Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse (23 page)

“Other than to myself, Brigitta
has never been truly married and I have the papers to prove it.” Luke pulled
out the special license and the colonel perused the contents.

When he finished, he asked, “Did
the rector know the man he married her to wasn’t the real baron?”

“I don’t know. I guess it is
possible he didn’t.”

The colonel strode toward the
front door and called out for his men. “We need to stop that carriage!”

Luke saddled and rode alongside
them as they rushed toward the village. They galloped past a herdsman and his
son. The colonel asked about the carriage and they pointed the riders in the
proper direction.

“Where could he be taking her?”
asked Luke.

“I guess he could have taken her
to London.”

“That road leads over the
mountain and through the pass, which remains impassable because of last week’s
rain.”

The officer gathered his men and
instructed some of them to return to the house and wait for word. Others he
ordered to wait in the village. The colonel, Luke, and a few officers set off
for the pass.

If the rector had chosen that
road, Luke might never see Brigitta again. The thought caused him to kick the
horse’s flank and tighten his grip on the reins.

The coins jangled in Chadwick’s
pocket as he descended the inn’s stairs and discreetly sent Lady Margaret a
wink. She lifted a glass in his direction and he turned away lest they be
spotted.

The inn’s back room, out of sight
of the main room, contained several gaming tables filled with participants. The
coins grew heavy in his pocket and he joined a whist table. Surely his luck was
changing. He’d left Zilla behind with no consequences and he sat in the room
with a full bag of coin.

Behind him, the real gamblers
played Faro. Sweat beaded on his brow and he tried to focus on the whist game
through the seductive call of the cards.

His partner grew frustrated with
his constant bungles and asked for a new cohort. Removing himself with a bow,
Chadwick immediately found himself seated at the Faro table. The game was like
a drug and before he knew what he’d done, the bag in his possession had grown
lighter.

The delightful night passed in a
blur. Drinks passed through his hands as fast as the cards and the coin, and
when sunlight filtered into the room and the coach driver announced their
departure, he realized not one coin remained in the canvas bag.

As Chadwick tried to sort out
what had happened, Lady Margaret descended the stairs with Mr. Malcolm and it
felt as if his heart stopped. She winked at him, and thinking fast, he rose
from the table and headed upstairs as if he were set to replace the bag.

While the lady and her companion
were distracted, he grabbed his things. The window was too high to jump from so
he casually strode into the room below, nodded in Lady Margaret’s direction,
and then walked outside. Panic overwhelmed him. He needed to escape, and now.

The sunlight blinded him as he
headed toward the stable behind the inn. One carriage remained, an open
curricle parked with its shafts propped against the carriage house’s wall.

“I would like to rent your
curricle to transport me to Stockport.”

The coachman grunted. “Sorry, but
it’s out of commission. Mail coach in front of the inn is going that way,
though. You can purchase a ride with them.”

Chadwick shook his head. “I do
not wish to be crammed in with a bunch of smelly, annoying travelers. I’m the
brother of the baron and I prefer to ride alone.”

“Well, that does change things a
bit, but still, you can’t take this curricle.”

Chadwick stomped his foot,
frustration mixing with his panic. Soon now Lady Margaret would realize what he’d
done. “If it is a matter of coin, I assure you that upon arrival you will be
handsomely paid. I can’t wait another second to quit this place. So hitch the
horse to the curricle and I’ll be off.”

“But, I done told you—”

He’d had all he could take.
Chadwick lifted his baggage and struck the coachman across the forehead. He
wobbled and fell over onto a hay bale. Assured the man still breathed and would
only have a sore head, Chadwick hitched a horse to the curricle. A scratch
caught his attention and he narrowed his eyes.

“I can’t believe it!” More words
escaped him as he realized the curricle was the one he’d lost on his way to the
summer estate. Knowing he took his own curricle assuaged his guilt as he drove
it outside.

Whipping the beast, he raced out
of the stable yard just as screams rent the air.

****

The rector lay on the seat,
buried his head under his arm, and muttered to himself. “I didn’t mean to do
it. I should never have gambled away the church’s money. I should have left the
tithes alone, then Chadwick would never have had anything to use against me.
What was I thinking? What will I do? What will I do?”

Sweat beaded upon her upper lip
and fear clenched her heart. Brigitta peered through the curtain, determined to
cast her fear aside and escape. The window was too small for her to climb
through. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. It ricocheted from the
cliff face and slammed back against the doorframe, knocking her onto the seat.
The carriage rocked violently.

It settled and she peeked out the
window again. Approaching fast was a space where the verge grew broader and the
cliff face fell back away from the road, and if she timed it just right then
she might be able to fully open the door.

Anticipation caused her heart to
race. When the moment came, she thrust the door open and climbed out, clinging
to the oscillating wood. The door swung, whipping back and forth in rhythm with
the galloping horses, and she held on for dear life. It swung backward against
the carriage, putting her close to the driver’s box.

