“Well, I’m fine, or will be as soon as I reclaim the decade you just scared off my life,” Leopold whispered.
Colby hurried forward and took his boots from his hands. “Sorry, sir. But, you’ve been so tense and restless since we came here. I didn’t know what to think when you didn’t return, and I noticed you hadn’t taken your pistol with you. I was just considering a search.”
Unfortunately, Colby knew his habits too well. He’d dined with Nawabs in India, discreetly armed, many times before. He never liked to take chances. “A gentleman doesn’t dine with a lady bearing arms, Colby,” he lied. He had carried his pistol for the last several days in Mercy’s presence. Only tonight had he felt at ease enough to let down his guard and pack the pistol away. Look at what that moment of foolishness had led to.
An odd smile crossed his valet’s face. “Well, she is an unusual duchess.”
Leopold raked his hands through his hair. Unusual was an understatement. Mercy was more dangerous than he’d realized. She made him want things best forgotten. “Well, the night was uneventful. You don’t need to wait up for me again.”
Colby’s gaze flickered over him, lingering on the imperfect knot Leopold had tied in his cravat. His frown turned into a grin. Damnation, Colby had spotted the rushed job he’d made of his cravat. Leopold could not have him spreading rumors about where he’d likely spent the night. With Mercy was an easy assumption for anyone to make, given they had dined together earlier. Leopold took a step forward. Better to cut off the damage now before any ill was done. “Not a word about my whereabouts tonight. To anyone, understood?”
The servant’s eyes lit up with mischief. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” he chuckled. “I’ll say good night then.” He tugged on his forelock, grabbed the boots, and left Leopold alone with his swirling thoughts.
Two servants, possibly, had an idea about his tryst with Mercy. How long before the rest of the household suspected?
Leopold paced his chamber, too anxious and restless now for sleep. He had to speed up his search of the abbey and remove himself before Mercy’s reputation was utterly ruined by the attraction between them.
He stopped before the fire as a new plan formed in his mind. There was no reason he could not continue the search at night while everyone else rested. He was awake, he doubted he’d sleep a wink, and he did want to search Mercy’s husband’s bedchamber. The best time to do that was when no one was watching.
He found other footwear and prowled back the way he had come, turning into his cousin’s bedchamber which stood opposite Mercy’s doorway. The door swung with a small grating of hinge and he squeezed through the gap and closed the door again. He held the candle high and surveyed the chamber. Dark timber, russet red hangings but stripped bare of personal effects on all the surfaces. He slowly circled the room, sliding open drawers and closing them again when he found nothing of interest.
It was as if the fifth Duke of Romsey hadn’t existed. There was nothing left of Edwin Randall within this room; no book nor piece of clothing. No fob watch or pipe. The only thing this room had in common with the other chambers of Romsey Abbey was that the walls were covered with paintings. Scenes of hunting lodges with dogs bounding around outside, other stately homes Leopold didn’t recognize hung here, too. But not one of these paintings seemed lovely to Leopold. There was a dark watchfulness about them that drew in the light and held it.
Leopold leaned closer to one of the paintings. There was something about the way the painter used color and light that repulsed him. Even the portrait of a ship on a storm tossed sea was sinister. The way the artist had painted the scene hinted that all was lost for the vessel and its frantic crew.
He shuddered. If his cousin had chosen to surround himself with visions such as these, then his mind was of a far darker character than he had seemed on the surface. He tried to imagine Mercy married to his cousin and failed. Edwin, with his weakness and quieter watchful nature, would have dampened Mercy’s fire, her joyous character, and her smiles. What had life been like for her after she’d conceived? Had his cousin known that Leopold had shared Mercy’s bed? Had he treated her kindly after that night?
He shook his head. He might never know. He couldn’t ask without revealing more than he should, but wishing for answers might drive him mad. Mercy seemed to have suffered no lasting hurt from their past encounter. She’d gained a son that she loved, an heir for the duchy, and appeared happy enough with life. All he could be was a mild diversion from a life of order and duty to the boy. The life of a proper duchess held no room for him.
