The room quieted as servants found busy work to do at the kitchen’s periphery while spying on this developing drama.
Sir Phillip kept his hands behind his back, his stance casual and his face bland as he walked toward the kitchen table. Daniel sensed Sir Phillip’s fury beneath his customary calm façade. “Where were you last night?”
“Personal business, sir.”
“You missed our appointment, Trenton. Have you forgotten who pays your wages?”
Daniel bit his lip to keep from blurting out that no one paid him. That was the problem. He ground his teeth to gain control, and then showed Sir Phillip a cold expression. “I am sorry, sir. It will not happen again.”
“No, it will not. Of that, I assure you.”
Now was his chance to say he was leaving before Sir Phillip threw him out. “I—” he began to say when the kitchen door flung open again.
Both men glanced around, startled.
Lady Roselyn paused in the doorway. Her sea-green gaze shifted from her husband to Daniel before she strolled toward the housekeeper. “There you are, Mrs. Pollard. I am ready a little earlier than planned to discuss this week’s menu.”
“Yes, my lady.” The housekeeper hurried to her mistress’s side. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting, my lady.”
“Not at all. Shall we adjourn to the morning room? It is more conducive for private conversations, do you not agree?”
Mrs. Pollard curtsied. “Yes, my lady.”
Lady Roselyn turned to address Daniel. “By the way, Daniel, I met a friend of yours yesterday. Lady Faith, the Duke of Burley’s daughter. She mentioned her father plans to arrange a match between her and the Duke of Morton. It is quite a coincidence that you are close friends with the same people Phillip and I are visiting this week.”
Ignoring her husband’s narrowing gaze and the other servants’ gasps, she ushered Mrs. Pollard out the door.
Daniel’s ears rang. Faith had told Lady Roselyn about their friendship. Had she mentioned that he had kissed her, too? Did her father know? Should he expect to be arrested? The silence in the kitchen lasted a good long minute.
Sir Phillip opened the kitchen door. “We shall continue this discussion in my study.”
“There is nothing—” Daniel argued.
“Now.”
“I will keep your food warm, Mr. Trenton,” Mary whispered.
Daniel followed Sir Phillip out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The study door barely shut behind them before the interrogation began. How and when had Daniel met Lady Faith? What was his connection to that family? Did he have anything to do with the missing buckles?
Sir Phillip paced the length of the study like an enraged tiger stalking the bars of his cage.
“I didn’t nick ’em for the duke, if that is what you are implying.” Daniel said, furious that he was a suspect.
“Where were you last night?”
“Out.”
“Not good enough.”
Daniel clenched his fists. He did not have to lay his whole pitiful life before this man.
Sir Phillip halted before him until they stood eye to eye. He studied Daniel as if he were a particularly irritating clue he intended to decipher . . . or else. “In the year we have been acquainted, I have never liked you, Trenton. Nor do I trust you. I do not care for the way you look at my wife.”
Daniel glared at Sir Phillip’s left ear.
“However, she is alive today because of you,” Sir Phillip continued. “For that, I am in your debt. It is an obligation I can never settle. And, as a member of the Rue Alliance, and as someone who believed in her when no one else would, including myself, you have earned her undying loyalty.”
Daniel’s startled gaze locked with Sir Phillip’s. Was that why Lady Roselyn kept him close? Out of a misguided sense of loyalty? “I do not plan to stay here, sir. That is what I was up to last night. Searching out another place to live. If it is acceptable to you, I shall leave here later today.”
“You have never before cared if anything you did was acceptable to me. Have you told my wife?”
“Not yet, sir. You may inform her.”
Sir Phillip gave a harsh laugh. “I think not.” He stepped back and put some daylight between them. Daniel breathed easier.
“If you wish to desert the rest of the group,” Sir Phillip said, “you had best discuss the matter with Lady Roselyn. She is the leader of the Rue Alliance.”
