Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance)

by Lisa Andersen

  “What will you do, my lord, whilst you are here?”

  “Rest, my lady,” Mervin said. “A year ago I was in France, being shot at, stabbed at, being dragged from town to town for battle upon battle. The idea of rest does not disturb me in the least.”

  “You were in France?” Dolores said, unable to hide her excitement. She had grown up with the war in France looming in the background, but she had never heard much about it. It wasn’t for the youngest daughter of a middling family to worry about things like that.

  “I was,” Mervin said. “And, you know, that is the first hint of emotion I have heard in your voice since I arrived.”

  Dolores forced coldness back into her voice. “So you will stay, then?” she said. “Of course, you are welcome to. My home is open to you.” My home.

  Mervin stood and bowed. “My thanks, my lady,” he said. When he bowed, Dolores say that he had a scar on the side of his neck, like a lover’s bite. He saw her looking, and bared his flesh, showing her in more detail. Despite herself, she leaned forward. It was fascinating. “Cannon fire,” he said. “It hit a support for a shack, and the wood flew outwards. Caught me in the neck.”

  “Were you close to death?” Dolores said.

  “No,” Mervin said, standing up. “It wasn’t as bad as all that. Hurt, though. If you like, whilst I am here, I can tell you more of the war. You seem interested.”

  Dolores was extremely interested, but she didn’t want to give this man anything. Perhaps what he said was true, or perhaps he was just spinning heratale to win her confidence. Perhaps all of this was a performance to make her lower her guard. “If we can find the time, my lord,” Dolores said, forcing the formality back into the conversation.

  “My lady, I hasten to remind you that we are upon a steep hill, with nobody but servants for company, in the middle of the country. I do not imagine time is a rare commodity.”

  Dolores nodded. It was true. Time stretched in Brickwall Manor until it seemed endless.

  “On the morrow, we will take a walk around the grounds, my lady, if you are willing, and I will sate your curiosity.”

  She made to talk – to refuse – but he held up his hand. “Think on it, my lady,” he said. He bowed and left the room.

  Dolores was left alone, wondering which parts of what he’d said were lies, and which parts were truths. It was almost impossible to tell. But she knew one thing. She wanted to take that walk with Mervin, and hear of his time in France. She wanted to spend more time with him. It was a dangerous impulse.

  But she couldn’t ignore it.

  *****

  She awoke the next day with an inexplicable smile upon her lips. She hadn’t woken with a smile on her lips in years. As she readied herself for the day, the smile stayed. She felt lightheaded. She shook her head, and forced the smile away. It was a shame to kill whatever this happiness was, but there was a man in her house who might very well be a viper. When she entered the breakfast room, Mervin was already there. He stood as she was seated, and then sat back down.

  “My lady,” he said.

  “My lord,” she replied.

  They broke their fast, and then sat in the drawing-room. They hadn’t discussed that they would retire here together. It had just sort of happened. Mervin lit a pipe and smoked, and for almost half an hour they said not a word. But the strange thing was, Dolores didn’t feel the need to say anything. With Thornton, she’d always had to think of something pretty or nice to say, to please him. But now she was content to be silent, and it seemed Mervin was, too.

  When he finished smoking, he laid his pipe aside. “So, my lady,” he said, “shall we take that walk?”

  “I hope you are not planning on pushing me off the hill, my lord,” Dolores said, only half-joking.

  Mervin watched her for a few moments, as though trying to gauge whether or not she was in earnest, and then shook his head. “I have not lied to you, my lady,” he said. “I swear it; I swear it on God.”

  “Swear it again, my lord, and say it all.”

  “My lady, I swear it on God that everything I said to you yesterday was the truth. I wish He would banish me to the hottest depths of hell if I am lying.”

  Dolores gasped. “I hope you are sure you didn’t tell any accidently lies, my lord,” she said.

  “I didn’t,” Mervin said, his voice full of confidence. “I wanted to tell you the truth, and that was what I did.”

