A Treacherous Engagement

by Keysian, Elizabeth

  Damn and blast. He’d built himself up to this moment and couldn’t bear to see it go to waste. So, he made a decision—he’d pretend he’d never received the note and go anyway. It would allow him to see the delectable Miss Phoebe, give her the parcel of cloth he’d promised, and find out why the dinner had been put off, in case it was anything to do with the movement of escaped prisoners.

  Assuming a macaroni would never soil his breeches by riding, Robert took the carriage to Donhead Castle. He thought arriving in full splendour would add credibility to his excuse that the note of cancellation hadn’t reached him.

  When he alighted, Addyman’s butler answered the door. On seeing Robert, the man’s brow darkened. Robert ignored the discouraging expression. “Good evening. Will you please tell your master and Miss Duvall I’ve arrived? I’m Mr Goodrich. I have an invitation to dinner.”

  The man took the card but didn’t read it. “I regret Mr Addyman is not at home, sir.”

  “Nonsense, he must be. The invitation says, six o’clock.” Robert pulled out his watch and flicked it open, giving the butler a foppish toss of the head. “And I am precisely on time.”

  “There has been some mistake, sir. An event planned for today has had to be delayed due to unforeseen circumstances. I’m sorry your journey has been in vain.”

  He put the watch away. “Oh dear, I do hope Mr Addyman is in good health? I was so looking forward to meeting him. We are near neighbours, you know, but I have been abroad until recently.”

  The butler’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not aware of the circumstances, sir. I can only apologise again.”

  Liar. The man knew perfectly well what was going on. He was just being obstructive.

  “If I’m not to see Mr Addyman, I’d be most grateful if you could let Miss Duvall know I’m here.”

  That caught him out. The servant clearly hadn’t been given any instructions on what to do should someone call for Miss Duvall.

  “I… I shall see if she is at home.” The man hung in the doorway a moment, then stepped back and nodded at Robert to enter. “If you would please wait here, sir.”

  The butler’s words were polite enough, but his attitude was positively inimical. Robert smiled as the man hastened into the depths of the house. If he remembered rightly, the study was down there, and that was doubtless were Addyman was lurking.

  Tapping his cane against his foot, he gazed around at the place he’d once called ‘home’. In the last twenty years, Donhead had seen many changes, not all of them to the good. Its occupiers had only been leasing the property, and no money had been expended on it. The grim family portraits he remembered as a child were still there—they’d all looked disapproving then, but now he recognised them as friends. The canvasses had darkened over the years, and the frames were losing their gilding, although they looked clean enough.

  The longcase clock he remembered remained in its niche below the stairwell, but the varnish was peeling, and the hands were bent. A marble-topped table on which he’d once hit his head still stood menacingly against one wall but was now chipped and stained. He could remember the pain and the size of the lump on his head even now—he’d been trying to skate over the polished floor on a small hearthrug. With unexpected success.

  Some of the window panes were cracked, and their frames badly in need of painting. The light was obscured by trailing ivy that had been allowed to climb up outside. Donhead Castle needed love to bring it back to its former grandeur, and he was the one who would provide that love. When Aurora was fit enough to travel, he didn’t want her returning to a wreck.

  Hearing footsteps, he battened down his anger at the neglect of his home, pasted on a smile, and turned to greet the men coming towards him. The butler vanished discreetly, but Addyman took Robert’s hand in a grip firm but cold, saying, “I must apologise you weren’t informed of tonight’s cancellation. I hope this won’t put you off attending when the party is reconvened.”

  “Not at all, not at all.” Robert bowed.

  “I understand you’re asking after Miss Phoebe Duvall. Do you know the young lady?”

  Addyman’s polite enquiry was accompanied by a hardness of expression Robert disliked. Summoning up his powers of invention, he pointed to the bundle beneath his arm.

  “I have here some cloth for Miss Phoebe. We have a mutual acquaintance in Dorchester, and when I told him I’d be visiting, he asked me to deliver this item. Is Miss Duvall here?”

  “Yes. I’ll take the parcel and see it reaches her.” Addyman put out his hand.

