Mistress of Merrivale

by Shelley Munro

  “Are you all right?” Cartwright asked in a gruff voice from behind him.

  “I didn’t expect a welcome, but the whispers and averted gazes are disconcerting. No one is brave enough to say anything to my face. They’re worried about their livelihoods.”

  “It’s difficult to blame them,” Cartwright said easily.

  Leo let out a snort. The flames of the bonfire highlighted the faces of the people sitting around the fire. He couldn’t see Jocelyn and moved on, past the couples dancing. The music of the fiddle rang out, a joyous sound and one he hadn’t heard at Merrivale for too long. It reminded him of his childhood. A happy time spent playing with his cousins and running wild. The idea of his own children playing with Melburn’s offspring brought a spark of happiness. The picture grew to include Jocelyn with a bright smile on her face, her delightful laughter filling the air, the sun striking her hair and turning it into a fiery blaze and her flowery scent. God, he loved her flowers.

  He loved her.

  The thought sprang into his mind and felt natural, going some way to lighten the tension gripping in his chest. Jocelyn had won him over with her generous nature and determination to make the best of the obstacles life threw her way. He promised himself he’d make love to her at the next opportunity.

  The landlord from the village pub stopped him. “Everyone has enjoyed today.”

  “Your lady did a good job,” the landlord’s wife piped up.

  “Aye,” the landlord agreed. “You have a good one there, not like—” He broke off when his wife elbowed him in the ribs. “The constable let you out of jail then.”

  His wife dug him in the ribs again, and he glared at her.

  Not like Ursula. “I thank my cousin for introducing us,” Leo said, pretending he’d missed the interest regarding his release. “I’m very lucky.”

  “Rumor says you’re expecting a child,” the landlord’s wife said.

  He grinned. “Rumor would be true.” They’d known him since he was a child himself and felt free to ask nosy questions. “We’re pleased. Have you seen my wife? I want to make sure she isn’t overdoing things.”

  “Aye,” the landlord said. “She was talking to Hannah.” His brow furrowed. “I noticed because your lady appeared angry when she always has a smile for everyone.”

  “Where?” Jocelyn had mentioned Hannah was becoming a friend. Certainly Cassie’s behavior was better without the sulkiness Hannah’s visits had caused in the past.

  “She was on the other side of the bonfire,” the landlord said with a wave of his hand.

  With a farewell, Leo strode in the direction the landlord had indicated. Cartwright trotted behind him, and Leo paid him no mind. If Jocelyn was arguing with Hannah, something was wrong.

  Hannah had arranged Boynton’s visit. In hindsight Jocelyn should have told Leo more about her problems with Boynton, especially after she’d seen the man in Tavistock. Made Leo understand how dangerous and unpredictable the other man was with his nasty moods.

  How long had they planned this? Had the face she’d seen in the window belonged to Boynton and not her imagination as she’d convinced herself?

  The more she thought about Hannah’s traitorous actions, the harder her head ached.

  The woman appeared from the direction of the maze, sauntering in a manner that reminded Jocelyn of a stable cat stalking an unwary mouse. When Hannah glided to a stop in front of her, it wasn’t difficult to discern her malice. Hannah had planned this scenario to cause Jocelyn grief.

  “I understand you know Boynton,” Hannah purred.

  Jocelyn’s mouth compressed while she battled her temper. “Who?”

  “Boynton knows you well.” Hannah’s smile turned gloating. “He has fond memories of your…beauty mark.” Hannah’s gaze drifted to Jocelyn’s arse before returning to her face. “Does Leo know you’re a whore?”

  Jocelyn’s heart beat so loud it was all she could hear—the roar of thunderous fears crashing through her head. This wasn’t fair. She’d been happy with Leo and now gossip would spread. More gossip. Both she and Leo were offering rare delicacies for the locals to devour and dissect.

  Hannah’s gaze drifted to Jocelyn’s belly, her sneer contorting her face into an ugly mask. “That’s not even Leo’s child.”

  “The wind might change,” Jocelyn said, pretending a calm she didn’t feel. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to prod Hannah, but she didn’t intend to let the woman walk over her either. “It would be a tragedy for your face to remain in that grotesque grimace.”

