The Scandalous Lady Mercy: The Baxendale Sisters

by Maggi Andersen

  “Not well enough to play with you, Your Grace.”

  “We shall see.” He smiled. “The tea tray has been ordered. I’m sure you’re parched after the drive.”

  “I’ll have a whiskey,” Grant said. “Grandfather?”

  When his grandfather declined, Grant walked over to the sideboard, its polished surface covered in bottles and crystal glasses.

  A footman admitted a pair of black-and-white King Charles spaniels into the room. They ran noisily over the rug to settle at the duke’s feet, beside the small fire burning in the grate.

  Mercy jumped up. “Oh, they’re adorable.” She dropped to her knees to pat their silky, damp fur. Their dark button eyes looked at her with interest. “What are their names, Your Grace?”

  The Duke cast an affectionate glance at them. “The bigger of the two is Jasper. The other Julian. They have just had their bath. During their walk this morning, they disgraced themselves by rolling in mud.”

  “I have a dog too, Your Grace,” Mercy said tentatively. As she went to sit on the green sofa, she wondered what he would make of Wolf.

  “D’you, my dear? I’m pleased you’re a dog lover. Not everyone is.” He turned to Grant. “What news? Heard anything more about Haighton?”

  Grant came to sit by Mercy, a crystal glass of golden liquid in his hand. “No, Grandfather. I visited Jenny, but she was at a loss. She finds it hard to continue alone.”

  “I imagine she would, poor woman.”

  “Sir Ewan Snowdon has been advising her. He’s her closest neighbor.”

  “I believe so.”

  “Do you know him well?”

  “Can’t say I do. Met him socially, of course. Flashy cove.” He winked at Mercy. “Made his fortune in the West Indies.”

  “Sugar, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. The future doesn’t look so bright in Jamaica. But neither is the financial situation so rosy here. Snowdon would be astute about business, however. He might be of some use to the countess. But she does have excellent staff and lawyers to assist her.”

  “Apparently, Snowdon didn’t think much of Nat’s staff. He’s advised her to replace some of them.”

  “Can’t say I agree with that. He would have top notch employees working for him.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  His grandfather frowned. “Surely she still has her steward? He was invaluable in caring for the tenants.”

  Grant took a sip from his glass. “I don’t know. I imagine so.”

  The duke’s astute brown gaze settled on Mercy. “Let’s not bore Lady Mercy, who has no idea of whom we speak. I hope you’re pleased to be spending some time beneath this roof, my dear. I can’t tell you how much it pleases me. I do like young people around me, and Arabella seldom visits now she’s in London for the Season. The beaus will be lining up to marry her. Is your Aunt Jane doing a first-rate job bringing her out, Grant?”

  “She is, yes. I’ll keep an eye on Bella whenever I’m in London. I wish I could do more. I have asked Aunt Jane to keep me abreast of news, as will Father. Bella has promised to write often.”

  Mercy was glad that Grant had not mentioned Arabella’s lapse of etiquette to his grandfather. His loyalty to his sister was admirable.

  “It will be a pleasure to stay here, Your Grace,” Mercy said. “Thornhill is such a beautiful house, and the park is magnificent.”

  “It’s most gratifying to have someone who appreciates it. These old legs don’t carry me far these days. And I don’t often entertain. We have an excellent stable. Do you ride?”

  “I do. I should like to visit the stables.”

  “Then Grant must take you there after tea.” He smiled. “It will give me a moment or two to rest my eyes before dinner.”

  Two footmen entered carrying trays loaded with a silver service and delicate china bearing a gold crest. They unloaded the trays onto a low walnut table at Mercy’s elbow.

  As she poured the brew from the silver teapot into cups and served the men, she felt suddenly different, as if fate had already changed her from the girl she’d been, her future uncertain, to a woman whose life was carved out for her. She should be alarmed, she was giving up her independence, but right at this moment, it was pleasant to sit with these two charming and interesting men.

