Andrews Brothers 02 - The Rescue (8 page)

Candles were doused. Music echoed throughout the hall. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. At the back of the room poised a veiled individual.

Her gown trembled and Andrew imagined the bride’s knees knocking beneath the silken fabric. Sorrow for the young lady nipped at the edge of his conscience.

The musicians struck an out of tune chord and the bride stepped forward. She moved along the aisle in an almost run, soon residing beside Clovis. Andrew hid his surprise at the action, wondering if the female wished to run to Clovis because she liked him or because she just wanted the ordeal to be over.

Clovis reached for the veil and she slapped his hand away. He narrowed his eyes until the crowd snickered then he winked. “My bride is shy. I’ll just take myself a peek to make sure I’m not marrying me own valet.”

The room erupted into raucous laughter as Clovis lifted the veil a fraction, smiled, and said, “Vicar, you may proceed.”

The bland ceremony lasted only a few moments. There was no singing, no repeating of vows, and no exchange of kisses, just the rote words and the vicar’s proclamation. The service was over and the groom and bride halfway down the aisle before Andrew and the guests reacted.

They clapped in a slow rhythmic motion. The band played a morose tune until a liveried gentleman ascended the stage and bade them stop.

Dismissed, the guests dispersed and enjoyed the delights of a light reception in the dining hall, including the bride’s pie, which seemed odd without the bride. The clock chimed one.

Andrew found his mother surrounded by elderly gentlemen vying for her attention.

“Excuse me, but my son needs me.”

Andrew opened his mouth to protest, but she sent him a silencing look. When out of earshot, Rowena said, “Thank you for the rescue.”

“You’re welcome.”

She guided him to the buffet tables. “Stewed damsons, my favorite.” She smacked her drawn lips and Andrew fought the urge to laugh over her excitement for prunes. “Did you need something, dear?”

“Yes. I wanted to know what to do now.”

“Oh. Now we mingle until Clovis’ valet returns to inform us the seed has once again been shared.”

Andrew blinked rapidly and his throat tightened. He wouldn’t laugh, it wouldn’t be right.

Rowena patted his arm. “A shock, I know. But Clovis is big on tradition.”

She moved away and Andrew found himself seeking the company of the red head in hopes of discussing the night’s developments.

Skirting the edges of the main hall revealed nothing and he expanded his search. Through the parted draperies, he could see moonlight striking a garden path. Leaving the safety and warmth of the dining hall, he edged around visitors until he was outside. Water in a nearby fountain glistened like diamonds. Perched on the stone edge, he palmed his chin. Where had the mystery woman gotten off to?

****

The enormous suite was lit by half-melted candles. A four poster bed, blanketed in a thick dark maroon coverlet, dwarfed the small room.

Farrah had serious doubts about her father’s plan. How had he allowed it to go so far? She had expected him to step in and stop the ceremony, or at least pull her aside before the nuptials and explain. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she hid in the shadows and waited. After the ceremony Clovis disappeared to places unknown and Garrett had escorted her to Clovis’ suite. Lucretia had stood erect and stern holding a flimsy gown in her hand.

“You will put this on.”

“But why?
Shouldn’t we be with the wedding party?
What about the bride’s pie?”

“You do not need to concern yourself with such things. You will do as you are told.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from arguing. Dressed in the nightgown, her voice trembling, she said,
“Where is Clovis?”

Lucretia cocked a brow.
“He is currently occupied. You are to prepare and wait for him.”

Farrah’s throat tightened.

A clock chimed in the hallway and she shivered. What she wouldn’t give for a cover from the bed. No way would she risk stepping into the light where she could be seen. She would rather freeze first.

****

Devlin leaned forward in the chair and propped his elbows on the table. It had taken some work but he’d finally convinced Clovis to play a game of Brag without extra players and before the wedding night’s activities commenced.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. I have a beautiful young woman waiting for me in the next room.”

“True. But if you win this game then think how much more
excited
you’ll be.”

Clovis squirmed in his chair. “Deal the cards.”

Swindler’s manual rule number one:
The best way to win any game:
distract your opponent.