  “Good,” Dolores said.

  “You still don’t believe me, do you?”

  “No,” she said, “but I believe you more than I did before.”

  “I did not realize there were shades of belief.”

  “Neither did I,” Dolores said. “But it appears that there is.”

  “Very well.” He rose to his feet. “Let’s get out of the stuffiness for a time. The sun is up, the heat is rising. It is a lovely day. Take a walk with me. Do not worry, we will not descend the hill. We will not be seen together. I know you are still in mourning. But what harm is there walking your grounds together?”

  “The servants will gossip,” Dolores said.

  “Yes, they will,” Mervin agreed. “But servants will always gossip. It’s better to give them something to gossip about, than to let them invent their own stories. Anyway, I am sure the footmen that go to town for supplies have already spread the word that we have been alone in the drawing-room. That in itself is enough to ignite a scandal in some circles in London. But we are not in London. You are a widow and I am the son of a poor sister. The higher echelons of society care little for us, I’d wager.”

  “One walk,” Dolores said, rising to her feet. “No pushing. And nothing dishonorable. I have had my fill of that.” She knew they were unwise words to speak, but despite herself they escaped her lips. She was becoming more comfortable around Mervin. It was like he was casting some kind of spell on her. He had an easy smile, and his presence was strong and reassuring. “That is not to say that—”

  “I did not hear a thing,” he said. And then, shyly: “Dolores.”

  Dolores’ cheeks reddened. “Very well.” And then, even more shyly: “Mervin.”

  He smiled, and she found herself smiling with him. It felt good, to smile at somebody at mean it. She had spent the past year fake smiling at Thornton until her mouth ached. He would grow angry if she was not smiling, if she did not appear the pinnacle of happiness. But with Mervin, she was smiling because she wanted to, because it felt good, because it was a respite from a bleak pit of nothing.

  “You seem far away,” Mervin said. They were leaving the Manor, walking toward the ruins of the brick wall.

  “I was,” Dolores admitted. Stop this, a voice called, deep in her mind. Don’t trust him. Don’t open up to him. He is your enemy.“But I don’t wish to speak of it,” she added quickly.

  “Very well,” Mervin said.

  “How long were you in France for, Mervin?” Dolores asked, as they reached the outer gates that led to the stretch of grassy land, which itself led onward to a copse of trees and then the ruined wall. “You don’t seem old. You could not have been there long.”

  “It felt longer than it was,” Mervin said. “Two and a half years. Napoleon really put us through our paces. It’s strange – you’ll think I’m mad, I bet – but when I was over there I found myself thinking of you quite a lot.”

  “Of me?” Dolores said in disbelief.

  “Yes,” Mervin said, smiling sheepishly. He shrugged. “I remembered your face remarkably well from your sister’s wedding. The smooth, soft skin.The sky-blue eyes.The spark of intellect and life behind them.It brought me comfort, to think you your countenance, when I was near death, when there was death around me. You were a reminder of what life could be.”

  Spoken by another man, this could have been sentimental and mawkish, but Mervin s
aid it matter-of-factly, like a man discussing the weather. There was no pleading in his voice at all, not exaggerated or poetic dramatism. There were just the words, spoken in his smooth voice, said rather shyly, and with downcast eyes. Dolores found herself trusting him more by the moment. He risked a look at her, saw that she was looking at him, and then looked away.

  “I have embarrassed you,” she said.

  They were walking across the grasslands now toward the copse of trees in which squirrels and birds would sometimes hide. Dolores had no idea why they came all the way up here. As far as she could tell, there was nothing up here but isolation. Mervin didn’t reply immediately. Finally, he bowed his head. “I have embarrassed myself,” he said.

  “I cannot believe that you are here to ruin me,” Dolores said.

  “I am not.”

  “Hmm, but you were. And you still might be. This could all be a ploy.”

  “It is not,” Mervin said. “I wrote to God.”

  “Many men have sworn to God,” Dolores said. “More serious oaths have been taken for less serious matters.”

