Forsaking the Prize

by Boyd, Heather

  Mercy reared back, eyes wide. “How did that happen?”

  “I was careless. Tobias was upset and Leopold went after him. The door was left open and when I went to leave, Wilcox was already in the drawing room, watching me close up the chamber.”

  Mercy rubbed her fingers across her brow. “This is terrible.”

  “I know.” Blythe took up her sister’s hand. “Mercy, I don’t think Wilcox was surprised by the chamber being there. I feel sure he already knew.”

  Mercy shook her head. “He never hinted he knew anything about the secret rooms in the abbey. I trusted him, but if he knew about the chamber all along why didn’t he say something in the first place?”

  “I don’t know, but Tobias doesn’t trust him completely. Neither did his mother. I am aware that you and Leopold depend upon Wilcox, but he’s a servant. He was in the old duke’s employ long before you came here,” Blythe said quietly. “He may have always known.”

  Mercy rubbed her hands over her arms. “I feel besieged again.”

  Blythe drew her sister into an embrace and squeezed. “We’ll muddle through. We always have before.”

  Mercy chuckled. “You’ve become optimistic again. I desperately need that right now.”

  Blythe glanced at where her nephew played. “You must not let your spirits decline. You have Leopold and Tobias now. You have the family you craved.”

  “True. And I have you as well. Perhaps we should not attend the soiree. What do you think?”

  Blythe thought it over. “Nothing has ever happened when you have been out making social calls before. These things only occur when you are entertaining friends here. Tobias feels the servants bear investigation.”

  “Tobias has had a lot to say to you lately, it seems.” Mercy drew back, frowning. “What was he upset over?”

  Mercy was silent while Blythe related the particulars of her discovery, leaving out the particulars of his time aboard the slaver. Unwillingly involved or not, that sort of thing would not sway public opinion in his favor.

  “It surprises me that someone could outsmart the old duke so thoroughly,” Mercy mused.

  “When Tobias notes arrived someone should have realized he was not where he was reported to be, but perhaps time and distance made seeking confirmation impossible. His Grace would have been furious. He wasn’t a man to take a betrayal calmly and I imagine being the bearer of bad news would not have appealed.” Blythe bit her lip. “Wilcox is the first to see any correspondence that comes into the abbey.”

  Mercy stared. “How could he not have told me of his suspicions?”

  “I don’t know, but I think you should not be alone with him when you ask.” If he had withheld information, Wilcox’s tenure as butler of Romsey Abbey was going to be very short lived unless he had a believable explanation. She’d never cared for Wilcox or his influence on Mercy. She wouldn’t mind seeing him gone.

  “I’ll be sure to have Leopold with me.” Mercy tapped her arm. “I hear you’ve engaged a new lady’s maid.”

  “A companion. Mrs. Turner has just arrived in fact.”

  “Excellent. I’ve been meaning to take another look at the woman.”

  A small kernel of uncertainty gripped Blythe. “Oh. Why is that?”

  “You’ll think me foolish, but for a short time I suspected Mrs. Turner of having been Leopold’s lover. I wasted a good deal of my temper over the matter.”

  Blythe’s anxiety grew. “I was led to believe she’s an old family friend. Was I misinformed?”

  “No, no. She is a very good friend given what Leopold has done for her. But you know me. I have a possessive temper and I’ve discovered it is somewhat worse when it comes to Leopold. I did not like to think there might be another woman to tempt him away from me.”

  She stared at Mercy in surprise. “That’s utterly ridiculous.”

  Mercy shrugged. “When one is in love, and uncertain whether that love is returned in full measure, one does tend to imagine the worst. You were lucky with Raphael. He never looked at another woman but you. Come, I must meet the woman myself to see if she will be suitable for you. It will also be good to have another ally between us and the servants.”

