Andrews Brothers 02 - The Rescue (26 page)

“Yes, I know. But I need you to see something first.”

He allowed her to drag him downstairs. They stopped at the dining hall door. Rowena lifted her chin.

“Oh, there you are Andrew. Please come in and meet our guests.”

He groaned as Farrah shoved him inside. “Traitor,” he hissed between his teeth.

A smile spread across her visage as she hitched her skirts and fled.

Devlin sauntered downstairs. Swathed in new finery from a Rochdale shop, his confidence soared. He stopped before a hallway looking glass and studied his appearance.

The top hat shone and jutted to the side. He cocked his brow and smiled. Soon he would have everything he ever dreamed. A legitimate title, land and a home, and best of all, the woman he adored and loved.

Coat tugged in place he called for Bennington. The butler, stooped and dragging, shuffled into the foyer. The elderly chap hadn’t been the same since Clovis’ passing.

“You called, Lord Greywold.”

“Yes. I’m ready to depart for the Ravenwood estate. If you will gather the ladies we will be on our way.” Devlin faced the mirror and straightened his cravat.

“No, my lord.”

Devlin blinked rapidly as he turned. “Did you say no, Bennington?”

“I did, my lord.”

Devlin whacked the tip of his cane against the tile floor. Anger soared in his breast. He opened his mouth to chastise the measly mouthed butler, but was interrupted.

“The ladies left hours ago. In order to retrieve them for you they would be forced to make the trip twice…” He paused before adding, “…my lord.”

So, the flippant swine hadn’t lost all his fire. Still, his insolence couldn’t be tolerated. A burst of air slapped him as the door opened. Garrett entered and stomped his feet. Snow fell from his boots and sparkled against the dark floor. He removed his head covering and ran his hand over his damp graying hair.

Neither one of them moved. Bennington said, “Garrett, Lord Greywold is ready to travel to Ravenwood.”

“He’s driving me?” Devlin swallowed. There was no love loss between them since he’d squeezed the Burrows family off of Flannigan lands, and the only rescue was if Farrah married him.

“The regular driver drove the carriage over with the ladies, my lord.”

“If the carriage is gone, what am I to ride in?”

“The Burrows have their Berlin stowed in the stables, my lord.”

“Surely you jest! You shake snow like you’ve enjoyed a blizzard and you expect me to ride in a half open vehicle?”

Garrett attempted to hide his happy expression by scratching his brow.

“There must be another mode of transport.”

“Only one.”

“Well what is it? Time gets away from me.”

“There is the curricle.”

“The curricle,” left his parted lips in a rushed breath. How could his only two options be a half open or full open carriage? It was unconscionable!

“If you don’t believe me, feel free to check the stables for yourself.”

Devlin desired to slap the smirk from the footman’s face. “Then you will need to put on the hood.”

“I’m afraid it has ripped and needs to be repaired.”

So the footman was determined to make him uncomfortable. No matter. “Bennington, bring multiple covers. Hang them close to the fire until they are heated. I’ll wait until they warm before I depart.”

Their jubilation over his delay was infuriating, but he refused to supply them with a satisfying response. He flounced into the other room and flopped into a seat, crossing his legs at the ankles, and drawing his hat low over his brow. The delay passed quickly and soon he was shivering inside the Berlin.

Small pleasure was taken in Garrett’s discomfort. The footman sat in the driver’s seat with his back ramrod straight. Snowflakes gathered on his back and shoulders.

The short trip’s progress was impeded by multiple vehicles staggering along the road. Carriages swayed awkwardly along the freezing ground. Females peeked beneath folded blinds, wisps of breath proceeding from their mouth, as they stared at him with awe. No doubt they believed him ill. Why would anyone in their right mind expose themselves to such weather conditions?

Focused on his surroundings, he didn’t notice they’d arrived until the Berlin shuddered to a halt. He imagined Garrett’s trousers breaking free from the seat, ice crystals lingering behind in the fabric. A smile widened his lips as he descended.

The door to Ravenwood opened. Instructed to wait in the dining hall, Devlin headed that way and paused. Lady Ravenwood stood at the forefront of an attentive crowd. Her spindly arms waved through the air as her voice rose and fell.

