Andrews Brothers 02 - The Rescue (25 page)

Farrah waved away her concerns and peeked inside.

Behind her, Brigitta’s voice quivered as she asked, “Do you see anyone?”

Farrah didn’t reply as she ignored decorum and shoved the door inward until she could step inside. Heat struck her face, and she let out a sigh of relief. Laughter and excited voices rose from the dining hall, so Farrah headed in that direction.

Double doors leading into the room lay open. In the forefront of the crowd Rowena waved her hands, her voice rising.

“Now let me tell you about being old. And yes, this is a rant. Something I learned to do from a dear friend of mine, Kiki Adams. Why, that woman could entertain an entire crowd with nothing but words.

“But back to what I was saying. I’m old. I’m talking sagging skin, overactive bladder, special cream, and draughts. When you’re old people fear coming to see you. Not sure if they think being old is like a disease that’s catching or rather if they believe my mind is so gone I can’t carry on a decent conversation. No matter what the reason, people have been scarce over the last few years.

“Why, I remember when I was a young, spry woman, I used to hop around like a spring chicken and people came from far and wide to visit with me and sip a glass of wine. I really don’t remember what we talked about, but I remember laughing. And…”

Rowena continued her speech. At various intervals the crowd gasped. Heat flushed the faces of many of the ladies in attendance.

“May I help you?” asked a deep voice from behind her.

Farrah jumped and stumbled sideways against the wall as she registered Kingsley’s voice.

“Oh, my lady, I apologize. I did not recognize you from behind.”

Farrah’s heart fluttered, and she placed her hand over her chest and waited for it to calm. When she felt more normal, she said, “Kingsley, we’ve arrived early to avoid riding with Lord Greywold. But my cousin, Brigitta, needs a place to lie down and rest.”

“Oh, I’m all right, Farrah. Just a tad cold, is all.”

“I insist,” she said to Brigitta before facing Kingsley and saying, “Direct us to Andrew’s room.”

“My lady?”

“He won’t mind. Remember this ball is to assist in reacquiring my lands.”

“Yes, well, umm, I will need to check with Lord Ravenwood.”

“Yes, where is Lord Ravenwood?”

“He’s in the kitchen, my lady.” Kingsley dropped his head in shame.

“The kitchen?”

“He refused to place another responsibility on Mrs. Yancy and Juliet, so he hastened to the kitchen to prepare treats to entertain the early arrivals.”

“I see.” She tapped her finger to her forehead and fought a rising smile. Pride filled her that Andrew would go to such great lengths to help out his staff. “I’m sure Lord Ravenwood won’t mind if Brigitta rests in his room. After you take us there, then I will join him in the kitchen.”

Farrah clutched Brigitta’s hand and made for the stairs, leaving Kingsley no choice but to follow. Eventually, he overtook them. At the top of the stairs he made a left turn and led them to the end of the hall. He opened the door and stepped back to allow them entrance.

“Take your time settling your cousin. I will be outside the dining hall when you need escort to the kitchen, my lady.”

“Thank you, Kingsley.”

He left and Farrah entered the room and studied the surroundings. The room was masculine, covered in rich, dark wood that only contrasted with the white marble fireplace mantel. Even the spread was dark, and Farrah found herself stroking the material and imagining Andrew sleeping upon the plush pillows at night, his legs curled to the side as he snored softly.

“Sorry to interrupt your musings, cousin, but if you wish to help your love, you must leave me.”

Farrah blinked rapidly. “My love?”

Brigitta rested on the edge of the bed, slipped off her slippers, and laid back on the pillows with a sigh. “Do not deny your feelings for the young Lord Ravenwood. It is written all over you face.”

“I can’t possibly love Andrew. I-I love Angus.”

Brigitta waved away her words. “You said that in your letters but now that I’ve heard you speak of Andrew. How kind he is, how considerate he is, how much you enjoy being in his protective company. You’re in denial. Admit it. Your feelings for Angus have changed. They are no longer the same as they were.”

Farrah bit her lip. The metallic taste of blood touched her tongue. Why did Brigitta’s statement strike fear into her heart? Was it because she feared it was true or because she knew it was true?