When he went away, she’d be just the same. He sighed. He had a lot to do before he could leave Romsey. He had an estate to bring to order. There was much to be done yet. Today he would see the upper dams breached and get on with the business of assessing the farms. Later, he would straighten the study and find out what else lay hidden here.
After a quick change of clothes, he headed down to the stables. The grooms appeared startled to see him about so early but quickly saddled his horse. “There you are, Mr. Randall. It’s a fine horse you have there,” the older groom observed.
“He’s an energetic animal.” Leopold squinted, trying to recall the fellow’s name from yesterday’s interviews. He looked familiar, but Leopold couldn’t remember seeing him yesterday with the other servants. He guessed his age to be about ten years his senior. “Have we met?”
The older man smiled sadly. “Long time ago now. You’ve grown a fair bit since those days. Call me, Allen. Everyone does.”
Leopold struck out his hand and they shook. Yet he couldn’t remember an Allen from his past. He must have lived around here all those years ago and taken up duties on the estate. Eventually, Leopold would remember where he knew him from but for now he had work to do.
Leopold patted his horse’s nose. “I’ll need a few men to meet me at the upper dam in half an hour.”
Allen issued orders and the grooms scurried to obey. Horses were saddled and, to Leopold’s surprise, Allen and two lanky young boys joined him. Allen waved them closer. “My sons; Jacob and David.”
Leopold nodded, but he was curious about these two as well. Who the hell were they? He hadn’t met them before either.
Spine prickling with unease, Leopold set off for the high fields and the dams he needed to inspect, keeping one eye on his company. They rode well, very well for ordinary servants but did not speak or offer up any conversation.
When they reached the dams, Leopold dismounted and surveyed the area. There were three holding dams staggered beside the watercourse, ready to divert water to where it was most wanted. Each was plentiful enough that they could feed the parched fields below. All he needed to do was deepen the spillway set into the side of the structure for a steady flow and let gravity do the rest. He chose the lowest dam but was disgusted with the growth of weeds and silt blocking the spillway. This would take all day to clear.
“No need to get your hands dirty, Mr. Randall. That’s what I brought my boys for.” Allen waved them forward. “Lads, open her up and let the water out at a slow rate. We don’t want a rush.”
Leopold stepped back as the two young men went at the weeds enthusiastically. Before long, they were covered in muck but had the spillway clear and were slowly digging out soil. Water rushed out in a murky wave, swirling around their feet and splashing their legs on its way down the hill.
“Careful there,” Leopold called anxiously. He didn’t want anyone accidentally swept away if the dam burst.
Allen barked a laugh. “They can swim like fishes, that pair. Unlike some Randall devils I could name.”
A cold wave of recognition swept over Leopold and he spun about. “You can’t be that Allen.”
Allen moved away, spoke to his sons in a low tone, and when they moved off, he turned back to Leopold. “No?” His eyebrow rose. “Who am I then that the likes of you would know me?”
Whispers. Lies. Scandal.
Leopold tightened his hand on the rein
s, peering at the face before him, changing it, making the other man younger. His breath caught. This place was alive with the sins of the past. It was all there when he looked hard enough: the family resemblance. “I remember now. You’re the duke’s other son. First son,” he whispered. The one his parents had known about and spoken of in hushed tones. With everything that had happened in the last ten years, Leopold had forgotten this one small detail. What else had he forgotten?
Allen raised his finger. “Unacknowledged son, if you don’t mind. Father could hardly look at me once he had his heir.”
Despised illegitimate brother, if Leopold remembered correctly. Mercy’s husband had hated him simply because he existed and had been born first—not that he could inherit.
“My father accepted you into his house when you came to call.”
“More fool him. Befriending me did not do him any good in the end, now did it?” Allen mounted his horse with a groan. “My boys know nothing of that connection. I’d take it kindly if you don’t speak of the matter again.”
