Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse (9 page)

Brigitta never wanted the dance
to end. Each musical note prolonged her freedom.

With the baron’s continued
absence, she remained without a partner. Several men looked her way, took a
step forward, only to draw back. Roland didn’t stand behind her, or to the
side, so there should be no fear of reprisal. What kept them at bay?

Brigitta sipped her drink. She
tilted her chin and studied the intricate designs painted on the high arching
ceiling. Light from a candelabrum reflected on the gold-painted scrolls. No
doubt someone had had to lay on his back for hours, his neck in a strain, to
create such a portrait of beauty and color.

The walls of the oval shaped hall
shone like white silk. The fibers sparkled and the golden accents twinkled.
Thick drapes blocked the outside as Brigitta watched the dancers. Married
couples moved with a unique rhythm while mere acquaintances struggled.
Particularly one couple. The lady, who had introduced herself as Lady Ruth,
gritted her teeth as she pounced on her masked partner’s toes multiple times.

Brigitta hid her laughter and
tried to look away but the actions were of such hilarity that she found herself
inadvertently drawn back to them.

The dance finally ended and the
gentleman slid off the floor. Lady Ruth tried to assist, but he waved her away
and politely said, “I merely need to rest for a moment.”

Brigitta knew that voice. She
straightened as she struggled to remember where they had met. Could it have
been in the village? She didn’t think so. He appeared to be of the nobility.
His tight, knee-length breeches were tucked neatly into his silk stockings. His
long coat forked at the tail. And he carried a cane with an air of the
aristocracy.

For certain he had not been
introduced to her this night, for if he had she would have remembered that, as
well.

Without further thought, Brigitta
rose and strolled to his table. Lady Ruth continued to apologize and Brigitta,
assuming her time was up, interrupted. “Do I know you?”

Both Lady Ruth and the stranger
stood and stared at her. Embarrassed by her rude behavior, Brigitta said, “Forgive
my intrusion, but you seem very familiar. I was wondering, do I know you?”

“But of course you do, my lady. I’m
Lady Ruth. I just introduced myself about an hour ago.”

Brigitta forced her tone to
remain even. “Pardon me for not directing my question more pointedly, but I was
addressing the gentleman.”

“Oh, but of course, forgive me,
my lady. Excuse me.” Lady Ruth lifted her hand in a wave and skittered away to
let another dance partner find her.

“I don’t envy him,” said the
gentleman.

Brigitta smiled. “Nor do I. I’m
surprised you have the ability to walk at all.”

“Saw that, did you?”

“Indeed. The way she destroyed
that dance, as well as your appendages, was a hard thing to miss.”

“I suppose you can do better.”

Brigitta shrugged.

He held out his open palm and she
stared at it. A shiver of anticipation raced along her spine. The invitation
was there. She wanted to accept it. Should she?

“Go ahead, you know you want to.”

“Hmm. While the offer is
tempting, there must be a reason everyone else has avoided dancing with me. Do
you think this reason could be detrimental to you, as well?”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said.

She gulped and took his hand. He
led her onto the dance floor. Gasps echoed as couples moved aside and allowed
them to take the head of the line. The musicians stared in awe and didn’t
strike a chord until Roland nodded in their direction.

A slow mournful tune wrapped
around them as he held her aloft. The crowd relaxed as the music played and
eventually others joined in. Brigitta sighed.

“That’s better. You are way too
tense,” he said.

“Forgive me, but I dislike being
on display.”

He cocked a brow.

“Perhaps you should explain your
skeptical expression.”

He laughed. “Perhaps I should.
From what I hear, you are quite often on display.”

She frowned and gnawed her lip.
Was he hinting at her participation in the tours?

“Am I to presume that, when you
are the center of attention, you don’t enjoy it?” he asked.

“You presume correctly.” She
stared at his chest, unwilling to meet his eyes, as a wave of heat settled over
her rouged cheeks.

“Then why do you continue?”

“Why do I…” The last word was
drawn from her and she realized she was at a loss for what to say.

