He paused for a moment, then kissed her face once more.
“Would you like me to send you home in my carriage?”
She managed a small shake of her head. Arriving at Mint Street in a fancy carriage would most certainly give the gossip hungry neighbors something to talk about.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Alright, but I shall go and speak to Mister Green and get him to hail you a hack. He shall pay the driver to take you home. And I don’t want to hear any arguments,” he said.
Mercy nodded. “Thank you. I shall see you tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, that is a promise. I love you, Kendal.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Mercy didn’t come to Follett House the following day, nor the day after that.
Kendal barely slept over the next couple of nights. His heart and mind were both in a tired and sore mess. The sudden disappearance of the former Marquess of Hartley from England was now public knowledge. When news of it hit the society gossip rags, London society had been scandalized. His mother and sister both stayed home; neither venturing out to social events or even to go shopping.
While he didn’t begrudge his brother his decision to choose love over duty, what he couldn’t stomach was the impact it had had on their father—on the whole Grant family.
The mess that Phillip and Randolph had left their respective families to deal with only served to compound his worries and lack of sleep due to his other problem, that of what to do about Mercy.
Following their short conversation earlier in the week, she had not returned to Follett House. In the afternoon of the third day of her absence, Kendal had instructed Mister Green to send a footman to Mint Street and enquire as to her whereabouts. The note which had come back informed him that Miss Mercy Wood was ill and would return to tune Lord Hartley’s piano as soon as she was able.
He was tempted to venture over to Mint Street himself but recalling her warning about the prying neighbors, he didn’t. He would have to wait for her to come back.
If he could just get some time alone with Mercy, they could talk about what had been happening in his life and the impact it would have on their future. For the need for them to stick together and agree on a way forward. With Mercy by his side, he could handle the changes in his life, the responsibilities now being thrust upon him. Without her, he wasn’t certain he could do it.
His father was already pressing him to start taking over more of the Banfield estate work. This afternoon he had gone home to Banfield House and met with the family lawyer, his father’s steward, and two representatives from the Bank of England. The transfer of authority from one heir to the new one was moving ahead with undue and uncomfortable haste.
At the end of what felt like the longest day of his life, Kendal had retreated to the balcony of Follett House. A bottle of Reid’s finest Shiraz was barely taking the edge off his worry, but he was not intending to drink more than a glass or two.
Tomorrow morning, he wanted to be ready for when Mercy arrived. He hoped she would come. He needed to talk to her and get some things agreed between them. The sooner he could get her away from having to work more than one job, the better. With the hours she was keeping, little wonder she was tired and rundown.
But you have to keep your hands to yourself and talk to her. You should be able to tell her that you love her without your hands being up her skirt at the same time.
It had occurred to him that declarations of love and devotion were easily made when in the passion of the moment, and he was beginning to worry if that was all that Mercy thought his words of were—hollow sentiments of affection. It would certainly go some way to explaining the cooling of their relationship. Her accusation about him wanting her only for sex had stung.
I love you, Mercy Wood, and if I can’t have you as my future duchess, I don’t want anyone.
At that last thought, he set his wine glass down. He had declared his intent to his heart. Now he would have to do the same to both Mercy and his father.
“Why does love have to be so bloody difficult?” he muttered.
Any wonder there were plenty of members of the ton who didn’t want to bother with the messy business of romance. For them, a good old fashioned arranged marriage would do just fine, thank you very much.
“Evening,” said a voice in the dark. Owen stepped out of his room and strolled over to where Kendal was sitting. He had a large glass of brandy in his hand, and a cigar in the other. From the look on his face, he was in a very happy mood.
Speak of the devil. Someone else who didn’t want an arranged marriage. Pity you stuffed it all up when the girl in question was perfect for you.
“I am glad somebody is as chirpy as a bird at this hour. What has put the smile on your face?” asked Kendal.
“Life is good. The planets are finally coming into alignment for me.” Pulling up one of the other chairs, Owen took a seat. He set his glass on the table which sat between them.
Kendal raised an eyebrow; it was unusual to find Owen in such a great mood. With a broken engagement, and having been thrown into prison, his life had been a tangled mess of late. Kendal had not observed a genuine smile on the face of his fellow Noble Lord for quite some time. It was good to see someone being cheerful.
“What has caused the change in your dour mood?” asked Kendal.
Owen lifted his glass and saluted him. “Lady Amelia Perry and I have resolved our differences. Amy and I are getting married.”
Kendal’s mouth opened on an O of surprise before he leapt from his chair and came around to Owen, lifting him up and giving him a great big congratulatory hug. This was the best news he had heard in a very long time. “That is marvelous. I knew you were heartbroken over the chit, so this is the absolute best. I am thrilled beyond words. How on earth did you manage to win her back?”
Owen chuckled. “This is me we are talking about. I turned on the Morrison charm and she came running.”
