The kitten had fallen asleep, as if it knew it belonged in her arms. The lady’s close proximity offered a sensual view of her covered bosom. She seemed oblivious to the temptation she posed. With effort, he kept his gaze fixed on her face.
“I see bravery burning in your blue eyes.” She playfully flicked his shabby red cravat. “You are no blackguard. You are my Red Knight for rescuing this kitten and for keeping us safe.”
Her words shocked him. She described a man that, as a lad, he had foolishly dreamed of one day becoming. As an adult, he knew he could never be that man. Without a word, he shepherded her toward Mayfair. In short order, they arrived at Hatchard’s.
“What is the name of that mercer your companion wished to enter? I shall guide you there.”
“No need.” She waved at someone. “There she is.”
On the elbow of her pristine white sleeve he saw a thumbprint, three black fingers marks and one round smudge. He cringed at that reminder of their disparity and his deformity. His customary gloom returned. He bowed. “Good day then.”
“Sir, please wait. Here is payment for your assistance.”
“I do not want payment.” All he wanted was to drag Miss Wood out of the bookshop so they could leave.
“What do I do about the kitten?” she asked.
“What had you intended to do with it?”
“My companion does not want me to keep it. And my father will be cross if I bring home another stray.”
“You should have thought of that before chasing after it.”
“But you caught the kitten.” She handed the beast over.
The scrawny, dirty furball meowed pitifully and looked up at him with eyes as deeply troubled as the lady’s.
“Be warned,” he said in a grim tone. “Leave this animal in my care and your effort on its behalf will have been for naught.”
The lady gave him a hard stare. “No, sir, it is you who is mistaken. You are whom I believe you to be, not whom you think you are. Of that, I am certain.” She hunted out a small card from her reticule and tucked it in his hand beside the kitten. “Kindly notify me of how the kitten fares. Good day.”
Before he could argue, she hurried into the sunlight.
“There you are,” Miss Wood said in a cheerful voice as she exited the bookshop carrying four volumes. “I thought you had deserted me for good.” She exclaimed in surprise as the kitten scrambled onto Daniel’s shoulder to sit sloping against his neck and ear. “Why, Mr. Trenton, what have you there?”
He watched as the lady in white met up with her companion. “A miracle, Miss Wood. A true miracle.”
A movement across the street caught his eye—the gentleman in black stepped out of an alleyway and stood, staring at the lady. Daniel’s pulse sped. He was about to hand the kitten over to Miss Wood and run over to warn the young lady, but she had alighted into a carriage with her companion. Within minutes, the vehicle was rolling down the street. Daniel checked on the man in black but he, too, was gone, vanishing among the smartly dressed crowd.
“Shall we go?” Miss Wood asked.
Daniel nodded, took her books and offered his arm. She accepted, and with the kitten riding his shoulder, they set off for the mews where their carriage was stored. He tucked the card into his pocket and decided that he had no choice but to seek out his angel one more time. She must be warned about being caught alone on the streets of London. What if no one was there to save her next time?
FAITH RODE BACK to Richmond in her father’s carriage in a state of bemused wonder. Mrs. Hutchinson scolded her the entire way and then, just as they arrived at the house, she begged Faith not to mention that they had been separated.
Faith’s shoulders tightened. She had never lied to her parents, and doing so for such a minor infraction as getting lost seemed untenable. Still, she did not wish to cause her companion any trouble. “I will try, Mrs. Hutchinson.”
The woman nodded her thanks and murmured that it would be for the best. They had barely stepped foot inside the front doors, however, before their butler, Henley, took her coat and said that her parents wished to see her.
Mrs. Hutchinson placed a cautionary hand on Faith’s forearm. “You must change first.”
“The duke asked to see you directly upon your return, my lady,” Henley said. “He is in the drawing room.”
Faith shook off the older woman’s hold and hurried toward where her father was waiting. What could be so urgent? Could someone have taken ill?
Once in the room, she curtsied to her father, the Duke of Burley. She would have hugged him, but his stiff shoulders and uncustomary frown put her off. Something was definitely wrong. Her mother patted the Grecian sofa seat beside her and Faith went over and kissed her smooth, lilac-scented cheek.
As Faith took her place, her mother’s smile faltered. “My dear child, whatever has happened to you?”
Faith followed her glance to where the kitten had soiled her gown. And her pristine white shoes were now a grimy brown despite her avoiding the muck in that alley. This was why Mrs. Hutchinson had wanted her to change. She released a sigh. “I am sorry, Mama, but I found a tiny creature in need of rescue.”
Her mother shook her head, but with humor. “Faith, you cannot bring home every stray you find.”
“It has been that way since she was little,” the duke said, his eyes softening. “Faith, you are no longer a child. You cannot continue to run around like a hoyden rescuing puppies.”
“It was a kitten, Papa, and I did not bring it home. I met a kind gentleman who agreed to care for the animal.”
One of her father’s eyebrows shot up.
Faith understood his surprise. She was rarely forward with strange men. Her cheeks warmed at her parents’ silent study of her, and maybe a little from the remembrance of said gentleman.
