Andrews Brothers 02 - The Rescue Read online

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  What more could possibly go wrong? Luke dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

  After Brigitta suggested they stay one more night in Rochdale before they met with her cousin, a letter had arrived. Luke had been drawn away from her on important Stockport business. He’d drafted letter after letter assuring the families that rented on his land, they were safe from eviction.

  Where had such a rumor originated? If Chadwick had been roaming about Stockport he might have blamed his brother, but under the current circumstances that seemed like a false assumption.

  Brigitta had left the day the letters arrived. They had communicated several times by messenger. She assured him she was safe and well cared for and enjoying the company of her relative. She also insisted he stay in Rochdale until he was sure the issues at home had been dealt with. The message received today had included an invitation to a masked ball at an estate named Ravenwood which would occur on December twentieth. Much to Luke’s chagrin, that might be the first day he would be free of his current mess.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he palmed his chin and read the latest batch of letters from Roland.

  ****

  Farrah and Brigitta sat across from one another at the dining room table. A newspaper lay untouched. The sideboard, once full of food, was now half empty.

  Brigitta smacked her lips and licked her fingers. Farrah laughed. “I see that the babe has indeed increased your appetite.”

  “You have no idea! I feel like I eat all the time. But let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about him.”

  “Ooo, him. Yes, why not.” They giggled. More serious, Farrah said, “He has been a Godsend. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He offered to help in any capacity. He’s been so helpful and sweet. Did I tell you about how we met?”

  Brigitta leaned forward and cupped her chin. “No.”

  While Brigitta consumed strawberries dipped in fresh cream, Farrah shared the story of meeting Andrew in the woods bordering Flannigan lands. How without even knowing her he had offered his coat. She continued with stories of how Andrew had offered to help her as soon as she asked Rowena for assistance. In every story she was careful not to mention his name. If Devlin eavesdropped it served him right to receive incorrect information.

  “The fellow seems like someone I’d like to meet.”

  “I promise to introduce you.”

  “What does he look like?”

  Farrah licked her lips and her face flushed.

  Brigitta laughed. “That handsome, huh?”

  “Yes! At one time I foolishly believed Angus was the only attractive man in England, but now I’ve been proven wrong.”

  “I see it has taken you by surprise.”

  “Quite!”

  “So what does he look like?”

  “Oh, no, I won’t tell you that. You can meet him at the party.”

  “Such a temptress.” Brigitta wiped her hands on a napkin and scooted back her chair. “I guess we better get upstairs. The dressmaker will be beside herself.”

  ****

  Devlin stood outside the dining room and listened to the ladies conversation. They described a handsome, helpful man. The hallway mirror reflected the person they spoke of. He smoothed a wayward hair from his forehead and twitched the corner of his lips upward.

  Hidden in an alcove he waited until they passed. Then he resumed his place before the mirror. A noise behind him drew his attention and he walked along the hall.

  The library door stood open. The Hagan brothers riffled through the desk. Cormac said, “Look good boys. There has to be something we can take to that fancy London lawyer and stake our claim. I know I’m older than Trace, so I’m the first-born heir.”

  Devlin struck a casual pose against the door facing. “Can I help you boys?”

  Six hulking men froze. Cormac faced him and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “I think you’ve done enough.”

  “Perhaps, but I know of one more act I’ve yet to perform.” He shouted and several footmen raced to his position.

  Garrett said, “Lord Greywold?”

  “Please escort Mr. Hagan and his brothers off the premises.”

  Cormac lunged forward and held his fist to the air. “You’ll be moving us over my dead body.”

  Devlin laughed manically, and stopped so suddenly that Cormac shuddered. “That can be arranged.”

  Cormac dropped his arms to his sides. “Don’t you worry, footman Garrett, we’ll leave peaceably, but mark my words, this ain’t over.”

