Mistress of Merrivale

by Shelley Munro

  “Jocelyn?”

  “Yes?”

  “Take care with Peregrine.” He’d confront his worries—his jealousy—instead of ignoring the situation as he’d done with Ursula.

  She cocked her head, the sun glinting on her red hair and turning it to flame. “I hate to say this, but your neighbors lack manners. Peregrine is a child, although he probably wouldn’t thank me for saying so.”

  “What happened?” The fire in her eyes darted a frisson of heat to his groin, and memories of the previous night added to the warmth. She was incredible, and he’d been looking forward to the coming evening.

  “Hannah attempted to usurp my place as hostess, and Peregrine kept speaking to my breasts,” she snapped.

  Her distaste went a long way to soothing his distrust. “I hope you managed to put her in her place.” Melburn had told him she was loyal, but while he’d nodded at the information and professed himself glad, he was finding it difficult to deal with reality. Jocelyn mightn’t have beauty, but men responded to her easy, friendly manner and her shapely form. They looked at her hair and translated it to a sensual nature.

  “I didn’t resort to rudeness,” Jocelyn said. “It’s a tricky situation because they’re Cassie’s aunt and uncle.”

  “There was a time when Hannah and I discussed marriage.” Leo winced, surprised he’d admitted this.

  “What happened?”

  “Her younger sister happened,” he said drily. “I hadn’t met Ursula since we were children. I’d been away at school and spent time with Melburn in London. Ursula and I met at a Christmas ball and ended up getting married mere weeks later.” Leo watched Jocelyn the entire time, but her expression didn’t so much as flicker.

  “I see.”

  Leo doubted Jocelyn’s understanding. Ursula had fooled him with the skill of an expert loo player. “I’d better get back to work. I ran across the vicar, and he invited us to dinner. I thought I’d better give you notice.”

  “Thank you. I look forward to dinner.”

  “You’ll like the vicar and his wife. I always enjoy their company.”

  Jocelyn gripped his arm suddenly. “Is that a sheep?” she asked in a whisper.

  Leo turned slowly to face the direction she indicated, but saw nothing.

  “Bother. It’s gone,” Jocelyn said. “I don’t think it was a sheep, but I can’t swear it was a person either. I caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye. It was near the oak tree with the stump in front. Do you see it?”

  “Go back to your flower picking,” Leo said. “I’ll check before returning to help the farm hands.” He leaned close to steal a kiss then turned on his heel and strode away. The weight of a stare at his back brought a grin, and he put an extra swagger in his step. When he didn’t let his jealousy get to him, his wife made him happy. A good start to their marriage.

  The dinner with the vicar and his wife turned out to be a pleasant experience, and Jocelyn found herself liking Vicar Allenby and his wife. The vicar enjoyed his food, being rotund in shape. A yellowed wig covered his head and sat off-center. By contrast, Mrs. Allenby was tall and angular, her pale blue eyes bright with intelligence. Her artfully arranged dark hair was streaked with gray. Although they were older, conversation passed easily between the couples.

  The vicar and Leo spoke of farming, the mines and village matters while Mrs. Allenby nattered to Jocelyn about the village and the sewing circle, which was currently making children’s clothes for an orphanage in Tavistock.

  “Would you like to join?” Mrs. Allenby asked. “And perhaps your mother too?”

  “My mother isn’t well,” Jocelyn said, fighting to keep regret at bay because socializing with other women was something her mother had always enjoyed in the past. “But perhaps she could stitch some articles at the manor?”

  “Splendid,” Mrs. Allenby said.

  The two men stood. “I’m off to show Leo the new books I purchased in Tavistock,” the vicar said. With the advance of the night and numerous drinks, the vicar’s wig had drifted askew, and he now had a lopsided appearance.

  Mrs. Allenby’s eyes twinkled. “I know you’re off to taste the brandy that appeared at the doorstep three nights ago. Don’t be too long.”

  “You can use the time to gossip,” the vicar shot back. “You don’t require our presence for that.”

  Laughing, Mrs. Allenby made shooing motions with her hands and the men departed.