The entire time Mrs. Hutchinson had been scolding her in the carriage, Faith had been envisioning her rescuer’s sparkling blue eyes and bravery with those young ruffians. And when he reached past her to catch that poor terrified creature in his strong gentle hand, her breath had caught in awe.
“This is reason enough to proceed with our plans,” her father finally said in a stern tone. “Talking to strange men in the street, indeed. And Mrs. Hutchinson allowed this?”
“It was not her fault, Papa.”
“Would you care to tell us about this gentleman?” her mother asked.
“He is irrelevant.” Her father glanced at her mother. “Would you care to give her the good news?”
Good news? Faith had thought something dire had transpired. “What has happened?”
“A very felicitous event, my dear,” her mother said. “Your friends will be jealous when they hear of it. Your father has received a proposal for your hand in marriage.”
Faith gulped as the shock registered. Feeling she was not yet ready for the trials of marriage, she had gone to great pains to dampen the enthusiasm of any gentlemen who courted her. With caution, she said, “From whom, Mama?”
“The Duke of Morton.”
Faith breathed in profound relief. She was not acquainted with this particular gentleman, though she had heard a great deal about him from her friends who had been swooning all Season at a duke coming into marriageable age. But he was not for Faith. Even if he was wealthy and titled, he was far too young. For a moment, her parents had frightened her. She did not even know Morton. “There must be a mistake then, Mama, for I have not been introduced to this gentleman.”
“There is no mistake.” Her father moved from where he had been standing by the window. He looked anxious, as if her response to this offer was of utmost importance.
Faith’s curiosity went on high alert. Her father had never intimated before this that her making a match was urgent. In fact, she had assumed he found her coolness toward her sui
tors amusing. “Is something the matter, Papa?”
“No,” he said, but skirted her gaze.
“But . . .” Faith protested, worry rising in her chest. Were they seriously considering this proposal?
“We have given you ample opportunity to make a match on your own,” he said, sounding long-suffering. “Two years we waited, Faith, while you smiled at every eligible gentleman but never encouraged one. Though, I might add, you sometimes did a good job of discouraging them.”
“None warranted encouragement, Papa.” Until now. How could she admit that she had finally met a man who commanded her romantic interest but that he was entirely unsuitable? Yet, his act of chivalry this morning marked him as exceptional.
Not only had he saved her kitten, he had then, despite his protests, agreed to take care of it. Faith’s heart warmed at that thought. Though her father had often scolded her about the strays she brought home, he would always turn around and convince one of his parliamentary friends into adopting it. She had thought no other man in this whole world could compare favorably with her father. Today, one had.
“Well, this suitor does merit consideration,” her father said, crossing his arms. “And we have accepted this match on your behalf.”
Accepted? Faith’s heart shuddered. He had accepted without speaking with her? That made no sense. Her father was her dearest confidant. Every morning, he shared his impressions of the politicians he interacted with in Parliament and his views of their logic and reasoning. It was why she loved their breakfast time. So, why would he not confer with her on something as important as her future husband?
“Faith, you seem uneasy.” Her mother stroked her hot cheek. “Why are you not excited? He is a duke, dear!”
“Why the rush, Mama? I might meet someone I like this Season.” Like a man with devil-may-care blue eyes.
Her father snorted.
Faith sent him a hurt look and he bowed his head, seeming troubled. She frowned, concerned. Could something other than her marital prospects be bothering him?
Her mother touched her hand. “Faith, have you considered that Morton might suit you?”
How to answer? She could hardly say she was certain he would be suitable, but would her heart thunder at his touch?
“We have invited him to tea this afternoon, so you can become acquainted,” her mother said.
Faith looked at her father, but, muttering he had work to do, he left the room. She turned to her mother. “I do not recall meeting him at the balls I have attended.” She then voiced her other concern. “Is he not still a youth?”
“He turned eighteen last March.”
Two years her junior! She could be his governess. “That is rather young for a man to marry.”
“Morton’s mother considers her son to be young and impressionable, so she wishes to see him safely settled and quickly, before he is unduly influenced by the wrong sort of people.”
And he allowed this? She doubted her rescuer did as his mother bade him. “As I recall, his father passed away long ago?”
“Yes, he has a tragic history. The late duke’s first wife died young, then their young son and heir perished. The duke remarried, to a widow. She gave birth to the current Duke of Morton. Shortly after Andrew Joseph Killian, his new son and heir, was born, the duke died.”
“So many deaths.” Faith’s heart squeezed with sympathy.
“Morton inherited his title, but his mother and an Irish male cousin hold joint charge of his estate until his majority.”
“So I must live with Morton and his mother until he turns one and twenty?” Faith clenched her fists. No, absolutely not.
“Yes. Morton also has a half-brother from his mother’s first marriage who resides with them. They are expected in a few hours, Faith. So refresh yourself before their visit.”
Faith started at the swiftness with which these events moved but she dutifully nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
She kissed her mother’s cheek, then left the room to go upstairs. She did not care for this arrangement at all. Maybe, with a little time, she could discourage her parents from this plan. If not, she had no choice but to find a way to dissuade the Duke of Morton from pursuing this misguided union.
