Andrews Brothers 02 - The Rescue (3 page)

The rectangular unadorned building paled in comparison to the servants standing before it. A plethora of liveried footmen and uniformed servants greeted them at the door. She’d never seen a more ostentatious group. Arrayed in bright greens, blues, and maroon, they resembled a cluster of peacocks. Farrah fought hard not to laugh as Garrett escorted her through the throng.

Double doors squeaked open into a wide foyer. The glossy shine of the floor was ignored as she harbored her resentment. The butler held out his hand and directed them into a narrow room on their right. He bowed. “My lady, my name is Bennington. I’ve been instructed to have you wait here.”

Garrett moved off to her side and Farrah folded her hands before her. The draperies parted and a short, balding man with a triple chin waddled forward. Farrah remained statuesque as Clovis Flannigan, Second Earl of Norhaven, approached. He stopped before her and tsked under his breath. He lifted a strand of her hair and dropped it.

“You are not what I expected.”

She parted her lips to say,
Neither are you
, but Garrett’s fierce expression detoured her.

Farrah needed a focus before she expressed her true feelings. To distract herself she studied her surroundings.

The room was long, with tables shoved together and extending its full length. At one end of the room a raised dais held a wooden chair intricately carved with angels and halos. Two average sized males, or one Clovis’ size, could fit inside it perfectly.

Clovis climbed the stairs and plopped into the kingly chair. He palmed his triple chin. “Lord Mountjoy must think me foolish.”

Garrett touched the hilt of his sword and Farrah felt a small measure of relief that he was on her side.

“I see I’ve angered your footman, however, not even you can deny this lass is unworthy.”

The air echoed with unsheathed metal as Farrah drew Garrett’s sword, held it before her, and braced her legs firmly apart. “An insult to my family will not be tolerated.” Her arms burned with effort.

Clovis roared with laughter and her anger increased.

“Spirited, I like.” His laughter died and Clovis leaned forward, bracing his elbow on his knee. “I’ve buried seven wives who attempted to bare my children. I must marry a hardy lass.”

The sword wavered in her grasp and Garrett rescued it from her trembling fingers.

Clovis ignored the exchange and continued, “You will remain here while I ponder this newest development. If I find you worthy then we will wed. Garrett may return home.”

Farrah prepared to protest, but Garrett squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Lord Norhaven.” He bowed and escorted her into the foyer.

“You can’t really be going to leave me,” she whispered hoarsely, her palms sweating with fear.

“Aye, I must.”

She held tight to his hands. “Please Garrett, speak with Father. Find out what he hides from me. Why he insists on this union. I can’t wed Clovis. You heard him. He has killed seven wives already. I won’t survive.”

A tear slipped down her cheek and Garrett wiped it with his knuckle. “Your mother was a kind soul. She felt me suited to your care, and I have protected you since you were a wee lass. But your father has no sons and this union, after your frolicking with the farm boy, is the best he could arrange.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll run away. I’ll travel to the coast and find Angus and father will never see me again.”

Garrett patted her head like a wayward child. “Regardless of what Clovis would have me do, I will remain close.”

She opened her mouth to thank him, but he interrupted.

“Not here but close by, at least until the wedding. I promise, no harm will befall you.”

Garrett turned on his heel and quit the house. Farrah blinked back tears as the door clicked closed. Under her breath, she whispered, “It already has.”

The carriage swayed to a halt. The door opened and Andrew grew lightheaded as men laid him on a canvas frame and hauled him inside a moderate-sized townhouse. Blurred vision kept him from recognizing the details of his surroundings, so he focused on the voices swirling around him.

“Kingsley, you will instruct a footman to leave on the morrow for Ravenwood. I would have the country estate prepared for our arrival. Also please have him inquire as to our neighbors. Rumor has it Clovis Flannigan is in the throes of planning another wedding.”

A gasp rent the air. “Another, my lady?”

“Yes, another. The poor dear has no idea what she’s in for.”

Multiple candles lit the foyer and Andrew used his arm to shield his eyes from the light. Someone clapped.

“Staff, assemble.” Footsteps pattered. “Andrew is home!”

