Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy

by Regina Jeffers

  Someone leaned over her, and so Mercy concentrated on keeping her breathing even and her eyes tightly closed. “You are so beautiful,” a decidedly masculine voice whispered, and Mercy’s heart lurched to a halt. How could she breath when the man who regularly stole the air from her lungs lingered above her? His warm hand stroked Mercy’s shoulder before giving it a gentle shake. “Mary,” he coaxed. “Mary, wake up.”

  Mercy reluctantly opened her eyes. It was her recurring dream: She would awake to find Lord Lexford only inches from her. The viscount’s eyes would relay his desire, and he would kiss her most thoroughly before declaring his love. She often gave her imagination free will, and just for a moment, considered her dream real. Mercy gave herself a mental shake, but the image of the man remained before her, and, yes, desire was evident in his expression. “Is something amiss, my Lord?” She attempted to make her voice sound groggy from sleep.

  He caressed her cheek and slid a lock of hair behind her ear. Mercy resisted the urge to turn her cheek into his large palm. “No, my Dear,” he said gently. “I have decided to travel to Liverpool at first light, and I did not want you to think I purposely avoided you after…”

  Mercy swallowed hard. “After what happened in the kitchen?” she asked through trembling lips. It had not occurred to her earlier: Perhaps His Lordship would send her away. Her forwardness was a deplorable habit. Mercy had always thought she would name the day of her departure, but the viscount could find her impertinent and decide to rid himself of her company.

  Lord Lexford’s lips twitched in what appeared to be amusement, and Mercy’s misery deepened. “Yes,” he said with what sounded of a tease. “Yes, what happened between us below stairs.”

  “I apologize,” Mercy rushed to say. Above all else, she must save face. She must prove herself indifferent so she might remain with Lord Lexford. “I had worried over your return, and in my joy, I…I acted…acted foolishly.”

  His Lordship scowled fiercely. “Then you did not mean to kiss me?”

  Mercy shook her head in the negative. “No more so than you after my riding accident,” she declared falsely. Mercy shoved herself higher in the bed. “We have become great friends, you and I. So you see. I only meant to comfort you. To warm you. To express my gratitude for your kindness.”

  Lord Lexford straightened. “I see.” He gave a sharp nod, but he did not look too pleased by the news. He jammed his fingers into his hair. “Then it is I who should apologize. I have drawn you from your sleep for no reason.” The regret in his voice touched her heart.

  Mercy schooled her expression. “I would always wish to know of your whereabouts, my Lord. I thank you for your consideration. If I had gone down to breakfast only to find you gone, my earlier anxiety would have returned.” She took a slow, steadying breath and attempted to smile.

  “And what earlier anxiety would that have been?” the viscount suspiciously demanded.

  Mercy forced her breathing to normal. “My initial anxiety regarding your late return from Squire Holton’s entertainment. Then witnessing your condition, and finally my self censure for the folly of my actions.” Mercy could not look upon His Lordship’s countenance. Since coming to Lexington Arms, she had become quite the practiced liar, and Mercy found she did not approve of the change.

  The viscount widened the space between them. He said stiffly, “I will be away but a few days. A week at most. Mr. Hill will see to your needs in my absence.”

  “I mean to begin the guest quarters for your house party,” she said lamely. Anguish filled her soul. Mercy felt more than the physical space between them increase. Her words had changed Lord Lexford’s ease with her. She supposed it the correct thing to do, but somehow the thought of distancing herself from the viscount brought tears to her eyes.

  Lord Lexford offered the proper bow. “That would be delightful,” he said without emotion. “I will anticipate your efforts on my behalf. Now, if you will excuse me, I must seek my bed. It is not many hours before I intend to depart.”

  Mercy wished to throw her arms about his neck to share a moment of intimate splendor, but she said, “Safe journey, my Lord. I shall keep you in my prayers.”

  *

  As expected, Lucifer had seen him off. “You should spend some time in your own pleasures,” Hill stated baldly.

