Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

A fter several days on the road, Mary and Daniel fell into a routine. At each stop for refreshment, to change horses, or to sleep for the night, Mary asked after Louisa. If there were additional posting houses or inns in the area, Daniel rode out in search of news. They did not get to every inn, but to most. It was the best they could do.

The absence of news constricted Mary’s stomach until she could barely eat. She noticed Daniel did his best to distract her, but it did little good. The only solace Mary found was putting words on the page at the end of each day.

In yet another inn, Mary waited for Daniel to return from making his rounds at nearby lodging houses. There was no expectation of news, and her spirit sagged. Though she’d attempted the task multiple times, she had yet to complete a letter to her brother explaining Louisa’s whereabouts. Words for her fictional romance overflowed, but she could not pen an explanation to Stephen. If Louisa were discovered, no one could ever know what happened. She would do everything in her power to keep the secret. But was it fair to keep it from the girl’s father?

“Nothing.” Daniel sat across from her. “We will be at the hunting lodge tomorrow afternoon, so long as the weather holds.”

“That is a good thought.” But she could only consider the enormity of her failure. Mary’s intention to help Louisa into a love match led the girl to run off with this blackguard, a decision that would rob her of future happiness. How had she been so blind to what was brewing between Savage and her niece? “Stupid child. What will I do when I find her?”

“They will have to marry, regrettable as it is.”

“Of course, you are right. And if they are not there?”

“You could stay at the castle and send servants to the country, or you continue to Scotland. What do you wish?”

Nothing was more important than finding the girl and consoling her. Louisa had ruined herself and there was no undoing that, but Mary wanted to assure Louisa of the love she still felt for her niece. Men on horseback would cover more ground than she could in a carriage. Waiting at the castle for news meant spending more time with Daniel, more time pretending.

“It is wise to send a search party. Can we ask the servants to bring them to your castle when they are found? We could arrange for their marriage from there and make everything seem above board?”

“That is a sound plan.”

“Who can we trust to do the job of finding them while not revealing the situation?”

“Don’t worry on that account. My valet and groom know how to keep a secret.”

Mary nodded. It was all she could do. Stew and bread arrived at the table, but she set the food aside after taking a small bite.

Daniel pushed the bowl back at her. “You will need your strength when you encounter Mr. Savage tomorrow. He deserves a broken nose at the very least, and I know just the woman to serve it.”

Mary laughed, her shoulders relaxing as she watched Daniel smile with her. A rare grin covered his face, revealing a tiny dimple in his left cheek and his beautiful white teeth. She could watch him all day. If only Louisa hadn’t been a ninny, he might have been hers. The notion felt cold.

Daniel pulled out a pair of dice. “I have a surprise for you, but you cannot know what it is, unless you win the game.”

“What will it be today?” she asked.

“We both call a number. If my number is closer, you take three bites. When your number wins three times, even if not in a row, I will play a song on that dusty pianoforte in the corner.” The candlelight caught on the sparkle in Daniel’s eyes.

“A fresh take on the game. All right. Eight.”

Mary consumed the requisite quantity of stew, each mouthful easier to swallow.

When she won three times, she tapped her bowl with the spoon. “Your turn to perform, Daniel. What will you play?”

“Whatever you like.”

“Anything but a ballad about senseless youths running off in the name of love.”

“I could not agree more. A surprise, then?”

“I love a surprise. And that will make two, for I have not forgotten you have something in your pocket for me.”

He winked at her, and despite herself, she blushed.

Daniel stretched his hands and fingers over the pianoforte in big showy gestures, gathering the attention of the room. He was a quiet man, sometimes to the point of awkwardness, so his playful showmanship surprised and delighted her. His fingers trilled up the keys before he began playing “Blow, Ye Winds, Blow,” which was a trick because half the song was meant for a woman—did he intend Mary to join him? At least it was a benign song about a shirt. No words of love to set Mary trembling. Though the pianoforte was dusty and out of tune, Daniel’s baritone made up for what the instrument lacked.

After swallowing the last of her dinner, she stood to join him. Before his part finished, several men joined in, and to Mary’s relief, when the female part began, she was joined by the few women in the room.

Two sisters of perhaps twelve and ten who appeared to be traveling with their family danced around the room, urging their parents to join. They did, along with several other couples, until right before Mary’s eyes, the finest soirée she’d ever attended formed around her.

An older gentleman, nudged Daniel off the bench and began to play “The Seeds of Love.” Daniel took Mary by the hand, and they joined the others in the dance.

“You are a miracle worker, Daniel.” His performance transformed the gloomy dining hall into one bright with festivity. Mary easily followed his lead and spun in and out of his arms.

“I’ve done my job, then. You are smiling.”

Was she? Like a young lady falling in love? She settled her visage into something more befitting her station, serene and genteel, but her face would not comply.

“Thank you,” she said. “I owe you a great deal of gratitude for accompanying me on this chase.”

He sobered.

“Even if it proves fruitless,” she said, “your kindness means everything.” His company and efforts to draw her from her worry were as much an elixir as writing. Without him, she may have crumbled in despair.

“We are stronger together. And soon enough I will be wooing you for the benefit of my parents, so we are even.” He was breathless from the dance, and his words took on an intimacy she was certain he did not intend.

They spun, holding hands, stepping close together as the dance required, and she could not stop another blush from rising. Since an honest courtship was not possible, she would enjoy this pretend one. “I cannot wait,” she said with a tremulous smile. She may as well practice flirting with him. The better to convince his parents.

When the song ended and another began, Daniel led Mary back to their table and picked up her bowl.