  “I wonder what Leo would say if he knew you’d been meeting Boynton and entertaining him in your bedroom while Leo was tucked away in jail?”

  Jocelyn gasped. “That’s a lie.”

  “I saw you meet by the river,” Hannah said. “I should have told Leo about your treachery. I’m shocked you’d entertain a man in your chamber, in your husband’s house. Criminal.” Her eyes gleamed with spiteful enjoyment. The friendship she’d offered during the past weeks a façade while she schemed to remove Jocelyn from Merrivale.

  “Leo won’t believe you.” Jocelyn turned away. She didn’t have to listen to Hannah’s fabrications.

  Hannah grasped her shoulder, jerking her painfully to halt her departure. Despite Hannah’s slight frame and Jocelyn’s greater height, the woman possessed a strength Jocelyn wouldn’t have suspected. “I mentioned the matter to Peregrine, and I believe he told his friends.”

  “How do you know Boynton? He doesn’t have estates down this way.” Jocelyn had to learn how she’d given away her location. She’d felt safe at Merrivale Manor—for a time. Perhaps Boynton—no, as much as she disliked the man and knew him for a bully, the only one he’d wanted to hurt was her. A man’s pride was a fragile thing, and she’d stomped all over Boynton’s when she’d left him. “How did he know where I lived?”

  Hannah’s sly chortle raised the hairs at the back of Jocelyn’s neck. “A mere coincidence.”

  “How?” Jocelyn had to know.

  “I met him at Duxton. One of Sir James’s private parties. He was in his cups, whining about a woman called Jocelyn who managed to escape him. I waited until he was sober, and the next day we conducted an interesting discussion. He knew a Jocelyn. I knew a Jocelyn, and both had red hair.” She cast a disparaging look at Jocelyn’s nose and her glee jumped to new heights. “And a host of freckles. I did Boynton a favor pointing out your location. He was most grateful.”

  Hannah tightened her grip until a painful moan escaped Jocelyn.

  “Let me go.” She wrenched free only to come face-to-face with Boynton.

  “We meet again, my dear.” His husky tone bore none of the brutality she knew lurked beneath his suave surface.

  Jocelyn backed up and bumped into Hannah.

  “Peregrine wondered if madness ran in your family,” Hannah whispered in her ear.

  “I am not mad. Leo will see through your lies.” By St. Bridget! She glanced left and right, dismay striking her. Without her realizing, they’d managed to maneuver her to a quiet part of the garden.

  The strong scent of roses combined with Hannah’s violet perfume to produce a bout of queasiness, and Jocelyn clapped a hand over her mouth. The delicate scent did not suit Hannah’s treacherous personality.

  “Ah, my dear. That’s where you’re wrong.” Boynton grasped her arm and forcibly propelled her deeper into the shadows. “You won’t have an opportunity to tell your husband anything because you’re running off with me. We’re going to create gossip that will do the rounds for years.”

  “No!”

  He chuckled, the rich sound contrasting with the roughness of his grip. His blunt nails dug into her flesh. She struggled, called out, but he was quick. He covered her mouth, muffling her cries.

  “Can you deal with her?” Hannah asked.

  “With pleasure,” Boynton replied.

  Jocelyn swallowed her fear and wrapped herself in unconcern. A façade when terror danced a jig through her mind. She kn
ew the atrocities Boynton was capable of, had experienced his attentions before.

  Leo couldn’t find Jocelyn, and worry hastened his pace. Maybe she’d felt ill and had retired indoors for a brief respite. He retraced his steps to ask Woodley and Tilly.

  “Is something wrong?” Cartwright asked.

  “I can’t find Jocelyn. She knows not to wander off with a murderer on the loose.”

  Cartwright’s bushy brows drew together. “Do you think someone has grabbed her?”

  “No, I—maybe,” he said, addressing his concerns. “I’d feel better if I could locate her.”

  “Leo.” Jaego forced Leo to come to an abrupt halt.

  “I thought I made it clear our friendship was over when I found you fucking my wife,” Leo snapped.

