She sat straighter. “What?”
“I can’t understand why you continue to run. We do not live in a primitive society. It’s not like you’re my property.” The sultry sound of his voice caused her heart to race. He continued, “I have no desire to win your hand, for although you are beautiful, I love another. Besides, I have no need for Burrows land. I desire only what is mine. As soon as the issue is settled you are free to go about your way.”
Farrah chewed her lip. He was correct and after hearing him say the words aloud she felt foolish for having hid in Rowena’s attic. She was a free agent to do as she pleased. She’d married Clovis for her father, but now that the elderly man had passed, she was free to do as she pleased.
She squeezed the folds of her gown. Could Devlin be telling the truth? Could he really only want Flannigan lands? If she bid her time would she truly be free?
He held out his hand. “Shake on it?”
Timidly she stretched forward.
****
Good. One person convinced, only a few more to go. Simpleton. How could she possibly believe one piece of land would be enough to satisfy him? No matter, she would find out soon enough.
The Berlin rumbled along the highway toward Norhaven. Visions of Andrew Ravenlowe’s distressed expression flitted through his mind. What could Vonda have written to cast such an expression on Andrew’s face? If he’d been braver, he would have read the note, but Vonda had made him swear not to, and like a lovesick fool he’d obeyed.
Thoughts of Vonda’s voluptuous body filled his mind as he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and fought a sigh. Would she be lying on her chaise with her long neck stretched back accepting grapes from a servant? Or was she spending her afternoon stroking her cat, Mr. Tuddles? Perhaps she was propped upon her bed reading a romance novel.
He couldn’t wait until the job was over and he could return to his love. Vonda had instigated multiple schemes within England’s high society. Everyone knew her as Lady Vonda Badrick. Mysterious, she had men flocking to her like bees to honey. She had used this to her advantage. Through it she had found those weak in mind and sent her minions to swindle them. That was how Clovis Flannigan had been discovered.
The elderly gentleman had visited London. While staying with friends, he had been introduced to Lady Vonda. After a game of whist, she had invited him to her townhouse for a game of Faro. He refused the first couple of invitations and it came to Vonda’s attention that the man preferred Brag. Adjusting her strategy, she sent another invite, which was readily accepted.
After Vonda took most of Clovis’ coin, she had suggested he bet his land deed, but he had refused. It seemed the old coot was smarter than Vonda credited him and could easily stop gambling when he felt he’d lost enough.
A week after that initial spurning, Vonda had grown angrier as the elderly, portly, unattractive man continued to rebuff her advances and her desire to swindle his land. The minions’ weekly game of Faro changed to Brag. Vonda had reviewed each participant and critiqued their skills. The evaluation had been brutal, but Devlin came out the winner.
Now he sat across from the beautiful Farrah. The heart was a fickle thing. Thoughts of his love faded as he found himself finding Farrah more and more attractive with the passing days. She didn’t need to use treachery and deceit to attract a man. She entered a room and all eyes riveted to her. Her lilting voice begged you to listen and her brazen attitude in all things encouraged a man to find worthy activities to pursue.
“Please stop staring at me.”
Devlin cocked a brow at her unexpected statement.
“Yes, I mean you. I’m not comfortable with you staring at me thusly.”
“Do forgive me. I just now realized how much I enjoy being in your company.”
“Lord Greywold—”
“Devlin, please.”
She sighed but said, “Devlin, you must know I will never trust you. Even with your offer to claim just Flannigan lands. I will worry until my family deed is within my grasp.”
“As well you should. A lady can only be scorned so many times before she becomes weary of those around her.”
She narrowed her eyes. Now he had her thinking on her last betrayal. Perfect. He needed to turn her against her only true ally if he had any chance of winning everything.
“I wish to stop speaking now.”
He nodded. “As you wish, my lady.”
The rest of the journey was taken in silence and he leaned his head back and decided to nap.