  “Have you met Viscount Hartscombe’s son and daughter?” Mrs. Allenby asked.

  “Yes.” Jocelyn abhorred gossip, a remnant of the horrid days after her father died. “They seem pleasant.” She managed to get the words out without choking.

  “Hartscombe and his viscountess are lovely, although they don’t spend much time in Dartmoor. Hartscombe prefers the pleasures of the Continent these days. He’s very interested in ancient civilizations and the viscountess travels with him. It will be lovely to see them at the party. I presume you’re attending?”

  Tension eased from Jocelyn. “Yes, I’m looking forward to meeting everyone. Tell me about the village,” she prompted, eager to learn more of her new home.

  Mrs. Allenby’s brow crinkled, and a heavy sigh escaped. “Normally I’d say the village is a lovely place to live, but since the murders…” She trailed off, worry making her appear much older. “I suspect you’ve heard about them.”

  “A little, but I wasn’t sure if the gossip was exaggerated.”

  “I’m afraid not. First poor Ursula was discovered strangled down by the river, and a few weeks ago a maid who disappeared from Hartscombe was found in the maze at Merrivale.”

  “Do they have any suspects?”

  Mrs. Allenby grimaced. “A lot of people are saying your husband is the murderer.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jocelyn burst out, aghast that anyone would think Leo capable of the crime. Thoughts careened through her mind, so rapid they tripped over one another. She shook her head. “No, not Leo. I can’t believe it of him.”

  Mrs. Allenby reached over to pat Jocelyn’s hand. “Of course not, but I’m afraid the facts point in his direction.”

  “What is the evidence?” Jocelyn demanded, anger replacing her initial shock.

  Sympathy chased across Mrs. Allenby’s face as she hesitated.

  “Tell me. I’d rather hear it from you. Please, don’t let me enter a social situation unprepared.”

  Mrs. Allenby gave an unhappy sigh but acquiesced with Jocelyn’s plea. “Witnesses saw Leo and Ursula fighting the evening before they discovered her body.”

  “But—”

  Mrs. Allenby held up her hand, and Jocelyn cut off her objection. “Captain Cartwright, the parish constable, questioned Leo. Of course, Leo denied everything. One of the shepherds saw Ursula early the following morning with two men. They never identified the men. Ursula was discovered a few hours later, and the authorities released Leo.”

  Jocelyn found herself shaking her head. No, she couldn’t believe Leo was a murderer. “And the other murder?”

  “I’m afraid the disappearance of the maid who worked at Castle Hartscombe is a mystery. No one knows what happened to her, but there is no doubt she was found at Merrivale. The village is awash with speculation.”

  Not good. No wonder Leo was so insistent on her taking a footman with her during every outing. “Everyone suspects Leo.”

  Mrs. Allenby patted her hand again. “I’m afraid so. Those of us who know Leo understand the accusations are nonsense, but unfortunately this doesn’t stop gossip. The best thing you can do is stand at his side, your head held high and smile.”

  “I can do that.” After all, she’d had lots of practice at pretending everything was right in her world.

  Once home, Leo and Jocelyn hurried inside to escape the chill of the evening air. Leo’s hand sat warmly on her hip, his arm curved around her waist as he escorted her up the stairs. At her chamber doorway, he paused, his arm slipping away. She missed his touch immediately.


  “Why don’t you join me once you’re ready for bed?” His eyes glowed with banked lust, firing an answering call in her. Her breasts developed a sensual heaviness and desire tugged low in her quim.

  Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lower lip as she stared up at him. “I’ll do that.”

  “Good.” His fingers stroked across her cheek for an instant before he turned away. “I’ll see you soon.”

  The firm click of a door closing broke the spell he’d cast with a few words and a mere touch. She blinked then reached for the door of her room with a flash of anticipation. How could anyone suspect this man was a murderer? She knew his cousin and trusted him implicitly. Leo had shown such kindness to her mother. No, she’d never believe the vicious gossip circulating the village.

  She found Susan asleep in a chair, waiting for her return, and chagrin filled her. She hadn’t thought to tell her maid not to wait up for her.

