Faith (16 page)

Twenty-six

G
race Caldwell sat up in exasperation, tossed back the covers, and swung her feet over the side of the bed. She was reaching for her dressing gown when Trevor spoke, his voice rough with sleep.

“Should I be worried that you’re leaving my bed in the middle of the night?”

She smiled and looked over her shoulder at her husband. “No. I’m just restless, darling. Go back to sleep.” She slid to the floor and padded over to the window. The muted sounds of London at night reached her ears but did not manage to distract her from her worries.

“What’s bothering you, love?”

Grace bit her lip and regarded him with sheepish eyes. “I think I may have done a really bad thing.” She pulled her dressing gown more closely around herself and rubbed her arms. “I mean, I thought I was doing a good thing, but the more I think about it, the more sure I am that there’s no way it could have worked out quite as I’d intended, and the opportunity for misunderstanding is huge, and…" She stopped to take a breath and shivered.

Trevor chuckled. “You’re freezing. Come back to bed and try to tell me without rambling on in that breathless way of yours what you’ve done.”

Grace slipped off her dressing gown and climbed back into the large bed. Trevor slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her back up against his chest, settling her into his body, spoonlike. “Now,” he said soothingly. “Start at the beginning.”

So Grace told him about Faith’s fears about entering into a loveless marriage, and how she’d come up with the idea that Gareth should agree to wait to consummate their marriage until Faith was ready, and about how she’d talked to Gareth just before the ceremony. At that point, Trevor interrupted.

“Wait. You told Gareth, only moments before he was marrying your sister, that she didn’t want to make love with him but that she wanted to marry him anyway?”

Put that way, Grace realized exactly how Gareth must have felt, and could see that she’d effectively backed him into a corner. “That’s exactly what I did,” she said miserably.

Trevor did his best not laugh, but his shoulders began shaking with the effort to suppress his mirth. Grace turned indignantly in his arms.

“Don’t you
dare
laugh, Trevor Caldwell. I have a
terrible
feeling something’s gone very wrong with them.”

“Oh, I’m sure Gareth would quite agree with you there, darling.”

She fumed in silence while her husband continued to chuckle. After a moment, she said, “I want to go to Rothmere.”

“No.” Trevor’s voice was instantly sober. “No more interference.”

“But—”

“No, Grace. You’ve done enough. That poor man probably hasn’t even consummated his marriage yet. I can’t imagine he’d be happy to have the reason he’s currently celibate show up as a houseguest!”

She chewed on her lower lip in the darkness, searching for a way to convince her husband to let her go. His breathing was just beginning to even out when she came up with a plan. “I know!” Her voice was triumphant, and Trevor cautiously opened one eye. “I’ll send Patience.” He remained silent. “And Mercy, of course.”

With a groan, Trevor propped himself up on an elbow and leaned over his wife, knowing she wouldn’t rest until she had the entire Ackerly clan camped out at Rothmere on some sort of marriage-consummation watch. If he didn’t stop her, she’d have the maids checking the sheets as if performing some archaic medieval ceremony every morning to report whether or not the deed had been accomplished. “You’ll do no such thing. We’ll leave tomorrow, ourselves.”

Grace smiled gratefully, then gasped as he ran one hand up her rib cage and cupped her breast in his palm. “What are you doing?” she asked with a breathless little laugh.

He dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. “Making love to my wife,” he said in a gruff whisper. Then he added, “Because I
can.
”

Gareth stood in the middle of the destroyed greenhouse, wondering how someone could do this and not be heard. Broken glass and shattered pottery littered the room. A large shard of glass fell from one of the panes, crashing loudly to the floor. Everyone flinched. Everyone except Gareth. The marquess remained impassive.

“The entire household was gone for a little while, my lord, while we were out looking for Lady Roth.”

Gareth looked again at the damning double set of footprints. Brief pain shot through him as he considered what the second set, much larger than the first, indicated: Faith had a lover. It was the perfect explanation for the secrecy and collusion, and the evidence was right before his eyes.