Chapter Twenty
The Berlin’s hood had been pulled to protect them from the wind. The trip along the winding road from Ravenwood to Flannigan House seemed slower than she remembered, and nerves had her biting the inside of her cheek.
Devlin emitted soft snores. Soft waves of blond hair dipped and stroked his brow. In sleep, his features softened and he didn’t seem quite as heartless.
Farrah averted her gaze. Even with Devlin’s promise to return her family lands, and his reminder that she was free and not a slave to his or her father’s desires, she’d spoken true when she said she didn’t trust him. Waiting for him to do the right thing seemed wrought with folly. She was tired of being patient.
Taking matters into her own hands, she knelt before the bench seat, lifted the cushion, and ran her fingers around the edges. Finding nothing, she retook her seat and wrung her hands. The dagger must have been removed. Why would Garrett do such a thing? The weapon was there for her protection.
She lifted her chin, and gasped. Devlin peeked at her through a slit eyelid, the dagger dangled from his fingertips. “Are you looking for this, my lady?”
She lunged for the hilt, but he quickly snatched it away. Shaking his head he wagged his finger. “I wouldn’t do that. I’ve already conceded much more than I planned.”
With the dagger wedged between his seat cushion and the Berlin’s wall, he crossed his arms over her chest. She turned and stared at the closed hood. The snores began again, and she faced her companion. What did it matter if she retrieved the dagger? If she stabbed him, which was no more than he deserved, then she would be branded a murderer. If she was lucky enough to escape, where would she go? Her father would probably hand her over to the authorities and disown her, then demand his solicitor find a way to retrieve his land. The townspeople would never harbor her after she killed a lord. And there was no way Andrew would help her. He had already betrayed her once. She wouldn’t give him another opportunity to do so again.
A tear escaped and she swiped it away. How could Andrew have duped her! She had felt his sincerity. He had even said he loved her!
How had she fallen for his affections? What had she been thinking? She knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that maybe, just maybe, someone was on her side. Someone cared about her, her feelings. It didn’t matter if her father held them in high esteem, or if they were perfect, they just had to love her.
The Berlin rattled to a halt. Farrah didn’t wait for a footman to open the door. Instead she pushed it open and descended in one giant leap to the ground, landing with a grunt.
A footman hurried forward. “My lady! Forgive me for not having the step prepared, I—”
She lifted her hand. “There is no need to apologize. I’m tired and I wish to retire.”
He stepped aside and bowed as she shuffled past. Inside Flannigan House, Farrah stopped in the foyer and stared at the second floor. She hadn’t expected to return to the house so soon. She should never have listened to Andrew. She should have knocked him out, taken his horse, and headed to the shore. Then he could have dealt with the highwayman and she would be on her way to true freedom.
“Farrah!” Her father’s voice echoed behind her. His face appeared red from crying and he opened his arms and waited for her to enter. She stepped forward then hesitated. She just couldn’t.
Farrah held her skirts aloft and fled upstairs to the relative safety of her room. The door clicked shut behind her. She studied the room to make
sure she was alone. When she didn’t see anyone, she tiptoed to the balcony and stared over the railing.
She was alone. Truly alone.
****
Brigitta considered the room. The trinkets decorating the elaborate inn reminded Luke of the Elis Estate and he refused to study them.
“Look at this one! I’ve never seen such eye for detail. The artist even painted the inside of the ear!”
Brigitta lowered the doll to his eye level, and he said, “That’s nice, dear.”
She leaned back, and laid a hand over her stomach and rubbed. Something she did when irritated. “I have the feeling you aren’t listening to me.”
“Hmm.”
“Luke!” He tilted his chin as she settled beside him. “I know you don’t want to be here, so I want to thank you for coming along anyway.”
He patted her hand, pleased that she was finally thanking him. But the pleasure didn’t last long as she rose and continued her perusal of the trinkets.
“I wonder if the owner would consider selling some of these. I would love one for the baby’s room, and I might…”
The thought of looking at those annoying dolls for the rest of his life rankled, and he stomped his foot. “Enough! I will not have those detestable objects in my home.”
