Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse (17 page)

Roland entered the dining hall. Shock
registered on his face. From his seat at the head of the table, Luke motioned
him forward.

Hesitantly, Roland took the
offered seat and studied the full buffet against the wall. Succulent roasted
chicken, savory sautéed vegetables, and a pastry sent tantalizing aromas
throughout the room. A footman placed bowls of soup before them.

Luke ignored the first course and
sipped his port. A look of obvious satisfaction floated across his butler’s
face. It seemed the perfect time to trap him in his words and deeds.

Luke placed his glass down and
said, “Eat.”

Roland lifted his spoon and
murmured pleasurably when the soup hit his tongue. Luke motioned a footman
forward and accepted the main course. While Roland’s mouth was otherwise
engaged, Luke blurted, “We need to talk.”

Roland nodded, his lips still
smacking and creating sounds of satisfaction.

“Feel free to eat whilst I speak.”
Roland complied and Luke sliced his chicken as he said, “It has come to my
attention that in my absence, you concocted a plan whereby Chadwick pretended
to be me.”

Roland choked. Luke waited. The
butler’s color returned to normal and Luke chewed a bite of chicken, the savory
flavor assaulting his palate. He swallowed and wagged his fork at the butler. “I
must admit, at first I was shocked you enacted such a ruse. Then I discovered
the deceit went even further. Not only did Chadwick pretend to be me but he
also pretended to take a wife.”

Roland spit his drink across the
room and opened his mouth. Luke fought his grin, raised his hand, and shushed
Roland before he began. “I know what you are going to say. You will excuse your
behavior under the guise of protecting the estate. Or perhaps you did it
because Chadwick ordered you.” He waited for an explanation but Roland only
stared at his bowl. Luke took a swig of his port and continued. “While I don’t
pretend to understand your reasons for enacting this plot, the fact remains
that it was enacted. And since it has been set in motion, I wish for it to
continue.”

“Your lordship?” asked Roland, pushing
the bowl away and standing to his feet.

“Do sit down, Roland.” The butler
complied and Luke snapped his fingers. A footman rushed in and brought another
dish to the table. Luke filled his plate with vegetables. He took a bite and
sighed with contentment. Sweat appeared on Roland’s forehead and Luke covered
his mouth with his napkin to keep from laughing.

After chewing and letting the
butler stew, Luke said, “I find I enjoy the anonymity. I am able to visit the
village, go to town, or attend various events without being hampered by
insulting my title.”

Roland looked bewildered. He ran
his finger around his collar and cleared his throat. “So you wish for the ruse
to continue? For Mr. Andrews to remain as the acting baron?”

Luke fought his internal excitement
as his plan was set into action. “Yes.”

Roland lowered his head and
played with his napkin. He didn’t speak and Luke tried to be patient. He leaned
back in his chair and took another bite of chicken. Roland must have felt like
his goose was cooked. The whole thing was positively delightful.

Another footman entered and
bowed. Quickly shifting his gaze from Luke, he said, “Roland, I must speak with
you.”

Luke waved him away. “You may go.
We can finish our conversation later.”

Roland abandoned his unfinished
supper, placed his napkin on the table, and left the dining hall. Discreetly,
Luke followed, stopped at the door, and placed his ear to the wood.

“What is it? Can you not see I’m
dining with the baron?”

“Yes, sir, but word has come from
the village.”

“About Mr. Andrews?”

“Yes, sir. I fear he has left.”

“What!” asked Roland with a
hoarse whisper.

“I’m sorry, sir, but he was last
seen on the road to the summer estate and is now believed to be in London.”

Luke bristled. London, what is
Chadwick doing there?

“His horse and curricle were
found and taken to a stop along the mail route. I understand it is in need of
repair and we won’t be able to fetch it for some time.”

Roland groaned. “What will I do?
How could he leave me with this mess?”

Casually, Luke returned to the
table and finished his dinner. The port tasted bitter on his tongue, and he set
it aside and steepled his hands in deep thought. What was his brother up to
now?

****

“Remind us again, my lord, when
did you become such a card player? The last time you were in London, I remember
you distinctly preaching against the act.”