Silence swept the room. The only noise was his heavy breathing. The woman repeated, “I said, Andrew is home. Do you not think this is a happy occasion?”

The first sound of joyful chattering circulated the room, escalating into a fever pitch until a cane struck the floor. The noise ceased and the face of an elderly woman rose above him. A smile tilted her painted lips as she smoothed a stray hair from his forehead. To the men holding the canvas framework, she said, “Place him in the room at the top of the stairs.”

“Yes, my lady.” The men grunted as they took their initial step.

Voices echoed along the staircase, but Andrew couldn’t decipher the words. The handlers struggled until they reached the upper platform. To keep from growing dizzy, he focused on the ceiling. They entered a room, lowered the frame to the bed, and rolled him off onto a thick down filled cover.

Comforted by the lushness, Andrew released a breath. The men exhaled loud puffs of air. They left and the warmth of the room spread around him causing his eyelids to grow heavy.

Wind and rain whipped past his face. Tree limbs snagged at his clothes. Heated voices drifted behind him. His pulse raced and his chest burned. He needed to get away from them…

“He should wake any moment.”

A cool rag covered his forehead and he parted his lids a fraction.

“See, my lady.”

“Yes.” There was a brief pause before the elderly woman from before leaned over and patted his cheek. “Do not worry, Andrew, Mother will take good care of you.”

He attempted to rise but his head pained and he fell back against a mountain of pillows.

“The poor dear. Is there nothing more you can do, Harold?”

“I’m afraid not, my lady. Your, um, son, has suffered a nasty bump to the head. The healing will take time.”

“Yes, of course.” She ran her aged hand along his stubble covered cheek. Quickly, she withdrew and rose to her full height. “You will stay with us until he is well.” The voice was commanding and brooked no argument.

“B-but—”

“Harold, I will have no excuses. You have been the family physician for years. I refuse to place my son’s care in the hands of a stranger.”

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but what of my practice, my other patients?”

She waved her hand. “They can find another physician.” The doctor stammered again with no intelligible words spoken and the lady continued, “We leave next week for Ravenwood so you may bring your trunks by in two days time. Do not be late. The maid likes to pack early.”

She flinted from the room and a younger woman entered.

The doctor collapsed in a nearby chair and cradled his head.

“Doctor Pennyworth, what’s the matter?”

“Juliet, I mean Miss Lewis, it’s horrible, just horrible.”

She stoked the fire. “It can’t possibly be so grim.”

“I assure you my straits are dire.”

She left the fireplace and strode closer, her hands planted on her slim hips. “Please do enlighten me with your tale. I can’t have you fretting and not sharing the details.”

The doctor rushed to stand, and the chair threatened to topple. He caught it before it struck the floor. “Your ladyship wishes for me to travel north!”

“Why that doesn’t sound so awful. I would think you would quite enjoy the holiday.”

“I would if not for your ladyship’s diminishing condition. I’ll be cooped up in the house playing nursemaid to Rowena’s, I mean Lady Ravenwood’s, madness and some — some stranger, while Doctor Tidwell steals my patients!”

“Nay, you won’t be tending a stranger, doctor. You’ll be tending your ladyship’s
son
.”

The maid’s inflection caused a measure of concern, but Andrew was so wrapped up in the ensuing conversation he forgot about it instantly.

“And that’s another thing—”

Juliet laid a finger over the doctor’s lips and pointed in Andrew’s direction. The doctor frowned and smashed his lips together. She moved toward Andrew and arranged his spread and plumped his unused pillows. “And how is your lordship this fine evening?”

His mouth felt like cotton, and he croaked, “Water.”

Juliet laid a glass to his dry lips and helped him sip. “Go slow, your lordship. You don’t want to gag.”

The refreshing liquid hit his throat and he choked which threw him into a fit of coughing. The doctor rolled him onto his side and berated the maid. “You must take more care. It is a wonder the fellow survived at all. We don’t wish to increase his injuries.”

Juliet backed away and the doctor brought the glass back to his lips. “Only a drop at a time, Lord Ravenwood. You mustn’t overdo.”

Andrew licked his lips. “Lord Ravenwood?” His voice sounded unfamiliar to his ears and he cringed.