  “But Hannah said you’d softened, that you’d be amenable to reconciliation.”

  “Hannah.” Leo snorted. “You put stock in anything she says?”

  Jaego paused in clear confusion. “She lied?”

  “Of course she did. You were my best friend. I didn’t expect betrayal and nothing will make me forgive you. Is that clear enough for you?”

  “Please, Leo, you must forgive me. Ursula…she…she bewitched me.”

  Leo bit off a laugh. “One thing we have in common. She drew me in like a siren, snaring me before I knew better. The woman was poison, and I’m well rid of her. I’d like to thank the person who freed me of the viperous bitch.”

  Jaego’s expression froze in a comical mask. “You…you didn’t strangle her?”

  Leo barked out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t have that pleasure. Jaego, Hannah lied to you. I have no interest in renewing our friendship. If you’re wise you’ll leave now before I decide my daughter bears a distressing likeness to you.” Leo turned away, but Jaego stilled him with a hand on the shoulder. At the end of his patience, Leo lashed out with his fist, putting every bit of his grief and fury into the punch.

  One second Jaego was standing. The next, he lay sprawled at Leo’s feet. Leo shook his hand, ignoring the throb and stalked away from his past without looking back.

  “I bet that felt good,” Cartwright said.

  “Instead of trailing me, why don’t you help me search for Jocelyn?” Leo snapped. A tight band of worry constricted his chest, making each breath difficult. Where the devil was she?

  “Of course,” Cartwright said. “I’ll search the bonfire and refreshment area.”

  “I’ll start with the gardens and meet you there.” Leo found Woodley and Tilly enjoying the music and watching the dancers. “Have you seen Jocelyn?”

  “Not since the feast.” Tilly’s brow wrinkled. “Is something amiss?”

  “I don’t think so.” He thought of Hannah’s machinations. “Maybe. I’d rest easier if I could check she isn’t overdoing things.”

  “Good grief,” Woodley said, looking past Leo. “What is wrong with Miss Hannah?”

  Leo swung around. Locks of Hannah’s hair hung around her face in disarray. A green leaf clung to one side of her head while the hem of her black gown bore splotches of dirt. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air. “Leo, thank goodness I’ve found you.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, dear. I don’t know if I should tell you this.” Indecision rode her and the silence grew until Leo wanted to shake words from her.

  “Have you seen Jocelyn?”

  “Yes. I don’t like to be the bearer of bad news…”

  “Spit it out.” He didn’t have time for this. “Where is she?”

  Woodley and Tilly stood, flanking him, united in their concern for Jocelyn.

  “Is something wrong with her?” Woodley asked.

  “Where is she?” Tilly demanded. “Tell me so I can go to her.”

  “This is rather embarrassing,” Hannah said.

  “Hannah.” Leo’s hands bunched. “If you know where my wife is, tell me now.”

  A tear slipped down Hannah’s cheek, taking him aback. She never succumbed to tears, not even as a child. She was the one who made other boys and girls cry.

  “She went with Jack Boynton. I-I thought Boynton was interested in me, but h-he used me to arrange a clandestine meeting with Jocelyn. They-they’re lovers.”

  Leo stood stock still. Jocelyn wouldn’t do this to him, not after everything they’d faced together. “No.” The denial whispered past his lips. “No.”

  “Rubbish,” Tilly snapped. “Jocelyn hates Boynton. She’s terrified of him.”

  “Tilly.” Woodley shushed his wife.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Tilly said to Leo. “No matter what she says, Jocelyn wouldn’t go willingly with that brute.”

  “Where is she?” Leo demanded.

  “They were walking in the direction of the river,” Hannah said. “There’s no need to take your anger out on me. I was only trying to help.” She turned away, but Leo grasped her elbow and dragged her to a halt.

  “Tell me what you’re playing at.”

  A single tear tracked down Hannah’s cheek. “You’d believe them over me?”

  “I’m withholding judgment until I speak to Jocelyn,” Leo gritted out.

  “We’ll come with you,” Woodley said.

  “No, please wait here in case Jocelyn comes this way. Captain Cartwright is searching for her too. Please send a footman to tell Cartwright what’s happening. Tell him what Hannah said and that I intend to search the riverbank.”