  Mercy assigned Leopold’s valet, Colby, to stay with Edwin and then they hurried upstairs. Mrs. Turner was just being shown about by the housekeeper. They stopped in the hallway outside Blythe’s bedchamber and Mercy waved the older woman away with a request for a tea tray to be sent up. “Mrs. Turner, so nice to finally meet you.”

  Beth Turner sank into a deep, perfect curtsey. “Your Grace, Lady Venables.”

  Mercy smiled. Mrs. Turner smiled. And then both looked at Blythe next. She smiled too and tried not to laugh. “Have you been shown the house and to your quarters?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Good. And your son is settled and occupied for the afternoon?”

  “He is, thank you. Mr. Randall suggested he might spend some time in the stables. I believe the coachman has boys a little older than my George and they will show him about the grounds and tell him where he might venture.”

  “Good. Good. Well, if you’ll follow me I can show you your duties.”

  Mrs. Turner followed Blythe about as she showed her where her things were kept. Unfortunately, when she opened her wardrobe doors she revealed the colored gowns.

  “Blythe? Is there something you forgot to tell me?” Mercy asked.

  “No.” Blythe shut the doors quickly. She’d changed her mind about coming out of mourning. She wouldn’t need the gowns. Perhaps Mrs. Turner would appreciate them.

  Mercy smiled. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about, Blythe. If you’re finally ready to cast off your mourning everyone will understand. In fact, I can assure you that I know of several gentlemen who will be very pleased.”

  “I’m not interested in other men.” Blythe bit her tongue. That sounded very bad, even to her own ears. She couldn’t help it if she thought of Tobias’ torments more often than she should. She hoped Mercy would miss her slip and assume she referred to Raphael.

  Mercy stepped around her and opened the wardrobe doors. “Were you going to wear one of these tonight?”

  Blythe sighed. “I hadn’t decided, but I don’t think I will now. I brought them with me to see if I liked them still.”

  Her sister pulled out the blue silk, the one Blythe had quickly tried on last night. “I had a note from Miss Trimble that she and her cousins cannot come today as arranged so that gives me ample time to convince you to discard your somber tones and wear this instead. I’ve always admired you in blue.”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Come,” Blythe called.

  The housekeeper swept through the door, tea tray poised in one hand. “Here we are, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Callinan. Just set it over there.”

  The housekeeper’s gaze passed over the room slowly, and then she left again.

  Mercy sighed. “Mrs. Callinan is such a busybody she’ll have told everyone about the gowns by the time our tea is cold. Mrs. Turner, would you be good enough to pour? I fear my sister may need a refreshing cup or two before she is comfortable with my choice of gown for tonight.”

  “I will not wear any of the colors,” Blythe protested. “I’ll wear my favorite black brocade instead.”

  “That is where you are wrong, dear sister. I have been waiting for this day very impatiently. Black is much too severe a color on you. On any woman for that matter.” Mercy’s hands settled on her shoulders and Blythe was steered toward a chair. “Let’s have tea and discuss tonight. I think diamonds would look very well with that gown. What is your opinion, Mrs. Turner?”

  Turner endured Mercy’s stare, neither fidgeting nor automatically agreeing. That could only be for the best. Mrs. Turner was Blythe’s employee not Mercy’s. She would be the one with the final decision on what stones to wear with the blue silk. Turner passed over a tea cup with a steady hand. “I am unsure, Your Grace. It would depen
d on the style of the gown and the size of the stones. They should match the occasion.”

  “Exactly.” Mercy clapped her hands together and leaned forward. “Now, about her hair . . .”

  Sixteen

  Devil take it. A closed carriage. Tobias clenched his fist as the conveyance rumbled to a stop before the stairs of Romsey Abbey, horses tossing their heads impatiently. He was alone in the drawing room, waiting for the others to come down to get this torture over with.

  The sight of the dark coach and four, similar to the one his parents had been murdered in, chilled his blood. So far, he’d managed to deflect Leopold’s invitations to go anywhere in one. But he couldn’t walk to tonight’s entertainment. It was simply too far away and he wouldn’t arrive on time or in the expected pristine elegance of the gentleman he was to pretend to be.

