A half hour later, he joined Mercy on the terrace, her shawl draped over her elbows. “Allow me.” He arranged it on her shoulders. For a moment, his hands rested on her slight frame. “It’s cool tonight. I hope you’re not cold?”
When she shook her head, a golden ringlet swayed against her ear. He had a sudden compulsion to kiss that shell-like ear; sure, she would smell very sweet.
“I thought perhaps if I…” Mercy began, as he took her hand and pulled off her glove, finger by finger.
She gasped.
“It’s no good, Mercy.” He removed the box from his pocket which contained the handsome diamond ring, sent to him by special messenger. “We are to marry. It is done. There is nothing you, nor I, nor you and I together, can do to change that without bringing a lot of misfortune down upon our heads and upsetting our families.” He slipped it on her finger. “Ah it fits and requires no alteration.”
Mercy studied the winking diamond in the light from the ballroom. “It’s very pretty.”
“It was my mother’s.”
He handed her the glove. “Besides, I don’t wish to end it.”
She glanced up at him and blinked. “You don’t?”
“A man must marry some time.” He raised an eyebrow. “As must you, Mercy, either this Season or the next. You aren’t in love with anyone else, are you?” The thought suddenly struck him with alarm.
She fiddled with the glove. “No.”
“I shall require an heir at some point,” he added with some relief. “One day, in the distant future, I hope, I shall be duke and you will be my duchess.” He cocked his head. “Surely that isn’t such a bad thing?”
Mercy’s lips trembled and she eyed him carefully. Her chin rose. “Then I shall do my duty, my lord.” She stepped away as if she feared he would seal their pact with a kiss. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I wish to see my sister and brother-in-law who’ve recently arrived.”
He followed her inside. Her duty? Damn it all, this marriage was going to be a frosty one. He’d never wanted that, he’d wished to marry for love.
The Duke and Duchess of Harwood offered their congratulations.
“You are very fortunate in your choice of bride, my lord.” The Duchess drew him apart from the others. “It is not only because Mercy is my sister that I say this. She is a warm-hearted, affectionate girl, and quite clever, as you will discover.”
“I look forward to it, Lady Harwood.” To discovering her warm nature, especially. Hidden from him thus far.
“Do you? That is good. Not every man wants a creative, clever wife. I have been most fortunate to marry Harwood. I hope you are one of those men, my lord. Mercy deserves a husband’s support.”
“Ah yes.” Grant had forgotten about Mercy’s endeavor. Something to do with writing. He couldn’t recall exactly what it was, so much had happened since she spoke about it.
Mercy came to join them.
“An exhibition is to be held of my paintings in London next autumn,” Lady Harwood said with a broad smile. “The duke has only just told me he’s arranged it.”
“Oh, Charity, how wonderful!” Mercy threw her arms around her sister. “It couldn’t happen to a nicer person or a finer artist.”
The tall duchesses’ eyes grew misty. “Thank you, dearest.”
Grant tamped down a futile desire for Mercy to display such warmth and enthusiasm for him. He spied Black, attempting to gain his notice on the other side of the ballroom.
As the duchess turned to converse with another lady, Grant drew Mercy aside. “If you’ll excuse me, my dear, there’s someone I wish to see.”
She darted a quick glance in the direction he’d indicated. “Certainly, my lord.”
“I’ll return for the first waltz. If you will kindly save it for me.”
“I will of course.”
Black waited for him in the deserted library. They sat opposite each other in wing chairs placed before the empty grate. “Another attack has been made on the railway,” Black said without preamble.
Grant leaned forward. “Another?”
“A section of railway line was blown up during the night.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“No. It was miles from any dwellings, but someone heard the explosion. My men discovered it this morning. It will take a while for the company to replace the length of twisted metal. They don’t foresee it delaying the opening, if no other attempts are made. But no one is confident of that. These saboteurs are intent on halting the company’s progress. Nerves are fraying amongst many of the investors. The company is already stretched thin by the current financial situation. We have been unable to find the culprits. There’s the possibility that they are farmers who fear they’ll lose some of their land. And we have failed to find a connection that links Haighton’s death to these events.”
The shooting looked more like an ambush to Grant. “I will call again on Haighton’s widow. She may have something more to divulge.”
“Are you sure you’ll be able to give this your full attention?” Black asked, doubt in his eyes. “You are about to become a husband.”
“I don’t see how that will make a difference.”
“But it will,” Black said. “You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t somewhat preoccupied, and protective of your wife. I should replace you, but we are short of able men. In a few weeks, perhaps, if this isn’t dealt with by then.”
“I intend to continue this investigation,” Grant said in a firm tone. “This is personal. Nathaniel Haighton was a friend of our family of long standing.”
“Not too personal I hope. You have enough to distract you.”
“You can rely on me, Black. Once we are wed I’ll be free to continue.”
Black raised a brow. He smiled. “No wedding trip?”
“Ah. Delayed.” He doubted Mercy would want one. “My wife will wish to travel to France to visit her sister at some point.” He was sure Mercy would enjoy that. Harwood had pleased his duchess with a surprise, by arranging an exhibition of her work. Grant wished to do something similar. He felt a need to see Mercy’s eyes light up with pleasure. In fact, the more he thought about it, he realized he would enjoy the trip too.