  Aidan shot a quick glance at the house. Although he could not see her windows, just knowing Miss Purefoy rested within played havoc with Aidan’s emotions. He had slept very little. At least, his lack of sleep had come from the remembrance of the kiss he had shared with the lady rather than the nightmare associated with Lexington Arms. He said defensively, “And you think burying myself in some nameless woman will resolve what ails me?”

  Hill’s expression did not change when he pronounced, “There be only one thing, which will offer you salvation, my Lord; yet, perhaps a few hours of mindless pleasure will provide you the opportunity to clear your mind of what bothers you.”

  Aidan could think of only one woman for whom his body called out; and so, he said, “I will consider your counsel, but of late, such trivial connections have lost their glory.”

  Hill stepped away as Aidan mounted. “As you wish, my Lord.”

  “Protect the lady and my nephew,” Aidan said needlessly. He knew, like him, Mr. Hill would lay out his life for Miss Purefoy and Aaron.

  *

  Many hours later, Aidan dismounted before The Golden Apple. He had taken his time, giving Valí ample rest. He could have changed horses at one of the inns, boarding Valí until his return journey, but Aidan preferred the stallion to all others in his stable. Since returning to England, he had made several shrewd purchases from Tattersall's: He hoped to build a line of championship horses for racing and breeding. He had learned much of thoroughbreds when he was in the East. It was another way in which he differed from his father and brother, who had held with the old ways. Strangely, over the years, Aidan had come to despise his lack of tradition–even to have kept his ideas secreted away so no one could criticize; yet, of late, he was more comfortable talking on his dream. Squire Holton and Mr. Verity had both commented on how much they would wish to view his stables in hopes of setting some of their mares to stud.

  He stretched his sore muscles and looked about for familiar faces. When in the Liverpool area, Realm members frequented The Golden Apple. “Lexford? Is that you?” Aidan turned to see John Swenton striding toward him. He smiled when both he and the baron ignored the customary bow and instead opened their arms for a male embrace of brotherhood. “What brings you to Liverpool?”

  Aidan was truly glad to see his friend. Although he was closer to Marcus Wellston and Gabriel Crowden than he was to the baron, Aidan required the familiarity of those who knew him best. “I have experienced several unusual incidents at Lexington Arms since my return. Lucifer assumes Jamot could be involved. As the Baloch was last seen in Liverpool, I thought it best to begin my investigation in the port city.”

  Swenton chuckled ironically. “I doubt Jamot will show his face in Liverpool any time soon. Sir Carter has left few stones unturned since the Baloch was spotted on the Chinese ship involved in the kidnapping of Lady Godown and the marquis’s aunts.”

  “I have only heard bits of the story of that night,” Aidan admitted.

  Swenton directed Aidan toward the inn. “It is a complicated tale, but I will be pleased to regal you with the sordid details over the evening meal. The baronet and Lord Yardley will return late, and I will be glad of your company.”

  Aidan paused outside the main door. “Why is Yardley in Liverpool? Please say the earl and countess are not experiencing difficulties.” Aidan would not wish for Wellston and Lady Yardley to know unhappiness. Despite his initial interest in Miss Cashémere, he preferred to think Yardley had found contentment with the woman. His tattered hopes hung on each member of the Realm finding love. Godown had already lost his wife; Aidan would not wish another to suffer.

  “When you observe the silly grin on the ea
rl’s face, you will have no doubt of Yardley’s marital felicity. It seems Baron Ashton has returned to Chesterfield Manor without Miss Satiné. Ashton is quite distraught, and Lady Yardley has come to Manchester to see to her uncle’s health. Lord Yardley thought to give his wife and Ashton some private time to reestablish their relationship.”

  Aidan’s lips turned down in a frown. “And what of the lady? Surely, Ashton would not willingly leave Miss Satiné behind.”

  Swenton eyed Aidan cautiously. “Do you plan to renew your addresses to Miss Satiné?”

