“Cassie?” Jocelyn rapidly searched behind the chairs and the larger pieces of furniture, alarm tightening her throat. She peered under a sturdy table but didn’t see her stepdaughter.
“Good morning.” Amusement colored the voice of the feminine speaker.
Jocelyn’s head jerked upward, colliding with the edge of the table. “Ow!” She backed out from underneath the desk, rubbing her temple. Face flushed with heat, she climbed to her feet and turned to face the mystery woman.
Oh, the neighbors—Hannah and Peregrine. Just perfect. Jocelyn pasted on a smile and pretended her new neighbors hadn’t seen her on the floor with her backside poking from beneath a table. She brushed her face with the corner of her apron, aware of her messy appearance. No doubt, her cherry-red cheeks clashed with her hair and freckles. Her callers, of course, wore smart clothes suitable for visiting.
“Good day to you. I didn’t see you there. I was looking for Cassie.” She restrained herself when instinct told her to fuss with her hair. She couldn’t begin to compete with Hannah’s beautiful cream riding habit and pale golden perfection. There was no black garb in evidence today.
“We heard screaming. Is something wrong?” Masculine approval glinted in Peregrine’s eyes as he focused on the upper curves of Jocelyn’s breasts.
“My mother received a fright.” Jocelyn ignored Peregrine’s rude ogling to visually search the parlor for a glimpse of her stepdaughter.
“Aunt Hannah!” Cassie appeared from the far corner of the room and threw herself at the woman, burying her face in the skirts of her aunt’s riding habit.
Jocelyn wanted to sag onto the nearest chair. Thank goodness! The last thing she wanted was to explain to Leo how she’d lost his daughter.
“Poppet, what’s wrong? You’re not usually shy.” Hannah took a step back and stooped to kiss her niece’s face. “Why have you been crying?” She shot a reproving look at Jocelyn, and Jocelyn felt the full weight of the woman’s censure. “Where is your nurse?”
To Jocelyn’s relief, a maid arrived with refreshments, the rattle of the tray providing a welcome interruption. Providing explanations of the last hour to her new neighbors, even if they bore close ties to Cassie, wasn’t something she wanted to do either.
“Please take a seat,” Jocelyn said, gesturing at the Egyptian-style settee and the ornate matching chairs. She accepted Peregrine’s escort to a spot near the tea tray and immediately wished she hadn’t when his touch lingered overlong. Experience had taught her how to deal with unwelcome advances, but she held herself in check, reminding herself these were her neighbors. She arranged her skirts and waited expectantly for Hannah to follow suit.
“Where is the fair Arabella?” Peregrine asked in a lazy drawl.
“I volunteered to look after Cassie for a few hours,” Jocelyn said in a tight voice.
Hannah led Cassie over to a chair—one with elaborately carved feet—and lifted her up. “Would you like some fresh milk and one of Cook’s raspberry tarts?”
Irritation tightened Jocelyn’s chest, and she aimed an incredulous glower at Hannah. The woman had no business usurping her rightful place as hostess. The hint of malice in the other woman’s eyes stiffened Jocelyn’s spine. She curled her right hand around the arm of her chair, counseling herself to patience. Her marriage to Leo was a shock and she needed to make allowances.
Hannah placed a tart on a plate for Cassie, and Peregrine caught Jocelyn’s frown.
“How do you like Dartmoor?” he asked, directing the conversation with a flirtatious grin, probably in the hope of avoiding an unpleasant disagreement between the two women. “It must be a change from London.”
How did he know she came from London? She hadn’t told anyone simply because she didn’t want to cause Leo embarrassment or open herself to nosy questions. “I haven’t been here long, but so far I love the countryside.” An evasive answer, but it seemed to satisfy him.
“Dartmoor is a dangerous place.” Peregrine leaned over and placed a too familiar hand on her forearm. His blue eyes twinkled and, to her discomfort, Jocelyn detected a hint of lust.
“In what way?” Jocelyn shifted and his hand dropped away. Personally she thought both Hannah and Peregrine needed a lesson in manners.
