Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

I n the still dark morning, Daniel held his hand out to help Mary into the carriage. She slid her hand into his, sending a current of warmth up his arm. He watched her fold her skirts around her legs, making room for him. She leaned back and smiled, an invitation for him to join her. Sitting beside her was like walking from a cold room into a bright summer afternoon; he could not deny her appeal.

Humid air mixed the scents of rain, horses, and baking bread. They rose early to lay claim on the best horses and arranged for the smallest, lightest carriage available, hoping for the advantage of speed. That meant that the side of Mary’s body rested against his, closer even than the day before. When the carriage lurched forward, they pressed together, and he became aware of his companion in a way he had not been the previous day.

Throughout the night, rain had drenched and muddied the streets and brought in a crowd of shelter seekers to the inn. The rising noise in the dining room put an early end to their conversation, and Daniel couldn’t decide if that pleased or disappointed him. While he enjoyed speaking with Mary more than with any other person of his acquaintance, his feelings for her were foggy. He was at once irritated at not being able to return home faster while enjoying her company more with each moment they spent together. After dinner, the inn became almost riotous, and Mary had gone to her room. It had still been early, and he wished she stayed with him. Amid the clamor of the crowded inn, he began to consider asking her to pose as his…what? Fiancée? That was taking it too far. Perhaps the woman he was courting. Once the thought entered his head, it would not leave him alone. It persisted, even after he realized the idea came from A Woman Who Loves, wherein a wealthy spinster pretended to be betrothed to frighten off a treasure hunter.

He wanted his family castle. The idea of losing it siphoned his ambition and filled him with listless energy. His work at Smith’s Bank, which had consumed him for so long, would be for naught if he did not obtain Almery. With Miss Thorpe unavailable and his father in a precarious state of health, might Mrs. Allen help rewrite his father’s will?

When first he return home, a flood of memories surfaced, and he realized that he’d allowed anger against his father to overshadow his happy childhood. The castle walls, the coolness of the air, the earthy smell, the familiarity of it, had recalled him to better days. Frustrating though his father was, he did not want the light to go out on their relationship.

Before his father lost the family’s fortune, the castle had abounded in warmth and affection. That nostalgia followed him to Bath. One bite of a biscuit and he and his sister, Emma, were at his mother’s knee listening to her dramatic reading of Robinson Crusoe . At the smell of damp and paper, he was in his father’s study learning Latin, his father whispering to himself whilst perusing Isaac Newton’s Arithmetica Universalis .

It wasn’t perfect. His parents were imprudent and disregarded their responsibilities. Still, he ached to return to the time before rancor let him neglect his relationship with his parents.

Perhaps, his happy memories were sweetened by the mist of time. Even the moments spent with Miss Jensen were tinted pink. Not that he wanted her , but his desire for affection and the stability of marriage grew when he remembered how he’d anticipated sharing the castle with someone he loved. When Miss Jensen had married another, that dream vanished, and the castle became the center of all his hopes.

Now, with his father’s threat to disinherit him, he would not have the castle without marriage. The days he spent with his parents were a series of arguments, and they played the trump card. Bringing a potential wife home with him might build new understanding with his father. Dare he ask Mary to do him the favor of pretending interest in him?

He glanced at her, sitting with her hands clasped in her lap, looking out at the green countryside. She was a prim woman at times and, at others, quite passionate. The love she had given her deceased husband was a gift. To share love like that… Perhaps Lord Allen’s death had enabled their love to endure. Had he lived, perchance their affection would have grown tired. The thought irritated him, and he shoved it away. What sort of man craved a woman’s love when he was not willing to give love to her in return? Selfish.

The carriage slogged through the mud; their journey slowed with little chance the roads would improve anytime soon. Ask her if she will pretend a courtship . He opened his mouth, but Mary spoke before he had a chance.

“Do we stop at every posting inn along the way?” She tapped her fingers against the knuckles of her other hand. “Perhaps the rain stopped them in a village, and they took shelter inside a cottage. They could be anywhere.”

Daniel mulled over the conundrum. “The best we can do is proceed as quickly as possible to Mr. Savage’s hunting box. We don’t have the resources to look everywhere. If they aren’t in Chesterfield, we can send servants to search for them. Depending on my father’s health, you may have to proceed to Gretna Green without me.”

Mary tugged at her sleeves. “Yes, of course. I would never presume to engage you further. Your duty is to your family.” Her lips were dry and eyes red. Though she’d retired early, she seemed exhausted.

This was no time to ask her if she would pretend to court him, but his heart thudded. He would ask, though it made him a blackguard. He could introduce her to his parents and make an excuse about why she had to leave so soon. It was a desperate plan, but the pretense would last only a few hours. Hating that he would take advantage of her when she was already in distress, he said, “Mary, I wondered, would you come with to my castle? Meet my family? After, I can set you up with servants to escort you the rest of the way to Scotland, should we not find them before then.”