Wind buffeted the carriage. She
stretched out her leg and her slippered foot grazed the seat, but she wasn’t
close enough. Shifting her weight and swinging the door on purpose, she tried
to get closer. This time her foot touched the spot in front of the seat, but
she couldn’t pull herself over. Up ahead the mountain jutted out. If she didn’t
reach the seat soon, then she would smash into the rocks.

The door swung outward,
hesitated, and then slammed against the side of the carriage as if folding back
on itself. This time she grabbed the roof and held on as she swung her leg over
and fell into the seat. The carriage rocked, and she gripped the seat with both
hands and held on.

The reins lay over the horses’
backs in a tangled mess. She would have to crawl out, and hang above the ground
that raced beneath her, to reach them.

A curve loomed ahead. Choice made
for her, she fell to her knees and stretched forward. The tips of her fingers
grazed the reins. If she just stretched a bit farther, then she might reach it.
Just a little farther…

****

Luke and the officers galloped
their horses along the curved road. The sheer drop on one side sent fear into
his heart as they raced along.

What must Brigitta think? If only
he’d had time to explain the truth, as he’d intended, then everything would
have been better. But the officers had barged in before he could speak and
there was no telling what Rector Morgan had told her while he’d had her alone.

The road narrowed and the men
slowed, allowing the horses to canter two abreast. Fear gnawed at his gut as he
clenched his teeth, and they crossed the narrow pass. If Rector Morgan’s
actions harmed Brigitta, Luke would ensure the man’s life was never the same if
he survived at all.

Tree limbs snaked out and snagged
his clothes. On and on they cantered. Thin branches covered the road and the
officers dismounted and threw them over the cliff.

The afternoon wore on. They
crested a hill and Luke craned his neck and peered down the other side.

“Look!” The colonel pointed off
the road. There a man lay.

The colonel dismounted and nudged
the man. He rolled over and groaned. Blood clotted against his forehead. Dirt
covered his clothing. A mask covered his eyes and the officer removed it.

Luke blinked rapidly. He couldn’t
believe what he saw. It was…

****

Chadwick peered over his shoulder
but saw no one. He cut off the road onto an almost invisible trail. Thick
branches struck the side of the curricle. Thickets tangled in the wheel hubs.
The horse slowed and he whipped it. Harder and harder he flicked the reins. The
horse reared and took off like a shot. Chadwick struggled to maintain his
tenuous grip.

Looming trees, rocky spurs, and
eroded boulders flashed by. Small limbs struck him in the arm, the shoulder,
and the legs. The curricle rocked and bounced along the trail. The slope of the
land descended, and he drew back on the reins and gently applied the brake.

Squeezing his bum as tightly as
he dared, he berated himself further. Why had he gone and bet every coin on the
Faro game? It was because he had foolishly believed his luck had turned.

The land changed again. Trees
thickened, blocking his vision. Downed limbs crunched loudly underneath the
wheels.

Chadwick whipped the horse’s
rump. The seat wobbled and he grasped the edges. The wobbling increased and
braving the consequences, Chadwick bent over the side. A gasp escaped his lips.

The wheel’s hub popped off. The
wheel teetered back and forth. Resigned, Chadwick watched the events as if he
were someone else. The wheel broke and scattered in a random burst. He clenched
the reins. Debris struck his face. The horse lunged out of control, running in
an awkward weaving pattern as one side of the carriage thumped along the
ground.

Sagging branches loomed ahead. Chadwick
twisted his lips to the side. He could make it, he would make it. He hunched
over and closed his eyes. Pain radiated through his skull and darkness
descended.

Reins grasped, Brigitta crawled
backward and perched on the edge of the driver’s seat. Sweat coated her hands
and she tugged hard, cringing as the leather burned her palms.

“Whoa!” she yelled and the horses
rewarded her by easing their headlong flight to a trot, then to a halt.

The road widened ahead and
Brigitta let the steaming horses walk. Around the next curve, the verge opened
and a field appeared on the right hand side. Between tall grass, a dirt path
twined toward a distant cottage and she guided the horses toward that end.

Sure that she was finally safe,
she stopped the horses and drew in a ragged breath. No noise came from inside
and she peered past the curtain. Rector Morgan lay on his side with his head
still buried under his arm. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he panted like
an overheated dog.

She needed to get away from him.
Her legs trembled as she climbed from the driver’s box and wobbled toward the
dilapidated cottage. She collapsed on the edge of the porch as a plume of dust
rose above the road they’d just survived.

A group of riders headed her way.
Squinting, she could just make out the Baron of Stockport’s sober brown coat in
the midst of the officers in their brilliant red. Fear raced through her heart.
Was he coming to escort her to her trial?

Rector Morgan poked his head
outside the carriage door and turned his evil glare toward her. “Don’t move!”
he shouted.

Brigitta stood, clinched handfuls
of her skirts, and raced toward the tree line.

