father said again. “I don’t want to put her reputation at risk. I have nothing against you, mind you. You’re a fine young man. But if anyone discovered the plan, they could spread rumors, and then she’d ruin her chances with Nathaniel.”

“He loves her enough to go along with it.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think she’d be willing to go to such extreme measures.”

“Let’s ask her.”

“Very well,” her father responded.

“You can come in, Victoria,” Mr. Cushman said.

Victoria jumped. How had he known she was standing outside the door listening? She put her hand to the knob and opened the door a crack.

Her father glanced up in surprise. “Have you been listening to our conversation?”

“I’m sorry, Father.” She slipped through the door and closed it behind her. “I shouldn’t have. But when I heard you talking about me…”

The familiar scent of leather and chamomile enveloped her as she stepped into the dark paneled room that served as her father’s office when he was in Newport. It was smaller than his other offices but had an enormous picture window that gave him a spectacular view of the ocean. The sun was beginning to set and had left the sky streaked with clouds of pink and purple over the calm water. A few distant sailboats and yachts were taking advantage of the calm summer evening. Even a coal barge hauled by tugs passed in the distance. A gentle breeze was blowing through the open window, bringing the sound of the constantly lapping waves.

Her father and Mr. Cushman both stood while she crossed the room and positioned herself in the chair next to Mr. Cushman’s. When the men had reseated themselves, she folded her hands in her lap and tried to control the unexpected tremor in her fingers.

“Would you be so kind as to inform me of the newest threat contained in the letter?” She looked pointedly at the sheet that lay on the desk in front of Father. She caught a glimpse of the scrawled handwriting before he grabbed the paper and folded it.

Father shook his head. “I don’t want to worry you.”

“It’s another kidnapping threat,” Mr. Cushman replied. Father scowled at Mr. Cushman, but he continued, unperturbed. “Victoria needs to know the truth about the danger she’s in. The more she knows, the better she’ll cooperate.”

In the fading evening light, Father’s handsome face contained a haggardness that Victoria hadn’t seen there before. He studied Mr. Cushman through narrowed eyes for a moment before nodding. “Very well, Mr. Cushman. Go ahead.”

Mr. Cushman met her gaze, and the seriousness within his dark eyes reminded her once again of the gravity of her predicament. “We believe the note is written by the man who attempted to kidnap you today. He says he’ll get you the next time. And that if anyone tries to come after you, he’ll hurt you.”

Her ready response died on her lips.
Next time?
Was her attacker already planning another abduction? “Do you think he’ll try to kidnap me again tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

She appreciated that Mr. Cushman was always straightforward, never mincing words. But every once in a while, she wished he’d soften the blow. She swallowed the lump of fear forming in her throat. “If we know someone is lying in wait, then we can hire more guards.”

“It’s not worth the risk.”

Her father nodded in agreement. “Once I inform Nathaniel of this newest threat, he’ll gladly postpone the wedding. And in the meantime, Mr. Cushman thinks you need to go into hiding.”

“Yes, I heard,” she said. “We’re to pretend to be married.”

“You don’t have to do it, Victoria,” her father interjected, “if you don’t want to.”

She tried to gauge Mr. Cushman’s feelings regarding the plan. Did he want to pose as her husband? Did he find the idea as secretly thrilling as she did?

His expression was impassive, as usual.

Her father gave a tired sigh and sat back in his chair. “We will attempt to minimize any repercussions that might come from such an arrangement, but you should know there is some risk of soiling your reputation.”

Heat stole into Victoria’s cheeks, and she glanced at her tightly folded hands. “I understand, Father.”

“Nothing will change in our working relationship,” Mr. Cushman cut in. “I’ll maintain strict and appropriate boundaries at all times.”

“If nothing changes,” she countered, “then no one will believe we’re married.”

Mr. Cushman hesitated only a moment before nodding in agreement. “Very well. We’ll pretend in public, but resume our regular interactions in private. I’ll still be your bodyguard and you my client.”

Her father nodded his approval.

“Then we shall be actors?” Victoria liked the thought. She’d always imagined it would be fun to be in a play. She was sure she could do justice to her role.

“Yes.”

“Where will we go?”

“I’m not telling anyone except your father. It’ll be safer that way.” He looked at Father, who nodded his acquiescence.

Maybe their destination would be somewhere new and exciting, like Philadelphia. She’d heard the shops there were quaint and the gardens spectacular this time of year. Perhaps they could go to the theater together. She’d take some other name like Marie or Meredith. Marie Cushman. She rolled that name around her mind and then tried Meredith Cushman. Which one sounded better?

“You can tell me where we’ll stay,” Victoria insisted. “I promise I won’t say anything.”

“So you’re willing to go into hiding?” Father asked.

She nodded. “Do I need to wear a disguise? Dye my hair? Buy new clothes?”

“No,” Mr. Cushman said. “We can’t draw any undue attention.”

“And when shall we leave?”

“We’ll sneak out early in the morning, before light.”

The plan was getting more exciting by the minute. She smiled and moved to the edge of her chair. “That means I need to get busy packing my trunks.”

“One bag.” The steel in Mr. Cushman’s voice stopped her. “With only your plainest, most serviceable clothes.”