Before reentering the parlor, she glanced through a window overlooking the garden and saw nothing out of place. Had she imagined the face at the window? Boynton had seemed so real, even down to his carefully tied cravat and elaborately embroidered black waistcoat, his immaculate wig atop a ruddy face. Deep in unhappy thoughts, she returned to join Hannah and Peregrine.
“You don’t want to go to the trouble of organizing the festival,” Hannah said. “Especially not at present. It wouldn’t seem right to have a celebration at Merrivale when you’re… Let’s face it. You’re married to a murderer. Do you want to face the public?”
“Are you taking Cassie out riding?” Jocelyn asked.
“Leo said it’s all right to take out Cassie,” Hannah said, a trifle defensively.
“Hannah will lead Cassie around on the pony,” Peregrine said. “Don’t worry. She’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, Cassie has natural talent. She takes after Ursula with her love of horseflesh.”
“It’s me you need to ask,” Jocelyn said, keeping her voice mild when she wanted to scream with vexation. “Until it is decided otherwise, I am responsible for Cassie’s wellbeing.”
“I—”
“Hannah.” Peregrine squeezed his sister’s shoulder in warning.
“We’ll see about that!” With a backward glare, Hannah ushered Cassie outside, and Jocelyn and Peregrine trailed after them.
Irked by Hannah’s attitude, Jocelyn wished Hannah would quit trying to get one up on her all the time. Now that Leo… She broke off the thought and forced herself to concentrate on Peregrine. “Everyone says Cassie looks a lot like her mother.”
Peregrine laughed. “You’re lucky she doesn’t have the same temper tantrums.”
“Ursula had tantrums?”
“Oh, yes.” Peregrine shook his head ruefully. “If everything was going her way, she was all smiles and charm. The minute someone didn’t do as Ursula wanted, watch out!”
Jocelyn sucked in a quick breath. “What happened to Ursula?”
Peregrine came to an abrupt halt. “What do you mean?”
“How did Ursula die?”
His ever-present smile faded, and he scanned their vicinity before turning back to her.
This was a time for bluntness. “Why do the locals think Leo killed her?”
“She’d been strangled.” The lack of emotion in his voice told of pain. “People heard them arguing only two hours earlier.”
“But no one saw Leo do it. What did Leo say?”
Peregrine’s mouth twisted. “He denied doing it, but of course he’s now in jail awaiting trial.”
Something she couldn’t stop thinking about, her feelings conflicted on the matter. The fact her judgment had failed her so badly. “Do you think he killed Ursula?”
Peregrine avoided her gaze, staring off into the distance instead. Jocelyn’s heart thumped hard against her rib cage. He did. He blamed Leo for Ursula’s death. “Yes,” he said finally.
“What about Hannah? Does she think Leo killed Ursula?”
Once again Peregrine’s silence was telling. Jocelyn puffed out a frustrated breath, angry on her own behalf. She’d never have come to Dartmoor or exposed her mother to this situation if she’d known of Leo’s first wife and her traumatic death. While he might have still tricked her into marriage by professing his innocence, she would have thought twice if she’d had possession of all the facts. Since their marriage, she’d witnessed his icy anger. Added to the facts now she could see why Captain Cartwright had locked him up.
“I’d better join Hannah and Cassie,” Peregrine said.
“Why did you keep visiting Merrivale Manor and seeing Leo if you both thought he was responsible for your sister’s murder?”
Peregrine looked at her then, for the first time since she’d introduced the topic. His eyes blazed with emotions. Fear, definitely. The rest flickered through his eyes too quickly for her to decipher. “We can’t leave Cassie alone with him. What happens if he hurts her? I’m sure he’s just biding his time, waiting for suspicions to lull. Leo is dangerous.”
“I won’t let anything happen to Cassie,” Jocelyn said. “Arabella protected your niece while she was here.”
“Arabella was good with Cassie. That’s the only thing that’s keeping us from taking her,” Peregrine said. “And of course, your presence helps keep Cassie safe.”
Jocelyn stared, conflicting emotions stilling her tongue. This wasn’t a nightmare she could wake up from. All his words rang with truth. He believed Leo had killed his sister.
