Lord Terrance’s question seemed to require some thought on Sir Phillip’s part. Finally, he said, “He has acquired an amazing amount of information about his role since he was conscripted into that position by my wife. What use he puts that to, remains in question.”
“May I be permitted to ask why he is here, dressed as a gentleman? Or is this one of your secret assignments?”
“It seems he may be the true Duke of Morton. He is here to lay claim to the title.”
“Oh ho!” Lord Terrance’s glance shifted to the current Duke of Morton standing stiffly between his obviously fuming mother and a half-brother who looked dangerous. “That explains Belle’s dark premonitions about this night’s festivities.”
At Sir Phillip’s questioning glance, he shrugged. “Nothing specific—she merely said she had a sense of impending doom. Belle’s visions are not as helpful as one might wish. But, cousin, I am still confused. Why do you sponsor this Edward? What is your interest in him?”
Sir Phillip studied Daniel thoroughly before responding. “The other day, I overheard him explain to the underbutler his understanding of the five stages of decanting wine. As I listened, I thought happily of him married to Lady Faith, no longer making sheep eyes at my wife and out of my cellar for good. I believe that is at the core of why I am sponsoring him.”
Lord Terrance gave a bark of laughter.
Faith squeezed out from behind the palm. Sir Phillip and Lord Terrance, startled, stepped apart to give her room.
“Pray, excuse me, gentlemen.” She could barely contain her happiness. All of a sudden, she felt as if Sir Phillip were part of her family, too, so she reached up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for helping Daniel,” she whispered and hurried off.
Faith skirted her guests, barely pausing to answer their greeting. Her gaze was trained on Daniel, who seemed to be frowning at all who crowded around him.
Once she drew close, his frown turned into a wide relieved smile. “You are enchanting, Lady Faith.”
Faith loved this man more with every passing moment. “Sir,” Faith said, pleasure tingling up her body, “it is you who takes my breath away.”
“Ah,” he said, with a mischievous look. “Then would you care to go outside for some fresh air?”
“Yes, please.”
Daniel gently steered her though the open doors onto the balcony that overlooked the lighted formal gardens. A warm summer breeze fluttered Faith’s gown. There were a few couples there, quietly chatting. Past the lamp-lit lawn and patio stones, darkened pathways meandered through beds of manicured shrubberies and high trimmed hedges where Faith had played as a child.
She gave him an inquisitive glance. “I wondered how you would react to being the center of attention among the ton.”
“I expected to feel out of place. Awkward.”
“Did you?”
He gave her a twisted smile and his expression spoke of confusion. “Oddly, I did not. On many levels, it felt right to step in through your grand front doors. I felt as if I were the eldest son of a peer and I was expected inside.”
Faith gave a delighted laugh at the wonder in his voice.
“But Faith, because I believe it, that does not mean others will. To some, once a servant, always a servant.”
“Only a servant to my love.”
Daniel laughed at her audacity. It pleased her to have chased that familiar melancholic look from his face.
She took a deep breath of the jasmine-scented fresh air. Enticing notes of a waltz sailed through the open balcony doors.
“I only had time to learn one dance,” Daniel said, “So Lady Roselyn insisted it be a waltz. On our arrival, I asked your mother’s permission to dance it with you. Upon Lady Roselyn’s recommendation of my character, she reluctantly acquiesced.” His dark blue eyes smiled into hers with a wicked challenge as he held out his arm. “Would you do me the honor, Lady Faith?”
Thrilled by the prospect of dancing with him, she readily agreed. Her excitement changed to confusion when he took her down the steps and out into the garden instead of indoors. Was he worried about others laughing at him if he made a mistake? Her heart squeezed with love for this gentle man as he brought them to a stop in the middle of a wide expansive patio at the bottom of the steps.
They stood side by side, each with one arm bent at the elbow and the other positioned shoulder-high as they held hands. The dance began in a formal promenade and then the figure as she passed under his arm in a gentle twirl. Then within a brief embrace, they did another twirl. Faith’s heart hammered at the intimate graceful movements and the intensity in Daniel’s eyes as they stepped to the music.
Their dance continued, moving in promenade, moving apart, anticipating coming together, and then embracing for the few movements of the twirl. It was the most romantically sensual thing Faith could ever recall experiencing. She wondered if her perception was augmented by the fact that she and Daniel had made love. This dance, in its coming together and moving apart, mimicked that more intimate bedroom choreography.
When he brought her closer for the next twirl, Faith knew she would go wherever he led from this day forward. They danced under the bright moonlight and flickering torches, and the cool evening air whirled about her as her excitement built. Faith could have danced this way forever.
As the music drew to a close, she came to a breathless halt, curtseying as he bowed. She rose, cheeks flushed, body hot and perspiring. The desire-drenched look in Daniel’s eyes suggested this ball was the last place he wanted to find himself at the end of that beguiling tune.
Applause began immediately.
Startled, they turned to find several couples on the balcony steps applauding.