Sweat dotted his brow and ran into his eyes. Chadwick wadded a rag and swiped his forehead. Moments before Mrs. Yancy had slid into the room, giving him barely enough time to hide. She’d stoked the fire of her stove, and then she had run back out. He’d breathed a sigh and slipped back into the heated kitchen.

The aroma of stewed damsons filled the air. A slab of ham lay on the cutting board and Chadwick grabbed a knife and sliced.

“I love to see a man work.”

The sweet sound of Farrah’s voice caused him to drop the knife an inch from his foot. Squealing, he jumped back as she rushed forward.

“What? Are you all right? Did you cut yourself?”

Heat flushed his cheeks at his delayed reaction. He grabbed a towel from the butcher block and dried his hands. “What are you doing here?”

“I guess that means you’re unharmed.”

“Yes, I am unharmed. But what are you doing in the kitchen?”

She placed a wayward hand on her protruding hip and pursed her lips. “I could ask you the same question.”

“You could.” Playfulness snuck into his tone and he struggled to hide his smile.

“Kingsley told me you were in the kitchen preparing something to tantalize the early arrivals but I didn’t believe him.”

“You should always believe Kingsley.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Farrah spoke, she removed her pelisse and spencer and laid them across a chair. Her gown of dark maroon and green dipped low in the front.

Chadwick swallowed.

“Is there anything I can do?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head. There was nothing she could do. She needed to leave. The sight of her handsome features, her luscious body, was maddening. He couldn’t stay in Rochdale. No matter what he wanted Luke was close by. He needed to help her and secretly leave town.

She sidled close to him, the sweet scent of her perfume tickled his nose and he backed up a step. “There must be something I can do.” The corner of her lip twitched as if she knew how she affected him.

He shook his head more vigorously. “No, no, there is nothing. Just… just…” He gulped. “Just go upstairs and rest. I’ll be along shortly.”

She grazed her nail along his cheek, and he closed his eyes and sighed. Why not just give in, just for a moment? He was a rake, a rascal. The black sheep of the Stockport family. He could afford to be himself, just for a moment.

Chadwick lowered his chin. He removed the pins from her bun and filtered his fingers through her thick red hair. With his hand at the nape of her neck, he rubbed her smooth skin. A sigh parted her lips setting his heart to mad thumping in his chest. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. But oh, how he wanted to.

He bent forward. His mouth hovered an inch above hers. Like a caress he brushed his lips across hers, then dropped his hands and stepped back. Breath caught in his throat, and his vision blurred. She staggered and held to the butcher block. Ham slices started slipping off the table. She gasped, and they both went to grab the meat, knocking their foreheads together.

“Ow!” she yelled, cradling her head.

Chadwick ignored her cries of pain as he went to rescue the falling hog, but it was too late.

“What is going on in here?” The shrill sound of Mrs. Yancy pierced his ears. Her groan sounded like that of a dying woman. “Not my ham! Oh, Lord Ravenwood, what have you done?”

She tried to rescue the remaining slices but they slithered off, smacking the floor with a loud whack. Farrah burst into laughter, but quickly recovered. Chadwick’s throat burned as he restrained his own emotions. He grabbed his sides as the rumbling sound burst from his lungs.

Soon they were both being pushed from the kitchen into the stairwell. “And don’t you two ever step foot in my kitchen again!” Coats and a pelisse sailed through the air. Chadwick caught them with one hand.

“Well, that did not go as I expected,” Chadwick said, studying Mrs. Yancy’s agitated form.

“I’m so sorry,” said Farrah, unable to hold her serious expression as she descended into another fit of giggling.

Chadwick followed suit for only a moment before becoming somber. Had he really just ruined Mrs. Yancy’s dinner? How was he going to rectify this new situation?

“I’ll send into town for another slab of meat. Surely one is waiting at the butcher.” Chadwick ran a hand through his hair. He was nasty and unkempt from his hour in the kitchen, completely unfit for polite company much less the company of companions at a planned ball.

“Why don’t you go to your room and change and I’ll send a footman into town?”

“Thank you, Farrah. I believe I’ll take you up on that offer.”

****

Brigitta stretched her arms over her head. Andrew Ravenlowe had the most comfortable bed in all of Rochdale. Pulling the covers to her shoulder, she sighed and let her eyes drift downward.