“Really?” The raised eyebrow was probably not required, but Kendal added it anyway, just for effect.
“Oh, alright. I apologized to her for having been such a cad. I begged for her forgiveness and the wonderful girl decided that she loved me enough to take me back.” Owen was positively beaming with happiness.
Kendal caught the glint of a tear in his friend’s eye. He gave Owen’s hair a hearty ruffle, then pinched his cheeks for good measure. If he didn’t stop himself, he would jump for joy. “Well done. You finally managed to get someone to love you. Make sure you never let her go.”
He couldn’t be happier for Owen. With Reid now married and Owen about to take the leap into the arms of wedding bliss, the Noble Lords were fast running out of bachelors.
“Have you heard from Callum?” Kendal didn’t want to put a damper on Owen’s happy mood, but the absence of the other newly married former member of the Noble Lords was preying on his mind.
“No, I haven’t heard from Callum, but I intend to go to Sharp House and speak to him. Amy and I want Callum and Eliza to come to our wedding in Abbotts Langley,” replied Owen.
The situation with Eliza and Callum also brought Kendal’s own situation into sharp relief. Families opposed to love matches didn’t make for happy weddings.
“Now we just need to find you a pretty thing to give your heart to and you can join me and the others in the ranks of the newlyweds.” Owen’s words were bittersweet to Kendal’s ears.
He had found the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but things were at a precarious point. Right when he wanted to press his case to marry her, Mercy was becoming withdrawn.
Owen gave him a friendly pat on the arm as his smile disappeared. “Sorry about that. I know your father is putting an enormous amount of pressure on you to get married as soon as possible. With the nightmare of a scandal that Phillip has created, I can understand why. And unfortunately, I know exactly how it feels to have a sire trying to force you into marriage when it’s no
t what you want. I think I am the most fortunate man in Britain to have narrowly dodged the bullet of a loveless union. I just hope you can find a girl who makes you feel like Amy does me.”
Kendal wandered to the balcony wall and leaned over it.
Down below them, the laneway was mostly in darkness. A small hack with the lamp hanging on its side was making its way slowly between the houses. The lamp swung back and forth creating a hypnotic rhythm of flashes of light, dull shadow, and then light again.
“I have found someone I would be happy to spend the rest of my life with, or at least I think I have,” replied Kendal.
Owen cleared his throat and came to stand by Kendal. “The lovely Mercy?” he asked.
Kendal nodded. “Yes. Though she seems to appear to be getting cold feet about our relationship. I’m hoping to talk to her in the morning, if she comes here.”
“I had noticed that she has not been around the place for the past few days,” replied Owen. He placed a hand on Kendal’s shoulder. “Do you love her?”
“Yes. Yes, I do love her. I am even prepared to go into battle against my father to get his blessing on our marriage. I’m just no longer certain that she would want me to do that. I have told her I love her, but I am beginning to think she sees my declaration as being something I say in the heat of the moment.”
Owen sighed. “You do realize that what you are asking your father to agree to borders on the impossible? When you were son number two, there might have been a remote chance that he would approve of you marrying beneath your station. But since you are now the Marquess of Hartley . . .”
“Well, all I can do is to take heart from your phoenix-like efforts, Lord Morrison. If you can salvage a marriage out of the fiery remains of your engagement, how difficult can it be for me to convince my father to allow a lowly piano tuner to become the future Duchess of Banfield?”
Mercy had told him he had her heart. That she would never love another as much as she loved him. Why then was he standing here in the dark just meekly accepting that she might not want him? Or that his father would have the final say in whom he married?
He met Owen’s gaze.
“Sod it. I will go and confront my father and inform him I plan to offer for Mercy. That way when I see Mercy, I can tell her that we can be married. I love her and I am certain she loves me; no one is going to bloody well keep us apart.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kendal sent more notes to Mercy’s home, but each came back with the same message: Miss Wood was unwell and would resume her duties at Follett House as soon as possible. The final note he received from her the day before he was due to head to Abbott’s Langley for Owen and Amy’s wedding had a new line at the bottom which mentioned that her illness might possibly be infectious and for him to keep well away.
“This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to propose if you won’t see me?”
He was frustrated beyond words but determined to have his way. After throwing the note on his bed, he went in search of Mister Green. Mercy might be keeping her distance from him, but there was more than one way for him to reach her.
The knock at the door of her apartment woke Mercy from the first solid sleep she had managed all week. “Go away. I need rest,” she muttered.
When the knock came a second time, she rolled over and sat upright. Whoever was at the door was not going to leave. Her delicate stomach protested.
“Shh,” she said, rubbing her hand on the slight swell.
Her belly could make all the complaints it wished; there was nothing left in it for her to cast up. Shuffling to the door, she paused for a moment before opening it.
On the landing stood a finely dressed young man with a large wooden gift box in his hands. She surmised it was a present of some sorts due to the enormous purple bow which was wrapped around it.