The ante set, the cards dealt, Devlin started talking. “What do you think of your new bride?”

They had opted not to play blind, so Clovis examined his cards, a frown drawing down his brow. “She is young.”

Devlin lifted the corner of his own cards. “Ah, perfect for child bearing.”

Clovis dropped chips on the table representing his bet. “That remains to be seen. I’ve married them young before.”

Devlin counted the prospective coins and swallowed. He would only be able to lose a few hands before he would need to start winning, just in case his plan went south and he was unable to complete his mission on the first night. “So I’ve heard.”

Clovis arched a shaggy brow, but didn’t comment.

Devlin breathed a sigh of relief, stretched out, and crossed his legs at the ankles. Second rule of the swindler’s manual:
Don’t let your personal feelings get in the way of the swindle
.

“How do you like working here?” asked Clovis as he laid his cards on the table.

“I like it well enough. I appreciate you giving me the chance.”

“Humph. Not like your mother gave me a choice.” Clovis gathered his winnings from the table. Again, they set the ante, dealt the cards, and placed a bet.

Devlin ran his hand over his hair and smiled. “She can be that way.”
Good ole Miss Tidewater
. She could play any role, even the role of a woman double her age and maternal. His employer had chosen well when picking her.

“I still don’t remember her, but I’ve known lots of women I don’t remember.” Clovis laughed under his breath at his own joke.

Devlin had lost the first game, but won the second which fortunately held a bigger pot. Sweat beaded Clovis’ brow and the room in the air grew foul.

“I think I should go. Enough of my coin sits on the table as it is.” Clovis laid his hands flat on the table to rise and Devlin covered one of them.

“Don’t leave yet. You’re a married man. You’re a lucky man. One more game and you could win it all back.”

Clovis eyed the chips representing his coin. Candlelight struck them, causing them to glow. His throat bobbed up and down with a forceful swallow.

Devlin motioned a footman forward. Drinks appeared by their hands. Clovis downed a full glass and reached for the decanter. After a few more, Clovis was tipsy and his eyes glazed. It didn’t hurt that Devlin had added a special mix to Clovis’ sherry supply.

Two more games of Brag, and Clovis was summoning the deed to his land. The paper crinkled in Devlin’s hand and he tried not to appear overly eager. The game ended and Clovis wiped sweat from his brow and penned his name on the dotted line. The Flannigan land now belonged to Devlin. He rolled up the paper and tucked it in his coat pocket.

“Thank you, Lord Norhaven.”

Devlin left the tipsy Clovis at the table and escaped through a side door. His uninformed cohort sat outside and waited. He dropped a gold coin in his hand and the footman’s eyes rounded. “Take Lord Norhaven to his bride. He deserves it.”

The footman shuffled into the room and Devlin disappeared into the servants’ hall to pack. Tomorrow he would have his own suite.

****

Clovis entered the marriage chamber through a side door. He huffed a breath and clasped his chest as he hauled his ample figure onto the bed.

“Come from the shadows, my sweet,” he said, his voice slurred.

Farrah bristled at the term of endearment, but stepped forward. Clovis coughed and held out his hand. She held out her own, her throat clenching. The act felt as if she entered a fiery furnace and she imagined she was somewhere else. The field where she had frolicked with Angus came to mind. If she pretended she was with her love then all would pass away.

She swallowed. Flickering light cast a ghostly pallor over Clovis. Before she reached him, he retracted his hand and flattened it against his chest. His eyes widened and he fell backward, his head striking the headboard with a loud whack. She stopped. Fear raced along her spine.

Clovis went still, the coughing and gasping ended. Gathering courage, she hitched her gown and ran to his side. She picked up his shoulders and attempted to shake him, but his massive girth had her only moving his shoulder an inch from the pillow.

She shouted under her breath. “Clovis! Clovis! Answer me!”

His eyes rolled back in his head. His muscles slackened. Leaned over his prone form, no breath struck her face.

Her knees sank into the soft feather mattress as she leaned back and covered her mouth. A moan escaped her throat and she backed off the bed and stumbled to a door leading from the suite.