He stood. “I am engaged with my fiancée for the first waltz. I’ll leave for Yorkshire on Monday.”
“When is the wedding to be?”
“I am to confirm the date with Lord and Lady Baxendale tomorrow.”
He entered the ballroom as Arabella hurried toward him. “Mercy said you are engaged! You might have told me yourself.”
“I planned to, tonight.”
“Are…are you happy about this, Grant?”
“But of course, why would I not be?”
She gave a worried frown. “Mercy did not seem over the moon about it.”
“The way it’s come about is not ideal. But I will make her a good husband, Bella.” He smiled fondly at his sister.
“You will?”
“Do you doubt me?”
“No.” She relaxed visibly. “You’re a good man, Grant. I know that. But women need a little reassurance. Men don’t always realize that.”
He grinned. “Perhaps I am remiss in this. Men are selfish creatures. I shall endeavor to improve. Will you grant me a dance later in the evening?”
“Yes. I should love to dance with you.”
“Ah, they’re calling a waltz. Please excuse me. I must join Mercy.”
* * *
Mercy stepped into Northcliffe’s arms as the strains of a Haydn waltz floated over the ballroom. She breathed in his musky masculine scent while gazing into his handsome face, smiling down at her. Whom had he just been to see? It was not the Lady Alethea Archer. She had remained talking to friends. If only Grant had confessed to having loved her, Mercy might feel better about giving up her plans and having her life ruled by a man who revealed little of his own hopes and dreams. Did he intend to keep his mistress? It was the worst kept secret in London and she burned thinking about it. The very
thought of them together cast her spirits so low, she wished she was back in Tunbridge Wells with Wolf lying at her feet, while she worked on her experimentations. Even Northcliffe’s sister, Arabella, who’d sought to sing her brother’s praises some weeks ago, merely tried to placate her. She suspected Arabella felt guilty about that night in Vauxhall Gardens, even though Mercy had tried to reassure her that it had been her own fault, she’d gotten into trouble.
“Where shall we live after we marry?” she asked him.
“I believe it best we stay with my grandfather at Thornhill for a while.”
“That’s in Yorkshire?”
“Yes.”
Miles from anywhere, she imagined. “Is there much society there?”
“Grandfather doesn’t entertain much these days. Neither does my father. We shall attend the assembly dances and entertainments in York.”
“That would be nice,” she murmured. Tunbridge Wells was a lively place the ton visited often, and balls were held regularly in the town. She was sure York would be more parochial.
“I shall be happy to take you when I’m there.”
“When you’re there?” she repeated, her shock making her sound stupid.
“I won’t always be at home, Mercy. But we shall spend part of the Season in London.”
“Where else would you be?” She narrowed her eyes. Not that she wanted him under foot, but he’d better not be planning to make hay with that mistress while she rusticated!
“I have…business interests which may take me away at times.”
“Business interests? May I know what they are?”
He shook his head with a smile. “I doubt you’d be interested.”
“I doubt you would know what would interest me.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I would suspect you’re trying to stir up a quarrel. And over a dull set of factory workers and managers that would bore you.”
“Perhaps you are right. I’ll visit my sister in Northumberland while you’re away.”
“I would prefer you remain at Thornhill while I am away,” he said abruptly.
“Why?”
Dark lashes hid his enigmatic, tawny gaze from her. “There are good reasons.”
She frowned. “Are they so secret that you cannot tell me?”
He tightened his hold on her hand. “Can’t you just accept that I wish you to remain at home? We can visit your sister together.”
“No. I don’t see why you won’t explain. I will keep nothing from you, my lord.” He scowled at that and she saw she’d scored a hit.
“Does your mother involve herself in your father’s business?”
“No, but I know of many who do,” she said, although she didn’t.
“Oh? Who might they be?”
“I can’t think of their names right at this moment,” she replied, annoyed.
“Good, because right at this moment, I should like to enjoy dancing with you.”
She realized she had grown stiff with indignation, and he almost pulled her off her feet as he swept her over the floor. He was a very good dancer, and very sure of himself in his dark evening clothes and crisp white cravat that highlighted his good looks. Well he should not be so sure of her. And if he thought he could dump her in the country with his grandfather and forget her…well, he would soon see the error of his ways!
Chapter Ten
GRANT’S GOOD INTENTIONS to make peace with Mercy had fallen at the first hurdle. He ground his teeth. He’d spent most of the long journey north, thinking of ways to improve matters between them, but with the need to keep his activities to himself, it seemed nigh impossible. The clever young woman he was about to marry, was not one of those debutantes happy to just make a home and look decorative. And, although he was glad of it, her penchant for brutal honesty between the sexes drove him mad. Grant’s horse skirted a stand of leafy alders. He rode out onto a flat grassland and found the raised area of blackened ground where the rail was blown apart. The scoundrels had chosen the spot well. Woods edged either side of the line and blocked them from view when they put their scurrilous plan into action.
After Grant dismounted, he walked over the hard-packed ground but it gave up no secrets. With a frustrated shake of his head, he remounted.