“Did you hear about the murder of our maid? Her body was found in the maze here at Merrivale.” His blond brows rose, his eyes strangely intent. His lazy manner faded as he leaned closer to speak in an undertone. “Then of course, there was my sister’s murder. If I were you, I’d be watching my back.”
A chill rippled through Jocelyn, stirring the hairs at the back of her neck. “Whatever do you mean?”
Peregrine’s brows drew together. “I’d listen to the rumors because there is more than a little truth in them.”
“Stop being so secretive.” Jocelyn drew in a rapid breath, attempting to claw back the anxiety his words set loose. There was something about his tone, the way his teasing nature had receded to expose a hint of his inner self. “Tell me what you mean.”
Peregrine shrugged and insouciance settled on him again like a cozy woolen cloak. “I’m warning you to take care. All is not as it seems at Merrivale.”
Confused about his meaning, she stood abruptly. “Can I get you a dish of tea or would you like something stronger?”
“Do you have claret?”
“Of course.” Having learned a thing or two while dealing with her sisters, she calmly reclaimed the reins from Hannah, bustling about to pour claret and prepare a plate of cakes for Peregrine. “Hannah, would you care for a slice of butter cake or perhaps a raspberry tart?”
“Thank you.” Hannah smiled graciously, although her fingers tightened around the handle of the milk jug before replacing it on the table.
An awkward silence fell. Jocelyn wanted to check on her mother and make certain Cassie was all right after her fright. But, aware of her responsibilities, she sat beside Peregrine again and introduced a neutral topic. “Tell me about the village. Is there a good dressmaker?”
“We came to invite you to a party.” Hannah’s gaze swept Jocelyn’s serviceable brown and her top lip curled. “I doubt you’ll have time to order a new gown beforehand. The village dressmaker might aspire to London designs, but the results are hopelessly provincial.”
“Hannah!” Even Peregrine blinked at her rudeness.
“A party sounds lovely,” Jocelyn said, ignoring both comments. “I look forward to meeting Leo’s friends and neighbors. Will there be dancing?”
Hannah shrugged. “Of course. Peregrine has the invitation.” She turned her back on Jocelyn and Peregrine to chat with Cassie. Another show of ill manners.
A distant shriek severed the taut calm.
Cassie dropped her milk and started wailing. Jocelyn jumped to her feet, but Hannah took over, soothing her niece while ordering Peregrine to summon a maid. In the end, Jocelyn rang for a servant, moving away to let Hannah deal with Cassie. There was no need to complicate the situation by arguing with the woman, but Jocelyn’s lips pursed in irritation. If Hannah attempted to behave like this during her next visit, she’d learn Jocelyn wasn’t afraid of claiming her rightful place.
“Aren’t you going to investigate the commotion?” Peregrine asked, leaning closer than necessary. His focus was on her breasts again, and a scandalous smirk lit his eyes. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the direction of his thoughts.
“No.” Jocelyn straightened, irked by the man’s flirtation. There was nothing she could do that Tilly wouldn’t already be doing. “My mother’s nurse will take care of her.”
“Your mother is making that racket? She sounds as if she belongs in Bedlam,” Hannah snapped. “No wonder Cassie is upset with a lunatic living in the manor.”
“Hannah,” Peregrine rebuked. “That was unpardonably rude.”
“I’m speaking nothing less than the truth. I don’t know why Leo would marry her.”
Peregrine grimaced, but his attention wandered to Jocelyn’s bodice. “I must apologize for my sister. I’m sorry, Jocelyn. Can I call you Jocelyn since Leo’s family and ours are such old friends and none of us stand on formalities?”
Why couldn’t he address her face instead of her breasts? “Yes, of course.” She wanted to refuse, yet it seemed silly to insist when they’d see each other on a regular basis.
“We’d better leave you to calm your mother.” Peregrine stood and bent over her hand. A perfectly polite gesture yet he made it into a lurid one. His fingers traced the tender skin of her inner wrist, lingering over the scatter of freckles in an overly familiar way. A reckless grin lit his face when she jerked from his touch. “Remember what I said. Merrivale is a dangerous place.” Raising his voice, he said, “Come, Hannah. We have callers arriving this afternoon. I told you we couldn’t visit for long.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Cassie cried, clutching her aunt’s cream skirts with her jam-covered fingers.