  The baron’s reaction was not what Aidan had expected. Perhaps, there remained something from the story of Ashton’s nieces that had slipped Aidan’s memory. He shook his head in the negative. “I hold no interest in Satiné Aldridge. My own memories of the lady are those repeated by others. In fact, until I saw Lady Yardley recently in London, I held no true memory of Miss Cashémere’s appearance. If the countess had not stood at Lord Graham’s ball beside Thornhill’s duchess, I might not have recognized her. People often forget my memory has large holes in it. Now that I have seen Lady Yardley, I am aware of Miss Satiné’s appearance. Because I hold a memory of a kiss, people believe it was one with Miss Satiné.” Swenton’s lips thinned into a tight line of disapproval, and Aidan was quick to add, “Yet, I cannot say for certain the lady and I were thusly involved. I know only of a kiss. It might be one I once shared with Susan or with another beautiful woman. In my recollection, I cannot see the lady’s countenance, only can I recall the feel of her lips.” Aidan would not tell Swenton that he knew perfectly well the woman in the image was Eleanor Kerrington. Nor would he admit the kiss he had exchanged with the “Captain’s” wife had changed Aidan’s life.

  “Miss Cashémere and Miss Satiné were thought to appear as one,” Swenton said sadly. “But from what Yardley reports via Ashton, Miss Satiné has altered her appearance with powders and creams.”

  Aidan lowered his voice. “Then Charters did not leave the lady with child?”

  Swenton frowned deeply. “Apparently, motherhood is no longer a concern, but Miss Satiné has taken the assault as a means to reconstruct her image. According to Baron Ashton, Miss Satiné has chosen to ply her beauty and her charms in a most scandalous manner. The baron no longer retains any control over the woman; therefore, he has left Miss Satiné with her latest amour.”

  “Latest?” Aidan said incredulously. “How can there be a latest? Miss Satiné has been but four months upon the Continent.”

  Swenton’s tone spoke of personal anguish. “One never knows how a person will react to the tragedies in his life. Miss Satiné deserves our pity, not our censure.”

  *

  “Then there is no sighting of Jamot?” Aidan asked.

  With the return of Sir Carter and Lord Yardley, Swenton had made his excuses and had disappeared for the evening. The baron had always been the most stoical of their group. John Swenton often sought his own company. Regrettably, after his disdainful remark regarding Miss Satiné’s actions, Aidan had recalled the rumors surrounding Swenton’s mother. Supposedly, the woman had deserted her husband and son for a life on the stage. None of the their group knew for certain the truth of the gossip following Swenton’s title, but the baron had been known to call upon a woman outside of Vienna whenever he could do so beyond his service with the Realm.

  Sir Carter’s expression hardened. “Not even a rumor of the Baloch. I begin to think Godown made a mistake.”

  Before the return of Lowery and Wellston, Swenton had filled the time and the awkwardness from Aidan’s earlier remark with the tale of how Godown had unexpectedly called upon Swenton over Christmastide. The marquis’s Aunt Bel had recognized the fact the marquise was with child. Godown had accidentally overheard the conversation and thinking the child another’s had banished Lady Godown from his home. Aidan was not certain he approved of Godown’s actions, but he understood the man’s pain of betrayal. Aidan had known a similar feeling in dealing with Susan’s turning to Andrew. Then the marquis had retreated to Yorkshire. When Pennington had sent Swenton to Liverpool to assist Sir Carter with a lead on the opium ring, Godown had accompanied the baron.

  “Sir Carter took out a small boat to spy on the Chinese ship,” Swenton had confided. “The baronet retrieved what he thought was a boy from the water, only to discover Lady Godown dressed as a lad. The marquise had escaped the ship in hopes of saving Godown’s aunts. I thought from the look upon Godown’s countenance when he saw his wife’s suffering that the marquis would forgive her, but when Her Ladyship explained how Jamot had assisted her in her escape, the Godowns had a very bitter-sounding row. Words are often more dangerous weapons than are swords or guns.”

  Swenton looked off for a moment as if recalling a distasteful incident before continuing. “Godown assisted with boarding the ship. The infamous Lord Spectre turned out to be Lady Gardenia’s lover and cousin. It was all very scandalous. The marquis has weathered the worst of it, but I do not envy his having to go through the rumor line again.

  “When Godown ferried his aunts to safety, the marquis, like his wife earlier, claimed to have seen Jamot on board the ship. Sir Carter swore otherwise. The baronet has spent the last month examining every detail past and present in his investigation.” They had both had a good laugh at Lowery’s expense for they knew the diligence with which Sir Carter attacked every part of his duty to the Realm.