An hour later, Grant stopped at Oaktree village inn, a half-timbered dwelling in a street of the same, where he supped and watered his horse. In the inn’s taproom, he learned that a vehicle had traveled through the village at speed late on the night of the explosion.
Leaving the village high street, Grant rode past the old gray stone church and churchyard with its stand of ancient yews. At the signpost, he turned toward the Haighton estate. He trotted his gelding along a rutted lane edged with an ancient, crumbling stone wall, the sweet country air perfumed with newly harvested hay and wild dog roses. Sunshine painted gold a distant field of ripening wheat. His chestnut gelding, Ares, splashed across a slow-moving stream, dammed up after a section of the riverbank had collapsed, a rivulet of the river Tees which ran past the Haighton mansion. The horse climbed the far bank and walked onto a daisy-strewn meadow which was part of the earl’s estate.
Grant located the copse of elms near the place where Nat had been struck down by a gunman’s ball. The hum of bees, clustered around a bunch of fresh flowers on the ground where he had fallen. Despite the area’s natural beauty, a sense of menace lingered. Grant put it down to a surfeit of feeling for a decent man he’d liked and respected.
He found nothing more of interest, so he headed for Haighton Park, several miles away. When he reached the stone mansion in the early afternoon, a butler announced him and he was shown into the drawing room, perfumed with flower-filled urns.
Jenny offered him tea, which he declined in favor of a fortifying whiskey. She sat opposite him on one of a pair of oyster satin covered sofas. In a black silk gown, her face looked pale and strained.
“Nothing has come to me, although I’ve thought and thought,” she said in her soft voice. “Especially during the night when I cannot sleep. During the daylight hours, I have the children to distract me, and the running of this estate and the other properties my husband owned. It is a challenge. Nathaniel controlled every aspect of his fortune. I wish now that he had trusted me with some of it.” She sighed. “Men seem to think that raising children takes up all of a woman’s thoughts. We women are far more able than that.
Grant accepted the glass of whiskey from a footman. After the servant left the room, he sat forward, filled with compassion for her. “Do you have adequate help?” He was surprised to learn she had these concerns. A reliable staff could go a long way to smooth over the running of the estate’s business.
“Sir Ewan Snowden has recommended a new secretary. He has been very critical of the one we have. Said he’s not worth his salt. Sir Ewan visits every day when he’s up from London. I’m extremely grateful for his generous support.”
Grant nodded, finding it odd that Nat would employ inadequate staff. He had been far too astute to fall foul of idlers. “Do you know if Nathaniel owned shares in the Stockton and Darlington Railway Company?”
“Why yes, he was one of the principal shareholders.” Jenny frowned. “Their value has substantially decreased since the first attack on the line, have they not?”
“I believe so. But if nothing more occurs to prevent the opening of the railway, I expect they will rise again.”
She tilted her head. “But you believe there will be another attempt.”
“I have no way of knowing, but to be honest. I think it’s likely.”
“Sir Ewan tells me that the ’change has gone into a panic.” She twined her fingers together. “The situation has never been more alarming. He has likened it to the 17th century tulip mania in the Netherlands when the market collapsed with disastrous results. He says that although the promise of a new and faster mode of travel has caused great excitement in many quarters, there are those who believe it to be an abomination. They wish
to actively put a stop to it by any means.”
Grant considered Snowden to be extremely unhelpful. “We must not lose hope that this will all be resolved quickly and the railway will go ahead,” he said gently, alarmed for her well-being. The dark half-moons under her eyes told of her anxiety and lack of sleep. “We shall find the culprits and bring this to an end, I promise you. In the meantime, you should try to rest.”
“Yes…yes.” She sighed and wiped a hand over her brow. “I haven’t even been able to bear visiting the place where Nathaniel died. But I know I must.”
He raised his brows. “Who might have gone there today?”
“No one. Why?”
He hesitated, wondering if he should mention the flowers, then considered that it might be important. “A small wreath of flowers has been left there, quite fresh.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Flowers? I know no one who would….” She shook her head. “Will you take me there, Lord Northcliffe…Grant?”
He eyed her carefully, wondering what effect it might have on her delicate constitution. Then he decided it couldn’t add much more to what she’d already suffered. He could tell by the rigid set of her shoulders that she was determined, and he didn’t like the idea of her riding there unescorted. “Yes, of course.”
She rose. “I shall only take a minute to change.”
An hour later, Grant stood beside her in her dark purple habit, as she stared down at the bunch of flowers on the ground, wilting in the sunlight. She didn’t speak again until they rode back to the house. “I have no idea who put that wreath there.”
They were not wild flowers or poppies, although the fields were covered in them. More like hot house blooms, although he couldn’t confess to any great knowledge on the subject. Usually, he gave an order to a shop to deliver a nosegay to a lady.
Only a lady would have left those flowers. Grant didn’t want to believe Nat had a mistress, but married men were not expected to be faithful. He glanced up and identified a kestrel by its long, pointed wings, hovering above them in the hazy blue sky. The bird appeared to defy gravity for a long moment, before it dived out of sight.
The Scandalous Lady Mercy: The Baxendale Sisters Page 7