“Yes, why do you continue if you
dislike it?”

“Have you ever been in the middle
of something which you could not control?” Thoughts of her failed marriage
raced through her mind.

“Yes,” he said.

She lifted her chin and looked in
his eyes. The bronze color reflected through the eye holes of his mask, and she
drew in a swift breath. Fury tightened her chest, and she attempted to shove
him away. Fortuitously, the gentlemen in attendance had been required to wear a
mask and she wouldn’t be caught in the arms of her rogue brother-in-law.

He held her more firmly, his
fingers closing over hers. “Don’t do that.”

“What are you doing here?” she
whispered.

“I’m here to make sure you have a
wonderful evening.”

“But—”

He placed his finger across her
lips. “Don’t ask questions. Just dance. Tonight is for you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the
feel of his fingers on the soft flesh of her lips. She swallowed and leaned in
closer, the heat of his body flooding over her.

The dance ended and he escorted
her to her seat. She thought he meant to join her, but instead he sauntered
away to the buffet tables.

In the candlelight with the mask
covering half his face, the man looked less like her husband. Perhaps her
initial assessment of her brother-in-law had been incorrect. Perhaps he wasn’t
quite the rogue everyone thought him to be. She sipped at her drink and watched
his movements from under veiled lashes.

****

Chadwick slipped into the
ballroom. The last-minute costume fit snugly and he jerked the accursed
tailcoat into place.

A cursory look about the ballroom
revealed frequent visitors from the tours and he smiled at their continued
patronage.

He grabbed a glass of port from a
passing tray, sipped, and studied the guests. Couples danced across the floor.
Some congregated in groups and chatted. Still others, choosing not to dance,
played games of whist in the green parlor, visible through the open doors.
Quite a boring game, but something with which he could pass the time if nothing
else presented itself.

Chadwick headed to the gaming
tables. On the way, he heard a familiar voice. Brigitta glided across the dance
floor with a gentleman. Securing a spot against the wall, he studied them.
Arrayed in a gown of the sheerest material, Brigitta outshone all the other
ladies in attendance. Auburn curls lay like a caress against her exposed neck.
Her pale blue eyes gleamed beneath the candlelight.

The couple seemed engaged in a
titillating conversation. They pressed closer and Chadwick narrowed his eyes.
The man placed his finger across her lips. Red hue dotted Brigitta’s cheeks.

Chadwick balled his fists at his
sides. The man’s audacity could not go without comment. As he approached the
couple, the music ended and they parted company. Brigitta returned to her
table, stroked her glass, and stared at the man’s retreating form.

Forgetting his desire to pummel
the man who had danced so shamelessly with his wife, Chadwick stepped forward. “Baroness
Stockport, may I have this dance?”

She drew her gaze away from the
stranger and glanced at him with a glazed look. “Excuse me?”

“Dance. May I have this dance?”

Her vision cleared but no
recognition showed in her expression as she rose, took his hand, and they
joined the dancers. He pursed his lips, fighting jealousy. How had she not
recognized his voice? His eyes? The lushness of his lips? He was stocked with
substantial qualities. It was inconceivable that Brigitta could miss them all.

Adjusting his voice, he asked, “How
are you enjoying the ball, my lady?”

“Very well, thank you. And you?”

“I find all forms of
entertainment pleasurable.”

They pranced about the floor to
the
Commodore’s Return
. The music demanded they advance, and he
concealed his voice and whispered in her ear, “You are the most beautiful woman
in attendance.”

She blushed. “Thank you, kind
sir.”

“Where is your husband?”

She frowned. “He has yet to
arrive.”

“Do you not feel bad about
enjoying the evening without him? What if he has contained himself in his room
because of illness?”

Moving with the other couples,
they retired and crossed over. Jewel-toned skirts flashed around him,
candlelight flickered on jewelry, warmth exuded from the flames. A smile
twitched at the corner of his lips. Perhaps his greatest role had yet to be
played. If he could fool Brigitta, then could he not fool anyone?

When the music drew them together
again, she said, “I do not believe his situation is so dire.”