  She glanced across at Grant who’d taken a healthy bite out of a sandwich. She prayed they could make each other happy. Could she do as Honor had suggested and be vivacious and interesting enough to make him forget Lady Alethea? She was filled with doubts, knowing she could only be herself.

  After a sumptuous tea of ham sandwiches, buttered crumpets dripping with honey and plum cake, Grant escorted Mercy over the grounds to the stables. “I must ride every day, otherwise I’ll get fat with the food served here. The cake was impossible to resist.”

  “Take a groom with you while I’m away and please stay within the estate grounds.” A magnificent chestnut whinnied and thrust its head over the top of the box. Grant stroked the horse’s withers. “Meet my gelding, Ares. Johnson will choose a suitable mount for you.”

  “I would hardly need to ride beyond the estate,” she said with a grin. “I believe a few thousand acres will be enough to sustain me.”

  “Nevertheless, take Johnson. He will show you the better trails. Otherwise it’s easy to get lost.” He leaned his back against the stable wall and studied her with his clear observant eyes. “Promise me?”

  “Goodness, you’re so serious.” She waved her hand. “Look at this glorious place. It’s heaven on earth.”

  “It is to me.” He leant toward her and stroked a finger over her cheek. “It’s my hope that you will be happy here too.”

  His voice, hardly above a husky whisper, sent a surge of longing through her. His finger trailed over her neck, and a shiver shot through her. She wondered if he would kiss her, then grew nervous as his gaze roamed her face. She must make her intentions clear, before the wedding, or they would begin this marriage on a bad note. And she’d spied the roof of a small building through the trees.

  “I already love the house and your grandfather is a dear. What is that building I can see in the distance?”

  He dropped his hand and turned. “Where?”

  She pointed. “Over there.”

  “Merely a storage hut. Why the interest?” He gave her one of his critical looks, but she would not be swayed from her purpose.

  “Because I have need of one.”

  “But why on earth would you want a shed?”

  “I can explain better when we view it.”

  He gazed at her, bemused. “The way is shorter if we go through the kitchen gardens. Cook keeps a few fowl there and the gardeners use it to store some of their tools.”

  “Can we go there now?”

  He shook his head and took her arm. “Come on. You’re unfathomable at times, Mercy.”

  * * *

  They skirted the house, and reaching the vegetable gardens, walked along a gravel path through squarely laid out plots to a stand of elms. Grant was tempted to insist she explain, but suspected he wouldn’t like the answer she gave him. He’d been sorely tempted to kiss her at the stables, but some flicker of disquiet warned him against it. She’d been less than thrilled when he’d kissed her the day of their engagement. He’d never had a lady so unresponsive, and it made him cautious. Prudent to wait, perhaps. But he found himself growing impatient. The more he saw of Mercy, the more he wanted her to be his. To discover the secrets of her mind as well as her body. If she would ever confide in him.

  He hadn’t encouraged her trust and he’d come to realize that this small lady had a mind of her own. And dash it all, the time they must spend apart could prove disastrous if their marriage did not begin well. Even if he could drop this investigation, he could not ignore Jenny Haighton’s distress. Nat would expect it of him.

  They emerged from the trees into a clearing and went through the wooden gate. In the center of a small plot of ground with a chicken roost a
nd a reedy pond, sat the humble, square fieldstone dwelling with a lichen covered roof. Beyond it was the fringe of woods and a road which joined up with the one to the home farm. He took Mercy’s hand and led her into the shadowy interior smelling of packed earth, hay, and bags of feed. Dust revolved in a beam of sunlight over the dirt floor. Tools were stacked along one wall and a waist-high shelf held assorted equipment the gardeners used.

  Mercy moved about, surveying the space with an absorbed expression the humble interior hardly deserved. “What are you looking for?” he asked, finally losing patience.

  “A place to work,” she said with remarkably aplomb.

  He raised his brows. “Work?” He knew of her desire for some business or other. She hadn’t relinquished the idea apparently. “You’re writing a book, are you not? Why would you need a shed?”