A pitiful whimper escaped her throat. She threw herself onto the paisley sofa, dropped her head into her hands, and wailed. Luke rolled his eyes, and ran his hand through his hair. He marched to her side. Rubbing her back, he said, “I prefer you pick another item with which to decorate.”
She sniffed.
He felt like a heel. Inclined to give her most of what she wanted while she carried his child, he still needed to draw the line somewhere.
The dinner bell rang. Brigitta’s eyes widened and she lunged from the sofa. “Does that mean it is time to eat?”
“Yes.”
She rushed past him and entered the hallway, leaving him to trot along behind. He would never understand her mood swings. One minute sad, the next happy, one minute hungry, the next sated.
She greeted the inn’s owner and settled in a chair. Luke passed a window and peeked outside. Snow lightly peppered the ground. They had made it as far as Rochdale and hoped to continue the remainder of their short journey to the Flannigan estate on the morrow, but the weather might hamper their progress.
“Luke, are you coming?” called Brigitta.
He prepared to face her, but stopped. He smashed his face to the window pane. A person wearing a fancy coat and top hat sauntered past. It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t be.
“Luke, are you coming?” repeated Brigitta.
He faced his wife and mouthed yes. When he turned back to the window, the figure had disappeared. Was it possible? Could the passerby have been Chadwick?
****
Chadwick shuffled quickly through the streets of Rochdale. After Devlin absconded with Farrah, he’d dressed and headed into town. He had to get away. His mother hadn’t questioned his decision as she watched Farrah be carted to the waiting carriage. Kingsley had crinkled his nose and curled his lip in an expression of undisguised disgust. Juliet, the maid, had sniffed and blown her nose.
They were all disappointed in him. He agreed, he was nothing but a big disappointment. They would all be better off if he just left and never returned.
Rowena had drawn him aside. The words she had spoken caused his heart to ache. “I don’t know why you harbored the young lady and then gave her up, but if there is one thing I do know, you would never have done it without good cause.”
Chadwick slammed the tip of his cane against the sidewalk. Never have done it without good cause! What did she know of him? She knew nothing! The woman was a lunatic, and he was crazy for believing he could pretend to be something he wasn’t.
The thought was almost laughable. Amazing how it had taken him so long to realize this.
The sidewalk slickened as snow fell. The journey to Rochdale was the first step to running away, but as he stood on the platform to board the mail coach he knew he couldn’t leave, at least not yet.
Regardless of what had transpired, he did love Farrah. She was like a breath of fresh air on a hot day. Like a ray of sunshine through dark clouds. She was the only person he’d ever cared enough about to skewer himself for.
He’d paraded through the cold vacant streets until his toes numbed. The first thing was to discover Vonda’s spy. Of course Devlin was under her employ. But there had to be someone else, otherwise who would report to her if Devlin was harmed. He tapped the cane to the ground. As soon as he discovered the spy he could rid himself and everyone of Devlin Forster without concern of revealing his own indiscretions.
He strode into a porterhouse and commandeered a seat. The establishment was crowded with those seeking warmth and protection from the bitter cold. The seedy environment presented the perfect hiding place for someone in Vonda’s employ.
Chadwick ordered a drink. Over the rim of his glass he studied the inhabitants. No one in attendance paid much attention to him.
Barmaids sauntered through the crowd. Men cackled, hooted, and hollered vulgarities. Chadwick ignored their antics as he searched for his quarry.
One man in particular stood out amongst the others. He dressed better, and like Chadwick, he sipped at his drink and considered the crowd. His gaze directed toward Chadwick and Chadwick bent and stuffed his pant legs into the rim of his boots.
When the man turned his gaze, Chadwick exhaled. If he was a betting man, and he knew that he was, then he would bet that was Vonda’s spy. Now he needed to find and exploit a weakness.