  “Susan.” She shook the girl gently, not wanting to scare her.

  Two candles flickered on the dresser, highlighting the lack of cherubs. Although the room wasn’t yet to her taste, the removal of knickknacks and the pink curtains was a vast improvement. Mrs. Green had ordered the airing of some of the stored bed linens and promised they’d be ready the next day. Jocelyn nodded with approval, enjoying putting her stamp on the manor.

  The girl was in a deep sleep, and she hated to wake her. “Susan.” Jocelyn spoke louder this time.

  The maid’s eyes flew open. A sharp squeak escaped her before she came fully to her senses. “Mrs. Sherbourne? I’m so sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”

  “Susan, you shouldn’t have waited up for me.”

  “It’s my job, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Susan’s broad accent wrapped around her stiff, affronted words as she stood. “Would you like me to remove your gown and brush out your hair?”

  “Yes, please,” Jocelyn said. Her maid acted as if she’d insulted her when all she’d wanted was to save her work. She stood still while Susan unfastened her garments and removed layers of silk. Jocelyn presented her back and Susan worked on her stays. Finally, Jocelyn stood in only her stockings and chemise.

  “Take a seat, Mrs. Sherbourne.”

  Meekly, Jocelyn sat and half an hour later, Susan finished with her hair.

  “Would you like me to help you with your stockings?”

  “No, thank you, Susan. That will be all for tonight. Good night.”

  “Goodnight, Mrs. Sherbourne.”

  When the door closed behind her maid, Jocelyn allowed herself a wry smile. Susan took her position seriously and was determined to do a good job. Jocelyn would need to quell her independent ways and become used to letting her maid do everything for her.

  “Jocelyn?” Leo appeared at the connecting door to their chambers.

  “I’m almost ready. I need to take off my stockings.”

  “I’ll do it for you.”

  Jocelyn beamed. “Let me blow out the candles.”

  “Go and wait for me. I’ll take care of the candles.”

  Jocelyn padded through the connecting door and sat on Leo’s bed. Leo followed her, mere seconds later, closing the door behind him. He prowled nearer in the way of a beast, yet she didn’t experience alarm. He blew out one of the two candles lighting his chamber, enclosing them in a bubble of intimacy.

  “Why don’t you have a valet?”

  “I did, but he ran away with one of the parlor maids. Stay right there,” he instructed, parting her legs a fraction so he could kneel comfortably in front of her.

  Her breath caught, a warm glow suffusing her limbs. When she started to get dizzy, she gasped in air to combat her breathlessness.

  Leo chuckled, his amusement bringing a wash of heat to her cheeks. “After he disappeared, I decided to do without a valet.”

  “Oh.” It was difficult to concentrate with Leo’s fingers trailing over the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

  “You like red stockings?”

  “I like red, yet it’s difficult to find a shade of red that suits me.”

  Amusement glowed in his dark eyes, the corners of his lips twitching a fraction as he reached for a lock of her hair and gently tugged. “Red is my new favorite color.”

  “You are in a minority, I fear.”

  “Their loss.” He released her hair to yank at her garter. Soon he was sliding woolen fabric down her calf. After a pause to place a kiss on the skin he revealed, he removed and tossed her stocking aside. Every inch of skin he touched turned tingly. His contact might be innocent, yet they both knew where this would lead. The other stocking followed the first. Leo stood and held out his hand to her. “Time to remove your chemise.”

  Once she was naked, he swooped her off her feet and set her in the middle of the mattress. He dropped his robe on the floor, allowing her a glimpse of his muscular body and rampant erection before he blew out the last candle, plunging the room into darkness.

  Clouds skittered across the night sky, obscuring the moon for long minutes before racing off again and allowing dull light to pierce the darkness. The faint sound of chanting carried on the breeze, low and harmonious and out of place in the moor.

  The man stood on the hill, surveying the scene below, watching for oddities. Deep shadows, cast from the ruined abbey, made it difficult for him to survey the scene, but nothing odd captured his attention. When clouds drifted across the moon again, he made his way down the hill, leading his horse behind him. His cape swirled in the puffs of wind, and his footfalls remained cautious in the darkness.