“Miss Wood?”
She peered at him through half-awake eyes and grumbled, “Yes. What is it?”
The delivery man held the box out to her with a smile. “I have a special delivery from Lord Hartley. He was at great pains to make sure you received it today. There is a note inside.”
She reluctantly took the box, dreading to think how many pairs of eyes had watched its arrival into the building.
I bet the whole damn street is wondering what is inside.
“Thank you,” she said.
After closing the door, Mercy placed the gift on the kitchen table and slumped into a chair. She sat and stared at the box for the longest time, silently playing a guessing game as to its contents.
It’s all your music manuscripts sent here for safekeeping. No. It’s a bust of Salieri.
It was a foolish thing to do, but mocking her own circumstances was about the only thing she had available at the moment in order to keep her sanity.
She took a hold of the end of the purple ribbon and toyed with it. Pulling slowly, the bow eventually came loose. Working the ribbon through her fingers, she freed it from the box and set it on the table.
Getting to her feet, Mercy gave the surface of the box a quick once-over. There was nothing on the outside to denote from where it had come. No markings or shop stamp.
“Sod it. Show me your treasure,” she said.
With hands placed either side of the box, she removed the lid and peered inside.
“Oh.”
In the box sat a stupendous, amazing pair of deep brown leather boots. The first touch of her fingertip told her that there was nothing ordinary about them. Soft, supple pieces of leather had been cut and stitched to perfection. The laces looked to be hand rolled.
With careful reverence, she took hold of one of the boots and lifted it out of the box. Holding it to her nose, she breathed in.
“Beautiful,” she murmured.
She turned the boot over and smiled. It was her size.
Her gaze caught the edge of a white folded piece of paper at the bottom of the box. She slipped the note into her hand and unfolded it.
Mercy, my heart, my greatest love.
When I woke this morning, I did as I do every morning:
I thought of you, of how much I miss your smile.
She covered her eyes with her hand as the tears started. Why did he have to have such a poetic way with words?
It took her several minutes to compose herself enough to be able to read the rest of the note.
I am leaving London tomorrow to attend Owen and Amy’s wedding but will be back in town before mid-next week. I wish you were coming with me, but I promise as soon as I return, we will talk and make plans for our future. In the meantime, rest and don’t worry about the piano.
I hope you like the boots. I will buy you one hundred pairs on the day we are wed.
I love you,
Kendal
The boot she had been holding fell to the floor as Mercy covered her face with both her hands and wept. If only she could share the same hope for the future as Kendal. But fancy, beautifully crafted boots were a long way from a wedding ring.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Later that night, the Duke of Banfield greeted Kendal in his study at Banfield House with the barest of nods. Kendal’s father looked aged and tired, with new lines at the corner of his mouth and more silver in his hair than had been there only a month or so before. Dealing with spiteful whispers and snide remarks was clearly taking its toll.
“It’s a bit late for brandy and cigars. Or did you have some questions about the estate transfer that you wish to discuss?” said Lord Grant.
“I am sorry about the ungodly hour; the Noble Lords had a concert which ran late. I am off to Owen’s wedding at Abbotts Langley in the morning, but I need to talk to you before I leave,” replied Kendal.
He didn’t wish to be the cause of more distress for his father, but the issue of Mercy and their relationship had to be addressed. He wouldn’t sleep a wink until he had spoken to Lord Grant.
He was not going to give Mercy up without a fight. And if he could somehow get the duke�
��s blessing, it would go a long way to overcoming any reservations that Mercy herself might have when it came to them marrying. To finally accepting that his love for her was more than just part of some infatuation that would eventually wither and die.
Lord Grant offered him a seat, but Kendal shook his head. He wanted to be standing face-to-face with his father while they had this conversation. For him to understand that this was not some idle whim on his son’s part; and that he was deadly earnest in his desire to marry Mercy.
“I have a problem and I need your help to solve it,” said Kendal.
“Go on.”
He sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself for the hard battle which lay ahead. “I am in love with a girl and I want to marry her,” he began.
His father’s face lit up with joy. “That’s wonderful news. So, is this the relationship you mentioned a short while ago that you said was in its early days?”
“Yes, it is the same young woman,” said Kendal.
“You have me at a loss. What is the problem?”
“The problem is, Mercy is the girl who comes to Follet House each day and tunes my piano. She lives on the other side of the River Thames, sings in a tavern most nights, and has little idea about being a member of London high society,” he replied.
The smile disappeared from the duke’s face as quickly as it had appeared. That look told Kendal that Lord Grant was now certain that both his sons had been sent to test him. Of course, his father would have been hoping for him to select a nice, well-bred daughter of the ton as his future bride. A girl who would do much to calm the noise around the Grant family. “A piano tuner? Are you trying to out-scandal Phillip, or just see how quickly you can get me sent to Bedlam asylum?”
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