Familiar vistas greeted him as they made their way to the estate entrance, but from the outset it was apparent that all was not right with Romsey. The road was deeply rutted in places and when he glanced into the empty fields, he could see that the lower lake’s eastern shore had choked with withered reeds. The old duke would never have allowed lapses like that to occur, not in his lifetime anyway.
All about him, Romsey suffered from the lack of rain, as the rest of England seemed to do. The upper dams should have been breached earlier to feed the lower streams to ensure the harvest was a good one this year. What he saw hinted that the estate did not prosper. Leopold’s chest tightened with a mix of gladness and regret at the other signs of decay. As much as he hated the duke’s, Romsey was home. The memory of cool, lush green fields had sustained him in sticky, sweltering India. What lay about him soured his return.
A woman screamed. “Get your hands off him!”
Leopold twisted in the saddle, searching for the feminine voice raised so furiously in alarm. In the distance, further along the lane, stood a shabby thatched cottage where a tall man held a child captive in his arms. At his feet, a woman beat ineffectually for the boy’s release.
Leopold kicked his horse forward. “What the hell is going on here?”
Both man and woman turned. Beth Turner—garbed much more poorly than he remembered—gasped in surprise and then ran to him. “Sir, he’s trying to take my George away with him.”
Like hell they would! Leopold swung from the saddle and sidestepped the distraught mother. “Let George Turner go. Now.”
The other man—a rough looking brute—scowled at the interruption. “Stay out of my business and be on your way.”
The Turner’s welfare was very much his business. Leopold withdrew his weapon and pointed it at the man’s head. “What happens here is my business. You are on Romsey land. We rule here.”
“You ‘ain’t the duke. He’s but a child. Besides, the woman can’t pay. He’ll work off her debt eventually.”
Behind Leopold, Colby was attempting to reassure the distraught mother, but Beth Turner had a full head of steam up and wasn’t about to be silent. “You imbecile. Don’t you know who stands before you?”
The man blinked. “He ‘ain’t anyone important. Just some gent come ta sniff ‘round your skirts.”
Beth laughed nervously. “You’re blind.”
Leopold waited, patience wearing thin. “Let go of the child and be on your way before I put a ball in you.”
“Listen. I got orders. She can’t pay so I’m to take the child in place of payment.”
“How much?”
The debt collector licked his lips. “Ten pounds, it is.”
Beth Turner shrieked at the sum named. Obviously, this debt collector attempted to line his own pockets and considered him a gullible cull.
Leopold debated his options. He could stare the man down, but then he’d waste precious time. Besides, the man could probably use the money. Judging by his shabby attire, debt collecting didn’t pay well. Or he just wasn’t very good at it. “Colby. Ten pounds. Now.”
Behind him, his valet rushed for the horses and Leopold could hear him digging around in his saddlebag. The debt collector’s eyes widened and the child slipped from his grip. Once released, the boy rushed for his mother.
Paper pressed into Leopold’s palm and he lowered the weapon. He held out the notes. “I will expect no further demands to be made of the Turner’s. Come to me in future.”
The brute lumbered forward to retrieve the money and tucked it into his pocket. “I would if I had your name, sir.”
“Leopold Randall.”
The debt collector paled and took two steps back.
“Begging your pardon, Mr. Randall. I didn’t recognize you.”
“Quite. Be on your way.”
The other man turned, dragged himself into his rough cart, and set off down the lane at a fast clip. Once he had disappeared from view, Leopold turned to look at the cottage.
The Turner’s had been a moderately prosperous family, but it appeared they had fallen on hard times in his absence. They hadn’t lived in this shabby place before. Their last place had a prettier outlook. William Turner, a man with a well-known temper and pride to match, would be furious when he found out what had just transpired between his wife and the debt collector. He turned to Beth.