  “I am not a liar.”

  “That is exactly what a liar would like me to believe.”

  Mervin laughed aloud.

  “Do I amuse you?” she said.

  They stopped when they reached the trees. He turned and faced her. A playful smile lifted his lips. Dolores found herself wonder what it would feel like to brush her thumb along one of those lips. She pushed the thought away, buried it.

  Mervin held his hands up, as though in defense. “I was just thinking,” he said, “how I have endured countless horrors at the hands of the French in the war. Fire, gunpowder, steel.Hoof, even. But never have I truly known what it is to be assailed by an opponent until now. You, Dolores, are a fierce lady. We should have sent you to France; Napoleon would have bowed immediately.”

  “Do you mock me?” Dolores said.

  Mervin shook his head swiftly. “No,” he said. “I do not wish to mock. I was trying to be funny. Am I to assume that I failed?”

  Dolores smiled, couldn’t help but smile. “Let us say that that has not been decided yet,” she said.

  “As you say,” Mervin said. “Dolores, may I take your hand?”

  What? No! How dare he ask a question such as that! Push him away! Cast him out!

  “If it would please you,” she replied, offering her gloved hand.

  *****

  Impure thoughts assailed Dolores’ mind. She knew that it was a mess and that she was getting herself into something dreadful, but she couldn’t help it. She remembered her hand in Mervin’s, and felt a warm glow in her belly. It was the first moment of kindness she’d experienced in years, and it had affected her profoundly. She lay awake at night, reliving the moment, remembering how it had felt to be escorted by him through the grounds. It was almost as though she was allowed to be young, and a handsome young suitor was courting her. Almost, but her parents had married her to a pig of a man. And Mervin was his nephew. And might well be plotting to take her home from her.

  Despite this, she found herself wanting to be with him more and more. She would wait for him before she broke her fast, and intentionally leave the drawing-room door open when she was reading, so that he might see her in there and join her. She wouldn’t think about this. She would just do it. It came from somewhere deep inside of her, somewhere she hadn’t heard anything from for years. It came from the hopeful, fun-loving part of her. The part of her she’d thought Thornton had killed.

  Three days after the walk, she and Mervin were sitting in the drawing-room. They were a strange match, the nephew of her husband, and a widow, in mourning attire. Legally, Mervin was her nephew-in-law, but he was older than her and she knew that neither of them felt that way. She was just a lord and she was just a lady. That was all. He was telling her about a day in France when he had awoken to a charging attack, and had had to scrabble through dirt and bury himself in leaves to stop from being murdered. Dolores listened eagerly. She was fascinated that this man before her had so recently experienced horrors like that, and yet he was able to sit perfectly normally and discuss it. She would never discuss her time with Thornton. It was too horrid.

  “Shall we go outside?” Mervin said. “We could take another walk, take some air.”

  Midday sun slanted through the windows, beckoning them.

  “Okay,” Dolores said simply, and then rose to her feet.

  She and Mervin walked toward the edge of the hill, where they could look down upon Wells. “I wish to apologize, Dolores,” Mervin said. “I was a brute to you when I first arrived here. I keep remembering how offhand I was with you – not even granting you your proper title – and it makes me ashamed. I do not know how I could be like that with you. It was horrible of me.”

  “And yet this could all be a ploy,” Dolores said. She said it half-playfully, as she had been wont to of late. Mervin was dissembling the walls she’d built around herself, the walls that had been necessary when Thornton was alive. “You could have planned the entire thing, from your rudeness to your apology.”

  “I did not,” Mervin said.

  They stopped at the edge of the hill and looked down. The sun lit the landscape so that it appeared on the verge of catching fire. Mervin moved closed to her and touched her arm. She allowed him. She did not pull away. Though she knew it was wrong. It was all wrong. And yet it all felt right. He moved his hand down from her elbow to her hand and then interlocked his fingers with hers.

  “Do you mind?” he said.