“Look what you’ve done,” Hannah said in a sharp voice. She yanked from Cassie’s grasp and backed away with a scowl.
Cassie started wailing, her sobs breaking Jocelyn’s heart. Poor mite. She’d had a trying morning. Jocelyn scooped up the child and hugged her tightly, but Cassie’s crying didn’t diminish.
“We will visit again later in the week,” Hannah promised, shooting a triumphant look at Jocelyn.
“I want to go home with you,” Cassie cried.
“That will be enough, Cassie.” Leo stood in the doorway. He grimaced as a volley of shrieks echoed from her mother’s wing. “Hannah. Peregrine. I didn’t think to see you so soon.” He ignored Jocelyn to concentrate on their visitors.
“We came to invite you to a party,” Peregrine said, smiling warmly at Jocelyn.
“Cassie,” Leo remonstrated.
Cassie’s noisy sobs abated somewhat at her father’s stern tone, and Leo glowered at Hannah and Peregrine before leveling his dark expression on her. Jocelyn stiffened, annoyance striking her like an abrupt bump against the shins. She drew a sharp breath and attempted to tamp down her exasperation. Surely he didn’t suspect she returned Peregrine’s obvious interest? That she wanted his flirtatious attentions? Compared to Leo, Peregrine was a rambunctious puppy, acceptable in small doses but not fit for polite company.
Cassie started to struggle, and Jocelyn set her down. The child immediately ran to Hannah and hid her face in her aunt’s skirts. This time there were no rebukes, merely sweet smiles that made Jocelyn long to lash out with sharp words of reprimand.
Hannah sparkling with the good cheer she hadn’t demonstrated before Leo’s arrival. “Do say you’ll come to the party.” She placed one gloved hand on Leo’s arm, all charm as she batted her lashes at him. “It won’t be the same without you.”
“Please excuse me,” Jocelyn said in a stiff voice. “I must attend my mother.” With a nod at Peregrine and a strained smile at Hannah, she hurried to the doorway. When she passed Leo, her lips warmed into a genuine beam. “I won’t be long.”
Leo glanced in the direction of the hoarse screams. “We’ll talk once our visitors leave.”
“Of course.” Jocelyn tried not to read too much into his glower. She had nothing to worry about, because she hadn’t encouraged Peregrine. Still, anxiety stalked her all the way to her mother’s rooms. She wanted Leo to trust her. Her thoughts slid to Peregrine and uneasiness joined her concern. His warning words implied something was amiss at Merrivale. Was he implying Leo was the source of the danger?
The screams grew progressively louder until they drowned out Jocelyn’s doubts.
Grimacing, she tapped on the door before entering. “Mother, is this shrieking necessary? You’re upsetting Cassie and making her cry.”
The caterwauling ceased abruptly.
“Have you collected herbs for me? I need them to make my rinse for your husband.”
Jocelyn fought an urge to bang her head against the nearest wall. In a quicksilver change of direction her mother appeared to have forgotten the spy she’d spotted lurking in the garden. “No, Mother. I had unexpected visitors. Leo is with them now, but as soon as they leave, I’ll collect the herbs and flowers you require.” She wanted to speak with the gardener anyway. Hopefully, he’d reported his findings to Woodley already.
Leaving Tilly to organize her mother, she returned to the parlor. To her relief, only Leo and Cassie remained. Arabella arrived at the same time and, after a glare in Jocelyn’s direction, took charge of Cassie and marched the child from the room.
“I’m sorry my mother upset Cassie.”
“I suspect Cassie is still unwell,” Leo said, his words clipped and precise.
Jocelyn winced, wary of his mood. She didn’t know him well enough to predict his temper. “Did you hear about the party?”
“Yes, Hannah informed me of the invitation.”
Jocelyn bit her lip. Stupid. She’d heard Hannah repeat the invitation herself. “I’m looking forward to meeting our other neighbors.”
