by Liz Carlyle
Lauderwood grunted again and took a generous pull from his glass. “Knew ‘im? I suppose that I did in my salad days—or as well as a younger son of a mere viscount might presume to know a fellow like Mercer. We ran in some of the same circles— the Fancy, you know. Always loved a good turn-up, Mercer did. And it was a far more bruising sport twenty-five years ago. Not like it is today. Bah! The Pugilistic Club and all that rot! When we were young, a good mill was an honest mill.”
Madlow sat to one side, smiling as he lazily shuffled their cards but making no effort to deal. It was an opportunity Cole could not resist. He leaned intently forward in his chair. “And so you saw one another with some frequency, sir?”
The colonel pulled a thoughtful face. “I’d say so. Races, boxing, the occasional cockfight—always something for a gent to fritter away his money on. But Mercer was usually in company with Kildermore and Delacourt—all three very thick in those days, don’t you know. The rest of us were just lowly hangers-on.”
“Delacourt?” Cole could not suppress his shock. The man he had seen was quite young.
“Aye, but the old lord,” Lauderwood explained. “Not that young fop of Lady Mercer’s”
Cole found it interesting that both Jonet’s father and her husband had been good friends with Delacourt’s sire. He tucked that fact away for further consideration and returned to his questions about Jonet’s husband. “And what manner of man was Lord Mercer, Colonel? I should very much like to know.” He gave a wry grin. “You see, as the family foundling, I was permitted in his exalted company for weddings and funerals only.”
Lauderwood puffed out his cheeks and held his breath for a long moment “He was pretty much the same sort of fellow that he was when he died, I daresay. Haughty, selfish, and a womanizer, too. But the first Lady Mercer was a timid sort. Gave him no trouble a’tall. Nothing like that she-devil second wife the poor bugger got!” The colonel laughed richly, then, just as quickly, his face became serious again. “Now mind what I say, Cole! Jonet Rowland is the sort of woman a man crosses at his own peril!”
Cole sipped pensively at his port for a moment. “And what sort of woman is that, Colonel? I hardly know her. And yet, I can plainly see she and her husband were ill suited. How did that come about?”
“Oh, it came about in the same manner as do most of life’s troubles. Mercer asked for it. He and the Earl of Kildermore were two of a kind. Scoundrels and philanderers of the first order. And Kildermore had a wife and daughter tucked up in the Highlands, a fact he ignored.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed! But as soon as the chit was old enough, Kildermore brought her to London to marry her off. Scots, you know. Wanted to get his heir through her as quickly as possible.”
Across the table, Madlow snapped the cards into a neat shuffle. “I remember her come-out,” he said, his voice a little wistful “I was three-and-twenty at the time, and eager for a wife myself. Lady Jonet was by far the prettiest girl in town that season, and the most agreeable, too. No pretense or conceit about her, so far as I ever saw.”
Grinning, Cole gave his friend a little jab with his elbow. “Were you in love, Terry? I cannot imagine anyone save Louisa stealing your heart away.”
Terry Madlow almost blushed. “I fancied her a little, as did we all,” he said softly, swirling the dregs of port in his glass. “But nothing came of it Kildermore made it plain that fellows like me weren’t good enough. He wanted his family linked to a great English title.”
Lauderwood drained his glass and propped back in his chair as if planning a comfortable coze. “Aye, and he found one rather too quickly. His good friend Mercer was just six months out of mourning and keen for a new bride.” He turned to wink conspiratorially at Cole and continued. “Mercer was desperate for an heir, as it happens. Couldn’t have all that wealth trickling down to that pompous uncle of yours, could he? Much less that worthless scapegrace Edmund Rowland, eh?”
Cole felt a prickle of unrest at Lauderwood’s words. It was perfectly true. Until Jonet Cameron had come along, his uncle James and cousin Edmund had been next in line for the title. Madlow slapped the deck facedown onto the table and looked uneasily around the room. “Speaking of Edmund,” he said very quietly, “rumor has it that he’s fallen in with a gang of blacklegs from the West End, Cole. It is not a pretty tale, either. Roly-poly this time.”
“How much?” asked Cole sharply, keeping his voice low.
“Nearly a thousand pounds. On top of all else.”