Leopold swung up into the saddle, too. “Then why are you here at Romsey, cousin?”
A sad smile crossed the older man’s face as he looked back toward the abbey. “For all his faults, the duke kept a fine stable. Can’t let the horses suffer under the duchess’ ignorance of the beasts.”
“Does she know?” Had she lied to him all along about her knowledge of the Randall’s whereabouts?
“Of course not. What would I say? If my father had done the decent thing and married my poor, penniless mother, then I’d be duke rather than her son.” Allen snorted. “What good would that do? I’ve no wish to be despised. It is better she not know.”
“The duchess might surprise you,” Leopold warned. Hell, she surprised Leopold every day. What would she say about an illegitimate relation living on the estate? Leopold doubted very strongly she’d react in the expected way.
“Leave matters as they are. I’m content in the stables with the horses and my boys. Better you in the abbey, minding your p’s and q’s before the duchess’ sister, than me. A sad, queer one her sister. I don’t envy any man the time spent in her presence.”
He moved off, following after his sons, leaving Leopold gaping at the idea that another Randall, if not one so named or acknowledged, had come home to Romsey. Edwin had more family living at Romsey Abbey than he would ever realize. A shame Allen and his sons wouldn’t be known for who they really were.
Perhaps, before he left Romsey, he could tell Mercy about Allen without giving his name at first. He would see how she took to the idea that the old duke had an illegitimate son living in the area. Perhaps he could smooth the way by mentioning he worked on the estate. It would be good to know that Edwin wasn’t alone here when he left. It would be better if his cousin could care for the boy more than the horses.
~ * ~
Mercy opened her eyes. The room was quiet about her. Too quiet. Was she alone in her bed again? She glanced left to the space beside her where Leopold had rested his head, but no sign of her midnight lover remained. He had slipped from her bed quietly sometime during the early morning and she missed the reassurance of his presence.
She slapped her hand to her face as memories of last night surfaced. Leopold’s bold demands for her surrender had inflamed her. She had unashamedly begged him for more. She’d thought he might consume her with his passions. He hadn’t hidden how much he’d desired her and, even now, she wanted his hands on her skin, making her cry out, making her feel desirable and wanted once more.
Although the hour was still early, Mercy sat up, holding the sheet tightly across her bare chest. Her maid would be along in a little while but she had much to decide now that her attraction to Leopold was out in the open between them. She had to determine how much to tell him about the threats plaguing her and Edwin. Would he want to help her sort out the mess, or would he turn tail and leave?
Well, she’d never know until she spoke to him and to do that she’d better be wearing more than nothing.
She flung off the bedding and reached for her nightgown. The soft silk caressed her skin and Mercy blinked at how such a mundane action affected her. Would every touch of silk remind her of Leopold’s caresses? If so, her day would be an unending torment of unfulfilled desire. She’d have to capture Leopold’s attention somehow. She’d enjoy seducing him again if she could.
Feeling buoyed by her success last night, Mercy rang for her maid to come and dress her. But she was anxious to see Leopold and determined to kiss him again, too, if she could arrange it. What a talented mouth that man had. He had made her wanton with his very first smile.
While she completed her toilette, she ignored her maid’s inspection of her unlaced corset flung to the far reaches of the room. The girl must be wondering how she’d set herself free last night because they’d joked before about the inescapable garment. Leopold was correct; she had to take care to keep any affair between them hidden, even if she suspected the feat beyond her. She would not like Leopold to feel uncomfortable for wanting her. She couldn’t have the servants gossiping.
As she sat at her writing table sipping hot chocolate and eating corners of toast, she focused on the threatening letters.
The first had arrived during the summer, a bare month after her husband’s death. That first day after the steward’s hasty departure, trying to fathom the order of the ducal study, had worn her nerves to the quick. But she’d set herself the task of taking charge of the estate then, and that meant keeping abreast of the many invitations and letters of condolence sent to her each day.