Leo prowled to the nearest window. He stared out over the garden, his back stiff. Yesterday he’d reminded her of a graceful beast. Today his prowling seemed faintly menacing, especially in light of Peregrine’s strange warnings. Leo whirled to face her, the sudden move making her jump. “Are you bored with living in the country? Jaded with my company already?”
Jocelyn gaped at him. “Of course not.”
“You appeared to enjoy Peregrine’s company.” Leo’s harsh tone surprised her too. Had last night meant nothing to him?
“They weren’t here for long before you arrived. Mother had one of her episodes out in the garden.”
“I heard.” Leo’s tone was short.
Someone tapped on the door, halting the tart reply trembling at her lips.
“Enter,” Leo said without taking his gaze off her.
Woodley stopped just inside the door. “Mrs. Sherbourne, the gardener is here to see you. He said you’d told him to talk to me, but I felt you should hear what he has to say in person.”
Leo’s eyes narrowed, but Jocelyn’s gaze didn’t waver. There was something in Leo’s past—something relating to his first marriage—that made him distrustful. Part of her understood his testy attitude because he didn’t know her well. Not yet. It’d take time for him to believe she’d never betray him. Taming Leo would require patience and resilience, which thankfully she possessed in abundance after dealing with her sisters and mother and the hellish mess her father had landed her in on his death.
“Of course. Tell him I’ll be out in a few minutes. I promised to collect some herbs and flowers for my mother anyway.”
“Yes, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Woodley backed from the parlor and closed the door.
Leo stared at her until she wanted to squirm.
“Ah, I’d better go and speak with the gardener.” The words burst from her, a reaction to his frosty demeanor.
“Why do you need to speak to the gardener?” Once again, suspicion colored his expression.
She was innocent of wrongdoing, and his attitude stirred even more uneasiness. Jocelyn reminded herself she’d made the decision to marry him, and she had to make the best of her new situation. “Why don’t you come with me?”
Her suggestion obviously startled him. Good. Perhaps keeping him off balance might mellow his mood. She bustled to the doorway and spoke over her shoulder. “I’ll explain on the way. I need to collect a basket and scissors to pick more flowers and herbs for my mother. The ones we picked were destroyed—trampled underfoot during the earlier tempest.”
Leo nodded, strangely reticent now.
Satisfied with her strategy, Jocelyn led the way outside, pausing to collect her supplies from the still room. “I asked the under-gardener to check for signs of a stranger loitering in the garden. Mother was insistent she saw someone spying on us while we were picking flowers.”
“And you think your mother was imagining things?”
“Yes. No.” Jocelyn frowned. “I’m not sure. I sensed someone watching us while we were in the garden, but thought it was my imagination. I also saw a flash of white.”
“Most likely it was a bird or a sheep.”
“That’s what I decided, but that was also before Mother started screaming about spies.” Another thought occurred—one she didn’t voice. The riding habit Hannah had worn today was pale in color. She and Peregrine had arrived at roughly the same time. No, Hannah mightn’t like her, but her affection for her niece appeared genuine. She wouldn’t want to upset Cassie.
The jam episode…
No, Jocelyn was positive of Hannah’s innocence in this case. They’d arrived on horseback and left their horses at the stables, which were in the opposite direction. “Have you experienced problems with intruders before?”
“Strangers tend to stand out in the village.” Leo’s mouth twisted, but she wouldn’t call it a smile. “We live in a beautiful area and do have visitors, but I’d have heard of new arrivals, where they’d come from, along with their intentions and length of stay. Gossip spreads rapidly around here.”
“I suppose that must be how Peregrine knew I was from London. There he is,” Jocelyn said, changing her direction abruptly. “Good afternoon, did you discover anything out of the ordinary?”
The young gardener bobbed his head in a show of respect. “I didn’t see anyone or come across footprints.” His words were slow and thick with a Devonshire accent. “The ground’s dry after the fine weather.”
“Oh. Well, thank you for looking for me.” Jocelyn had expected this report. Her mother wasn’t the most reliable witness. She started to turn away when the gardener spoke again.
“There was something strange,” he said. “Someone had trampled the undergrowth at the edge of the oak forest. No footprints, see, but broken branches and crushed grasses near the trees.”
Jocelyn considered the information. “Perhaps it was an animal. Maybe sheep?”