  “Of course, Mr. Sherbourne,” Woodley said.

  “I’m going home,” Hannah said.

  “You’re coming with me.” Leo hustled Hannah away from the house, determined strides taking him in the direction of the river.

  “Stop dragging me around like a parcel,” Hannah snapped.

  Leo didn’t release his grip. “I notice you’re not shouting for help. Is that because you don’t want our friends and neighbors to witness your shame?”

  “Don’t be silly. I don’t wish to cause gossip. Surely you want the same thing? Don’t you realize the locals are convinced you’re a murderer? Why, I’ve even heard renewed rumors about you killing Ursula.”

  “I didn’t kill your sister.”

  “I heard the two of you arguing. I heard you tell Ursula you’d kill her rather than let her take Cassie away.”

  “How do you know that? The only way you could know is if Ursula told you.”

  Hannah shrugged. “We were close. We told each other everything.”

  “You couldn’t stand your sister. You were jealous of her. This isn’t helping me find my wife.”

  Away from the merriment of the bonfire, Leo paused to listen. He couldn’t hear any sounds to indicate a cooing couple.

  “Leo, please.” Without warning, Hannah threw herself at him. She mashed their mouths together, kissing him without finesse. Shock froze him for an instant before he thrust her away.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “I’m a married man.”

  Jocelyn fought, attempting to dislodge Boynton’s iron grip. Her feet struck at his shins, unladylike grunts emerging with each blow. “You can’t do this,” she cried. “People will search for me.” Please let someone come soon.

  “I can and I will,” Boynton said. “You’re going to pay for making me a laughing stock. Damn it, stop kicking. You’re soiling my clothes.”

  “You brought it on yourself,” she said rashly, taking great pleasure in landing a strike and smearing dirt down his pale breeches. “You’re a bully.”

  “You liked me well enough when you had me in your bed.”

  She caught the building fury in him, instinct screaming for her to back away, to cease her taunts. “I put up with your advances. You have the bedroom skills of a green boy.” No, she shouldn’t needle him, yet experience and bravado lent her steel. She didn’t have to put up with his brutish treatment.

  Boynton released her abruptly, his hand swinging in a precision arc. The sharp crack of fist meeting flesh shocked her. The
ripple of pain sent her staggering, the ringing in her ears, the wavering black spots in her vision upsetting her balance. She fell against a scratchy, green bush, the thorns on the branches clutching her in a macabre embrace while she struggled for equilibrium.

  With a snarl, he jerked her free, the rent of fabric another sharp slap of reality. She sucked in a breath and screamed. A small ineffectual sound emerged, pitiful and of little use to attract aid.

  “Stop it!” He shook her vigorously, her head snapping back with the force.

  “Please s-stop.”

  The shaking ended abruptly. A foreign sound intruded. A voice.

  “Don’t you dare,” he ground out, dragging her into the dark shadows of the garden. He drew her against his chest, tension radiating from him. The voices receded, and her hope wilted.

  Her hand crept up to finger her chin and her fingers came away damp. With rough hands, he directed her to the maze. Her mind worked frantically, searching for a way to escape. She was familiar with the garden and its secluded places, and she doubted he knew his way as well as her—except he’d managed to spy on her without discovery. The knowledge froze her mind like a chunk of fresh ice. She wouldn’t have the advantage of familiarity after all.

  He hauled her into the maze. Two hours ago the hedge puzzle had been full of laughter and excited shouts from disorientated men, women and children. Now it stood silent, everyone partaking of food and drink, enjoying the music and the dancing in the flickering light of the bonfire.

  “Did you think to avoid me? I’ve known of your location ever since you escaped. I’ve spent several weeks with Sir James and hugely enjoyed the entertainment in the region. Even helped with the organization.”

  Jocelyn stared at him, her heart battering her breastbone. The smugness on his heavy-jowled face told her it was the truth. How had she not known? Surely she would have sensed his presence? When Melburn had whisked her off to London, she’d jumped at every sound, but gradually she’d relaxed, feeling safe under Melburn’s care.