“I believe we should exchange the ballroom for the garden,” a young officer in uniform suggested. He bowed to the pretty lady in pink beside him who laughingly acceded. Several others quickly joined them and Daniel drew Faith aside so their impromptu dance floor could be shared.
“We have created a taste for outdoor dancing,” Daniel said.
Faith laughed. “Shall I ask the orchestra to play here?”
“There is certainly more room out here than inside.”
“This has been a successful evening.” Then Faith remembered the conversation with Sir Phillip and the prince. “Except for Sir Phillip. The regent promised to send him to Siberia if the missing buckles are not presented to Wellington tonight.”
“Then I had better speak with Andrew as soon as possible.” He gave her a concerned glance. “Would you be disappointed if I went in search of him?”
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, I would like to inquire after my mother. I want to ensure she is enjoying herself. She has been so busy looking after Papa these last few days.”
With a nod, he led her around the dancing couples and up the steps to the balcony. They entered the ballroom to find it even more packed with the elite of London.
“Do you see my mother?” Faith asked.
“No. Nor Andrew.”
“I shall fetch a servant to help us locate them. If I see Morton, I will send him to you.”
“And I, your mother. I had better check in with Sir Phillip as well.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Till we meet again. Back here in a half hour?”
“Not a minute longer,” she said.
He held her back when she would have moved away. “If anything or anyone causes you distress, come find me.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, your grace,” she whispered with a tender smile.
FAITH THREADED her way through the crowd. Whenever she met a servant, she asked after her mother. As the number of “no’s” mounted, her trepidation increased.
The noise in the room pounded inside her head and the burning wax candles
perfuming the air suffocated her. She ordered the next footman she encountered to open all the doors and windows and to spread the word that she sought her mother.
She then headed to the juncture between the east and west wings where the grand staircase continued upstairs. Perhaps her mother had gone to check on her husband. Faith was about to climb the stairs when the Duchess of Morton approached her from behind. “Good evening, my dear.”
Faith turned to bolt back to the grand ballroom.
“I would not do that,” the duchess said in an ominous voice. “Not before you discover your mother’s whereabouts.”
Faith froze and then slowly turned around. “Where is she?”
“It took you long enough to notice her absence. I had worried that Charles would not have time to escort her away. Needlessly, as it turned out, since you conveniently disappeared onto the balcony with that imposter pretending to be my stepson. That gave us all the time we needed to act.”
“What have you done with her?” Faith ran into the first room in the east wing. The chamber was empty. She checked the others on both sides of the corridor, but had the same results.
The duchess leisurely followed her down the corridor. “The more time you waste searching, the less time she will have.”
Faith stopped. “What have you done to her?”
“That is better.” The duchess nodded her approval and fanned herself. “Your mother is safe enough and will stay that way as long as you do as I say.”
A maid passed by, her gaze averted in proper servant fashion, as she tried her best to appear invisible to her betters. She turned the corner and was gone.
Faith could have screamed. Ann would have at least made eye contact and spotted the mounting terror on her mistress’s face.
“What do you want from me?” Faith asked, gritting her teeth.
“It is simple, my dear. You will announce tonight to your guests that you have agreed to marry Morton. Shall we say at midnight? That timing has a fairytale aura about it, does it not? If you wish, consider me your fairy godmother, about to arrange your betrothal to your prince.”
“You cannot be serious.” The rambling woman was daft. “After Mr. Granger’s actions, and yours, I would never countenance such a parody of a relationship. And you are straying from the issue. Where is my mother? If you do not tell me this instant, I shall find Sir Phillip and you may play your twisted games with him.”
The duchess’s face flushed. “We will leave Sir Phillip out of this. He and his infernal servants have interfered enough in my affairs. Imagine, bringing an imposter to the ball and presenting him as my stepson. I told the regent this ‘Edward Killian’ is naught but a guttersnipe pretending to be a nobleman. He has promised to have a word with Sir Phillip about the matter. We shall see how long the good knight hangs on to his knighthood after this night’s fiasco.”
Faith shivered at the woman’s spite. Like a horse startled by a snake, she wanted to bolt, but if the duchess indeed had her mother captive, she had Faith’s back to a wall.
“Now, to the real matter at hand.” The duchess took Faith’s hand in her cold clammy fingers. “Your and Morton’s betrothal. The boy cares for you. Marriage to him will not be a hardship.”
“I do not doubt that Morton cares for me, your grace,” she said, hoping to pacify the barmy woman, “but only as a friend.”
The duchess shrugged. “Friendship ofttimes blossoms into stronger feelings, my dear. My love for my husband began in such a manner.” Her gaze lost its focus, as if her thoughts wandered.
Faith took a step sideways along the corridor.
The duchess dashed around her to block her race to the closest ballroom door. “Where are you going, my dear? We have not finished our discussion.”
“You must have loved the late Duke of Morton a great deal,” Faith said, desperate to distract her.