Opening the door a sliver, Farrah glanced out. The gardens appeared vacant. Widening the crack, she slipped outside. Cold air whisked around her and lifted the hem of her garment. She wrapped her arms around her chest and staggered through the maze of overgrown paths.

Wails, whether real or imaginary, filled the air and Farrah peered over her shoulder even as she ran forward. Gaze averted, she was shocked when she ran into a mass of hard flesh. Hands encased her upper arms and she opened her mouth to scream.

“There you are.”

The familiar voice had her closing her mouth. She stared at Andrew Ravenlowe. She’d enjoyed his banter in the woods and at the pre-wedding festivities and would have talked more had her wedding not been ready to begin.

Now, however, was not a good time to resume their previous conversation.

“I’ve been searching for you.” He cocked a brow and looked her up and down. “Is something wrong? You are as white as a sheet. And why are you running around in a nightgown? Didn’t you want to enjoy the reception? I hear the bride’s pie is delightful.”

Her throat refused to work and she gulped and pointed like a madwoman toward the suite she’d escaped.

“Slow down, my lady. Gather your breath and help me understand.”

She closed her eyes and imagined his face, his eyes dark wide with a hint of curiosity and mischievousness. She opened her eyelids and he grinned and winked at her, rubbing his hands along her chilled arms.

“Feel better?”

She nodded and drew in a breath.

“Now, what can I do for you?”

The warm feel of his palm stroking her arms distracted her and she struggled to speak. She licked her dry lips.

“I bet your lips taste sweet.”

She blurted, “What?”

He shrugged. “You ate melon before the ceremony, so your lips must taste like it.”

“Oh, of course.” Heat flushed her cheeks as he continued to focus on her mouth, his gaze never wavering. She struggled to remember why she was in the garden.

“Your hair smells like roses.”

Flabbergasted by his openly flirty nature, she continued to stay off balance.

He moved a stray hair behind her ear. The touch sent shivers along her spine. His head descended. Transfixed by his eyes, she didn’t move, she was like an animal trapped in a snare. With bated breath she waited for his lips to touch hers.

Heavy footfalls punctuated by Garrett’s bellowing voice had her stepping away. “My lady?”

She fell back, tripped, and landed in the fountain. She jumped, and sputtered. Cold pervaded her body and her teeth chattered. Waterlogged, the sheer material would cling to her every curve. Andrew hovered above her with his hand out. She eyed it warily as she floated on the water’s surface. If she rose to her full height, all her secrets would be exposed.

“I need your coat,” she said between clenched teeth.

“What?”

“Your c-coat, please. C-close your eyes and hold up your c-coat.” He didn’t move and she stood and grabbed his cravat. His eyes widened and she said, “You must help me. Give me your coat.”

He shrugged it off and handed it over. She struggled to slip her wet and trembling limbs through the sleeves. Curses left her lips. Andrew’s stunned expression and twitching lips had heat flushing her face.

Hot breath struck her ear as he bent forward and whispered, “Why are we hiding?”

Still working to drag the coat on, she said, “Because my husband just died and I’m afraid I killed him.”

Too late she realized the folly of her admission.

****

Andrew’s blood ran cold. Her words lingered between them. Who was the woman he harbored?

She opened her mouth to say more, but shadows surrounded them as an entire detachment of armed footmen appeared.

“My lady,” said a liveried footman, his eyelid twitching. In one hand he held a sword, the other he held out to the young lady. “You need to come with me.”

The lady trembled. “Garrett, I can explain.”

“You don’t have to explain to me, my lady.”

Garrett moved and revealed another set of liveried footmen bearing the Flannigan insignia. Her violent trembling increased and Andrew stepped forward to wrap his arm around the lady’s shoulders but Garrett’s fierce glare halted him.

“Excuse me, sir, but Lady Farrah Flannigan must come with me.”

His jaw dropped like a rusty hinge as Farrah, whom he now recognized as the newest Flannigan bride, was led away.

Moments passed before the shock wore off. He shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered slowly from the gardens. Inside servants ran amuck through the halls. A screeching ensued as an elderly maid flung herself on a hall table.