“Brigitta!” yelled Luke from atop
his horse.

She didn’t wait to see what he
wanted but sprinted into the thicket, allowing the weeds and sapling trees to
overtake her.

****

The forest surrounded her until
she escaped his vision. Luke pursued on horseback until the route became
impassible, then he jumped from the horse’s back and entered the brambles.
Thorns pricked his skin and tore his clothing. Brigitta’s colored gown showed
through the underbrush and Luke battled to catch her.

The trees ended and Brigitta paused
in the middle of an open field. Cut and bleeding, she panted. Sweat streamed
along her cheeks and her gown was plastered to her frame. He stopped and stared
at her. She appeared as an embattled survivor, tenacious and determined. Pride
swelled in his breast at her resilience.

“Please, Brigitta, stop running.”

“Why?” she yelled.

“Because I–I—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence
and she said, “Because you want to give me back to Rector Morgan for trial?”

“What?”

“I won’t go.” She wrapped her
arms around her middle, defiance radiating from her.

“I have no intention of giving
you to Rector Morgan or anyone else. You are my wife.”

“But—”

“Listen, I know we really need to
talk, but I would prefer not doing so with a field between us. Will you come
closer?”

Hesitantly, she shuffled toward
him. He opened his arms, and she fell into them. He smoothed her hair as she
sobbed. His heart broke with each stifled sound and he promised he would never
hurt her again. Finished, she lifted her chin and her eyes widened.

“Isn’t this cozy?”

At the sound of Rector Morgan’s
sneering voice so close, they pulled apart. Luke pushed Brigitta behind him.
Vague shadowy forms in the underbrush lingered behind the rector and Luke
waited for the moment to call for his reinforcements. “I would politely ask you
to refrain from staring at my wife.”

The rector laughed. “That is
absurd. She is married to Chadwick. And I should know because I performed the
ceremony. Admittedly it wasn’t grand, and I told Roland it should be so, but
still it was a wedding.”

Luke crooked his finger and the
colonel pushed past the trees with Roland in tow. “Roland, now is the time for
you to speak.”

The butler sounded as if his
mouth were full of rocks as he said, “Rector Morgan, you can stop pretending
you didn’t know the wedding was a farce.”

The rector drew his brows
together and crossed his arms over his chest. “I performed the ceremony, I
stood there—”

“You know it wasn’t real. The
papers were fakes.”

“But what about the wedding night?”
he whispered.

“That never happened.”

Rector Morgan ran toward Roland,
his fists clenched and face red, but officers restrained him. “Why did I listen
to Chadwick? Why did I let him blackmail me?” The rector buried his head in his
hands and one of the officers escorted him away.

Roland approached and bowed
before them. “My lady, please forgive my part in your deception. Chadwick had
incurred massive amounts of gambling debt and in the process emptied the estate’s
coffers. He made up the idea of the farce wedding and the tours, where you two
quarreled to draw in those with funds and charge admittance for coin.”

Brigitta placed her hand on his
bowed head. “You are forgiven.”

Roland was escorted away, too.
Luke wrapped his arm around Brigitta’s middle and escorted her back to the
carriage, more than ever determined to make Brigitta the happiest woman alive.

****

The wheels rolled slowly along
the rutted road. Brigitta and Luke rode in the carriage alone while the
officers rode their tired horses before the carriage and behind, ensuring safe
passage and escorting Roland and the rector. Brigitta played with the folds of
her gown and gnawed at her lip.

“I don’t understand. Roland tried
to assault the carriage?”

“Yes. He was in the village and
heard the rumor that the rector planned to have you tried for bigamy, so he
tried to rescue you. Of course he fell and we found him on the ground.”

“And Chadwick? Where is he?”

“The last anyone heard of him, he
had left London and was headed home. It is possible he might have run into a
spot of trouble, since he isn’t home yet. Of course, if he’s heard about our
nuptials, it might be some time before we see him again, if we ever do.”

Wringing her hands in the folds
of her skirts, she said, “And what of the bigamy? Am I truly married twice?”

“No. As Roland said, the only
ones who even knew of the original ceremony were him, Chadwick, the rector, the
other witness, and you. No papers were registered and there was no
consummation. The wedding was completely invalid.”

“And my wedding to you?” she
asked, peering from under veiled lashes.

“Our wedding, on the other hand,
was completely legitimate. Although if you want an annulment…” He stopped
talking and his stare caused heat to rush up her neck and cover her face.

She shook her head and he patted
her hand and said, “Good.”

Silence resumed. Finally she
asked, “What of the manse’s coin? If you are truly broke, will the tenants be
forced to pay more rent? Because if they are, they will be unable to sustain
it—”

He scooted closer beside her,
wrapping his arm along the back of the bench. “You shouldn’t worry about that.
I have no intention of gouging the tenants to pay for my luxuries. We will
develop a plan.”

Brigitta sucked on her lip. He
turned her face to his and she released a sigh as their lips touched.