  She looked up at him, a faintly eager look in her beautiful blue eyes. That look alone warmed different parts of his body. Aware they were alone, he eyed a pile of sweet smelling hay and smiled.

  “I need a place for my experiments.”

  He felt his smile slip away. “Experiments?”

  She frowned. “I believe I told you about my lotions for the skin. My supplies are being sent with Wolf after the wedding.”

  He folded his arms, and all thoughts of seduction, no matter how unlikely, vanished. “You cannot work here, Mercy. It’s not safe.”

  “Safe?” Her eyes widened. “What should I fear, the chickens?”

  “I won’t have you out here for hours on your own.”

  She raised her delicate brows. “You still haven’t explained why it’s unsafe.”

  “What if you had an accident?”

  She colored and touched the dimple-sized scar on her chin. “I take greater care now.”

  “Then you have not done so in the past,” he stated flatly, seizing the opportunity to make his point. He placed a gentle finger on the spot close to her full bottom lip. “Was this the result of one those accidents?”

  She turned away from him and examined a dusty shelf. “Yes. Candlewax exploded.”

  “So if you burn the hut down with you inside it, I must not worry?”

  “I no longer have the need for candles. I have acquired a small kerosene stove which is perfectly safe.”

  His mouth twisted wryly. “Then you would fill this space with bottles, some of which would likely contain inflammable liquids.”

  He couldn’t bear to have her exposed to any kind of danger while he wasn’t around. Even here on his grandfather’s estate it was possible for some determined scoundrel to attack his family to stop the investigation into their crimes. It was why he chose to bring her to live here rather than London, and arranged for the marriage to take place without delay. A fiancée was just as vulnerable as a wife, if not more so. He simply could not allow it.

  “I must insist that you don’t.” As soon as he said the words in that sharp tone, he saw he’d handled it badly, for Mercy’s mouth turned mulish.

  “I dislike being ordered about like a servant. I am not so helpless that I cannot spend a few hours on my own away from the house.”

  “I am not being unreasonable, Mercy. I have good cause. I would ask you to trust me in this.” He had asked this of her before, and he feared it didn’t sound any more convincing now.

  With a distrustful scowl, she placed her hands on her hips. “You ask me to trust you when you have never explained your actions! You are the enigma here, my lord. Not I. I have been completely honest with you.”

  The curves of her womanly shape distracted him. He cursed under his breath he’d never felt so ineffectual. A man should be entitled to more respect from his lady. What if he tossed her over his shoulder and took her somewhere more appealing? No, it wouldn’t serve.

  “I must insist. Write your book in the house. We have an excellent study and there’s also the library. We can talk about those lotions you wish to create at a better time.”

  Her eyes flashed. He met her gaze with regret as she firmed her very kissable mouth. “I already have many successful formulas, but I need to test them. I cannot do that until they are made up.”

  “Yes, I quite see that. I just ask you to delay your experimentations for a while.”

  “Do you mean you will sanction my business? I need only to suspend my plans?”

  Good God, why was this so important to her? He couldn’t fathom it. “Yes, but you may find other things appeal to you more in time.”

  “No doubt you hope they will.” She glared at him. “I knew the first time I met you that you wouldn’t agree to my venture. There are those who will assist me, however.”

  He took hold of her arm. “We are achieving nothing here.” He urged her out into the fresh air, and they were soon surrounded by clucking chickens, hopeful of dinner. A horde of geese eyed them with what he suspected was malevolence from a few yards away and he feared they might soon take it upon themselves to drive the intruders from the yard.

  “That sounded like a threat,” he said, after she shrugged out of his grasp.

  She shot him a withering glance. “I don’t make threats.”

  “Who is this interested party?”

  “Sir Ewan has expressed an interest in supporting my business.”

  Grant groaned. “Not Snowdon!” He didn’t like the fellow any more than his grandfather did.

  Mercy’s eyes turned stony. “Why not Snowdon?”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “But why?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “And I suspect you won’t tell me what they are.” She swung around and walked back through the trees.