Cole slid a hand over his jaw. “Bloody hell! James will surely kill him this time.”
Madlow elevated a brow. “It may well be less painful than what those West End sharps will do.”
“Bah!” growled Lauderwood. “Let the blacklegs do then-worst Lord James shan’t do a damned thing, for he hasn’t the backbone. When all is said and done, Mercer did us a favor by getting his heir on the Cameron girl” The colonel cocked his head. “Don’t think she was any too pleased by it, though.”
“No, I fancy not,” agreed Cole dryly, far more interested in Lady Mercer than in worrying about his tiresome cousin. “Even now, she makes little secret of it Did Mercer apply to her father, and that was that?”
Lauderwood chuckled. “Oh, no! Mercer offered for her within a fortnight of her come-out, but Lady Jonet wouldn’t have ‘im. Said he was too old, which he was. At first, Kildermore refused to push the girl, but the season wore on, and the chit refused one offer after another.”
“And so Kildermore pressed her?”
Lauderwood gave a puzzled frown. “It did not appear so, but by all accounts, Mercer was mad for the girl, and one can see why. He offered again, with wildly generous marriage settlements, and still Kildermore deferred to Lady Jonet At the end of the season, Lady Jonet went back to Scotland, and all of us lesser mortals thought that was the end of it”
“But obviously it wasn’t,” Madlow interjected. “Though I never knew what happened.”
Lauderwood shook his grizzled head, “Mercer got Kildermore drunk is what happened. Challenged him to some very high stakes. Kildermore was in very deep, hardly enough to impoverish him, but enough to aggravate. He was anxious to reverse his losses, and Mercer agreed to one more game, provided the earl would stake his daughter’s hand.” The colonel laughed softly. “Kildermore lost, but he got his revenge when he sobered up.”
“How so?” asked Cole.
Lauderwood laughed. “His solicitors drew up the most god-awful marriage settlements ever a man was saddled with. ‘Twas the talk of London. And a large part of why Mercer could not control his wife. That, and Kildermore’s guilty conscience. It ate at him a bit, I always thought. In his later years, they did say that the old Scot mellowed.”
At that moment, the door burst inward to admit two more officers from their regiment. Quickly, Terry Madlow pulled up more chairs, Lauderwood sent for more port, and the subject of Lord and Lady Mercer was tactfully postponed.
———
Later that night, as soon as the door thumped shut behind Lord Delacourt, Jonet flew up the two flights of stairs that led to the boys’ rooms. As was their custom after dinner, the boys were playing with their soldiers in the middle of Stuart’s bedchamber. “Mama!” cried Robert, leaping up to hug her. “Look! Look! Tonight we’re the First Royal Dragoons!”
Laughing, she released him, and he dragged her across the room to see the game the boys had laid out across the rug. Gingerly, she knelt beside Stuart and ruffled his hair. “Yes, it looks like quite a bloody battle here,” she said appreciatively, her eyes surveying the clutter strewn across the floor. “And is that... heavens’. Is that my blue shawl?” Intently, she studied the long swath of silk spread down the center of the rug.
“Aww, Mama!” said Robert dejectedly, “it’s not a shawl! It’s the River Dos Casas! And these are Massena’s cavalry. And see here”-his face brightening again, he lifted up her small chip bonnet which was situated far downstream— “this is Fort Conception!”
Stuart cast hi
s mother a worried glance, but Jonet forced a smile. “Yes! To the trained military eye, it is obvious!” she agreed. “And let me guess—in your version, the brave Dragoons will crush Massena single-handedly? Is that it?” Robert nodded, then yawned broadly.
Jonet stood up and studied them both carefully. “I think you boys like your new tutor a good deal. Am I right?” Both boys enthusiastically agreed. “Then I am pleased” she said, after a long, quiet moment. But in truth, she wished she were as comfortable with Captain Amherst as her sons quite obviously were.
“Now! Off to bed with the both of you, sirs! Come, Robin, and I will tuck you in first”
———
After a restless night spent rethinking his conversation with Lauderwood, Cole arose from his bed in a somewhat foul humor. Ellen Cameron’s naivete aside, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Jonet Rowland had had more than ample reason to wish her husband dead, and Cole found it inexplicably disheartening.