Chadwick laughed and inwardly
despaired over the cards in his hand. “Time changes things.”

How was it possible that everyone
in town still took him for Luke? Why, they were completely different! He was
infinitely more handsome and charming than his brother.

Perhaps in the low lighting of
the gambling house, it was possible to be mistaken for another, but at any
other time?

He gnawed on the inside of his
cheek. The dive was dark, and gloomy with stuffy old furniture and frowning
portraits of elderly gentlemen, not unlike those he sat across from now.
Fighting a grin, he studied his cards.

“So you went home and changed
your mind?”

“Precisely,” said Chadwick,
hoping the subject of his changed behavior would drop.

The game progressed, and the
coins he had acquired from previous games during the week dropped onto the
table and disappeared.

“Perhaps you should go back to
your previous convictions,” a gentleman said as he drew the pile of coins into
his purse.

Inwardly, Chadwick groaned, all
the while keeping his smile in place. When would he ever learn? He stood, ran
his hand through his already disheveled hair, and paced the card room.

“Are you ready for another game,
my lord?”

He stretched his hands above his
head. “Count me out. I think I will retire early.”

“Have a big day tomorrow, do you?
Rumor is Zilla Elis has agreed to walk with you.”

Chadwick smiled. “Indeed, she
has.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

Chadwick placed his hat on his
head, grabbed his greatcoat, and left the establishment. The room he’d acquired
with friends was just around the block. By the time he arrived, the lights were
cut. He entered quietly, climbed the stairs, and found his bedroom. Sparsely
decorated, the room was comfortable and clean. Not that it mattered since he
spent so little time there.

On the bed he lay back and
studied the shadows and light that danced on the ceiling. Was he making another
mistake by continuing to play the baron? If word reached London he was married
and Zilla realized it, he could be hauled to the gaol or worse.

He rolled onto his side and
climbed from the bed. Grabbing a quill and paper, he penned a letter to Roland.
His butler would know what to do.

****

“Are you sure?” asked Brigitta,
as she sat in her bedroom before her dressing table and studied her reflection.

Letta’s reflection bobbed her
head. “Yes, my lady. The tours of the estate have resumed and you are ordered
to appear.”

“Oh, dear, what shall I wear? I
have vague memories that this gets me in trouble. That and my temper.”

“Oh, my lady, you look beautiful
no matter what you wear.”

“You may think so but the baron
does not. Trust me, he has made it apparent that I cannot satisfy him.”

“Did you remember something, my
lady?” asked Letta, drawing her brows together.

“No, I–I don’t remember, I just,
I can’t explain it.” Brigitta sighed. “Please just forget I said anything and
help me stuff this lace.”

****

“Are you sure about this, my
lord?” asked Jarvis as he helped Luke shrug into his coat.

“Yes, I am. Roland is gone to
town and the tourists have come to visit. We must not keep them waiting.”

“But, my lord, some of them may
have seen Mr. Andrews and—”

“You must calm down. By your own
admission, Chadwick favors me. That was why no one questioned his appearance.
No one will notice the difference now.” His heart beat rapidly and his palms
sweated. What had he been thinking to play this part?

“They will if they notice you
being nice to the baroness,” muttered Jarvis.

Luke raised a brow.

Jarvis fussed over the cravat at
Luke’s neck. The door opened and Manny stepped inside. “My lord, it is time.”

Luke nodded, popped his neck,
rolled his shoulders, and stepped into the hallway.

****

Brigitta pulled her shawl tighter
around her shoulders and halted on the top stair. Below, a group of strangers
gathered around the landing in the foyer, staring up at her. Goose bumps rose
on her arms and a shiver raced up her spine.

Letta had explained most of the
visitors came not to view the grounds but rather to see a show. What kind of
show Brigitta didn’t know, because no matter how much she’d threatened, the
maid had refused to elaborate.

Voices drifted upward and
Brigitta struggled to make sense of them, but it made no more sense to her than
wind ruffling leaves. Giving up, she took the first step onto the stairs and
recoiled when men and women pointed and jeered.

“There she is! The one that
disappeared for days.”