  A woman’s scream rang out. High and ear-piercing, it made the hair at the back of his neck rise. His mount danced a few steps, and he reached out to soothe the beast. “Steady, boy,” he said in a low voice.

  He paused to listen and could discern only normal sounds of the night. As he neared, it was easier to see the outline of the ruins, left when Henry the Eighth had ordered many of the country’s monasteries destroyed.

  The woman screamed again, and he frowned. They should have waited until they’d entered the secret crypt to start the ceremony. Anyone could hear her, and that was all they needed. One nosy person, a farmer tending his flock, and their sweet setup here at the abbey would cease.

  Hastening his pace, he led his horse to the shelter of a lean-to. Disguised from public scrutiny, it already contained four horses. One nickered in welcome, and he covered his own horse’s muzzle with his hand in a sign for his mount to remain silent. He didn’t think anyone had followed him, but he had to take care to minimize the risk. After one final scan of his surroundings, he retrieved a candle from within the temporary stable. He lit the wick while his mind wandered over the last two months—the good and the bad.

  Placing the body in the maze had been a mistake.

  It cast suspicion, distrust he could do without at present. No, it wasn’t time. Not yet.

  He picked his way through the ruins, stepping more confidently now that he carried illumination to light his path. He wove past pillars and crumbling walls, striding deeper into the old abbey.

  They’d left the secret chamber open for him, which made his progress rapid. Once through the door, he took care to seal the doorway, shutting him away in gloom, only pierced by his flickering candle. He stalked down a long passage. The downward slope took him deeper into the earth, the rush of the nearby river becoming louder.

  The monks had left a convenient legacy, perfect for their needs.

  A scream, much weaker this time, rang through the dark. It was a pity he’d had other prior business. His loins tightened at the promise of the evening to come. He looked forward to the entertainment and relieving the tensions of his day.

  An abrupt noise jerked Jocelyn from sleep. For an instant she froze, her heart pounding as she attempted to make sense of whatever had awakened her. Mother? She strained to hear, tension seeping from her muscles when she couldn’t discern the frantic screeches that signaled a mad fit from her parent. Not her mother then. Feeling more alert, she rolle
d over to find an empty space where she’d expected Leo.

  Puzzled, she slipped from bed and strode to the window. She jerked the curtain aside to stare down at the gardens. A flash of movement caught her attention.

  Leo? Squinting didn’t aid with identification. She watched until the figure disappeared from sight, before the cold morning sent her fleeing to her bed.

  Something amiss in the stables perhaps. Jocelyn tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, fatigue weighing down her limbs. She must have dozed off at some stage because she woke to daylight streaming through the window.

  Susan arrived with her tea. “Here you go, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Instead of her normal competence, her lips quivered and her hands trembled so much splatters of liquid sloshed over the rim of the porcelain cup.

  “Whatever is wrong?”

  Tears welled at her maid’s eyes. One trickled down her cheek, rapidly followed by another. Her shoulders slumped inward, and an audible sob broke free.

  “Susan?”

  “It’s my sister, Ella,” Susan said. “She went for a walk with Gavin, one of the footmen, last night after we finished our duties. They argued, and now Ella is missing. She didn’t return last night.”

  Alarm shot through Jocelyn. “Has someone talked to Gavin?” Surely this was a misunderstanding. “Have the grounds been searched?”

  Susan gave a miserable nod and another tear rolled down her cheek. “Some of the servants are saying Ella has run away, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do anything without telling me she was leaving.”

  “Help me get dressed,” Jocelyn said. “Has Leo been informed?”

  “No one can find him.”

  A chill skipped down Jocelyn’s torso, but she lifted her chin and grasped for confidence. There was a logical explanation for Leo leaving his bed in the small hours of the morning, a good reason for his absence now.

  Jocelyn hurriedly dressed. “Leave the tidying,” she said, when Susan started to right the bed. “You’ll feel much better if you’re helping to search. We’ll consult with Woodley.”