  The Hagan brothers stomped from the room and double timed the stairs. Devlin didn’t protest. Instead, he spoke to Garrett. “Make sure they pack their belongings and leave today.”

  Garrett snapped his boots together. Devlin exited the library and made his way to his own room. The tailor would be by any moment with his new garb. Lady Vonda insisted she had just the costume for him.

  ****

  The dressmaker tsked under her breath.

  Brigitta had tried on her gown and groaned when a portion had to be expanded because of her bulging waistline. Now Farrah was under scrutiny. The green and maroon skirt fell in layers. The white top was embroidered with golden accents and a plunging neckline matching the latest styles. The thin material left little to the imagination and heat flushed her cheeks.

  The dressmaker stepped back and eyed her work critically. “What do you think, my lady?” She directed the question at Brigitta. Farrah faced her cousin.

  “I think she looks absolutely stunning.”

  “Ah, that is as I thought.” The woman said no more but gathered her belongings in a wooden case, secured the latch, and let herself out of the room.

  “Not a big talker.”

  Farrah covered her mouth to keep in her laughter. “Apparently not.”

  Farrah stepped onto the floor. “Can you help me remove this gown?” Brigitta assisted and Farrah redressed in her morning gown. The long sleeves and high neck made her feel more comfortable as she relaxed on a sofa.

  “Now, we’ve talked about your mystery man and we’ve discussed the ball, but what of the way I can help you? I came all this way to—”

  “To visit, and I’m so glad you did.” Farrah moved closer and whispered in Brigitta’s ear. “There is a Judas hole.”

  Brigitta leaned back. “Oh, yes, I wouldn’t have missed reconnecting with you. I do so hope to meet with Uncle Winlock. I hope he won’t mind seeing me.”

  “I’m sure he will be delighted. Duties at home took him away for the day, but he should return in time for the masked ball.”

  “This seems to be the event of the season.”

  “Rochdale has very few major events. I would say this will be one to remember.”

  The nonsensical banter continued until Farrah grew nauseous. They could stroll through the gardens and discuss her plans, but maybe it was better to wait until after the ball. If Andrew’s plan succeeded then Brigitta’s help would be unnecessary.

  The moon’s round orb moved high in the sky and casted pale light through her draped window. “Perhaps we should be off to bed.”

  “Yes, perhaps we should. Tomorrow will be a big day, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m tired. Carrying a babe takes a toll on the body.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Farrah escorted Brigitta to her room. She waited until her cousin was secure in her own bed, before exiting. In the hallway Farrah drew in a deep breath. Tomorrow was the day everything could change for the better or go awry forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Mrs. Yancy and Juliet flitted past, their hair and skirts streaming behind them like the colors of a rainbow streaking across the sky. Chadwick flung himself against the wall and scrunched in his toes. The two women had been running like chickens with no heads since early morning.

  “Oh, my lord, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Kingsley skittered to a halt, cocking a brow at Chadwick where he hugged the wall.r />
  Chadwick relaxed, tugged on his coat, and opened his hand for Kingsley to continue.

  Flustered, with hands moving about in erratic fashion, the butler said, “Yes, well, my lord, umm…”

  “Please just say it, Kingsley.”

  “We have a problem.”

  “Oh?”

  “Some of the guests have arrived early.”

  “What!” Chadwick hurried to the window in the library and pressed his face to the pane.

  “It seems some of the invitations may have announced an incorrect time.”

  Chadwick moved back and ran his hand through his hair. “What are we to do?”

  Kingsley paced the room. Halting, he said, “You should abscond to your room and wait until the ball begins, my lord. I will have the staff stow the early guests in the dining hall. I’m sure Mrs. Yancy and Juliet can—”

  Chadwick shook his head. “That won’t work. Mrs. Yancy and Juliet can barely prepare the food for the festivities already planned. I’ll go to the kitchen and you send a footman to assist me—”

  “My lord!”