“Empty, as you see.” She held out a hand for the prize. It was juvenile, but she loved this routine. When Daniel asked around the villages through which they traveled for news of Louisa and Savage, he never failed to stop somewhere to bring her a gift.

He reached into his satchel, which was draped over his chair and took her proffered hand. “I’ve looked for these across all of England.” His fingers circled her wrist, and the gentle pressure on the sensitive spot beneath her palm sent a wave of pleasure up her arm and down her body. He placed a pink box tied in pale blue ribbon in her hand.

She untied the gift and removed the lid to expose a collection of acorn-sized white balls. “Cream filberts! My favorite. How did you know?”

He lifted a shoulder and took a bonbon from her hand, popping it into his mouth. Their eyes held as they chewed sugar coating and found the hazelnut inside.

“Delicious,” she said.

Spending an evening at Daniel’s side was sweeter than any trace of sugar on her tongue, and she wanted to savor it. Tomorrow they’d reach Mr. Savage’s hunting box. It was her last hope of finding the couple and repairing Louisa’s situation.

Feeling bold, she took Daniel’s hand and led him into the middle of the still-dancing crowd for a final jig before bed, telling herself it would help her sleep.

It didn’t. The possibilities of the next day haunted. She dreamt that Daniel challenged Mr. Savage to a duel. Daniel shot Mr. Savage dead. At his collapse, Louisa rushed to Savage’s side, her white muslin gown soaking with crimson blood from the fallen man’s chest while Mary embraced Daniel, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. It was not a chaste kiss, and she woke aching for his arms around her and his mouth against hers. The dream told her more of her feelings than she had yet admitted to herself.

Fully awake, she rose and dealt with her anxiety in the same way she always had. Under the yellow glow of a candle, she trimmed her quill, obscured the tip with ink, and waited for inspiration to strike. Instead of the next lines of the story, Daniel appeared. She wrapped her arms around herself, placing her hands exactly where Daniel’s had rested during their dancing. The combination of his laughter and the music, the tilt of his head when he laughed, the pull of his leading hand on her waist, each were threads, capturing her, drawing her to him like he was her sanctuary. It must be the lateness of the hour. She was not so fanciful in the light of day. But he was thoughtful of her in a way no one had been in years—decades even. Had she learned drawing instead of writing, she’d have sketched his face, if only to rid her mind of it. Instead, she leaned into her own craft, painting a portrait of Daniel with words. She did not spend time making it poetic. It was meant only to take him from her mind and leave him on the page.

His lower lip is fuller than the upper. She ran a finger along her own sensitive lips, wondering what Daniel’s felt like. His emotions are not found in the movement of his mouth, but in his eyes . When he gives a gift, his eyes are soft. When he speaks of his family, they are tight. When he looks at me across the small space in the carriage, they are dark and hold questions I cannot fathom and fear to discover.

The following morning, Mary arose, still trying to wipe the glistening dew of the night’s visions from her mind. She could not meet Daniel’s eyes over the breakfast table. Instead, she examined his straight nose. The shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. His hands, the same hands that brought her confections and lifted her into the carriage.

“You are quiet this morning. Did you sleep?”

“I am nervous for the day ahead.” She glanced up, at last catching his eyes, soft and understanding. Concentrate on your porridge . She tried, but it congealed in her mouth.

Daniel eyed her. “At least drink your tea.” He understood her.

Before long, they set off toward Chesterfield. The horses settled into a familiar rhythm, clomping over barely dry roads in a refrain fraught with trepidation. Mary wished to skip past the confrontation and move straight to the problem, whatever that turned out to be. If they were there, they must be married. If they were not there, it would be more waiting. She would go to Daniel’s castle and pretend to be in love with him. Easy.

Or perhaps not. Her dream and the words she’d written about him last night mocked her hasty agreement to pretend she was in love with him. This farce could wound her when they parted ways. However eager to recompense him for his aid in finding Louisa, Mary regretted agreeing to his scheme.

“We are nearly there,” Daniel said. “When we arrive, I will go in while you wait in the carriage.”

“Nonsense. I will go with you.” She paused. “Better still, you wait in the carriage.”

“Mary, we have no idea in what state we will find them.”

She caught his meaning. “I am no spring chicken.” She used her most ladylike inflection.

He did not reply, but when the carriage rolled to a stop, he took her hand and helped her out. For a moment, they stood shoulder to shoulder, taking in the squat edifice. The thatched roof sagged and was black with mold in places, green with moss in others. Tufts of straw puffed around holes where the vermin had made their nests. Broken bits of carts, rusty traps, and old furniture littered the overgrown garden. Save for a feather of smoke from the chimney, it seemed abandoned.

Daniel pulled Mary’s arm through his and leaned toward her. “Ready?”

“No.” Mary whispered, pausing a moment to glean strength from his resolute eyes.

He half-smiled. “You could wait in the carriage.”

“Never.”

They stepped toward the house but paused when their attention caught on a once beautiful carriage lying askew at one side of the house. Daniel’s landau. Two missing wheels gave it a lopsided appearance, and the body was now cracked and crooked. Daniel ran his fingers through his hair, cursing under his breath.

“I am very sorry,” Mary said.

“The villain. He must have run into a ditch and had the thing dragged here.”

Daniel bent over his broken carriage, tracing marred blue lacquer, as one might touch a dying pet. “To affect any good here, I must keep my temper.” He spoke to himself. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he surprised her by taking it in his own. She gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze.

Daniel stood, retaining Mary’s hand, and tugged her forward. Together they approached the door.