Chapter Eleven
Jocelyn dawdled over her preparations for bed.
Susan finished deftly braiding her hair. “Will that be all, Mrs. Sherbourne?”
“Yes, thank you, Susan. I’ll see you in the morning.” She reached out to still her maid for an instant. “I’m very sorry about Ella. Please, if there is anything I can do to help you have only to ask.”
Pain flickered over Susan’s face. Her mouth worked before she dipped her head in curt acceptance and withdrew, leaving Jocelyn alone with her nightmare. Leo—a murderer. The evidence was conclusive. After her mistake with Boynton, she’d listened to her instincts and trusted Leo. It was only after her arrival at Merrivale and witnessing his strange behavior that she’d become confused and wondered about his innocence.
The facts remained. Someone had murdered Ursula and the maid. Someone had kidnapped Ella and left her traumatized, her mind addled. If Leo wasn’t the murderer, then who’d committed the crime?
Despite the late hour, restless energy filled her. Perhaps she’d find a book in the library. Jocelyn tightened the belt on her wrapper and left her chamber. Several candles still burned in the wall sconces, and she found her way without difficulty. She scanned the library shelves, searching for a book to pique her interest.
A loud creak made her pause. She cocked her head and heard the distinct scuffle of feet. Her breath caught, her thoughts skipping ahead to murder. She listened for a few seconds longer, trepidation making her indecisive.
Finally Jocelyn gathered her wits and slinked to the door, glad she hadn’t pulled it fully shut. The front door creaked as it opened. Familiar muttering propelled Jocelyn to action.
“Mother, what are you doing out of bed? Where is Tilly?”
“I saw lights outside. Someone is beckoning me. I have to go.” Before Jocelyn could remonstrate, her mother ran outside.
“Mother!”
“W-who goes there?” Somewhere to Jocelyn’s right, a servant called a high-pitched query. The nervous stutter sounded like the youngest footman.
“It’s Mrs. Sherbourne. Summon Woodley and tell him my mother is outside.” Jocelyn dallied no longer. She grabbed the closest pair of boots and thrust her bare feet into them. They were wet inside and too big. Ignoring the damp ooze, she clenched her toes and clomped down the steps into the night. After pausing for precious seconds to listen, she hurried along a gravel path, almost tripping over her feet in her haste. St. Bridget’s nose! She should have taken the time to grab her own footwear.
“Mother!”
A cloud slid across the partial moon. Jocelyn slowed, her progress more tentative now that her vision was obscured. Dew covered the grass and plants, weighting down the hem of her wrapper. A chill slapped her bare ankles with every step.
“Mother!” She bit off a second call, recalling the face she’d seen at the window. She proceeded cautiously, approaching a fork in the path with vigilance. The crisp crunch of a branch underfoot stopped her in her tracks. “Mother?”
A familiar mumble came from the right Ah! “Mother,” Jocelyn said. “You have to come back inside. It’s not safe wandering around in the dark.”
She raced around a corner and plowed into someone. “Oomph!” The air whooshed from her lungs. Hands wrapped around her upper arms like containment cuffs. Squeezing. One hand fastened around her throat. Fingers pressed deep. The scent of horse and a whiff of soap wrapped around her. She fought, lashed out with
her feet. One boot fell off.
“Stop fighting,” a muffled voice snarled.
“Help!” Jocelyn screamed. She wriggled frantically and lashed out with her feet. Her bare foot connected with her captive’s legs and pain radiated up her shin. “Help!”
A loud screech rent the air. Jocelyn turned her head to see something white hurtling toward them. Ghostlike and terrifying, the creature waved its arms and wailed. Abruptly, she was freed, a hand shoving her in the middle of her back. Jocelyn lurched forward, her arms flapping for balance. Her knees collided painfully with the gravel path, her palms striking seconds later. Agony shot through her limbs.
“Ow.” She groaned and slowly pushed herself off her hands and knees.
“Ghost!” A familiar shriek sounded near her ear.
“Mother?” Jocelyn flinched at yet another screech right next to her ear. She grasped her mother’s shoulders and shook her. “Mother, it’s me. For pity’s sake, please stop that infernal racket. You’re deafening me.”