She had dismissed the letter as a joke until she noticed another. The two letters, penned in the same hand and sharing the same threatening tone, had startled her. Then, as she’d uncovered more unopened correspondence of the same ilk tucked behind the estate ledgers, her worries had compounded. Those earlier threats seemed real, but the taunting lacked urgency.
Of late, though, she sensed the writer of these awful notes coming closer, his mind resolved to punish Edwin for the affront of being the Duke of Romsey. But he was just a boy. He’d done no harm to anyone.
A knock sounded on the door and Mercy acknowledged the knock immediately and invited whomever it was to come in. But then she froze. Should she be so careless now? Her breath whooshed from her lungs in relief as her son’s night guard opened the door for Edwin. As he raced across the chamber to her, Mercy resolved to change her habits. She should not answer the doors unprepared anymore. She must exercise better care in the future.
Edwin climbed into her lap and kissed her cheek. “You’re awake!”
Mercy tickled his belly until he giggled. “Of course I am. It’s only you who sleep the day away. Have you eaten yet?”
He nodded vigorously. “Cook made apple puffs. Does Mr. Randall like apple puffs?”
Mercy smoothed his dark hair back from his eyes. “I’m not sure. Perhaps we should go find him and ask. Would you like that?”
“Yes. But he’s already gone out on his horse to ride the estate. Cook said so. He knows everything.”
Mercy laughed. One day, Edwin would be the one to know everything, not cook. “Ah, well, Mr. Randall is a busy man. He’s going to help us with Romsey so we better not be too sad about it. Perhaps we could ask him later. I was hoping you might like to take a picnic this afternoon. Would you enjoy that?”
Edwin squealed with excitement. “Yes, yes. Could cook make us chicken sandwiches and gingerbread? Can we play hide and seek, too? Can we invite Mr. Randall?”
Mercy laughed. “Yes, my love. We can do all of that. Now let us visit cook and Wilcox to see what needs to be arranged.”
As she caught up her son’s hand, she decided to come clean to Leopold about everything today at the picnic, if he could be persuaded to come. She’d tell him about the letters and gruesome gifts left in her bedchamber. A picnic setting should be perfect for such a disclosure. Out in the open, where no one could hear her fears.
CHAPTER F
IFTEEN
There was something to be said of the thrill of conducting an affair when you know it would only lead to ruin. But there was also the intense frustration of not being able to have what he wanted—when he wanted it—that tempted him to throw propriety out the window.
Leopold pushed a pile of old invitations aside and threw his quill away in disgust. He was acting like a green boy. But once tasted, he could not get the yearning for Mercy out of his mind. He shifted in his chair, adjusting his trousers to accommodate the sudden surge of desire that the thought of her passion aroused. She was quite simply a woman made for loving. Uninhibited. Free of any false artifice. Mercy’s come-hither looks were driving him mad.
Even now, with a pile of work between them, she tempted him to whisk her away to somewhere more private and make her cry out in ecstasy. He’d used every trick he knew last night to keep her aroused and pleasured without his cock buried inside her too often. But there were limits to what a man could deny himself and those limits could be breached.
Across the room, Mercy sat in carefree abandon, reading a document he’d thrust at her. The investment proposal had merit and should at least be given some serious consideration. However, all Leopold could think of at that moment was kissing away the frown lines on her forehead.
As if sensing his regard, her gaze rose. “This is utter gibberish to me. You decide.” Mercy tossed the pages onto the desk and groaned.
Leopold snatched them up and straightened the sheets. “I cannot do that and you know it, Your Grace. If you would just read through the second page again you can see the terms and expected return on your investment. However, I would suggest further investigation into the business affairs and principal operators before committing any funds to the project. If it is as good as it appears, the investment could be very lucrative.”
Mercy stood and so did Leopold. Another frown marred her forehead. “An investigation? Would my temporary advisor handle such matters for me personally?”
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