One question kept tormenting him. Trapped in a loveless marriage, could Jonet have learned that her beloved David had formed an attachment to someone else? Could that have been the impetus which had driven her to such a desperate act? To free herself for the man she loved? Was Delacourt that important to her? Cole could hardly bear to think of it Despite his intense dislike of Jonet, he was loathe to believe her to be a murderess. Indeed, at times, he felt strongly—perhaps even foolishly— that she could never have done such a thing, despite the fact that she had had means, motive, and opportunity. But in the next breath, Cole had to admit that it was not Jonet’s, but his own shortcomings which he was reluctant to examine.
How lowering it was to realize that he could feel such a vast and intense range of emotions for a woman whose moral character was questionable at best And there was no denying the fact that one of the most intense emotions he felt was lust, pure and simple. The breathless rush of tenderness he had felt for her upon seeing her fight back tears was almost as alarming. Perhaps more so, now that he fully considered it.
But the facts were plain. Jonet had never loved her husband, and she loved Delacourt very deeply. Cole had seen it in her eyes that day in the corridor of Mercer House. There had been no mistaking that look of feminine anticipation. Yes, the facts were damning. Incriminating enough to ruin her, but not to convict her. Cole wondered which was worse.
Perhaps the pressure of it all explained why Jonet behaved so strangely, almost as if she feared that James might seek to avenge his brother’s death. Perhaps that was the explanation behind her hulking footmen and the other watchful servants. Nonetheless, had she admitted her fear of James, Cole would have reassured Jonet that his uncle did not have the guts for such an act. Did he? In truth, Cole had found his uncle’s indifference about Lord Mercer’s killer rather surprising. He had been stunned when James had admitted that he did not think it would be possible to convict anyone of the crime. Ostensibly, James’s only reason for sending Cole into the Mercer household was to control the welfare of the children, not to search for a killer, nor even to incriminate Jonet. Did James perhaps know that his sister-in-law was innocent? Did he have some reason to hope that the real killer would not be uncovered?
No, just as Cole believed Jonet incapable of a ruthless murder, he believed it equally impossible of James. But there was always Edmund to be considered. Edmund was lazy and extravagant, and wed to a woman who was even more so. Together, the two of them had elevated vanity and dissipation to an art form. Moreover, according to Terrence Madlow, Edmund had again found himself in serious financial straits, which was no unusual occurrence.
Still, Cole could not imagine Edmund summoning up the energy to have anyone murdered. Most certainly he would not have sullied his own gloves with such an act. And one murder would hardly have solved Edmund’s problem. Jonet’s sons had placed him fer down the line of succession. Tormented by such questions, Cole shaved and dressed in haste.
It was not yet seven o’clock, and the house was still quiet Although he did not yet know the habits of the family, Cole was sure he would have ample time in which to fetch his horse from Jonet’s mews, go for a ride, and return in time for breakfast Quietly, he crept downstairs and walked through the back of the house, only to hear a great deal of squealing and laughing just inside the breakfast parlor. The double doors of the parlor were flung wide to reveal a small but sunny room which was already laid for breakfast For a long while, Cole stood unnoticed in the shadows of the corridor, reluctant to intrude upon such a scene of domestic harmony. Robin sat perched upon his mother’s knee, a red smear of jam across one cheek, squirming madly as Jonet tried to clean his face. She certainly looked nothing like a cold-blooded murderer.
“Do hold still, Robin,” she ordered, the words coming out on a giggle. “You are like a sack full of puppies. “ With a quick, careless motion, Jonet dunked her napkin into her water glass, then proceeded to scrub with vigor as Stuart, grinning, looked on.
“Ow, ow!” squalled Robert, “You’re rubbin’ off my jaw bone, Mama!”
“Good,” chortled Stuart. “That’ll be one less place to smear your food.”
Jonet’s brows drew together in mild irritation, but her smile never faltered. “Ah! And who is the young man who dumped porridge in his lap last week, hmm, Stuart?”
Stuart pulled a rueful face as Jonet scrubbed the last bit of jam from Robert’s ear. With arms that were surprisingly strong, Jonet lifted Robert from her lap and set him on his feet. “And it was an accident, was it not?” Her voice took on a cheerfully cautioning tone. “And had it been otherwise, such as the time you and Robert decided to pelt one another with scrambled eggs—”
“I remember! I remember!” Robert interrupted loudly. “We got a proper trimming for that! Then we had to wash ourselves!”