The high-pitched screams halted abruptly. “You’re not a ghost?” Hands patted Jocelyn—her face, her torso. “You’re not a ghost. Georgina, what are you doing outside?”
“It’s Jocelyn, Mother. Georgina is in London.”
“I don’t know any Jocelyn. Where’s Georgina? Or Charlotte? Get Charlotte. She’ll know what to do.”
“Mother, Charlotte and Georgina are both in London with their families.”
A violent tremor swept her mother. “It’s cold out here. I’m cold, Georgina. Cassie said there would be fairies. I wanted to see the fairies dancing.”
“Mother, someone is playing tricks on you. Let me help you back inside. You’ll catch a chill out here.”
“Jocelyn!” a familiar voice yelled.
“Over here,” she shouted.
Seconds later, Woodley appeared on the path. “Are you all right?”
Jocelyn shivered. “Woodley, someone was out here. I don’t know who it was, but Mother frightened him off.”
“Where is Georgina? I want Georgina.” His mother’s querulous voice cut through Jocelyn’s explanations.
“Oh, dear,” Woodley murmured.
“Indeed,” Jocelyn said, sadness engulfing her at the confusion in her mother.
“Come, let me escort you both inside.” Woodley grasped her mother’s arm and assisted her down the path, leaving Jocelyn to fend for herself. Her shoulders slumped as she clomped along in one too-large boot and a bare foot. She longed for a warm bed, and a good night’s rest. Unfortunately, she didn’t think tonight would contain much sleep.
Leo slipped from the shadows under the trees. He didn’t know what to think. Someone was skulking around the manor, and since it was in the middle of the night, their presence didn’t bode well.
After a slow, careful search of the grounds with no sightings, Leo suspected the person had departed. At least Jocelyn was safe. Leo prowled another circuit of the gardens, and once he was satisfied the intruder no longer lurked in the vicinity, he searched for access to the manor. The only door open was the one to the servants’ entrance. With noiseless steps, he slipped inside.
A deep snort drew him up abruptly. A junior footman sat on a chair, his eyes closed and mouth agape. Leo’s arm snaked out to shake him awake, ready to demand an explanation before he thought better of the action. He’d face all sorts of questions if anyone other than Jocelyn saw him. Leo grimaced. He was taking a risk as it was. Cartwright didn’t realize he’d flitted away from his post early, and Leo hoped to return to Cartwright’s residence without the constable realizing he’d gone back on his vow.
Leo crept past, increasing his speed once the slumbering footman was behind him. With the ease of familiarity, he moved up the dimly lit stairs, skipping over the stair second from bottom to avoid a nasty creak. He entered his chamber and closed the door before making his way to the connecting entrance to Jocelyn’s room.
Her flowery scent drifted to him as soon as he stepped inside. His lips curved into a smile as memories drifted through his mind. She wore a dab between her breasts and another behind her ears. He’d discovered that while exploring her body with his mouth. He couldn’t wait to rain kisses on her neck but first…first he had to make sure she didn’t scream bloody murder.
“Jocelyn.” He sat on the edge of her bed and gently shook her shoulder, poised to slap his hand over her mouth if she attempted to shriek. “Jocelyn.”
“What is it? Is it Mother again?” Her voice slurred with fatigue. Her eyes opened, focused, and a thin scream escaped.
Grabbing her, he cut off most of the sharp cry. “It’s Leo. Jocelyn, it’s Leo. Your husband. Don’t scream again. Please.” God, she had to believe in his innocence. “I’m going to take my hand away, but if you scream again, I’ll gag you.” Please don’t scream, sweetheart. “Nod, if you’re willing to talk.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes big and wide.
Watching her warily, he released her.
“Leo, what are you doing here?” She bolted upright, her voice carrying an edge of dread.
Her terror made his chest tighten, his breath catch in regret. How had it come to this? Him, a suspected murderer and his wife afraid of him. “Let me light a candle.” He made short work of the task, relaxing when she didn’t raise the alarm. “I didn’t murder those women, and I had nothing to do with Ella’s disappearance.”