He turned away from the group of men awaiting his instructions, silently cursing himself. He should have seen it sooner. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to consummate the marriage right away. He would have known beyond a doubt that she was not a virgin.

Looking back at the assembled servants, he ordered, “Clean up this mess and get back to your usual schedules.” He nodded at John. “Come with me.”

John followed Gareth through the house to his study, listening as the marquess rapidly issued instructions. “Choose two more good men so you can work in eight-hour shifts. I want my wife watched at all times. She will stay in my room at night, but I still want someone on post outside my chamber door. She will be free to go where she wishes during the day, but someone is always to be with her.”

“Yes, my lord,” said John. The footman hesitated a moment to see if there would be anything further, then bowed and left the room.

Gareth watched his servant go, carefully considering his options with regard to the night. He did not look forward to sharing a room with Faith. Despite the fact that he knew her to be treacherous and deceitful, the fact remained that she always managed to get under his skin. If he left her locked in her own chamber, though, he had no doubt she would find some way to escape.

That really was the crux of his dilemma. Why did he not want her to escape? Why keep her here at all? If she had a lover, which appeared to be the case, why not let her go to the man? Their marriage was not consummated, and it had been entered into under conditions that would make an annulment, though embarrassing, quite possible. So why did he not simply allow it to end?

Even as he asked himself the questions, Gareth knew the truth. He was truly in love with her. He loved her and still held out hope that she might be innocent. Hope that became more distant with each passing moment.

He left the study and briefly considered simply going to his chamber and dealing with the problem of Faith in the morning. He could just as easily post guards on her chamber door as he could on his own. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get any rest either way. If he didn’t bring her into his room, he would wonder all night long if she had slipped past her guards and escaped.

Of course, if he did place her in his room, in the struggle to control his body’s reaction to her, he would
still
have no peace. Contemplating his options, he slowly headed up the stairs.

Faith eased the door to Gareth’s chamber open and peered out into the corridor. The door from the bathing room to the master bedroom had been locked, the bolt thrown, but it had not been pulled entirely closed. After listening carefully for a few moments, she decided Gareth wasn’t in the room beyond and cautiously eased it open. Once there, she tiptoed to the door that opened to the corridor and stuck her head out, finding the hall gloomy and deserted. With another quick glance in both directions, Faith slipped out of the room and walked quickly down the hall, thankful for the thick, expensive carpet that swallowed the sound of her footsteps.

The entire day had been beyond bizarre. Her emotions had veered between happiness and confusion and anger before finally slipping into blessed numbness. She did not understand the man she had married, but now strongly felt she had to escape before his behavior became even more frightening. She did not
think
he would hurt her physically, but she wasn’t entirely certain. He’d been acting so oddly. Her heart clenched as she thought of the tender, gentle way he had nursed her back to health from her head injury. No, she didn’t believe
that
man was capable of physical violence toward her. But, her sense of logic reasoned, he also wouldn’t imprison her.

The only thing she could think to do was run—find a way back to London before she was no longer able to do so. She’d seek protection from Grace and Trevor. She cringed a little when she thought about the friendship Trevor and Gareth shared, but hoped Grace could make her husband understand Roth had gone quite mad.

Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as she glanced furtively about and tiptoed down the dark stairs. She heard conversation coming from behind the closed door of Gareth’s study and recognized her husband’s voice. Holding her breath, she ran softly across the foyer and eased open the front door, hoping he wouldn’t emerge while she was in sight. Luck was with her. Nobody stirred as she left the house and crossed the grounds to the stable.

Once there, she realized she had no idea how to saddle a horse. She knew how to ride, if only passably, but she had always left the saddling and such to the Ackerly grooms. She didn’t have Grace and Mercy’s passion for riding, and could do little more than keep her seat when moving at anything above a canter. Looking over the selection of mounts, she decided on a rather smallish, gentle-looking gray mare. Dubious about executing her plan, she stood for a few moments, biting her lip.