He was not deserting the alliance! There were members who did not live and work here, though they rarely became involved in alliance business.
Sir Phillip should be thrilled at news of his butler’s imminent departure. So why was he making it hard? “Might this news not be better coming from you, sir?”
“No, it would not. I do not condone people running away from their problems. I assumed you felt the same. Is that not why you have stayed as long as you have?”
“She does not need me anymore, sir.”
“She has not needed you since last summer. Yet, you chose to stay.” Sir Phillip circled him. “I am curious, Trenton. Why the sudden change of plans?” He halted in front of Daniel again, his head tilted and eyes narrowed. “Could it have something to do with the fair Lady Faith?”
Daniel sent him a glare. “Leave her out of this.” The moment he spoke, he knew he had made a mistake.
A startled grin spread across Sir Phillip’s face. “It is like that, is it?”
“She is a duke’s daughter.” Heat scorched Daniel’s ears. “Why would I be fool enough to want someone out of my reach?”
“It did not stop you before.”
Daniel’s attention wandered to the back garden, visible through the open curtains. This was a subject the two of them had avoided for more than a year. He wanted to skirt it now. “I do not repeat mistakes.”
“That is good. Fighting the class barrier only makes it more difficult to bear.”
How would he know? Bitterness swelled in Daniel, but he crushed it. He could not believe he was discussing this thorny issue with Sir Phillip, of all people. He bowed and headed for the door. “I will be gone by sunset, sir.”
“Wait.”
Would this confounded interview never end? Had he not endured enough humiliation for one day? His face stiff and blank he faced Sir Phillip. “Yes, sir?”
“If being in Rose’s presence no longer encourages you, then you staying here no longer concerns me. I stand by yesterday’s proposal. I could use your help with my case.”
“I will not spy on Lady Faith or her father.”
“Agreed. But if investigating Burley is out, how about helping me learn about the man who wants to marry her? If he is a cad, do you not wish to warn her before she accepts his suit?”
It was a brutally inconvenient question. Above everything else, Daniel wanted Faith to be safe. But it irked him to admit that Sir Phillip had a point. “I will help you, sir. And once this matter is resolved, I will leave here.”
“Agreed.” Sir Phillip held out his hand, his grin devilish. “After you notify my wife.”
Chapter Seven
AT EIGHT SHARP the next night, Faith stood beside her parents in the drawing room as Morton and his family arrived for a late supper. The Duchess of Morton looked resplendent in an emerald gown richly embroidered in gold at the hems and with diamonds about her neck and earlobes. Mr. Granger was impeccable in black with a waistcoat of vertical emerald stripes.
The resemblance between mother and son was unmistakable, not simply in dress, but also in their strong chins, long noses, and rosy complexions. Beside them, Morton stood pale and silent in a plain black evening coat, single-breasted cream waistcoat, and wool breeches.
After pleasantries, Faith plunged into the topic uppermost on her mind. “You must have received invitat
ions for the June ball my mother is hosting, your grace,” she said, addressing the Duchess of Morton. “Wellington is to be the guest of honor.”
The duchess flashed an agreeable smile. “We will be there.”
Faith took a breath for courage. “At the end of that ball, I shall give Morton my decision.”
“Decision?” the duchess said in a soft whisper. Faith felt as if an icy fog had descended on the room and she shivered, despite the warmth coming from the blazing hearth.
The Duchess of Morton turned to Faith’s father. “And this is also what you want, sir?”
Faith glanced at her father. He had promised to allow her to wait until then. And he always kept his promises.
The silence stretched.
Beside Faith, her mother sat perfectly still, her hands clasped on her lap, jaws clenched, not saying a word. Faith’s father’s gaze met his wife’s and stilled as if a silent war of words raged between them. Faith’s pulse raced, wondering who would win this battle.
“Agreed,” Morton’s quiet voice said from beside her.
The duke’s mother’s gaze swung to him, wide with surprise.