  Her breath was coming fast. Mervin was different to Thornton in every way. He was young and strong and handsome and kind. But Dolores could not shake the idea that it may be a trick. If it was, it was the most beautiful and the cruelest trick that had ever been played.

  “No,” she said, sighing out a breath of pleasure and suspense. “Your hands feels nice in mine, Mervin.”

  “Perhaps—” He cleared his throat. When she looked at him, she saw that his cheeks were glowing red. “Perhaps we could remove our gloves?”

  A thrill ran through Dolores. She watched him for a moment. He bit his lip, without realizing it, Dolores thought. He held her gaze, his earth-brown eyes unsure. But void of any malice, any hatred, void of his Uncle’s spirit.Dolores pulled her hand away. Mervin’s dropped, but then lit up again when he saw that she was taking off her glove. Hastily, he took off his glove, too.

  They held their bare hands inches from each other. Dolores felt like a little girl again, doing something naughty. She reached out, and Mervin reached out. And their bare hands touched. Mervin’s eyes went wide when he felt her flesh. Dolores interlocked her fingers with his, and squeezed his hand. He squeezed her hand in return, and they stood like that for a long time, staring at each other in disbelief and mutual pleasure.

  Then they turned to the hillside, and regarded Wells: the homes, the church’s spire, the fields. “I have not stopped to appreciate the beauty of this place for a long time,” Dolores said. “When Thornton was alive, it was difficult to appreciate beauty. Now he is gone, I …” She stopped herself. “But I shouldn’t speak of such things.”

  “I am not your enemy, sweet Dolores,” Mervin said.

  Sweet Dolores.Her palms pricked with sweat. Something totally disconnected from high society and hits etiquette rose within her. Something animalistic, atavistic.Something from her as a woman and not a lady.She forced it down. A lady did not listen to urges like that.

  “I am beginning to believe you, Mervin,” she said. “But you must know that I cannot know for sure. How can I? Short from seeing within your mind, I will not know.”

  Mervin sighed. “I understand,” he said. “Your hand is so small.”

  “And yours is so large.”

  He turned and faced her, their hands still interlaced between them. She face
d him, looking into his face, into the strength of his jaw, the softness of his eyes, the emotion underlying it all. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and then opened them again. “Impure thoughts attack me,” he said, his voice weak. “You would blush if I shared them.”

  “Share them!” Dolores said, on impulse. She bit her lip. “I apologize. That was—”

  But she didn’t finish her sentence. Mervin leaned in and laid his lips upon hers. He kissed her deeply, as she had never been kissed before. Not greedily or selfishly, not stealing the kiss, but inviting her into it, coaxing her. After a moment, she kissed him back, their bare hands touching. Their teeth clicked together, and their tongues touched. Nerves sprung up all over Dolores body, nerves she hadn’t known existed, all of them beaming pleasure through her. A hunger rose in her, and with her free hand she touched Mervin’s face. He moaned, and she moaned with him.

  Then she broke it off, panting.

  “I am sorry,” Mervin breathed, standing away from her. “I am sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I am—Oh, what a brute! What a fool!”

  Dolores faced away from him, feelings roiling within her. She wanted him to kiss her again, and yet she knew it was wrong. She wanted to at least place her hand in his, but she knew it could lead to other things. She wanted to hold him, but it was improper. She wanted so many things, but none of them would do. They had crossed a line, a line that should never be crossed.

  “Perhaps we should return to the house,” she said softly, still unable to look at him. Not because she was angry. But because if she looked at him again, her feelings might take control.She would lose herself to him, and they would cross the forbidden line once more.

  “Yes,” Mervin said, “perhaps we should.”

  They stood apart as they walked back toward the manor. Dolores held her head high, the picture of unimpeachable honor. Mervin walked with his shoulders wide, clearly furious with himself. She could tell that he thought he’d ruined things. She wanted to scream at him. That was the most pleasure I have ever had, sweet Mervin. That was everything to me. But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be proper. She was not ready to utterly cast aside propriety. Not yet, anyway.