The duchess’s startled gaze speared Faith and then she let out a harsh laugh. “The late duke? That fool? No, I speak of my true love. My first husband. When he became ill, I nursed him for months. He had been poisoned by something he ate while hunting in the woods. He died, despite my best efforts to find a cure. A painful, lingering death.”
“I am sorry, your grace.” The woman seemed genuinely disturbed by her first husband’s death. “Losing a loved one can be agonizing.” Yet she had done her best to make sure Faith experienced the same thing.
“That is how I learned about the efficacies of plants to harm as well as heal.” She spoke as if discussing the development of recipes for preserves instead of the poisons she brewed.
Faith’s mind spun in horror. If she ran for help, would she lose her mother forever? What if Mr. Granger had taken her out of this house? She and Sir Phillip could search from cellar to attic and never find her. Faith not only needed to make this woman tell her where she had taken her mother, but also what poison she might have administered to her prisoner in the interim.
“I spent years testing my theories at the local charity hospitals,” the duchess continued. “The patients were eager enough for my breads and wine, and no one questioned the increase in patient mortality.”
She had practiced her poisons in hospitals, killing an untold number of innocent patients? How could Faith reason with someone this fit for Bedlam? Her rapid pulse tapped a drumbeat of alarm at her throat.
“I kept excellent records, tracking the time it took for various poisons to take effect and noting the symptoms.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
The duchess’s hold tightened as she inched closer, her cloying orange scent invading Faith’s lungs. “Why? So you will not mistake my meaning when I say that I am determined to have my way. Since I lost my beloved husband, my entire reason for living has been focused on our son. Charles Granger will have everything that was denied his father. Do you think, after all I have done to get this far, that I would allow a silly chit like you to cheat my son out of his destiny?”
“Why must I marry Morton?” Faith asked. “Whomever he marries will bear your grandchild.”
“True, but for some unfathomable reason, Charles only wants you. And whatever Charles wants, his mother gets for him.”
Faith cringed at that promise and tugged at her imprisoned arm, but the woman’s grip remained firm. Where were Sir Phillip and his guards? What was the point of having them here if they were not available to offer assistance when she needed it most?
Down the corridor a door opened. They checked in unison and saw Morton hurry out of a room. That door led to her father’s second study. What had Morton been doing in there?
“Morton!” the duchess called in a commanding tone.
The duke halted, looking startled.
“Come here, boy.” She glanced at Faith, still squirming in her grip, and then at her son. “On second thought, we will come to you. This discussion is better concluded in privacy.” She shuffled Faith ahead of her.
As they approached, the duke backed up until he was barring the door through which he had exited.
His defensive stance did not bolster Faith’s confidence.
“Step aside,” his mother said.
“It is dark in there, mother. Why not find another room that is lit?”
The duchess shoved him aside. Opening the door, she barged in with Faith, then yanked her son inside and shut the door behind him.
“Morton, light a candle. It is time for the three of us to have a little chat.”
“But mother—”
“Do it!”
The clipped tone brooked no argument. Slowly, Faith’s eyes adjusted to the darkness until shadows became discernible shapes. Into the silence came a snap of fingers, and Morton turned to them, holding a lighted candle and wearing a triumphant smile.
At his proud expression, a stirring of pleasure sprouted
in Faith. He reminded her of a younger Daniel. He was not as brave as his older brother, but he obviously had the Killian talent for starting fires and that made her feel more closely tied to him. She was grateful to have him here.
Morton used his candle to light several more until the room came to life. While her father used the one upstairs for his ducal duties and the stillroom for his medical activities, this was where he came when he wanted to relax and read a book for pleasure or listen to his wife play the pianoforte. The room’s high-backed chairs arranged near a couch comforted Faith. This was her home. She scanned the shelves and walls for a weapon.
Morton stood beside her father’s desk. He was absently shifting a bust of Nelson.
The jeweled buckles! Morton must have hidden them there. Why else would he act so suspicious? And if he had brought those, chances were good that somewhere in this room was proof of Daniel’s parentage.
“What are you doing, Morton?” his mother asked.
Faith’s pulse jumped. Distract her! “Never mind Morton. I want to know about my mother. Is she even still alive?”
The duchess stepped closer to Faith.
Faith gagged on her scent. Never again would she eat an orange.
“No need to worry, my dear. I am able to time the effect of my poisons to the minute.”
What bit of relief Faith had felt at Morton’s presence sank to the pit of her stomach.
“She lies,” Morton said. “Her poisonous plants were destroyed.”
“You have grown bold, your grace,” his mother said with deep sarcasm. “What has brought about this sudden change in character?”
Morton ducked his head.
“You are a foolish boy, always a disappointment to your mama.” She released Faith to approach Morton, and brushed his hair back from his forehead as if with tenderness, but there was a cruel look in her eyes. “Careful, Morton, else you, too, may meet your devil of a father’s end. As for my plants, did you think I would not have secreted a few potions elsewhere?” Her gaze became saturated with suspicion. “I wondered how my conservatory caught fire. For your sake, Morton, you better pray I do not find out you had a hand in its ruin.”
A Scorching Dilemma Page 24