“Glad that is settled.” The young man stood and his right knee cracked against the center table, sending dishes clattering. “Lady Faith, will you give me a tour of your home before we go in for supper?”
Faith sprang up. Following his lead, she exited the room before anyone could object.
All the way out, Mr. Granger’s cool gaze trailed her. Her shoulder blades twitched, as she felt that intense regard penetrate into her marrow. By the time Morton shut the door behind them, her nerves were on tenterhooks. She leaned close to him and whispered, “Thank you, your grace!”
DANIEL AND SIR Phillip arrived at the Morton estate late in the evening. Daniel forced the thought of Faith possibly laughing and conversing with her suitor out of his mind, and focused on the job at hand. Cloudy skies worked in their favor. Using handfuls of ivy and footholds in the stone, they scaled the outer wall.
Before he could jump over, Sir Phillip’s arm stopped him. “There could be dogs on patrol.”
Sir Phillip was good at this game. They listened for signs of movement. Finally, Sir Phillip gave the signal, and Daniel dropped with a soft thump onto the ground inside the wall. His companion followed. Shadows skirted ahead among the elaborately landscaped garden. Enormous oaks bordered a snaking driveway from front gate to house. Using the broad trunks as cover, they stole close to the mansion.
The pearl-gray house’s asymmetrical gabled bay windows were handsome. A cool wind tugged at his dark jacket as he tested several window latches for one left unhooked. All openings were tightly secured. He finally found a pair of French doors that rattled loosely. Using his blade, he managed to open them and, within a few seconds, he swung the doors open, then whistled for Sir Phillip, who was checking the other side of the house.
The doors led to a circular conservatory filled with strange-looking plants. This section of the house was quiet and still. With the family gone for the night, most of the servants had probably been given the night off. The few that remained were hopefully having their evening meal in the kitchen or asleep.
Still, the possibility of being seen was a real worry. As Daniel’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he kept his ears trained for any indication of movement.
The two of them searched the ground floor, from the duke’s office, to the library, and the duchess’s morning room, in search of a safe or strong room that might house a pair of stolen ruby shoe buckles. He and Sir Phillip worked surprisingly well together, anticipating each other’s moves as if they had done this all their lives. Sir Phillip’s uncanny ability to find the most unique hiding places impressed him, while Daniel’s talent for breaking into any lock they encountered gained him several grudgingly approving glances.
Not finding any sign of the buckles, they took to the upper floors. They avoided the ballrooms and galleries on the second floor, in favor of the family rooms on the third.
Footsteps alerted them to a maid climbing the servants’ stairs. Daniel and Sir Phillip slipped into a side room that looked like guest quarters, and waited for the maid to finish whatever duty had brought her up here. Once she departed, they continued their search. The night dragged on as they went from room to room but only found jewelry, deeds, and coins—no royal buckles.
As time wore on, Daniel’s nerves stretched to the breaking point. In the past, any time he stole into a house in the dead of night, he had been in and gone within a few moments. Now, as they reached the two-hour mark, he was ready to bolt.
Sir Phillip acted as if all this stealth activity were no more onerous than playing hazard at his club or taking his wife out for a carriage ride to Hyde Park. And he was determined to stay, all night if necessary, until they had searched the entire house.
Daniel began to understand how he came to be such a valued intelligence officer. The man had nerves of steel.
In one of the bedrooms, Sir Phillip checked for safes behind pictures. Daniel pointed to a four-foot painted oriental vase. “Sir, we should look beneath this.”
Sir Phillip came over and together they edged the heavy container aside. Underneath was a safe.
“How did you know it would be there?” Sir Phillip asked.
Daniel shrugged, unable to explain his uncanny hunch. “Seemed a logical place.”
“You have good instincts.” Sir Phillip sounded impressed.
He bent to fiddle with the lock. Within a few minutes, the safe was open and he pulled out pound notes and a heavy bag of gold coins. Enough to live on for the rest of his life. Him and every alliance member he knew. “Why keep so much in a house safe and not invested or stored at the bank?”