  Chadwick patted Kingsley’s shoulder. “Do not fret, Kingsley, I’m sure I can pull something together to keep the guests occupied. Now find me a footman without a chore and send him along.” He walked away, yelling over his shoulder, “And do place the early arrivals in the dining hall. Tell them they can’t come out until the ballroom is finished being decorated. Have my mother entertain them with her vast wit. Whatever you can come up with, just don’t let them in the ballroom until everything is prepared.”

  Kingsley scurried away and Chadwick picked up the pace and hurried downstairs. The kitchen smoldered. Chadwick removed his greatcoat and cravat and rolled up his sleeves.

  The butcher block held treats for the ball. Broiled peanuts encased in a glass dish. Fresh melon carved into round balls and arranged on a platter depicting a tower. Flaky pastries decorated with sprigs of greenery.

  Chadwick bent forward and drew in a deep breath. The aroma of chilled custard caused him to salivate, and he quickly moved away.

  Mrs. Yancy had conferred with him on the dishes for the event. They had decided a formal set-down dinner would be overly much for the amount of people he intended to invite. Instead, they decided to borrow footmen from neighboring homes and have them carry trays with foods the guests could easily grab with their hands.

  Chadwick searched. Candies, fruits, and small cakes covered the cabinets, all prepared and ready for the afternoon’s activities. What could he serve the early arrivals?

  He bit his lip. Eureka! He grabbed two bottles. One of orange wine and one of white wine and placed them on a tray. Glasses were in the dining hall, right? He couldn’t remember! Blast it all, why did he forget the simple things?

  A footman entered. “Kingsley sent me, my lord.”

  “Yes, thank you. Please take this tray upstairs to the dining hall and serve the guests.”

  The young man nodded and exited. Chadwick considered his departing form. Surely if there were no glasses available he wouldn’t have run off so quickly. Or maybe he knew where to gather glassware. Chadwick would go with that.

  Wine would only occupy the guests for so long. There had to be something more in the larder that would keep their attention.

  ****

  Farrah held her spencer tightly around her arms and shouldered into her pelisse. “I refuse to ride over with that, that arrogant toad!”

  Brigitta cocked a brow as she drew on her own matching pelisse. She was sharp in her new gown. The bright color highlighted her eyes. Tendrils of hair escaped her chignon and she attempted to pat them back in place.

  “Perhaps my words seem harsh but believe me you will be glad we took our own carriage.”

  Inside they wrapped in thick wool coverlets and huddled close together. The journey from Flannigan House to Ravenwood wouldn’t take long, but in the winter temperatures one didn’t need very long to grow cold.

  Teeth chattering, they didn’t speak. The carriage shuddered to a halt and they both released a breath. Wisps of white air puffed from between their parted lips.

  The driver opened the door and let down the stairs. Farrah descended with Brigitta on her heels. She had firmly expected for someone from the Ravenlowe household to greet them, perhaps even Andrew, and her heart plummeted with disappointment when no one came.

  “I guess they’re all inside. We are a tad early.”

  They approached the door. Farrah lifted the brass knocker. The object landed against the door panel with a dead thunk sound and the door opened. Brigitta took a step back.

  “Perhaps we should wait in the carriage.”

  Farrah waved away her concerns and peeked inside.

  Behind her, Brigitta’s voice quivered as she asked, “Do you see anyone?”

  Farrah didn’t reply as she ignored decorum and shoved the door inward until she could step inside. Heat struck her face, and she let out a sigh of relief. Laughter and excited voices rose from the dining hall, so Farrah headed in that direction.

  Double doors leading into the room lay open. In the forefront of the crowd Rowena waved her hands, her voice rising.

  “Now let me tell you about being old. And yes, this is a rant. Something I learned to do from a dear friend of mine, Kiki Adams. Why, that woman could entertain an entire crowd with nothing but words.