“I believe she was with another
man, I do.”

“Well, I believe the baron was
with another woman.”

They all laughed heartily at her
expense and she found herself stopping halfway down the stairs. Before she
could regain her equilibrium, the crowd’s jeers changed. The people pointed and
she turned to the man descending the opposite stairs.

The black jacket fit snugly at
his waist. A white cravat draped at his neck and his brown trousers hugged his
calves. His brown hair was perfectly combed and Brigitta found she couldn’t
stop staring at his bronze-colored eyes. There seemed to be a hidden message
there that she couldn’t decipher.

The corners of his eyes and lips
tilted. Brigitta’s heart raced and her face flushed with heat. The words from
the obnoxious crowd were momentarily forgotten as she lost herself in his gaze.
If she looked long enough, she could almost imagine affection there.

“Oh, look at them. They are
behaving like a young couple in love,” called a woman from the crowd.

“But we came to see the
quarreling. I want to see the fighting or I shall demand a refund,” came
another guest’s voice.

Confused, Brigitta noted the
baron’s face fill with annoyance. He reached the landing and offered his hand
for her to join him.

When she didn’t move, he lowered
his hand, cleared his throat, and said, “Welcome to Stockport estate. It is my
esteemed pleasure to invite you to tour the grounds, enjoy our hospitality by
eating dinner in the dining hall, and of course speak with the baroness and
myself.”

Several in the crowd crossed
their arms over their chests and frowned with defiance. Brigitta still didn’t
move.

The baron continued, “If any of
you have come to see a spectacle, then a spectacle you shall see, for today the
baroness and I will renew our wedding vows and you will be our witnesses.”

The crowd gasped and Brigitta
clasped the railing so hard her knuckles whitened.

****

Roland’s disappearance from the
estate couldn’t have gone better had Luke designed it himself. As soon as he’d
discovered Chadwick was missing, the butler had saddled a horse and rushed
away. The letter Roland had sent to Luke announced the length of his absence,
and it was just the amount of time Luke needed to plan the marriage and
complete all the necessary preparations.

The tours had been reinstated and
now here they were. Brigitta wore a white gown. The lace fichu had pulled out,
leaving him a lovely view of her endowments.

Her long auburn hair lay in curls
about her shoulders. Freckles dotted her pert nose and her lips shone with rosy
loveliness. The summer house and the walk around the lake had been good for
her, leaving her cheeks a nice shade of pink. Every feature only endeared her
to him more. Momentarily lost in her beauty, he could think of nothing but
brushing his lips across hers.

The crowd’s whispers broke his
concentration.

He’d announced their vow renewal
and lifted his hand to his bride once again. She still didn’t move. Would he be
forced to bound up the stairs and drag her into position? It wouldn’t be his
finest moment, but he would do it if necessary.

Letta appeared behind Brigitta
and nudged her forward. Startled, Brigitta grabbed the banister, steadied
herself, then slowly eased into motion. Soon she was standing beside him. He
smiled at her and lifted their entwined hands to the crowd.

“We shall depart and meet you in
the chapel beside the garden in precisely half an hour. All those who are late
will miss the wedding of the century.”

Luke dragged Brigitta up his set
of stairs and waited at the top, hidden in the shadows, until the crowd had
departed.

“I hope you don’t mind that I
made the announcement without consulting you.” The lie tasted bitter on his
lips but he didn’t retract it.

“Nay, I do not mind,” she said
shyly.

“We must away to the chapel. The
vicar awaits us there.”

“But do we not have half an hour?”

“Aye, we do. But I prefer to
arrive early and give you time to study the area and assure it is to your
liking.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Words could not express the
delight that tingled through him when she acquiesced to his desires without
even a hint of dissent. Hand in hand they descended the stairs and walked the
garden path, stopping at the chapel’s open door. Pews arrayed in two rows
filled the small room. Potted flowers peeked from various nooks. At the
forefront of the chapel two stained glass windows, with designs of Christ as
babe and man, allowed light to cascade over the altar. Along the left and
right, windows were separated by shields decorated with the Stockport coat of
arms.