Andrew Ravenlowe sat close to his mother, hanging on her every word. Devlin couldn’t believe the man’s attire. Surely he didn’t plan to attend the ball dressed thusly. Devlin was embarrassed for him. Sweat stains clung to his clothing, and his hair lay limp like he’d worked in the stables.

Moving from the door, Devlin studied his surroundings. Portraits covered the entire wall leading upstairs. While the butler was occupied with the door, Devlin slipped up the staircase. Briefly he studied each gilded frame. At the top of the landing, he slinked along the hallway.

Flannigan House held many treasures but nothing so wonderful as Ravenwood. Round wooden tables dotted the hallway. Covered in crystal vases and filled with flowers, the wood had been polished to a high sheen. Carved wooden bowls were filled with a gold substance. Devlin leaned in closer and gasped. It couldn’t be. He picked up the rounded coins.

Doubloons slipped through his fingers and clanked into the bowl. One stuck to his palm. The thought of placing the item in his pocket raced through his mind. His hand moved in that direction. The sound of a throat clearing had him dropping the coin onto the floor. Hurriedly, he picked it up and thrust it back into the bowl.

Looking around for his watcher, he was surprised when he didn’t see anyone. Hands shoved casually in his pockets he strolled further along the hallway. A flash of auburn hair reached his gaze. There was his little vixen.

****

Farrah had hurried to Andrew’s suite. The door hung ajar, and her heart thumped madly in her chest with worry. The room was empty and cold. Where had Brigitta gotten off to?

Traveling farther along the passage, passed closed doors, a hint of rose tickled her senses. The corridor ended and branched like a T. Farrah chewed upon her lip and sniffed. Musk assaulted her.

A quick glance over her shoulder revealed no one, yet prickles of apprehension flooded her. She turned left and halted. The sound of hurried footsteps halted as well. Her heart thumped wildly against her breast, and her breath came in short rasping gasps.

As slowly as possible she continued. She needed to find an open door—or find Brigitta; either one would satisfy.

Up ahead the corridor split again. The interior of Ravenwood was like a maze. If she went much farther she might lose her way.

She rounded the corner and her eyes widened. She stood on a walkway that surrounded the upper level of the ballroom. Servants and hired staff raced around the mezzanine using long poles to light candles on the crystal chandeliers. A man wearing formal attire stopped before her.

“May I help you?”

“Y-yes. I’m Lady Farrah Burrows, and I believe I’m lost.”

“Oh, yes indeed. I’m Doctor Harold Pennyworth. Allow me.”

Doctor Pennyworth escorted her around the mezzanine to a hidden staircase. They descended to the main floor of the ballroom. “Please don’t linger inside. No one is to see the preparations until we’ve finished. I’ve already had to escort one young lady out. Just follow the path straight across and out those broad doors.”

“Another lady, did you say?”

“Yes. She claimed she was the Baroness of Stockport. A long way to come to enjoy a ball, I say, but then again stranger things have happened. Believe me, I know.”

Farrah agreed and asked, “Could you tell me how long ago she came through?”

“Yes, not more than five minutes. If you hurry I’m sure you’ll catch her.”

“Thank you.” Farrah scurried across the shiny floor, ignoring the decorations, and praying she would find Brigitta in time to tell her to keep her mouth closed about her stint in Andrew’s suite.

****

Breaking away from Rowena was like breaking away from Farrah; it wasn’t an easy task. Finally, Chadwick reached his room. A hint of rose permeated the air as the door opened. He furrowed his brow, but continued inside and hurriedly dressed.

Vehicles arrived in droves. Guests were forced to wait in the foyer, dining hall, and other places until the ballroom was ready. Dissent flowed from the floor below. Good. If they had to wait to enter they would be less likely to leave.

He exited his room and took the back entrance into the ballroom. The staff had completed every detail of his instructions to the letter, and he was pleased. Mask in place, he stood before the door of the ballroom.

Doctor Pennyworth rushed to meet him. Please don’t let him be rushing to say that Rowena suffered a spell!

He shuddered to a halt. “Your lordship.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. Chadwick tapped his foot with impatience. “Sorry, I must regain my breath. I thought I should let you know that two ladies entered.”

“What?”

“I escorted them both out. They seemed very flustered and I don’t believe they noticed the extra room.”

“Very well. Let’s open the door, Pennyworth.”