  “Oh, dear me, no.” Robert took out a handkerchief and touched it to his brow melodramatically. “I promised to deliver it in person. I’ll be in the suds if I don’t comply.”

  For a moment he thought he was going to be met with outright refusal, so he sighed heavily, mopped at his brow again, then stared hopefully at Addyman, fluttering his eyelashes just a little.

  Addyman’s frown faded. “I understand. Let me have Miss Duvall sent for, so you may deliver the package directly into her hands.”

  So, he wasn’t to be shown the Dower House where Phoebe and her aunt had taken up residence. Addyman, for some reason, did not want him walking over there. There was no obvious reason for it, as it was a pleasant evening, a brief spell of rain having washed the foliage and flowers of the ubiquitous rhododendrons, making them glisten like gems. In fact, the evening was positively crying out to be sampled, so why did Addyman want to contain him within the house?

  A footman was despatched to fetch Miss Phoebe. Addyman bowed. “Shall we wait in the study, sir?”

  Robert was careful not to immediately head for the correct door—he wasn’t supposed to know the inside of the house like the back of his hand. His host escorted him inside, watching him closely, so he put on his best mincing walk, waved his handkerchief with a flourish, and seated himself at one end of a chaise longue.

  “Such delightful furnishings, such elegant wallpaper. The lamp overwhelms me—Murano glass is it not?”

  Addyman frowned. “I’ve no idea. I lease the place fully furnished.”

  “I recall coming here as a child. That was before your time, when a family by the name of… Vye, was it? owned the place.”

  “I don’t know. I rent it through an agent. I know nothing of the house’s history.”

  Robert glanced past Addyman’s head and saw the portrait of his great-grandfather hanging over the empty fireplace. The subject looked disturbingly like himself. His heart pumped harder, and he was grateful Addyman was seated with his back to the picture.

  Fops should prattle, shouldn’t they? Robert attempted to fill the ensuing silence. “I recall Donhead as a wonderful land of mystery and adventure for a young child to explore. Old follies, grottoes, myths of hidden tunnels, the folly tower on the hill that commands such an exceptional view. I should love to revisit what I remember.”

  “The folly tower is boarded up. There are no tunnels, and the grottoes have lost their statues. There is enough to entertain children, I suppose, but the depth of the moat makes me feel it would be unwise to let them roam around unsupervised.”

  The tower was boarded up? By whom and why? By Addyman, perhaps, to make sure no one could spy on his activities from that vantage point?

  “A great pity. Do you mind?” Robert pulled out his snuffbox and pretended to take some, then faked a sneeze. “A vile habit, I know, but there are so many different scents and flavours, I just have to try each and every one.”

  His companion, he noticed, had started tapping a finger on the edge of his chair. The man was impatient to be rid of his unexpected visitor, but Robert didn’t want to be got rid of. And he had decided he very much needed to speak to Phoebe. In private, if possible. Though how he was to manage it with this eagle-eyed traitor watching his every move, he was at a loss. Then he remembered something.

  “It has just come to me that, as a boy, I played hide and seek in this house. I discovered an extremely well-stocked wine cellar and hid
between the racks. I wonder what happened to all the wine?”

  Addyman raised his eyebrows. There, that had got his attention. “I know of no such place. Where was this?”

  “I think the door led from the pantry into the cellar. Surely your butler must be aware of it.”

  “Nothing has been said to me. We should go in search of it.”

  At that moment, the door opened to admit a rosy-cheeked Miss Phoebe Duvall, accompanied by her aunt.

  Robert was unprepared for the flash of feeling that hit him when he saw Phoebe. It thumped him in the gut like a lightning strike. She was modestly dressed and without a bonnet, and the shaft of low evening sunlight that came through the door illuminated her hair in a halo of golden brown. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyelids lowered to hide her expression, her bosom heaving rapidly with every breath. She was a veritable goddess.

  Part of him exulted that he’d made her feel self-conscious. Another part of him silently begged her to cover her reaction to him, lest Addyman think they knew each other rather better than he’d let on. Then he remembered at the last moment he should be greeting her aunt first, not her.