Mary stilled. Now was his chance to speak and reveal his predicament. But what would she think of a man who would use her so abominably and deceive his parents? Even in his head, the suggestion to lie to his family so he could reconcile with his father and regain his inheritance was mercenary at best. And a lie. Daniel abhorred deception.

Was it really a lie? Could Mary be a symbol? She represented whichever woman would become his wife. It was a show of compliance to his father’s wish. He could tell his parents that Mary changed her mind, and that would give him a little time to find someone else.

“Certainly. I could use a rest from all these inns,” she said, lifting her chin and straightening, her weight against him lessening.

Over the short weeks of their friendship, if it could be so named, Daniel noted that Mary had dual personalities. At times she was warm and interesting, funny and endearing. But there was another Mary, a dignified and proper woman who emerged a paragon of polite behavior, complete with armor and a shield, ready to strike should anyone try to penetrate her defenses. The warrior version of Mary rose when she was uncomfortable. Daniel could only guess that she did not actually wish to visit Almery.

“There is, of course, no need, if you are anxious to be on your way to Scotland or must take Miss Thorpe home after we find her.” Daniel wanted Mary at the castle. He could see her there, descending the stairs in that cheerful way of hers. Sitting with him by a fire. Walking out to the pond. Somehow, he knew Almery would enchant her. Introducing Mary to the castle would return the intrigue and magic he’d felt for his home as a child. “Of course, I hope we find them sooner rather than later, but if they are not where we expect them, it would make sense to send servants to scour the countryside. There may be a period of waiting, and my home is ideally situated only a few miles from Mr. Savage’s hunting box.” Daniel cleared his throat. “You will like the castle. It is enchanting.” Almost as captivating as she was. He bit his tongue, stopping the flow of words.

“I cannot make any promises until we find Louisa and assess her situation. The girl may need whisking out of the country.”

His plan was faulty. If they found Miss Thorpe, he and Mary may need to take her to his house for some period. And that would be a disaster. As far as his father was concerned, Miss Thorpe was his future wife. He had no wish to marry Miss Thorpe, but he would if she were found. It was his duty, even more now than before. He assumed some responsibility for telling Savage of her dowry and for bringing him to Bath. Miss Thorpe would do as well as anyone. With some relief, Daniel abandoned the plan to ask Mary to pose as his bride to be. They must see how things with Mr. Savage unfolded.

He was once again at the beginning with no hope of success. And what if Father was dead? An anxious flutter entered his chest. He could lose his father. He could lose the castle. Though he did not begrudge any help he gave Mary, he wished to be on horseback, traveling home as fast as possible.

Daniel tried to relax his clenched hands and reminded himself that he didn’t know if his father’s condition was grave. His mother’s letter lacked details. For all he knew, his father had only sustained minor bruises, but that was not the tone of the letter. It seemed serious. Something had to be done.

“Mary, I must ask you something. If we cannot find Miss Thorpe, when you meet my parents, will you pretend you are my…that I am courting you?” There. The words were out, and he felt her body shift but was too ashamed to look at her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her fingers work over the embroidery on her stomacher. She said nothing for so long that he thought she wouldn’t answer.

“Why?” she asked. It was a simple enough question. He should have explained.

“The day we left Bath, I was already on my way home, you know. An hour earlier, I’d received a note from my mother telling me my father was injured, that I must return home immediately.”

“If your father is ill, why would you wish to mislead him?”

Under a wave of shame, he said, “My father and I are not on the best of terms. I want to reconcile with him. His greatest desire is that I marry, and I want him to believe me filial enough to abide by his wishes.”

“I see.” She folded her gloved hands in her lap and pulled her lips into a look of prim censure. “I will consider it. On one hand, it seems a kind thing to do. On the other, quite devious.” Her lips twitched. Did she find this funny? He supposed that from a certain point of view, it could be humorous.

“Do not imagine that I am blind to the unscrupulous implications of this favor.” He searched for her sympathetic eyes, but she kept her face averted. With the gentle touch of his hand on her chin, he turned her toward him. She recoiled at his touch, and his hand dropped, but her eyes were now locked on his. “I am desperate. You know how it is to have contention between yourself and a parent. I would not ask such a thing if I did not fear his leaving the earth without knowing that, despite everything, his son loves him. I don’t know how else to show him.”

She blinked slowly back at him, her lashes splaying against her fine brow. She could not know how alluring she was. “I understand. I will consider your…I will think on it.”

Daniel grimaced. What could she call it? A proposal? An offer? She clenched her jaw, and her fingers did not still. Only a villain would add to her distress. If it weren’t for the heaviness in his own heart, for the resolute numbness he carried since reading his mother’s letter, he would never ask such a thing.

He needed to distract her. “The book I brought yesterday. Do you have it on hand?”

In the carriage’s crushing lack of space, she reached for the floor, pushing her hip against his thigh. She sat up, book in hand, and brought her eyes to his. In them he saw a depth of emotion that he did not understand and for which he was ill prepared.