“M’lady?”

Faith whirled around. A young stable hand stood in the darkness, looking at her oddly.

“Did y’need something, m’lady?”

Faith thought quickly. “Why, yes,” she averred, her mind racing. “I rather fancied a moonlight ride around the water’s edge. Do you think you could saddle that mare for me, please?” She pointed at the little horse, smiling as sweetly as she could at the nervous young servant.

The stable boy had never seen someone so pretty. Awestruck, the only thought in his head was of pleasing the new mistress of Rothmere. He nodded quickly and ran off toward the tack room. “Sprite’s a right pretty filly, m’lady, and gentle-like, too. I’ll’ave’er set up right fer ye in no time.”

“Thank you,” said Faith, grateful. She looked outside nervously. All remained quiet at the dark house.

The mare nickered softly while the young man worked. Before she would have imagined it possible, he led the beast over to Faith and helped her up into the sidesaddle. She smiled down at him kindly. “What’s your name, please?”

He blushed. “Ben, m’lady.”

“Well, Ben, thank you again. I am pleased to have met you.” Then she nudged the mare forward, walking her sedately out of the stable and into the moonlight.

Faith forced herself to remain calm and headed off in the direction of the two man-made lakes at the front of the house. She guided Sprite down the drive until it curved and she was sure she was out of sight of the house and the stable. Then she urged the mare into a light trot. She forced herself not to think, not to consider what she was leaving behind or to imagine the dangers that lay ahead. She would stay on the road for as long as she could, then move into the trees.

Her husband would come after her. Of that, she had no doubt.

Gareth stood silently in Faith’s bedchamber. Her empty bedchamber. He looked around at the perfectly neat room and wondered for a moment if she had ever even been there. There was certainly nothing to indicate the room had been occupied. No lingering scent. No evidence of personal items, save for the unopened trunk in the middle of the room. The bed wasn’t even wrinkled.

He felt nothing, not even anger. The door to the connecting bathing room between his chamber and hers stood open, giving him the only indication of her escape route. He had locked the door from his side, but the lock was flimsy and easy to manipulate. He wondered if he had subconsciously overlooked that fact on purpose.

Not that it mattered.

Walking to the window, he stood staring out into the night, half-expecting to see his wife’s golden hair glowing in the waning moonlight as she fled his estate. He saw nothing, of course, and wondered how long she had been gone. She couldn’t have made it far on foot. He thought of the dangers that might exist for her, a gently bred woman alone in the dark. He couldn’t think of a single article of clothing she owned sensible enough for a trek through the country. She had no survival skills and had never been exposed to the rigors of outdoor life. He shook his head. Obviously, he would have to retrieve her—if only for her own safety.

A muted shout reached him. Three floors below, he saw two of his men running across the darkened grounds in the direction of the stables. Curious, he looked to see what had caught their attention. An odd orange light was flickering behind the distant building, a light that looked like…

Fire?

With a muffled curse, Gareth strode from the room. Already, chaos was erupting on the lower levels of the mansion. His mind raced ahead to the obvious conclusion: Faith had set fire to the stables as a diversionary tactic. Was that possible? Could she truly be so devious?

He swept down the stairs and outside, issuing commands to everyone he passed. “The horses first! Get all the animals out of the stables, and then we’ll see about the fire!”

When he ran across the expanse of lawn between the main house and the stables, he saw that most of the horses had already been moved, thanks to some quick-thinking stable hands. The stable itself was not on fire. Two small outbuildings used for storing tack and feed were burning separately. The fact that both buildings were on fire confirmed that they had been deliberately set ablaze, he realized. The fires were quickly being contained, however, and it appeared there would be very little structural damage.

Gareth’s eyes swept across the corralled horses, counting and taking stock. “One is missing,” he stated. Even as he said it, he knew the little mare wasn’t going to be found. One of the grooms confirmed his suspicions a moment later, saying Sprite was nowhere in the area.