“You do not?”

“I do not. Rather, I believe if
he stayed in his room, it is because his attitude of contrariness demands it.”

“Attitude of contrariness?” He
snickered. “What makes you believe he has an attitude of contrariness?”

“Pardon me, kind sir, but I don’t
believe it would be prudent to discuss my beliefs with a stranger.”

He stifled a laugh and forced his
head not to shake. Indeed, he should find a local troupe and offer his dramatic
services.

The dance ended and he bowed.
Escorting her back to her table, he said, “Thank you for the dance. It has been
a pleasure meeting someone of your inclinations.”

****

Luke frowned as a stranger
escorted Brigitta onto the dance floor. Even while she danced in another man’s
arms, she glanced over her partner’s shoulder and sent Luke a heated glance.
She watched his every movement, as did Roland. Several times Roland had
attempted to get close enough to identify him, but so far Luke knew he had
eluded detection.

The food on the buffet tables
carried a heavy aroma. He grabbed two plates and filled them with delicacies.

While they’d danced, he had seen
the recognition in Brigitta’s eyes. The journey of remembering he was her
brother-in-law and the man from the garden, who had led her through the tunnels
and back into the house. He was the man who had returned her to her prison.

The moment when she’d pulled away
had felt like a punch to the gut. Determined to never experience that pain
again, he decided to explain his behavior. Soon, very soon.

The dance ended, and the
gentleman escorted Brigitta to her table and left her alone. Forlorn, she
rested her elbows on the white tablecloth and cradled her chin. Luke carried
the plates to her, settled hers in front of her, and flared his tails behind
him as he sat. Brigitta narrowed her gaze in his direction.

“I wonder what you’re up to.”

He stalled the bite of stewed
damsons halfway between the plate and his mouth.

“You lead me back into the estate
then disappear, and now you show up here, at the ball, in costume.”

The fork with the prunes
clattered to his plate as he leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles
underneath the table. Smiling, he said, “Perhaps I am the black sheep of the
family. A rogue. Or perhaps I don’t truly belong to the family, but stole your
master’s clothes and masquerade as something I’m not.”

She tapped a finger on the side
of her face. “I don’t think so. No, your air, your bearing, is regal, noble.
You hail from nobility, just as you claimed. I believe you speak the truth when
you say you are the baron’s brother. What I cannot see is besides appearance
what you two have in common, for he has a most foul personality.”

Luke stifled his mirth and
cleared his throat. “Your opinion of your husband is exceedingly low.”

“I’m afraid there is very little
to endear me to him.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Have you?” she asked, plucking a
bright red strawberry from his plate and plopping it into her mouth.

Luke swallowed and glanced around
to see if anyone noticed her unorthodox behavior. The guests seemed
preoccupied. To continue in the same vein of thought, he said, “It is almost
all the guests can speak of.” His focus centered on her smacking lips as she
licked her fingers.

She smiled. “Are you sure? From
the rumors I hear, they talk mostly of my ill disposition.”

“Well, I—” he stuttered.

She laughed. “You shouldn’t lie
when the truth is so obvious.”

He nodded. “You are correct. I
apologize.”

“Please don’t. I find it quite
attractive that you would lie to assuage my feelings.”

She leaned in closer. Luke
started to lean toward her, enchanted by the conversation and by her. Prickles
of intense sensation raced along his spine. Quickly, he sat up straight,
feeling naughty at publicly flirting with his brother’s wife. The attention he
afforded her could become an issue.

To lighten the mood, he said, “Since
you ate half my plate as well as your own, maybe you should find a dance
partner?”

“I’d be delighted,” she said,
holding out her hand.

Luke clasped it reluctantly.
Again they slid onto the dance floor and she melted into his arms. As they
waltzed, she said, “I should never have let you bring me back inside the
estate.”

He continued to glide. His heart
felt as if it had jumped into his throat as he struggled to find an appropriate
response.

She said, “However, I must say
the midnight adventure did spur me to embolden myself.”

“How so?” he asked, clearing his
throat.