  “Miss Duvall. Miss Phoebe. An absolute pleasure. I am Goodrich, a neighbour of Mr Addyman’s. Miss Phoebe, I have a commission to deliver to you the muslin and ribbon that you ordered from town.”

  He willed her to look at him, and when she did, sent her a look of silent entreaty not to give him away.

  “How kind you are, Mr Goodrich.” She took the package from him. “I hope you haven’t been put to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” He cast a look around him. “Indeed, I am thrilled to be able to see Donhead again. I used to play here as a boy. I was quite depressed—no, utterly dejected—when I arrived to discover the charity dinner was postponed. But Mr Addyman has kindly let me see you, so that I could give you the cloth in person. We were talking, were we not, sir, about the multitude of hiding places this house affords to small children. In fact, before you came in, we were getting together an expedition to hunt for the old wine cellar. If it has not been despoiled, you’ll find some excellent vintages to offer your guests at future charitable functions. Such a pity tonight’s event had to be called off.”

  He shot Phoebe a questioning look, but she merely blinked at him. “Your name was on the invitation, Miss Duvall. I do hope the postponement is not due to you being unwell. But if you are sickening for something, I must know immediately, as I have a wonderful array of remedies at my disposal. I can send anything over to you from High Gates at the earliest opportunity.”

  “Thank you, Mr Goodrich, but I’m not unwell. Mr Addyman had to cancel, unfortunately, as his presence was required elsewhere, and it was thought unwise for my aunt and myself to preside over the event without him being present.”

  Robert resisted the urge to point out that Addyman evidently wasn’t urgently required elsewhere. “A great shame, a great shame. But I have been cheered by making your acquaintance, Miss Duvall, and seeing you, Miss Phoebe. Now, would you care to join us in our hunt for the wine cellar about which Mr Addyman knew nothing? It would be to your advantage, as hostess, to see if any of the wine remains and if it’s palatable. Just think of the money you’ll save if it’s suitable for your next charity dinner.”

  Addyman huffed in annoyance but Robert ignored him. Taking the older lady’s arm, he said, “Let me escort you, ma’am. To the butler’s pantry, everyone! Only, you had better go first, Addyman, to show us the way.”

  Their route took them into the back of the house, where the service rooms were neatly laid out, leading off a single passageway. Robert was puzzled to see the store and game larder so poorly stocked. If a banquet had been planned for tonight, what had happened to the supplies?

  The butler’s pantry contained a sink lined with soft lead for washing the crockery and glass most at risk of breaking, and shelves with a few squat wine bottles. The door to the cellar was mostly obscured by a rack currently being used to store preserves. Little wonder Addyman hadn’t found the place.

  “If I remember rightly, it’s here. Shall we try to move the rack, or call for a servant to do it?” Addyman shook his head and bent to the task himself. The shelving slid aside easily, revealing the door.

  “I’ll get some light.” Their host left them, returning moments later with a lantern. He then took charge of the expedition. “It’s best I go down first, then the ladies. You can take up the rear, Goodrich. Take care on the steps.”

  When Robert reached the bottom, he cracked his head on one of the low brick archways. He’d been so young when last here, his height hadn’t been a problem.

  “Mr Goodrich—are you all right?” Phoebe was all concern.

  “Just sent my wits begging for a bit, but no permanent damage done, gallant lady. A pinch of snuff will revive me.” He stood in the middle of the underground room, fiddling with his snuffbox and staring around. Three chambers branched out from the central one in which he was standing. Shadows danced as Addyman hoisted his lantern above shelves of cobwebby bottles, trying to identify the seals.

  Phoebe had joined Robert—he felt her presence without even looking. He leaned down. “Pretend you don’t like enclosed spaces and declare your wish to go back up.” He had to whisper directly into her ear and was momentarily distracted by the scented silkiness of her hair.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “More of your tricks?” she whispered back.

  “It’s a matter of life and death. Or could be.” If only she would believe him and do as requested. They didn’t have much time.

  He tried again. “Has anything untoward happened lately? Is there any sign that things are not as they appear? If so, you must tell me about it.”