Sir Phillip shook his head. “I cannot imagine why. There was more than enough blunt in the downstairs office to cover wages. This seems excessive. And, therefore, peculiar. If one had a suspicious mind, one might suspect they wanted to ensure a quick escape cache.”
Excess funds, but no buckles. Under Sir Phillip’s vigilant eye, he returned every note and coin back to where it belonged.
Sir Phillip’s uneasy gaze made Daniel grin. This night’s activity should prove to the man that if Daniel had truly wanted to steal from him, Sir Phillip would be a pauper by now. No safe would have been secure enough. Once they finished checking all the rooms most likely to house what they sought, Sir Phillip raised his thumb to indicate upstairs. The attic was next.
Daniel rolled his eyes and looked longingly down the stairs, but complied.
TO HER SURPRISE, Faith enjoyed Morton’s company as she showed him her home. He listened attentively and seemed intrigued by the architects who had redesigned the place.
Morton stopped to examine the ceiling of the long gallery. Faith, seeing his interest, related the story painted on the panels. As she pointed, her blue silk shawl fell. Morton picked it up and draped it across her shoulder. He had a delicate touch as he handed her the ends of the light fabric.
“This becomes you,” he said in his soft voice, looking intently at the material.
“Thank you, your grace,” Faith said.
“It is as ethereal as you are, my lady.”
“I am not so fragile,” she said with a laugh. “I meant to ask, do you care for Sheffield?”
His gaze touched hers with a questioning look and she marveled at his dark blue eyes, so unlike his mother’s, which were silver gray. And they seemed so familiar. . . .
“I see you two are becoming better acquainted.”
Faith started at the cool voice from the open doorway.
Mr. Granger leaned against the doorframe, observing her.
Feeling uneasy, she reached for Morton but he had left her side to wander around the ornate chamber.
Mr. Granger strolled toward her and she hurri
ed over to Morton. “There is a ballroom yet to see, your grace. Shall I show you that now?”
“You may show me.” Mr. Granger now stood beside her. “Mother wishes to speak to my brother. Run along, Andrew. I shall watch over the lovely Lady Faith.”
“I shall come with you.” Faith gripped Morton’s forearm lest he leave her with his unnerving half-brother. “I tire of walking.”
“There are chairs by that wall.” Granger gave Morton a hard glance. “Go. You do not want to keep Mother waiting.”
To Faith’s horror, the duke pulled away and left.
Faith attempted to follow, but Mr. Granger’s hand clamped on her wrist.
THERE WAS A lighted lamp in the corridor of this top level of the Duke of Morton’s house. The west wing seemed to be the servants’ quarters. At a nod from Sir Phillip, they went toward the east. A board creaked beneath Daniel’s foot and he froze. No one came to check. Lucky for them, old boards sometimes cracked whether someone trod on them or not. The servants would be used to that sound. Past a door, it was pitch black. At least, with all the walls barricaded by boxes and furniture, it should be safe to light a candle in here.
Daniel flicked his thumb until a flame lit on it and glanced about with dismay. The large open room was packed tight with trunks, crates, and bits of furniture and paintings draped by Holland covers. Searching this room could take hours. “Do we have time to go through this, sir?” Daniel asked.
“Look for anything that appears touched in the last few weeks,” Sir Phillip replied, pulling out two candles from his pocket. He lit one using the fire from Daniel’s thumb and gave him the other. “Watch for fingerprints and footprints in the dust or cobwebs that appear to have been moved aside. Focus on trunks and crates that are nearest the door.”
Daniel lit his candle and flicked his hand until his thumb returned to its normal form. They separated and headed in opposite directions, following signs of faded footprints.
Behind a trunk, Daniel found a chest with a faded chalky handprint covered in dust. He held his right hand above the small print to measure. Made by a child, no more than four or five years of age at the most.
A Scorching Dilemma Page 8