Mistress of Merrivale

by Shelley Munro

  Dedication

  For Hollie Glover—thanks so much for reading the first drafts of this book and offering me hope.

  Special thanks to my wonderful editor, Holly Atkinson. You are a treasure, and I value you highly.

  And finally, for Paul. Thanks for always believing in me.

  Chapter One

  London, 1758

  “M-married?” Jocelyn Townsend clamped her hands in her lap and frantically sought the right words for the occasion. “Congratulations.”

  Tobias Sherbourne, the Earl of Melburn, beamed. Happiness lit his craggy face, taking it from ordinary to compelling. His eyes sparkled, the bright blue emphasized by his snowy white wig. “I’ve offered for the Neville girl.”

  “I wish you happy, Melburn.” Jocelyn’s spine pressed against the back of the damask sofa, the squeeze of her stays grounding her again. Gossip and rumors had circulated for months now. Yes, she’d known Melburn’s declaration would come, but hearing it still hurled her into panic. She wanted to vent her frustration for everyone to witness, but of course, she didn’t. Her mother was the only person who shrieked in this household.

  She picked up the teapot. “Tea? Or would you prefer something stronger?”

  “Brandy, please.” Melburn straightened from his casual lean against the mantle.

  A raucous feminine screech pierced the air and tea sloshed from the spout. Jocelyn sighed inwardly, forcing her smile to remain intact while she set the china pot down. Not again. “Perhaps we would both benefit from something stronger.”

  She rose and maneuvered her skirts around her mahogany table and a square-backed chair to ring for a maid. The high-pitch scream repeated, louder and closer to the parlor. Jocelyn flinched, shooting a pained look at the closed door.

  On her return, Melburn took possession of the seat opposite her, his large frame dwarfing the delicate furniture. “How is your mother?”

  One would think the ear-piercing shrieks were nothing out of the ordinary, given his calm demeanor but, after two years as her protector, her mother’s peculiarities no longer disturbed him.

  A maid appeared, and Jocelyn relayed her request for a bottle of brandy and two glasses. It mightn’t be the thing for a woman to drink strong spirits, yet if ever there was a time for her to imbibe, it was tonight. The maid’s face blanked, although she curtseyed in acquiescence and hurried off to complete her errand.

  “My mother is having a bad turn. She insists someone is watching the house and spying on us.” It was a relief to share the latest drama with Melburn.

  “Have you investigated to allay her concerns?”

  Jocelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “We have been more vigilant than usual. I haven’t noticed anyone suspicious and neither has Woodley or Tilly, but Mother is steadfast in her charges.”

  Her butler and her mother’s nurse were equally adamant no one lurked in the alley outside their Cork Street house. While it wasn’t the best location in London, a night watchman patrolled the surrounding streets, and lamps chased away most of the gloomy shadows once evening fell.

  The maid returned with a tray bearing the requested brandy.

  “Would you like to adjourn to the bedroom, Melburn?”

  “No, Jocelyn. I—”

  Jocelyn leaned closer and covered his hand with hers, halting his refusal. “It’s a love match. I understand.” His bergamot and spice scent washed over her, familiar and comforting. He was a good man and a spurt of envy chased through her. Silently, she acknowledged her loss and the difficulties she’d experience in finding another protector of his caliber—someone she could trust not to abuse her.

  “Ashleigh is a wonderful woman. I wouldn’t see her hurt by spiteful gossip.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from you. It was a lucky day for me when you won me from Boynton.” And even better he’d become a friend as well as her lover.

  Melburn’s eyes narrowed. “The man is a brute. The minute I saw the bruise on your cheek, my course of action was clear. Besides”—the tension in his upper body eased—“I like your red hair.” He reached over to tug on an unfashionable red ringlet, grinning at her like an errant boy.

  “Thank you.” Her words acknowledged far more than the compliment. He’d rescued her from a bad situation and, for that, she’d always be grateful. She poured a measure of brandy and handed it to him before taking a smaller portion for herself. An abrupt ear-piercing shriek right outside the parlor made her wince. “Perhaps I should attend to my mother.”