The doctor replied, “Yes, Lord Ravenwood.” Andrew repeated the name under his breath. The doctor added, “You were involved in an accident, but your mother rescued you.”

“I-I don’t remember.”

“That is to be expected. You suffered a head injury. I understand you remained unconscious in a cell for many days.”

“A cell?”

The doctor appeared reluctant to elaborate and changed the subject. “Your mother will be delighted to hear you’ve awoken completely. I’ll fetch—”

He squeezed the doctor’s hand. “Something is wrong.”

“I’m sure—”

“No. I-I don’t remember this place or these people.”

The doctor avoided his gaze and Andrew’s worry increased. “As I said, that is normal. In time—”

Andrew shook his head, the action caused intense pain and he closed his eyes. The doctor’s hand was cool and soothing against his forehead.

“You’ve had entirely too much excitement for one day. Get some rest and I will return to check on you later.”

Andrew reached out, but the doctor had turned and gathered the maid. Before he could utter a word they had both fled from the room.

The banns had been read, the clothes ordered, the wedding party sent for, and the estate decorated.

Clovis had blustered to his aging comrades over dinner the night before, “The lass will never marry another, so might as well give her a suitable ceremony.”

The staff had eyed her warily. Behind hands they had whispered of her immediate demise. To their knowledge no woman had survived birthing Lord Norhaven’s child and they didn’t expect her to be the first, especially with her narrow hips.

The morning brought a new level of indignities as Farrah was forced to sit in the library as Clovis’ lawyer strutted about and listed Clovis’ assets. “I’ve drawn up the documents. After today, if either of you perish, the other will receive a vast inheritance.”

Garrett positioned himself in a corner with his arms folded and a frown covering his face. Hours later, the lawyer gathered his papers, shook hands with Clovis, and left. Clovis settled behind his desk. Ignored and hurt, Farrah rose and entered the empty hallway where she was immediately detained by Garrett.

He shifted his gaze back and forth. “I don’t like this.”

She cocked a brow and placed her hands on her hips. “You mean you don’t like that Lord Norhaven will inherit our lands if I perish?”

“My lady, I—”

She relaxed her position. “Don’t bother. Father knew well what he was doing when he agreed to this union.”

“But your father believed you were young and would outlive—”

Her heartbeat throbbed between her ears. “Ah, so the truth is revealed. Father believed I would outlive the elderly Flannigan and provide the Burrows line with extra land, the only way a useless daughter can.”

Garrett rushed to explain, but she hitched her skirts and fled. His footsteps trailed off as she ascended the staircase. She slammed her bedroom door and fell across her bed. The plush yellow coverlet absorbed her sobs. In two days, her life would change forever. She would be Countess of Norhaven and expected to fulfill certain duties. One of which might kill her.

She rolled onto her back and studied the ceiling. What was Angus doing? Was he hopping aboard a ship and sailing across the ocean? Was he running around town with his chums enjoying his days and nights? Did he think about her plight at all?

If he knew she’d been forced to wed, what would he do? Would he rush to her aid or would he stay away and enjoy the freedom only males incurred?

She jumped from the bed and paced. Her suite was on the east side of the house and sported a private balcony overlooking the vast gardens. She stepped out. Hills covered with purple heather rolled for as far as the eye could see. Wind fluttered the tall grass and teased tendrils of her hair. The sun warmed her face.

Below, guards lifted their hands in greeting. She refused to acknowledge their kindness. Unwittingly, they stood between her and freedom.

Back inside she stopped in the middle of her room. Boredom consumed her. If she didn’t find a way to distract herself, she would lose her mind.

Tromping downstairs, she eyed the large double doors. Casting glances over her shoulder, she scooted forward and touched the handle. A man appeared at her side. Dressed in the maroon livery belonging to a Norhaven footman, he cocked a brow and studied her. “I’m afraid not, my lady.”

“Am I a prisoner?”

“Perhaps.”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “If you don’t trust me to stay on the estate then by all means join me, but I am leaving these walls.”

“Spirited, are we?”

Her planned comment about his forward behavior was stifled when he opened the front door. She eyed him curiously, but stepped out, lifted her face, and drew in a deep breath. The man tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.