Chapter Three
DANIEL TRENTON returned to Ravenstock Manor, his newly acquired kitten slouching on his left shoulder, calmly purring. The kitten reminded him of his lady in white—both were open-hearted and trusting. He scratched its chin, and the kitten leaned into the motion. Too trusting.
They entered the house through the servants’ stairs and from there, continued down a long corridor painted a merry yellow. Doors on either side led to rooms packed with wine bottles or bags of colorful root vegetables. Finally, they arrived at the kitchen, which was brightened by sunlight pouring in through small high windows that faced the back garden.
He inhaled the enticing scents of the noonday meal—fresh-baked bread and stewed mutton. The aroma started his stomach to grumble and his mouth to water, a reminder that his next meal was overdue. The clatter of pans and servant chatter ceased and a maid rushed over to inquire after the kitten.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Pollard, nodded to him. “The trip to the bookshop seems to have cheered you, Mr. Trenton.”
“More like an encounter with an attractive female than with a good book.” Miss Wood gave Daniel an arch look that dared him to spill his secrets.
He had refused to divulge anything about where he had acquired the kitten, other than to say that a lady had asked him to take it into his care. That was all he knew. The card the lady in white had thrust at him burned in his pocket and called him a liar.
Mary, the upstairs maid, pried the kitten off his shoulder. He turned to look at her. She appeared unusually pretty today. “What is different about you, Mary? Ah, your hair.” He gave her locks a playful tug. “Red suits you.” He normally preferred blondes but this morning’s encounter with a fiery-headed beauty had readjusted his bias.
“Do you like it, sir?” Mary’s eyes lit up. “I have held this shift for almost an hour. That is the longest ever for me, Mr. Trenton. Double what I could hold last year.”
She was becoming adept with shifting her features. “See you keep your strength up then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“As if we could stop her from eating,” Mrs. Pollard said. “She has been into every bit of food in the kitchen since she began this change.” Her eyes softened and she gave the maid’s shoulder a pat. “You take all you need, girl. Lady Roselyn says my primary duty in this house is to keep everyone fit while learning our craft. We cannot have you withering away.”
At that reminder of past painful events, Daniel’s left shoulder ached where he had taken a bullet a year ago from Evelyn’s henchman. Miss Wood, too, looked drawn. No doubt she still carried guilt at her part in what had happened back then, when the entire Rue Alliance’s future and Lady Roselyn’s life had been at stake—what they all referred to as the “dark times.”
She quietly excused herself. “I shall be in the library.”
“Remember to eat,” Mrs. Pollard called out with concern as the door shut. “I will send a tray to her or she will get buried in her work and starve.” She nodded to the maid. “That kitten’s filthy, Mary. Out of my kitchen with both of you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Young Hope came in then. Taking one look at the kitten, she breathed out a delighted, “Oooh!”
“It needs a bath,” Mary said. “Would you care to help?”
Hope nodded and reached up. Then, just as quickly, she withdrew, hiding her hands behind her back.
“You will not harm it, miss,” Mary said. “It is perfectly ordinary, see? It is not like one of us.”
Hope glanced at Daniel with misgiving. At his nod, she tentatively petted the kitten. When it came to no harm, she
expelled a sigh of pleasure.
Daniel frowned. So, Hope was still worried about touching others. Admittedly, the last time she had used her unusual talent to stop a shift, it had a devastating effect, but he had believed her recovered. Some of the information Miss Wood had uncovered in her research might give them insight on how to comfort a child who had inadvertently killed. He would have to ask her.
His stomach grumbled again so he plucked a bowl off a nearby shelf and bent to sniff the stew.
“Cannot eat yet, sir.” With a wave of Mrs. Pollard’s forefinger, the bowl flew from his grip and resettled on the shelf.
Daniel never grew tired of seeing her and her son, Stony’s, talents, which involved moving items through the air.
“The master is on the hunt for you,” she said.
“I suppose I should have stayed to oversee luncheon.”
“Randal saw to that duty. Sir Phillip awaits you in his study.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “He did not sound angry. I am sure all is fine. Shall I do up a tray for you?”
Daniel nodded resignedly. “Thank you, Mrs. Pollard.”
Sir Phillip had said someone should accompany Miss Wood to the bookshop. But he probably meant a footman should go, not his butler.
As his friends had learned this past year, Daniel did not have the correct temperament to be a dutiful servant. Yet, after the horrors he called home as a child, Ravenstock Manor was paradise. He paused outside the study to school his features. It would not do to scowl at his employer.
Daniel entered, admiring the elegant room. It was a gentleman’s space with mahogany furniture, damask curtains, and a tidy writing desk. A perfect reflection of its owner’s refined tastes. He shut the door. The click resounded, reminding him that when underbutler Randal entered a room, no one noticed.
Sir Phillip, who was sitting on a rosewood chair by the hearth sipping a glass of brandy, glanced his way. He wore a brown jacket with a squared-off waistline over a light brown waistcoat, a perfectly knotted cravat, and breeches that fit snugly into polished Hessians. His valet must be pleased.
A Scorching Dilemma Page 3