“Then why has Captain Cartwright charged you with the crime?” Her blue eyes accused him, her body tense as if she was poised to flee. “Does Captain Cartwright know you’ve escaped?”
Disappointment coursed through him, and he scarcely contained his wince. She didn’t believe him. “He knows I’m not guilty.”
“If that’s the case why have you been taken into custody?”
Leo sighed. “I can’t tell you.”
“That’s convenient,” Jocelyn said.
Despite his frustration, Leo fought a flash of humor. Jocelyn’s straightforward approach was refreshing, and it was part of the reason he liked her so much. The rationale for offering her marriage, despite her past. “I can’t stay past dawn,” he said instead of expressing his delight in her.
“Why are you here?”
“I came to see my wife.” Leo caught her gaze with his. “I came to make love with her.”
“I—you’re meant to be in jail.”
Her clipped response wasn’t reassuring, but tonight would not go the same way as the previous evenings. Jocelyn was his wife, and they could have a good marriage. She enjoyed their bed sport and could hardly refute it. Still watching her, he stood and started to disrobe. Her eyes widened a fraction, but she didn’t call out or speak. Instead her blue gaze followed his progress, skimming his chest then lowering to stare at his engorged cock.
“This isn’t right.” She glowered at him, her mouth in a mulish set that reminded him of Elizabeth. “I don’t want this.”
“Because you believe I am guilty of murder.”
“Yes.”
“On the night of Ursula’s death she and I argued. I was so angry I returned to the party at Hartscombe. I spent the rest of the evening with a woman.”
“Who?”
“I can’t give you her name. I don’t want to harm her reputation.”
“Huh! A plausible excuse, I’m sure.” Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, leaving them glistening in the candlelight.
Naked, he closed the distance between them. At the edge of the bed, he halted, meeting her glower with one of his own. “You can shriek for help or you can spend a few hours with me.”
“Trust you?”
“Yes.” He sat on the edge of the bed and, unable to resist, tugged lightly on her fiery red braid. “Is that so difficult?”
She nibbled her bottom lip, a frown creasing her forehead. “I don’t know what to believe,” she said. “Captain Cartwright must have had a good reason not to arrest you for Ursula’s murder. He doesn’t strike me as one who’d accept a bribe.”
“And what else?” He could tell something else bothered her.
“Captain Cartwright is an intelligent man. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s both honest and efficient. I doubt you’d escape his custody, which means he released you for some reason.” Her gaze felt as if it drilled through him, and he wasn’t sure what she’d decide. Yet even with his freedom hanging in balance, pride swelled within him. Jocelyn didn’t miss much, which made her skepticism galling.
Leo caught her gaze darting to his chest. Maybe he had an edge after all. “Are you going to let me into your bed or not?”
Her gaze slid down his naked body and a sultry smile bloomed on her lips. It didn’t reach her eyes, which told him she held serious reservations. “Haven’t you made the decision for both of us already?” She wriggled across the mattress, leaving a space for him. For reasons known to her, she was letting him have his way, but uncertainties roiled in his gut. Would she betray him?
They stared at each other for a long moment, and the residual worry left his shoulders. He’d trust her—for now. Satisfaction replaced his earlier disappointment. As always, Jocelyn’s presence calmed him. Never had the contrast between Jocelyn and Ursula yawned so wide. Feeling grateful and desperate to touch his wife, he slid beneath the covers and pulled her rigid body against him. Unable to resist, he nuzzled her neck and placed a kiss on the curve of her cheek. A pity she’d bound her hair in a tight braid. He rather liked the heavy mass loose and glinting like flames flickering in the night.
“Leo?”
“Yes.”
“You scared me half to death, popping into my chamber like a magical creature. You’re lucky I didn’t wake everyone. Does Captain Cartwright know you’re here?”
“Who did you expect it to be?”
“You haven’t answered my question.” She scowled before a chuckle burst from her, another sultry sound that grabbed him by the balls. “A strange man intending to seduce me?”
“Your husband is interested in seduction. And no, Cartwright doesn’t know, but he did release me for the night.”
“Why?” She wriggled, until her breasts flattened against the wall of his chest.
Mistress of Merrivale Page 16