  That did the trick. Her face lost its colour, and a moment later, she announced, “Forgive me, everyone. I’m feeling a little faint.”

  “I shall take you aloft, dear lady. Not everyone can bear an enclosed space. Pray, keep your lantern, Mr Addyman. I’m very sure-footed. We’ll not tumble down the stairs, I promise you.”

  When they reached the top, he helped Phoebe up the final step, then closed the door. As an extra precaution, he pushed the little metal pin into the hole above the latch, thereby locking Addyman and Phoebe’s aunt below.

  He took Phoebe by the shoulders. “Tell me what has happened to disquiet you.”

  She nodded; her expression serious. “A band of cutthroat poachers came past two nights ago. We were made to shut the windows and lock ourselves in. I was concerned they might attack you, too.”

  “There are no bands of poachers roaming hereabouts that I know of, but I’m flattered you feared for my safety.”

  “Don’t be flattered.” She gave him a stern look.

  “Anything else?”

  “Why do you ask? What is it that makes you so concerned about me? I mean, about me being in this place? Aside from your protestations of love, which I know to be untrue.”

  “I want to tell you.” He genuinely did. It would make his life a whole lot easier, having a confidante on the inside. But that would put her at risk.

  “I’ll tell you as much as I can if you meet me later. May I come to the Dower House? No, on second thoughts, it’s best to meet you where your aunt can’t hear us. Do you know where the yew walk is?”

  “I do.”

  He heard the sound of feet coming up the cellar steps. “Good. I’ll meet you there in about an hour and a half—we’ll speak then.”

  The latch rattled fruitlessly against the pin. “Hello out there.” Addyman’s voice. “What’s happened to the door?”

  “It looks alright on this side,” Robert responded. Then he pulled Phoebe against him and kissed her hungrily.

  He felt her breathing quicken, felt her little gasp of horror against his smile. Leaning back against the door, he buried his hands in her hair and deepened the kiss. The door vibrated against him, accompanied by some imprecations from Addyman.

  Robert broke the kiss. “There
seems to be something wrong with the latch.” Turning aside from the gaping and indignant Phoebe, he rattled it. “Have patience, Mr Addyman. I’ll see if I can free it.”

  Before Phoebe could escape, he pulled her back into his arms, and when she melted against him, he drove his tongue into her mouth, soliciting a response. He got it. Her hands tugged at his lapels and her breathing became heavy, needy. His hand slid unbidden to her breast–he was going too far, too fast, and must pull away now. But a deep sigh from her released an answering one in him, and it took all his willpower to ease back.

  “You are a complete rogue,” she grumbled, sotto voce, even though her eyes were alight with mischief. She turned aside to wipe her mouth, while he made a big fuss over the latch, stealthily removing the pin, and opening the door.

  A red-faced Addyman tumbled out, followed by an anxious-looking Miss Molly Duvall. Robert felt a brief pang of guilt at having locked her in there with a fiend.

  “Did you find some good vintages below?” he asked Addyman, forcing joviality into his tone. “I declare myself consumed by jealousy at the sight of all those old squat bottles!”

  Addyman’s face cleared. “There do, indeed, appear to be some bottles whose contents are still good.”

  “Maybe, sir, we could auction some of the most valuable ones to help raise funds for the foundlings.”

  “A good idea, Miss Duvall. Now, forgive me, I have urgent work to attend to.”

  Robert affected disappointment. “I was so enjoying myself just now.”

  He heard Phoebe gulp, and a delicious thrill of wickedness swamped his entire body. “I am sorry to have to leave so soon. But there will be other occasions, will there not, sir?”

  At Addyman’s nod, he made his bow, allowed the ladies to proceed him into the hallway, then gathered up his belongings, gave everyone a dramatic farewell and climbed into his carriage. As soon as the vehicle was out of sight of the house, he tugged off the itchy wig and started work on the multitudinous buttons of his waistcoat. He wouldn’t have long in which to reach home, get changed into regular attire and walk across the fields to Donhead in time for his arranged meeting with Phoebe.