“Me? I thought Kingsley would…”

“Kingsley is bringing Mother. And you’re here and I’m ready.”

Pennyworth opened the door and Kingsley entered. Rowena took the spot next to Chadwick. Guests filed in. Rowena greeted them and Chadwick slipped into the background. Men and women scattered amongst the tables. Some took seats. Others grabbed drinks from servants carrying trays. Still others peered around and spotted the gaming room.

Chadwick noted the faces as they spilled into the gaming room. Devlin’s swagger was notable, and Chadwick spotted him straight off. But who was the lady who followed him? He squinted but he couldn’t make her out. Perhaps he needed to be closer.

****

Luke paid the driver and tugged his greatcoat tighter. December twentieth was no day to have a ball. The weather was atrocious. He and Brigitta should be at home, snug in their bed before a roaring fire, not out wondering around unfamiliar territory in frigid temperatures.

Double doors to the Ravenwood estate remained open as a flood of guests entered. Luke remained on the outskirts and peered over bobbing heads. Days had passed since he’d seen Brigitta and he found he yearned for a view of her. Would wisps of hair veil her face? Would her mask hide her identity or would he know her straightway as he had at the Stockport ball?

His turn to enter came and he stepped inside. Heat assailed him, thank the Lord. Two steps in the door and he was wrapped in a hug.

“Oh, my darling you made it! I was so worried.” Brigitta bathed his face in kisses and he held her arms and moved her away.

Leaning in he whispered, “My love, I have missed you as well, but people are staring.”

“Oh, let them stare. We need fresh rumors to gather more tourists.” She lifted her chin and a genuine smile flitted across her face.

“Hmm, I thought perhaps the tours could end.”

“Ah, perhaps. But we shall discuss that later. Come, I want you to meet my cousin, Lady Farrah Burrows.”

Lady Farrah’s dark red hair looked fiery in the candlelight. Her bright jade green eyes glowed behind her mask. Luke held out his hand and found she clasped it with a firm grasp.

“Lord Stockport it is an honor to finally meet you. Brigitta has told me much about you.”

“All good, I hope.”

“Of course.”

They stood still and silent as a new wave of guests passed and entered the ballroom. Brigitta tugged his arm. “We shall visit more later. Right now the air from the door is freezing me. Let’s enter the ballroom.”

He agreed. Both ladies clutched his arms and he escorted them inside.

****

Lady Vonda strode into the room and sat at a whist table. Men and women dropped coins, and the game moved along at a snail’s pace with no big winners or losers.

Lord Greywold resided at a table behind Lady Vonda. But not long after, they sat at a table together. Sweat formed on Chadwick’s palms. Would he be forced to play Lady Vonda and Lord Greywold to reacquire Flannigan lands? Lady Vonda would not be deceived by the mask he wore.

Chadwick backed out of the room and faced the growing crowd. His mother was assisted by Kingsley and Doctor Pennyworth and seemed to be holding up well under the onslaught of guests.

A man escorting two women entered. Black hair lay across his forehead. His broad shoulders were held back. His familiar eyes were rimmed with a gold trimmed mask. His lips twisted in a recognizable grin.

Chadwick moved into the shadows and plastered his body against the wall. He should have known it was too good to be true. Since the day he’d ran from Farrah’s house and Brigitta had been there, he’d expected something like this to happen, but now that it was a reality he couldn’t breathe. The cravat tightened about his throat until he saw stars.

“My lord? Do you need something?” The sound of Kingsley’s concerned voice brought him from his stupor. Perhaps it was time for some truth.

“So you see, I am a blackguard, a shyster. I’m worthless and useless. I wasted all my family’s money, and then I ran out on my brother and left him with the mess. When I remembered who I was, I kept it to myself.”

Kingsley hadn’t made one peep as Chadwick told him the truth of his past. The butlers silence caused butterflies to fill his stomach.

“I would understand if you wish to run me off. But I ask that you wait until the end of the ball. I will take nothing save one change of clothing so that I don’t have to leave naked. But before I leave, I need to make things right for Farrah.”

“Why?”

The simple word threw him off balance. “Come again.”

“Why? Why must you help Lady Farrah?”

Heat swamped his cheeks. “Since I’m being honest, I guess it would have to be because I love her.”