  Melburn set his glass on the mahogany table. “Let me. I’ll take a lantern and check outside in the alley. Help set her mind to rest.”

  Reality crashed over Jocelyn as she watched him stride from the parlor and disappear into the hall, the door shutting behind him. This really was the end of their relationship. She’d miss his caring ways and passionate lovemaking. The Neville girl was lucky, and Jocelyn tamped down her envy. She fingered her gold locket and fought her growing agitation. A shiver crawled down her spine when she considered a search for a new protector.

  No one could call her beautiful, and the last thing she wanted was to make another mistake, yet time would be of the essence because living in London was expensive. She was certain Melburn would give her a parting gift, yet even so, she’d have to tighten her purse strings until she found a suitable replacement.

  The rise and fall of an emotional diatribe pierced the door. Jocelyn sipped her brandy and pulled a face at the harsh bite. At least the burn pierced the chill inhabiting her body. Her mother’s crying ceased, and a reassuring masculine voice filled the silence. She couldn’t decipher the words but knew Melburn would offer comfort. It was his way. The respite allowed Jocelyn to ponder her predicament. Even if she located a protector, finding one who accepted her mother’s presence would prove nigh on impossible.

  She could approach her sisters… No, Georgina and Charlotte barely acknowledged her these days. They wanted to send their mother to Bedlam. Jocelyn hated to think of her one remaining parent incarcerated in the hospital, treated like an entertaining exhibit for those who possessed the price of admission. Her mind raced, attempting to fashion a workable solution. She drank more brandy, allowing the spirit to chase away her growing disquiet.

  Ten minutes later, the door opened, and the earl entered the parlor. His cheeks were ruddy from the nippy spring evening.

  “Did you discover anything unusual?” Jocelyn asked.

  “Not apart from an old tomcat lurking in the alley. I informed your mother of my findings.” He sent her a rueful grin. “She decided she’d scared the spy away with her warning cries.”

  “Thank you.” Another burst of fancy on her mother’s part.

  Melburn sat again, a man with something on his mind, given the way he darted a searching look at her and toyed with his brandy. “What will you do now?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll look for your replacement.” She pulled a face, then let him know she bore no malice by adding a smile. After all, their involvement was basically a business proposition. She’d offered the use of her body in exchange for his financial support. The easy camaraderie between them had come as a bonus. “It won’t be easy to find someone who suits my situation.”

  “I might have an answer to your problem.” He hesitated as if he was unsure about his solution.

  “Tell me. I’d like to think we’re at least friends after all this time.”

  Melburn paused a fraction longer before appearing to come to a decision. “My cousin, Leo Sherbourne, requires a wife.”

  A shocked gasp escaped her. “But I’m a courtesan. I—”

  “You’re not a courtesan by choice.”

  “Well, no but—”

  “Think abou
t it. Marrying Leo would give you an opportunity to start afresh.”

  Most men wanted to distance themselves from their ex-mistresses. Jocelyn frowned at his quiet insistence, questions flying through her mind. “I see the benefits for me, but what about your cousin? What does he gain from such a match? Why would you want me to join your family? What if your betrothed learns of our shared history?”

  “Leo lost his wife last year. He has a daughter, and he finds himself in want of a wife.”

  Jocelyn’s brows rose. “Surely he could hire a nursemaid?”

  “There are unusual circumstances that make a wife the better solution.”

  “What unusual circumstances?” Jocelyn wasn’t sure she liked Melburn thrusting her into the middle of a mystery. “How can I make a decision if you don’t give me the full facts?”

  “Jocelyn, it’s not my story to tell. I’m merely acting as Leo’s agent in this matter, gauging a sense of your interest. What I can tell you is that my cousin is a good man. He’s trustworthy. He won’t beat or degrade you.”

  The chance of a new start wasn’t something that occurred every day. “What about my mother? Where does your cousin live?”

  “Leo knows of your situation.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant. Is your cousin willing to give my mother his protection?”