  Soft footfalls echoed in the hall and he looked up as Blythe stepped into the room, nervously gripping a cream shawl in her hands. She wore the blue silk he’d glimpsed on her last night and costly jewels at her throat, the rich colors reminding him of the clear waters of the Caribbean and the sunlight sparkling on the horizon at dawn.

  Her throat moved as she swallowed and then she smiled nervously. “I take it Her Grace is not ready?”

  Thank God Mercy was not. If anyone else was here he would not be at liberty to drink in the sight of her so completely. “So it would seem.”

  Blythe glanced over her shoulder. “Perhaps I should . . .”

  “No, stay here and let me look at you.” She stilled and he prowled closer. The color really did suit her complexion better, but the change of attire did suggest something else. She’d put aside her mourning. Had she done so because of his few kisses? “You take my breath away.”

  She blushed and looked down, fiddling with her shawl. “Thank you.”

  Tobias caressed the skin beneath her chin until she lifted her face. Although tempted to kiss her again, he was hesitant to muss her up. She was perfect. Elegant, warm, and mouthwatering. “The gentlemen will be lined up to dance with you now. I have no doubts on that score. I may not deserve the honor, but I still claim the supper dance.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t go back on my word. Are you in better spirits now?”

  He nodded slowly, surprised she asked. Her question went a long way to improving his mood. It seemed the revelation of his time aboard the slaver had not repulsed her.

  “How did you get away from the slaver? I’ve heard such terrible things of them.”

  Tobias bit his lip. He hadn’t intended to reveal the details of his past. Ladies certainly should not know. But Blythe had asked the question and he’d promised to be honest with her. He couldn’t very well lie outright after making such a point about his truthfulness. However, he could soften the details considerably. She’d most likely still be shocked. “The captain died suddenly two years ago and we returned to port in Charleston soon after. In the confusion of the first night, I managed to slip away and swim to shore. I made my way on foot to Boston, where I hoped to find safe passage back.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’ve been to the America’s?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been to many places. Most of which are not fit for your ears.”

  “It took you two years to return to England? How did you manage that feat?”

  “I was hired on by Captain Arnold, a good man, and owner of a whaler bound for England. I spent two years in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic hunting whales before the ship came home.”

  “That’s dreadful,” she whispered.

  “That is my past.”

  Blythe was silent for a long while, head bowed. He stared down at the top of her head. She must be mortified now to have kissed a man with so little to recommend him. She’d certainly make sure that his past became known. He’d never find a wealthy wife now.

  Her hand rose to the corner of her eyes and she sniffed. “I used to think well of the duke and his son. It seems I am an abominable judge of character.”

  He winced. “You judged me correctly.”

  “I have been surprised by your candor many times.”

  There wasn’t much Tobias could say to answer that. He stepped away from what he couldn’t have. Keeping to a good mood tonight while other men pawed at Blythe during the dancing was going to try his temper. He wanted Blythe, now, before any other gentleman could lay a finger to her pale skin, but now she knew the truth of him he’d never have a chance.

  Heavy steps plodded down the central staircase and Leopold walked in, speaking as he came. “Mercy won’t be much longer. She’s saying goodnight to Edwin and seeing that Beth and George have everything they need.” His words died slowly to a whisper as he stared, rather stupidly in Tobias’ opinion, at Blythe.

  Tobias stepped between them and waved his hand before his brother’s face. “Tis rude to stare at a lady.”

  Leopold coughed to cover his lapse and then bowed. “Forgive me. You look lovely tonight, my lady.”

  Blythe acknowledged the compliment with a slight tilt of her head, but then she moved away, pacing the room while they waited for Mercy to join them. Devil take it. Was Blythe coming out of mourning that big a deal?

  When Mercy arrived, she gave a little squeal at Blythe’s attire, and then they hurried out to the carriage. Tobias trailed behind as panic threatened. Blythe had distracted him earlier with her beauty but the dark carriage, door open and waiting for him, sent a chill over his flesh. He stopped before it.