  Grant caught up with her on the path. He was losing this argument, and once again was sorely lacking in diplomacy. Why couldn’t he keep a cool head around her? It must be her stubbornness; it threw him out of sorts. “Mercy, wait for this other business of mine to be settled. Then we’ll talk again, I promise.”

  She searched his eyes, then turned and continued toward the house. “Very well, Grant.”

  He should have been relieved, but Mercy’s acquiescence seemed out of character. Was he going to have to worry about her every moment he was away? After their wedding, he might be able to make her see reason. He’d been doing a deplorable job of it so far.

  Chapter Fifteen

  IN HER BEDCHAMBER, which overlooked the busy square, Mercy settled the pearl necklace with the diamond-studded cross against her décolletage while her mother did up the clasp at her nape. Reflected in the glass, she saw her mother’s face was flushed with pleasure. Despite the doubts that plagued her, Mercy had made her parents proud. For a moment, the thought banished her taut nerves.

  Charity, graceful in her rose-pompadour colored gown, moved behind Mercy to rearrange the white satin bow at her waist. “I’m sure you and Grant will be very happy, dearest. He was very personable last night.” She was Mercy’s attendant.

  “Your bridegroom fits very comfortably into our family,” Faith said smoothing her rose silk skirts. “He has a delightful sense of humor and he’s fond of children.”

  Edging forward in her crimson gown, Honor’s serious brown eyes met Mercy’s in the mirror. “You look beautiful, dearest. Northcliffe is a lucky man. I’m sure he knows that.”

  “Agreed,” they all said in unison.

  Mercy knew they were all concerned for her. Their own wedding day had been so joyous because they married the men they loved. And she was still so unsure. She wanted desperately to give her heart to Grant. But love and trust were entwined, and he held himself away from her.

  The four clustered together before the long mirror, like the roses Robin had once named them. In honor of this, Mercy’s bouquet was of pale pink damask roses and peonies. Pearls and silver embroidery decorated the stiffened hem and scooped neckline of her white satin gown. She smoothed the full gauze sleeves that she’d insisted the dressmaker make smaller. Holding up her skirts, she examined a white satin slipper. “I hope these
seed pearls don’t fall off.”

  “They are well sewn on.” Mama arranged the sheer, floating Mechlin lace veil attached to a diamond and pearl encrusted bandeau over Mercy’s shoulders. “I believe it’s time to go down and show the men how lovely you all look.”

  In the drawing room with Edward and Vaughn standing beside him, Father waited in his dark clothes, a boutonniere in his lapel. With a smile, Robin came to claim Charity, murmuring to her.

  Mama, in pale lilac, smiled as Father kissed her cheek. “Well what do you think of your daughters, Baxendale? Are they not beautiful?”

  “Yes, and today, Mercy is the loveliest of all.”

  With a murmur of agreement her sister’s husbands ushered their wives from the room to the waiting carriages.

  Her father assisted Mercy into their carriage. He sat opposite her with his back to the horses. “I am very proud of you, daughter. You may not have wanted this marriage, but you’ve behaved bravely, unselfishly, and I believe, sensibly.”

  Mercy put her hand on her stomach which twisted with apprehension. “Sensibly, Father?”

  “A man of my years does become a good judge of character. Northcliffe impressed me from the first. Even if you do not today, in time you will come to agree with my assessment.” He smiled. “Your future is now assured, my dear. You are marrying into an old, noble family.” He leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “Northcliffe cares very much for you.”

  Mercy gazed at her bouquet. “Does he?”

  Father chuckled. “Men are not always so keen to tie the knot. Despite my making it clear that I was prepared to release him from any culpability, Northcliffe did the honorable thing by offering for your hand. I accepted him without question. The way he looks at you confirms that I did the right thing. The man adores you. Be kind to him.”

  She, kind to him? “What do you mean, Father?”

  “You have an independence of spirit; all my daughters do.” He sighed. “You needed to marry a strong man whom you would respect. And Northcliffe is a man of considerable strength. But give a little, Mercy.”