  “He wants to meet with you tomorrow morning,” Melburn said. “If you’re agreeable, you can ask your questions then.”

  Jocelyn drank the last of her brandy and set her glass aside. She laughed lightly. “Very well, you wretched man. You’ve piqued my interest with your suggestion, and you know it. I’ll meet with your cousin here at eleven tomorrow morning.”

  Leo Sherbourne halted his agitated pacing when he heard footsteps approaching the library. He ducked into the shadows, squeezed against the book shelves, and faced the door to wait. Melburn was the only person he wished to speak with this evening. If it was someone else, he’d prefer to remain alone.

  The library door burst open. “Leo?”

  Leo stepped into the light cast by the fire and the single candlestick sitting on the corner of a rosewood desk. “Did you see her? Did she agree?”

  “I told you she’d have questions. She wants to see you tomorrow at eleven.” Melburn tossed his cocked hat and cane aside and strode to an oak sideboard to pour two brandies. He handed one to Leo.

  Leo cupped the crystal goblet in his hand and stared into golden liquid. “What sort of questions?”

  “Foremost, she’s worried about her mother, but she wants to know why you’re willing to marry her when you know she’s a courtesan. I think she’s wondering why you’d want to marry your cousin’s cast off, although she didn’t put it into words.”

  Leo’s answer was simple, though not one he intended to broadcast.

  He wanted to send a clear message to Hannah. Despite her assumptions, he had no intention of chaining himself to his first wife’s sister. He wished he could tell her bluntly, but given the circumstances…

  Leo swirled his glass, watching eddies in the brandy with close attention. “You said she’s trustworthy, and I know you said she’s plain, but she doesn’t need to be a beauty. I don’t care about that. Her character is more important than her physical appearance.”

  After his debacle of a marriage, he wanted a woman he could easily control. Yes, this was the best way. He’d walk into a second marriage with a woman beholden to him—one who understood her place.

  “Jocelyn is above all things sensible. I’ve known her for two years, and she’s never done anything to draw attention to herself or our agreement. She’s discreet, and I doubt many people know of our connection. The only time we ever met outside her house was at masquerade balls, and we always left before it was time to unmask. I believe she promised her two older sisters she’d keep a low profile, and she adheres to her pledge. From the little she’s said, her sisters both married minor titles and don’t wish to recall their merchant roots.”

  Leo dropped onto a chair in front of the fireplace and yanked off the cravat he’d disordered hours ago. “Most women in her position would use your alliance for their benefit.”

  “Jocelyn’s not like that. From what I understand, her two older sisters refused to take in their mother when her behavior became erratic. Their father died leaving debts, and they lost their home. Jocelyn was desperate and fell into life as a courtesan. It was the only way she could keep her mother safe and a roof over their heads.” Melburn took possession of the neighboring chair and stared into the flickering flames. “You won’t find fault with her. I told you she’s tall and possesses a pleasing shape. She has bright red hair and lots of freckles, while her eyes are an unusual light blue. If you’re determined to go through with your plan, Jocelyn is the perfect candidate.”

  “You think I’m wrong to want to provide a mother for my daughter? A wife to bring peace to my household?”

  “Of course not,” Melburn said. “It’s what we men want.”

  “The important thing is she has nothing in common with Ursula.” A flicker of distaste swept Leo, the same one that struck whenever anyone mentioned his dead wife.

  “You’ll find Jocelyn is exactly what you search for.” Silence fell, a companionable quiet. Melburn rose to refresh their drinks. “Jocelyn Townsend is a practical woman. As long as you word your proposition carefully, I think she’ll agree to wed you.”

  Leo snorted. “Practical? I’ve yet to meet a woman who isn’t ruled by her emotions.”

  “Not all women are like Ursula.”