A barmaid stopped at his table. “Can I take yer order?”
“I’m comfortable, but I would like to order that gentleman over there a drink.”
“Oh, that fellow?”
“Yes.”
“Might as well save yer money. That man ain’t drank a drop since he entered. He just lifts an empty mug to his lips a couple of times and sits it back down. The other maids and I have a pool goin’ that he’s not right in the head.”
“Any other strange activities he participates in?”
“Well I don’t know if you’d consider it strange, but there’s a woman who comes in and meets with him in one of the rooms upstairs. He only seems partial to her company, and just between us two, she ain’t as pretty as some of the barmaids. A might old for him, too.”
“I see. Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.” He laid a coin on the table and she grabbed it and stuffed it between her ample breasts before moving away.
The effort to ply the spy with drink until he confessed Vonda’s scheme was discarded in light of the barmaid’s revelation. How very astute of Vonda to pick an individual not prone to drink. In another lifetime Chadwick would have admired her ingenuity, but now it he found it annoying.
Guilt over his past indiscretions and falsehoods assailed him. Would these feelings ever pass? Would he ever feel worthy? Maybe if he rectified Farrah’s situation. If he could return her family lands to her father, and secure Flannigan lands for Farrah, then she would be free to pursue her own life without worry. Whether that included him or if she found love with Angus, at least she would be happy.
The spy rose and scooted closer to a gaming table. He hovered on the edge, sweat beading his brow. Chadwick’s lips twitched with excitement. Vonda’s spy did have a vice—gambling.
The game participants ignored their watcher as he whispered under his breath, his face scrunched in disgust at their obvious mistakes, and he threw fake punches of frustration. The spy clutched the back of a chair, his knuckles whitening. Chadwick had him now.
Chadwick approached. “Excuse me?”
The man jumped a foot off the floor. “Yes?” His Adam’s apple bobbed with rapid swallowing. No doubt the spy was nervous that his subject had approached. Chadwick felt a sense of heightened power.
“I noticed you have acumen for the game.”
He ran a trembling finger around his cravat
.
In a low tone, Chadwick added, “The simple mistakes of these gamers are enough to drive an experienced player mad.” Chadwick scooted two chairs closer and offered one to his newfound friend. “Did you notice the card he played? He obviously doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Chadwick continued to offer comment and the spy relaxed. Eventually the young gentleman commented back and before long they conversed like old friends. A round ended, and they chuckled and pointed at the looser.
Chadwick returned to his table. Hope soared in his breast when the spy joined him.
“It’s rare to meet someone who loves the game as much as I. Tell me, where did you learn your craft?”
Chadwick fought to control a tremor in his voice. He cleared his throat. “Believe it or not, I learned from my butler.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue but in a way it held a ring of truth. Kingsley had assisted in his current education.
“Your butler!” The spy slapped his thigh and horse laughed. When he calmed, he held out his hand. “Niles Max at your service.”
Chadwick grasped Niles hand in a firm grip. “Andrew Ravenlowe, Earl of Ravenwood. It is very nice to meet you.”
Niles made no indication of his position as spy and Chadwick wondered if perhaps he’d assumed incorrectly. On a fact finding mission, Chadwick asked, “What brings you to Rochdale?”
Niles peered into his empty mug.
“Can I have the barmaid fill that for you?”
Niles shook his head and scooted the mug toward the middle of the table. He drew his brows together, and kneaded his hands. His complexion became greenish, and Chadwick feared the young man would become ill.
“Niles, is something wrong? You don’t look so well. Is there anything I can do to help?”
The kneading of his hands increased. He peered over his shoulder several times. “Look, I’m kind of in a dire situation.”
Chadwick leaned on his elbows.
“You see a while back I stumbled into a certain gaming house. I didn’t have a penny to my name, but I was pretty good at turning coin in a game. I, well, I, I kind of stole another man’s purse and bet all his money.”
Andrews Brothers 02 - The Rescue Page 15