Visions of Luke leaning over a desk writing in a mad flourish awakened her. She rose from the bed and placed her feet over the side. Slipping her feet into her soft-soled shoes she then padded to the fireplace and held her hands toward the fire.

Farrah seemed so much happier than Brigitta had anticipated. The thought that she had nagged Luke into the trip without cause made Brigitta’s stomach tighten into knots. She sighed. What would he say when he arrived at the Ravenwood estate for the ball and found that her cousin’s dire straits had been resolved without Brigitta lifting a finger? He would be displeased of course. Brigitta was happy Farrah’s situation had resolved, but she wished she might have been of more help.

Moving to the window, Brigitta stared at the long line of carriages filing into the drive. The scene mimicked one not unlike the ball at Stockport the day Luke had kidnapped her and hidden her away at the lake house.

Brigitta stroked her rounded stomach. The product of their love grew within her. The babe kicked, and Brigitta whispered, “You’re a strong one.” The babe responded with another kick.

Smiling, she settled on the sofa and wondered when Farrah planned to return for her.

****

Farrah hid beneath the stairwell until her rapid heartbeat calmed. What had she been thinking to thrust herself upon Andrew in such a way? He would think her a harlot and wish that when the ball ended so would their affiliation.

Wits gathered, she rushed upstairs. Rowena’s voice, loud and strong, carried along the corridor. The dowager Countess of Ravenwood had left the subject of old age and proceeded to past loves. Gasps and stifled laughter punctuated the air.

“Before Lord Ravenwood and I married, at the pinnacle of my youth I might add, I’d had multiple male companions. Sharp wit and a strong constitution attracts many of the male species. Of course it helped that I enjoyed outdoor activities, such as hunting and fishing.”

Farrah searched for Andrew. Shouldn’t he be dressed and downstairs by now? Her heart skipped a beat. Brigitta!

Skirts fisted in her hand, Farrah raced up the stairs. Gilded frames encased previous lords and ladies of Ravenwood. On prior visits, Farrah had stopped and studied these ancient portraits. Stiff lipped men glowered down aquiline noses. Prim women lifted pointed chins and preened.

The artist had been a genius as he attempted to capture the inner soul of his subjects. If you narrowed your eyes and leaned in close an observer should discover another image hidden in the background. A wispy face showing an entirely different visage. Instead of the dignified, posed, aristocratic face of a peer, it showed a sad reality of despair.

The melancholy emotions of the portraits escaped Farrah as she raced past. She had to rescue Brigitta and keep from embarrassing Andrew and herself with the knowledge that she had invaded his private sanctuary.

****

Hesitantly, Chadwick had left Farrah. He stopped briefly at the dining hall doors. Hearing a discussion about Rowena’s past loves brought a flush of heat from his neck to the top of his ears. Before she noticed his presence he escaped upstairs.

Jimmy, one of the more recently hired footmen, stopped him. “My lord, Kingsley and Lady Ravenwood are busy. Might I have your approval?”

Chadwick sighed and shot a glance at his disheveled appearance and shoddy attire. Soon all the guests would arrive and he would be ill prepared to greet them. It was imperative he be in place when the guests were escorted in. Through a series of hand signals, the staff would know where to direct each guest. Gamblers were special and therefore needed additional instructions. Did he have time to help the footman?

Jimmy held a door, and Chadwick hurried inside. Protective sheets had been removed from the furniture and fresh bedding had been applied. Cool air permeated the room and Chadwick shivered.

Jimmy hurriedly started a fire. “Sorry, my lord. I opened the window like Juliet instructed, but I forgot to start a fire when I closed it.”

“Don’t fret. The room is suitable for any guest.” He left Jimmy to his task and sought his room.

The door knob against his palm, he halted as Farrah skittered toward him.

“Wait!” She paused, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath.

“Far—” Jimmy stepped into the hallway, and he changed her title. “I mean Lady Farrah, I need to change. If you will wait for me downstairs…” He let the words trail off.

She laid her hand on his forearm. “You can’t go in.”

“What?”

“You can’t go in your room, I-I have something I need to show you.” She tugged on his arm and he stumbled toward her.

Under his breath, he whispered, “Farrah, what is going on? You know I have to prepare for tonight’s activities. The ball is for you more than I.”