  “We haven’t got all night, brother. Time is running from us.”

  Tobias closed his eyes at the familiar expression. Those had been his father’s last words as they’d all left Romsey ten years ago.

  A groom held the door, one brow raised. Tobias couldn’t make his legs work well enough to move forward. He couldn’t climb inside. It would be like reliving history—the darkest day of his existence.

  Blythe’s face appeared in the carriage window and she peered out at him. As she stared, he regained some of his courage. Her scrutiny challenged him to face his fear. He took one step forward, then another until he was at the door. One last step and he’d be inside with his memories to smother him. Blythe smiled and his panic eased. With a deep breath he took his place beside her, facing the rear. Exactly where he’d sat on the day his parents had died. The door shutting made him jump and he glanced across the carriage to the opposite seat.

  In the muted interior, Leopold reminded him even more of their father. Like his memory from the past, the two opposite were talking to each other and ignoring him. He gripped the bench seat beneath him, listening to the fine, dark leather creak beneath his fingers, and closed his eyes. Up until now he’d managed to keep the memories at bay. He let them out rarely, and only when asked for specifics by Leopold. But as the carriage rolled away from Romsey Abbey, the memories overwhelmed him.

  Rosemary had been angry, but that was nothing new. She’d not wanted to take the trip and had sulked on her side of the seat. As for him, he’d been dressed in his best clothes, scrubbed because they were to meet someone important; an old acquaintance of his mother’s. Unfortunately, their identity escaped him, but the atmosphere in the carriage had not. His mother had been so sad that she hadn’t been able to hide her sorrow. She clenched a handkerchief in her hand and repeatedly dabbed at her eyes. His father had done his best to comfort her, but he hadn’t been very successful.

  The carriage rattled over the estate bridge, and Tobias’ eyes widened as the sound stirred up another memory. His father might have told anyone that had asked that they were going to see an old friend in London, but they had changed direction as soon as they’d left Romsey. They had not been overturned on the road to London as he’d previously thought. They had traveled west instead.

  His heart pounded. Why had their destination changed? He shook his head, struggling to make the images clearer. Long stretches of silence, and the dark woods around them. Panic and anguish. His mother crying out in pain.

 
Blythe’s gloved hand settled over his fist.

  He grasped her hand quickly; desperate for the distraction she gave.

  ~ * ~

  Blythe winced as Tobias crushed her hand in his. A violent tremble flowed up her arm from their joined hands, confirming her suspicions that Tobias was far from well. She twisted slightly on the bench, attempting to see his face better. His jaw was clenched, his lips pressed together, but his breathing was rushed as if he’d been sprinting. His hand was fire against hers, damp and warmer than it should be.

  Although he had a strangling grip on her hand, she could move her thumb a little and she strove to calm him by drawing small circles over his glove. She didn’t know what had come over him, but he had to be well again before they reached the ball.

  She glanced across the carriage, but her sister and Leopold were simply too caught up in their own conversation to notice Tobias’ distress. However, she couldn’t travel along holding Tobias’ hand the whole way. She had to extract herself and find another solution.

  With her free hand, she nudged her blanket to the floor, and then bent to retrieve it. As she did, Tobias released her. However, his hand somehow ended up beneath her breast. Blythe sucked in a shocked breath as he took the opportunity to learn the shape of her breast again and caressed her nipple.

  Heat swept over her cheeks, and she was grateful for the failing light. Blythe pulled the coach blanket higher up her chest to hide the fact that her nipples had hardened to embarrassing points. Mercy glanced at her, smiled, and went back to her conversation with Leopold. Beside her, Tobias cleared his throat and then began to chuckle.

  “Do share the joke, brother,” Leopold demanded.

  “I was, ah, just thinking about surprises. You never expect them.”

  Leopold scowled. “Well, of course. If you expected them, then you wouldn’t truly be surprised.”