The once pretty woman appeared neatly dressed, but closer inspection revealed careful darning on the sleeve and a tattered hem dragging on the dry road. Her expression was one of exhaustion and embarrassment as she clutched her son to her with every appearance of never letting go. “William always said you would come back when the duke died, but I never believed him,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Of course I returned. I have unfinished business at the abbey.” Leopold glanced around. “When will William return?”
The boy made to speak, but his mother shushed him by pushing him toward the cottage. “William’s gone, Mr. Randall. He died the spring before last.”
Leopold rocked on his heels, shocked at the news. He glanced around the cottage again, noting the disrepair, the signs that the man of the house was long gone. A feeble curl of smoke drifted from the chimney of a roof that needed re-thatching. The gardens were wild with neglect, too. He couldn’t believe William was gone, but the proof was before his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Beth. I hadn’t heard of his passing.”
“Why would you?”
The awkward silence stretched between them. Leopold had counted on William’s presence to make his return bearable. Without him, there would be no reason to dwell in the memory of happier times. He’d get what he came for and leave as soon as he could. And if there were trouble, he’d battle his way out alone.
“Will you come in, sir?”
Beth Turner’s formality grated on his nerves. Although William had been his friend since childhood, Beth had remained in awe of his familial connections since her marriage. She refused to behave any other way, even if his chance of acceding to the ducal title was slim. Resigned that little had changed between them, Leopold allowed her to lead the way into the cottage. She hurried to bring order to the cramped space, hiding scuffed shoes and pails set at random about the bare floors.
Eventually, Beth dragged a frayed shawl from the chair by the hearth and motioned for him to sit in William’s former chair. Leopold took up his usual seat, on a three-legged stool, on the other side of the fire.
Gingerly, Beth sat in William’s place. “If I may ask, what brings you back to us now after so long, Mr. Randall?”
“Family business, Beth. But I had intended to see William. How did he die?”
Beth tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and then rubbed her palms over her knees. “Poacher’s shot caught him in the thigh when he was gathering wood. Sawbones couldn’t save him.”
Appalled by her toneless statement, Leopold sat forward. “I’m very sorry, Beth. He was the best of men. I had intended to offer him a position now that I’ve returned to England for good. I wanted to bring you all with me to a better place.”
Beth shrugged and glanced over at her boy. “All I’ve got is my George now. We do all right here.”
“He looks to be a sturdy lad. Quite the image of his father at that age.”
The boy, laboring at his chores on the other side of the room, straightened his shoulders. Leopold bit back a smile. A little encouragement was all it took to make a boy see his future as a man. William Turner’s child would grow to be an honorable, proud man if given the chance. But not in this place as it was now. Leopold looked around him again, noticing the absence of small things that had come into the family upon William’s marriage to Beth. The delicate rosewood table and chairs he’d teased William about were gone. So too were the carpets. He worked to keep his face clear of emotion. They had fallen far in his absence, but getting distressed over the matter would solve nothing.
Leopold stood. “I will take my leave of you now. But I will want
to hear if you have any more trouble. Be sure to send word to me.”
Beth scrubbed her hands over her knees again, a sure sign his request troubled her. “Where exactly are you staying?”
“The Vulture.” He’d not be welcome at the abbey beyond an hour, and most certainly never asked to stay so he might have the chance to decline graciously. The village inn was preferable to anywhere else. “I’ll expect to hear from you if there is trouble again.”
Beth Turner’s shoulders relaxed.
Leopold nodded then stepped out into the yard with Colby hurrying in his wake. At the horses, he set his foot into the stirrup with a heavy heart. “Make it right, Colby.” He swung into the saddle. “Food on the table for tonight, speak to Brown about fixing the roof, and see to it that the boy and mother are properly prepared for the coming winter. Tell Brown I’ll settle funds on him this evening to cover every expense required. Once I have matters settled at the abbey, I’ll make arrangements for their future.”
Colby’s eyes widened with surprise, but he wisely nodded and directed his horse back toward the village. As much as Leopold didn’t want the responsibility here at Romsey, he wouldn’t turn his back on William’s widow and son. He would see she had the protection of the Randall family, even if it was from the disreputable side.