Stuart hung his head. “Yes. And the table linens, the floor, and our shirts, too.”
“Quite so,” agreed Jonet brightly. “Because servants have enough to do without cleaning up after naughty children. Now, who is for a walk in the garden?”
Still standing at her elbow, Robert looked plaintively at his mother. “Not the garden again!” he whined. “Why can’t we go to the park? Why can we not have a ride on our ponies?”
Impulsively, Jonet encircled him in her arm, drew him to her side, and placed a smacking kiss atop his head. “Just because, poppet. We must stay close to home for a while yet”
His mood obviously soured, Stuart scowled at his plate and gave it a disdainful shove. “Captain Amherst has promised to take us to St. John’s Wood to watch Eton play Harrow.” His voice took on a strident edge. “I daresay that will be too for from home as well.”
“Oh, Stuart!” said his mother softly, stretching a hand across the table as if inviting him to take it. “I know you must feel very cross. It is just for a little while longer. I promise.”
Loudly, Cole cleared his throat and stepped into the room. “Good morning.”
Jonet looked over her shoulder and dropped her arm, allowing Robert to dart away from her and toward Cole. “Cousin Cole!” said the boy brightly. “Did you come to have breakfast with us? You’re very late. Do you like kidneys? ‘Cause Stuart ate the last one. Anyhow, I hate ‘em. We’ve been here for hours. Look, I’ve finished. I got jam on my face and hair, too.”
“Yes, so I see,” murmured Cole, peering down at the sticky spot in the hair above Robert’s ear.
“Good morning, Cole,” said Jonet a little tightly, motioning him toward a seat. “I trust you passed a comfortable night?”
One of the footmen appeared with coffee and a fresh plate, but Jonet’s penetrating gaze never left Cole’s face. Her dark beauty was vivid this morning, as if a little of the fatigue that had lingered in her eyes had lessened. But there was something else in her eyes now, and Cole intuitively sensed that it was anger.
“Yes, ma’am. I slept quite well,” he lied.
Across the table, Stuart laid down his fork with a clatter. His mother turned to him and gave him a
smile that was obviously forced. “Stuart, if you’ve finished, take Robin into the garden, if you please. Cole and I must discuss the morning’s lesson.”
Her spine rigid, Jonet rose to follow the children to the double doors, then pulled them both shut with a sweeping gesture. Before she had the chance to turn on him, Cole had steeled himself for the inevitable scold. Deeply annoyed, Jonet whirled about to face the man who sat so casually at her breakfast table. She hated the fact that he looked as if he belonged there. And that he seemed so congenial, so unerringly polite, and so ... so damned decent. What was worse, Cole Amherst—devil take him— appeared even more striking today, backlit as he was by the morning sun. His tawny hair gleamed in a dozen different shades of warm gold, the perfect complement to his skin, which was still lightly bronzed by his years on the Peninsula.
He seemed far too large for her parlor table, and yet he sat there looking graceful and elegant despite riding clothes which had obviously seen much use. Strangely, he seemed to take up every inch of space within the narrow room, filling it with his presence in a way Jonet could not understand. She did not like it one bit. The fact that her children were already charmed by the man served to further aggravate her, an admittedly irrational response. It was of the utmost importance that the boys admire their tutor, and yet Jonet feared anyone who might be able to exercise undue influence over her children. It was quite a quandary, and in part, it was the reason she had avoided engaging a new tutor for so long. Slowly, Jonet stalked toward him. “Let us understand one thing, sir,” she began with a lethal softness. “Where my children are concerned, you are never to undertake any sort of travel without my consent. Do you comprehend me? They are not to step foot from this house unless I have been apprised of it—or there’ll be the devil to pay.”
Cole inclined his head very slightly. “Certainly, ma’am,” he coldly responded. “But to my knowledge, they have not yet done so. Your indignation seems precipitous.”
Jonet paced across the length of the room, then whipped about again. “You, sir, are arrogant and out of line,” she shouted, raising her hand to point her finger sharply at him, to remind him of his place.