  “The ones I’ve met to date are high-strung and anything but peaceful, although I’m sure your betrothed is the exception.” Leo said all that was right to reassure his cousin, but he didn’t believe Melburn. Ursula had been a traitorous bitch, and she’d cuckolded him whenever the opportunity presented itself. Hell, he was pretty sure Cassandra wasn’t his daughter. His first wife had sucked him dry of emotion, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. A mutual marriage of convenience with Melburn’s mistress would give him leverage. He’d forever have the upper hand, and that was exactly what he needed to keep peace in his household.

  At precisely the stroke of eleven, a sharp rap of the door knocker announced a visitor. Jocelyn set her needlework aside and rose. A flutter of nerves stirred as she smoothed her blue skirts and contrasting pale blue petticoats. It made her realize she’d already half-decided to agree to the proposition. She’d always thought she’d marry like her sisters, but fate and her father had set her on a different path. Under normal circumstances, her intuition would propel her to act with vigilance.

  This wasn’t a typical situation.

  Her instincts were shouting “yes” because Mr. Sherbourne was Melburn’s cousin. She trusted the earl, and marriage would solve several of her problems.

  Out in the hall, Woodley’s somber tones greeted her caller. Her hand crept up to smooth over her locket as she wondered for the hundredth time what Mr. Sherbourne would look like and how he’d react to her and her mother. A man who was willing to overlook her past and offer her the security of matrimony was unusual indeed. He’d most likely possess an appearance similar to Melburn. Yes, the resemblance would help Jocelyn to keep her composure and stifle the anxieties that had kept her from slumber last night.

  Woodley tapped on the parlor door and entered. “Mr. Leo Sherbourne to see you.”

  “Show him in, Woodley.” Amazed at her calm voice, she concentrated on presenting a serene front.

  Woodley directed Mr. Sherbourne into the parlor, and she forced her lips to curve upward when she really wanted to gasp aloud.

  Leo Sherbourne was stunningly handsome, his dark eyes piercing and direct. Taller than Melburn, he’d clubbed his midnight black hair in a tail, and this highlighted the stark planes of his face, his olive complexion. Impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit with a pale blue waistcoat embroidered in a deeper blue, he appeared the wealthy gentleman. His choice of color matched her attire perfectly.
A sign, perhaps.

  “Good morning, Mr. Sherbourne.” She finally rediscovered her manners.

  “Miss Townsend.” He regarded her steadily and not a measure of flirtation showed on his features. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” His deep voice caressed her senses, and she stared, mesmerized for an instant. He was…unexpected. Why would he want to take her as his wife? Young misses likely fluttered their eyelashes at him in flirtation, and she imagined older, more experienced women offered to jump into his bed on a regular basis. He didn’t seem like a man who’d experience difficulty in attracting the fairer sex.

  “Please take a seat,” Jocelyn said, her mind twisting and prodding this new development. Her right hand rose to check her cap, and she forced herself to still the self-conscious action. Despite her fidgeting, her cap was likely still straight and hid a large portion of her red hair.

  He waited until she seated herself before taking possession of the same chair his cousin had sat on the previous night.

  “Why are you entertaining marriage with me, given my history?” Jocelyn almost winced at her forthrightness. She caught the flash of surprise in him, the slight narrowing of his eyes then his slow smile. Her heart beat a little faster at his approval. It seemed devastating smiles were one trait borne by both cousins. She found it difficult to focus with his full attention directed at her, almost impossible not to gasp at her physical reaction to his potent masculinity.

  “I have a young daughter and require help with her.”

  “Forgive me, but surely there is no shortage of women willing to accept you as husband.” More candor. This was not the impression she wanted to present, yet she required answers. To her relief, he didn’t take umbrage and merely scrutinized her closely in return.

  “My first marriage wasn’t an enjoyable experience. This time I seek a marriage where both parties know their duty from the beginning and are under no illusion as to how the liaison will proceed—the way I want.”

  Well, he was blunt too. Jocelyn wrenched her gaze from his face and concentrated on her lightly clasped hands. The romantic part of her faded under reality. This wasn’t a love match. She had to remember that, yet the situation was strange. He hadn’t told her everything. There was more. She lifted her head. “Did you beat your wife?”