Read Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse for Free Online

raced on tiptoe to his chambers. He sat at a desk and
pondered until his head ached. Finally, he pulled the servant’s rope that led
directly to his personal valet’s room. He paced, his mind jumbled with
nonsensical thoughts. The door opened and he blurted, “Jarvis, I have a problem.”
    The valet entered and closed the
door. A blank stare covered his face as he blurted, “My lord, we weren’t
expecting you. Welcome home.”
    “There is something foul at play
here.”
    Jarvis squinted, lifted his nose,
and sniffed.
    “Not an odor, Jarvis.”
    He lowered his chin. “Excuse me,
your lordship, but I fail to understand your meaning.”
    Without pretense, Luke said, “In
the east wing, Chadwick is pretending to be me!”
    “Are you sure?” asked Jarvis, his
voice lending to a squeak.
    He rounded on the servant. “Yes,
I’m sure! They called his name as the Baron of Stockport and last I checked
that was me!”
    “I see,” said Jarvis, worrying
his lip.
    Luke shook his finger. “Not only
that Jarvis, but there was also a woman.”
    “A woman, your lordship?”
    “Yes. The guide introduced her as
the baroness.”
    Jarvis studied the floor.
    “You and I know this is
impossible because I’m unmarried.”
    Jarvis lifted an oriental rug
with his toe and allowed it to drop, repeating the action several times.
    Luke crossed his arms over his
chest and said with authority, “Jarvis, I want to know what is going on and I
want to know right now.”
    ****
    Brigitta combed her hair. Curls
twisted and caught in the teeth and she pulled until her skull pained.
    “What is wrong with me?” she
asked her reflection in the looking glass. “Every day I promise I won’t lose my
temper and every day I lose my temper. Just once, if I could keep myself under
control then maybe, just maybe, I would be allowed out of my room for more than
a few seconds.” The comb clattered against the dressing table.
    The mirror reflected the yellow
gown lying on the bed, ready for Letta to replace it in the wardrobe.
    “Doesn’t like yellow, indeed!
What happened to ‘you look stunning, yellow is the perfect color’?”
    Brigitta paced her suite of
rooms, back and forth from the farthest wall of her bedroom to the farthest
wall of her living area. The deep, rich velvet color of the coverlet and window
dressings grated on her nerves. The royal color should be displayed for happier
people, not people such as herself.
    Loudly, she berated herself. “Why
must I speak? My mouth is my own worst enemy.” She slapped her palm on her
dressing table and squealed with pain. Her mousy tow-headed maid, Letta, rushed
into the room. Her uniform hung sideways and her mussed hair lay tangled about
her shoulders.
    “My lady?” she squeaked as she
skidded to a halt.
    “Letta, what in the world have
you been about?”
    The maid blushed furiously as she
studied the floor. “Forgive me for my tardiness, my lady.”
    Brigitta fought a grin as she
said, “I didn’t call you.”
    “Oh, yes, of course.”
    “But now you’re here, would you
mind telling me what happened after the baron ordered me away?”
    “Oh, my lady—”
    “Letta, tell me.” She drew the
rough tone from the depths of her chest and Letta cowered.
    With a pout, Letta asked, “Why do
you torture yourself, my lady?’
    “I’m not a lady!” she yelled. Her
chest heaved and she felt her face flush. She grabbed a fan from the dressing
table. Blowing out a gust of air, she said, “Letta, forgive me for my rudeness.
But the truth is, I must know.”
    Letta clasped her work-worn hands
and studied them as she spoke. “The baron ascended to his room while the crowd
explored the grounds with a guide.”
    “No doubt they toured the
kitchens, the gardens, and the library, places I’m never allowed to visit!” She
threw the fan. The shallow bone frame cracked and crumbled against the base of
the wall.
    Letta gasped but didn’t move to
clean the mess.
    It was no use. Brigitta sighed
and