CHAPTER TWO
The trouble with Mercy Randall’s friends—childless friends in particular—was that they did not understand the great responsibility placed upon her shoulders as the widowed Duchess of Romsey. She shook her head to deny the latest invitation to revisit London and take in the delights of the capital. She was the mother of a young duke, the last of his line, and thus her sole responsibility. She could not come and go from Romsey Abbey at will, even if she might wish to run away at times.
The responsibility was so great that Mercy often had nightmares in which she imagined all manner of duties she may have neglected that day. Romsey Abbey comprised eighty-nine chambers, four green houses, various outbuildings, and one hundred souls dependant on her largess. Fifteen hundred acres of fertile farm land—hers to care for until her son came of age. What had she been thinking to accept a proposal of marriage from a seemingly healthy marquess seven years ago?
“You are kind to invite me again,” Mercy said firmly. “But my life is here now.”
Anna, Countess Barnet, gave her arm a squeeze. “Now, my dear, dear duchess, I shall hear no arguments this season. You are out of mourning and it is much too long since you’ve come up to London. I cannot allow you to wallow here forever. Your husband died a year ago now. He would never want you to remain after he was gone.”
Mercy glanced beyond the gardens to the dark woodlands and shuddered. “I could not leave Edwin here alone.”
When Mercy had married Edwin Randall, the Marquess of Manderson, at eighteen, she wasn’t told that he had a weak heart. If she had known from the start, she’d have at least considered the likelihood that she’d be left to manage everything should he die before her. But she’d lived in ignorance until the day he’d collapsed while out walking the grounds a year into their marriage.
At the time, the doctors had said the exertion, coming so soon after a mild fever, had brought on the attack and had cautioned Mercy to limit her demands on his time. Not something a new wife particularly wants to hear when she was just coming to know the man she had married. The year since her husband’s death had taught Mercy that she had to think of the future more often to avoid nasty surprises.
Anna waved her hand dismissively. “The child will go on well enough without you.”
If Anna knew the truth, she wouldn’t be so sure. There was danger circling her son. He was too young to face that alone. Mercy forced a bright smile to her face. “I do wish it were that easy, Anna. But I would not rest without Edwin.”
Anna shuddered. “A child in London is quite out of the question. How could you consider it? What if he should stumble into your private chambers while you were entertaining a friend?” Anna smiled wickedly. “I can think of no faster way to cool a man’s ardor than to have a child thrust into a room with him. I’m told it is quite draining.”
Although Mercy was terribly lonely, and at times desperately afraid, what Anna suggested was quite out of the question. As much as she might miss the intimacies of the bedchamber, she had no time to spend with a lover. All her energy was devoted to her son and his welfare. A lover would take her away from him for too long a time for her peace of mind.
Anna’s earthy laugh filled Mercy’s ears. “Speak of the devil. Look, here comes Shaw now.”
Lord Shaw, Anna’s elder lecherous brother, strolled about on the far side of the garden with Mercy’s sister, Blythe—Lady Venables—by his side. Blythe seemed content enough in Shaw’s dubious company for now, but Mercy would have to rescue her soon. Shaw was not the sort of gentleman Blythe approved of. He was too bold, too forward and lusty for long conversation. According to Blythe, a gentleman should convey his hearts desires discreetly. Shaw made no bones that he was eager for bed play with any woman he met.
If not for the much needed distraction of having guests at Romsey Abbey, Mercy wished with all her heart that Shaw would have stayed in London and found another lady to call on. He came to visit with too much frequency for her peace of mind. Despite all she had done to dissuade him, Lord Shaw was determined that he would spend a night in her bed.
Mercy stopped suddenly. “I care not if a mans ardor is drained or not by the appearance of my child. I have no intention of going anywhere without my son, and I have no intention of taking a lover. Why must you always be going on about that?”