  “But back to what I was saying. I’m old. I’m talking sagging skin, overactive bladder, special cream, and draughts. When you’re old people fear coming to see you. Not sure if they think being old is like a disease that’s catching or rather if they believe my mind is so gone I can’t carry on a decent conversation. No matter what the reason, people have been scarce over the last few years.

  “Why, I remember when I was a young, spry woman, I used to hop around like a spring chicken and people came from far and wide to visit with me and sip a glass of wine. I really don’t remember what we talked about, but I remember laughing. And…”

  Rowena continued her speech. At various intervals the crowd gasped. Heat flushed the faces of many of the ladies in attendance.

  “May I help you?” asked a deep voice from behind her.

  Farrah jumped and stumbled sideways against the wall as she registered Kingsley’s voice.

  “Oh, my lady, I apologize. I did not recognize you from behind.”

  Farrah’s heart fluttered, and she placed her hand over her chest and waited for it to calm. When she felt more normal, she said, “Kingsley, we’ve arrived early to avoid riding with Lord Greywold. But my cousin, Brigitta, needs a place to lie down and rest.”

  “Oh, I’m all right, Farrah. Just a tad cold, is all.”

  “I insist,” she said to Brigitta before facing Kingsley and saying, “Direct us to Andrew’s room.”

  “My lady?”

  “He won’t mind. Remember this ball is to assist in reacquiring my lands.”

  “Yes, well, umm, I will need to check with Lord Ravenwood.”

  “Yes, where is Lord Ravenwood?”

  “He’s in the kitchen, my lady.” Kingsley dropped his head in shame.

  “The kitchen?”

  “He refused to place another responsibility on Mrs. Yancy and Juliet, so he hastened to the kitchen to prepare treats to entertain the early arrivals.”

  “I see.” She tapped her finger to her forehead and fought a rising smile. Pride filled her that Andrew would go to such great lengths to help out his staff. “I’m sure Lord Ravenwood won’t mind if Brigitta rests in his room. After you take us there, then I will join him in the kitchen.”

  Farrah clutched Brigitta’s hand and made for the stairs, leaving Kingsley no choice but to follow. Eventually, he overtook them. At the top of the stairs he made a left turn and led them to the end of the hall. He opened the door and stepped back to allow them entrance.

  “Take your time settling your cousin. I will be outside the dining hall when you need escort to the kitchen, my lady.”

  “Tha
nk you, Kingsley.”

  He left and Farrah entered the room and studied the surroundings. The room was masculine, covered in rich, dark wood that only contrasted with the white marble fireplace mantel. Even the spread was dark, and Farrah found herself stroking the material and imagining Andrew sleeping upon the plush pillows at night, his legs curled to the side as he snored softly.

  “Sorry to interrupt your musings, cousin, but if you wish to help your love, you must leave me.”

  Farrah blinked rapidly. “My love?”

  Brigitta rested on the edge of the bed, slipped off her slippers, and laid back on the pillows with a sigh. “Do not deny your feelings for the young Lord Ravenwood. It is written all over you face.”

  “I can’t possibly love Andrew. I-I love Angus.”

  Brigitta waved away her words. “You said that in your letters but now that I’ve heard you speak of Andrew. How kind he is, how considerate he is, how much you enjoy being in his protective company. You’re in denial. Admit it. Your feelings for Angus have changed. They are no longer the same as they were.”

  Farrah bit her lip. The metallic taste of blood touched her tongue. Why did Brigitta’s statement strike fear into her heart? Was it because she feared it was true or because she knew it was true?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sweat dotted his brow and ran into his eyes. Chadwick wadded a rag and swiped his forehead. Moments before Mrs. Yancy had slid into the room, giving him barely enough time to hide. She’d stoked the fire of her stove, and then she had run back out. He’d breathed a sigh and slipped back into the heated kitchen.

  The aroma of stewed damsons filled the air. A slab of ham lay on the cutting board and Chadwick grabbed a knife and sliced.

  “I love to see a man work.”