  Now as Aidan surveyed the baronet’s face, he noted the lines of stress etched about Sir Carter’s eyes and forehead. When Carter had revisited the tale upon his return, Aidan had sensibly said, “The marquis would never make such an error.”

  The baronet scrubbed his cheeks and eyes with dry hands, obviously attempting to drive weariness away. “I know,” he said with a deep sigh. “But the lack of information is maddening.” Sir Carter stood heavily. “Yardley and I are to search a suspicious warehouse tomorrow. I would be pleased if you would join us.”

  Aidan nodded his agreement. “It will be as old times.” Yet, he knew “old times” could not be recovered so easily as marching into a warehouse with a gun drawn. “Old times” were more elusive than that.

  Sir Carter staggered toward the door. “Good evening, Gentlemen.”

  With the baronet’s departure, Aidan turned to his closest friend. “We have not spoken privately since before your wedding.” Wellston had called upon Aidan at Chesterfield Manor and had offered to withdraw from his marriage to Cashémere Aldridge rather than to damage their relationship. At the time, the earl’s happiness had been more bitter to swallow than the physician’s mixture, but it had been the correct thing to do. Aidan could not love a woman who preferred another. He had attempted to salvage a relationship with Susan and had failed miserably. He had learned his lesson.

  Wellston thumbed his glass. “I should have called at Thorn Hall,” he said guiltily.

  Aidan chuckled. “I will not deny the fact I would have enjoyed a sensible conversation. The duke is so besotted by his duchess, he practices no caution, but it was best if you set your own marriage to right. How fares Lady Yardley?”

  Wellston’s eyes glazed over in delight. “Cashé is phenomenal. I have never known a woman who could change a household so drastically. A woman who could take a bachelor’s house and make it very feminine, but still inviting.” Aidan could think of one such woman. “It is I who has lost his mind. When Lady Yardley is not near, I am searching the manor for her. I placed the countess’s desk in my study so Cashé would be near, and I would be less distracted.” Wellston barked out an ironic laugh. “However, when Cashémere is in the room, I find I prefer watching her mannerisms. The way my wife twirls her hair about her finger or bites the tip of her quill…it is all so mesmerizing. I am as besotted as the duke, only my obsession lies in the duchess’s younger sister.” The earl shrugged away his confession. “Can you imagine such a scenario?”

  Aidan swallowed the sigh of envy. “I have seen the same expression upon the countenances of both Thornhill a
nd Worthing as I observe on yours. Hell! Even the marquis looks upon his wife as such. I am infinitely jealous.”

  Wellston sat forward in concern. “Is there no one in your life, Lexford?”

  Aidan’s thoughts went immediately to Mary Purefoy, and although it was not customary among men to discuss “romantic” musings, he said, “Actually, I have inherited a poor relative, who has set my house on its ear.” Men of his and the earl’s ilk would deny a conversation about love and dreams if confronted by an outsider, but Aidan and Wellston had repeatedly survived life and death drama in their years of service. Such duty to country changes a man’s perspective of what is acceptable.

  “Is the lady pretty?”

  Aidan closed his eyes to conjure up Miss Purefoy’s countenance. “So much so I no longer recall Susan’s image.” Luckily, the earl did not comment on Aidan’s unguarded confession. After an exaggerated pause, Aidan said, “Unfortunately, mayhem has settled under my roof. My nephew has returned to Lexington Arms, but someone has attempted to steal away the boy. On another occasion, an unknown culprit has sabotaged Miss Purefoy’s saddle and taken a shot at the woman. Two days prior to my coming to Liverpool, I was pushed from a promontory to the stream below.”

  Wellston said incredulously, “All this since your return home at Christmastide? Why have you not sent for assistance? We are a brotherhood, Lexford?”

  Aidan considered the sincerity in the earl’s voice. He spoke through his tight throat, “It is worse. I have seen what appears to be an apparition. The ghost of my wife has shown herself on four occasions. Although my home offers nothing but misery, Susan has declared she will never leave Lexington Arms.”

  *