Anna tipped her chin toward her brother. “You cannot deny Shaw hasn’t expressed a particular interest in you, and it is to his credit that he seeks to entertain Lady Venables in such a way. She has a prickly demeanor that you know I find unsettling. However, he sacrifices his time so we may have an enjoyable visit. What more could you want in a man?”
Mercy bristled. Perhaps what she wanted was someone who did not fake pleasing manners around her family in the hopes of getting beneath her skirts. “He does not need to play my sister false on my account. I enjoy my sister’s company and her visits.”
Anna’s brow rose as if she didn’t believe her. “We shall never agree on her character and I want no ill will between us. However, in order for my brother to court you, you must see that a trip to London will give you time to come to know him better. He cannot spoil you as he wishes if your sister is close by. Oh, when you come up to London, things will be easy. No more bothersome Blythe shooting daggers at our conversations. It is hard to imagine a woman of her reticence captured a husband at all, let alone Venables. They say he had an adventurous disposition while he lived.”
Mercy smiled, but the conversation was growing tiresome. She liked Anna, when they discussed other matters besides Blythe and Lord Shaw. Her visits turned Mercy’s mind from the danger facing her son. They had been close friends since her first season, but Anna’s obsession with Mercy’s love life, or lack of, was driving her to the brink of being rude. The snide comments against her sister were a problem, too. Blythe might be laced up tighter than necessary, but she had a good and generous heart under all her frowning.
As Blythe and Lord Shaw joined them, Mercy forced herself to smile and pretend all was right with her world.
“Ah, Your Grace, you do know how to please a man.” He looked about the garden with a proprietary smile. “Nothing could give me more pleasure than to remain at Romsey Abbey for the rest of my life. The quiet, the solitude, the breathtaking vistas. I do not wonder that you prefer this locale to anywhere else. I know I would remain here for all my years if given a chance.”
A scandalized expression crossed Blythe’s face. Mercy could feel a headache coming on. The very unsubtle suggestion that Shaw particularly liked Romsey Abbey would bring on yet another lecture from Blythe later. Danger or not, Mercy couldn’t wait for Anna and Shaw to go away so she could put Shaw’s behavior from
her mind. She would have to assure Blythe, again, that she wanted nothing from him. “You are kind, my lord. But obligations must be met, despite the disappointment of our feelings. Please give my regards to your mother. I look forward to seeing her again one day soon.”
He took up Mercy’s gloved hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I look forward to that day as well. My mother is very fond of you.”
The look Shaw directed to her was hot and heavy with suggestion. Mercy ignored it, recovered her hand and led Anna toward the waiting carriage.
She gave her friend a quick hug. “I am so glad you could stay overnight, Anna. All going well, I’ll see you again next week, as we arranged.”
Anna lips turned up into a devious smile and Mercy’s heart sank. “Sooner than that, I should imagine.”
Anna kissed her cheeks and climbed into Lord Shaw’s impressive new carriage. One down. One to go.
Lord Shaw kissed the air above Blythe’s hand and then captured Mercy’s again in a firm grip. “Until we meet again, Your Grace.” When he squeezed her fingers, head dipping to kiss them too, Mercy tugged them back. The urge to remove her glove and throw it away grew at the smug smile curling his lip.
Insufferable bounder. Could he not take a hint that she wanted none of him?
He swept inside the carriage and raised his hand in salute as they started off.
As soon as the carriage was at a greater distance, Mercy turned to her sister. “Oh, thank heavens they are gone. I swear they visit every other day.”
“Lord Shaw does visit you too frequently.” Blythe scowled. “He is enamored of you.”
Mercy caught her sister’s arm and dragged her back toward the safety of the abbey. She did not like to be outside for long with so few people around her. The open spaces and dark woods beyond sent a chill racing up her spine. “I do not encourage that man. I enjoy Anna’s visits, but I do wish Shaw would take himself back to Town. He is forever gossiping and causing trouble between us. I do not like him at all.”
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