“How old were the signs?” Leo took over the questioning, his gaze probing.
“Recent,” the gardener said without hesitation. “Sap still oozed from the broken branches.”
“Could one of the other gardeners have caused the damage?” Leo asked.
“None of us have worked in the area today,” the gardener said.
Jocelyn nodded. “Thank you.”
The gardener went back to his work, leaving her alone with Leo. He was frowning again, but this time his displeasure wasn’t aimed at her.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Leo said. “I’ll speak to the rest of the outdoor staff and ask them to watch for strangers.”
“We’re assuming it’s a stranger, but it could be anyone,” Jocelyn pointed out. “It could be a local or one of the staff.”
“At least you’re not trying to tell me your mother saw a ghost.”
“You don’t believe in ghosts?”
An indelicate sound escaped Leo. “Of course not. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation.” He studied his wife’s impish expression, and his bad mood disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Seeing Peregrine touching her in the overly familiar manner had reminded him of Ursula’s flirtations. At the start of his first marriage, he’d been so smitten he hadn’t noticed Ursula’s shortcomings. Besides, she’d hidden her lovers carefully until he’d discovered her in bed with an actor from a touring troop. After that episode, she hadn’t bothered to hide her indiscretions, her behavior outrageous and designed to rouse his jealousy.
“I’d hoped Mother would settle easily. She was so happy out in the garden picking flowers.” Jocelyn grimaced. “I’m sorry about the drama. I’d better pick these flowers and herbs before Mother makes her displeasure known again.”
“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 held streaks of 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 rolled 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.”
Their search produced nothing except hoarse voices and sore throats. Jocelyn grew increasingly concerned, her gaze flitting from person to person. Where was Leo?
A new arrival spiked a spark of relief until she realized it was the vicar and his wife. Jocelyn forced a gracious welcome and ushered Vicar and Mrs. Allenby toward the steps leading inside the manor. When she noticed Susan wringing her hands, her stomach flipped in sympathy.
“Susan, please go and order refreshments from the kitchen, then I’d like you to continue your duties in my chamber. I’m afraid I ripped the hem of my brown gown yesterday.” When a mulish frown appeared on Susan’s face, Jocelyn spoke rapidly, forcing herself to issue the order when she wanted to embrace her maid and offer comfort. “I’ll send word as soon as we hear something.”
Susan’s face crumpled, but she gave a crisp nod and left.
“Why whatever is wrong?” Mrs. Allenby asked. “Have we arrived at a bad time?”
“One of our maids has vanished. She’s normally very reliable, and her disappearance is quite out of character.”
“Oh, dear,” the vicar said.
“This doesn’t sound right, especially since the other maid turned up dead,” Mrs. Allenby said in a troubled voice.
“Is Leo out searching for her?” Vicar Allenby asked.
“Yes,” Jocelyn said, guiding her guests into the parlor. She bit her lip, wondering why she’d lied.
Mrs. Allenby sat on one of the damask chairs and Jocelyn dropped onto the settee.
“Have you summoned the parish constable?” the vicar asked, selecting a sturdier chair more suitable for his robust frame.
“No, we’re still searching the grounds and the riverbank in case of an accident.”
“But you don’t think an accident has befallen the girl,” Mrs. Allenby said.
Jocelyn grasped her hands together, tightly in her lap. “No.”
Silence filled the parlor.
“I think it would be a good idea to summon Arthur Cartwright, given the similar circumstances to the other maid’s disappearance. Do you have paper? I’ll pen a note for Arthur,” the vicar said.
A maid appeared with a tray of refreshments, and Jocelyn bade her escort Vicar Allenby to Leo’s study to procure paper and ink, all the while hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. She hated to implicate Leo.
With the note dispatched, the vicar returned. Jocelyn sat on the edge of the settee, ignoring her tea, while she strained to hear any new arrivals outside.
“Mrs. Sherbourne?”
Jocelyn shook to alertness. “I’m sorry. I’m worried about Ella’s disappearance.” A vexed screech sounded in the distance. It repeated again, this time much closer.
Mrs. Allenby’s brows rose. Vicar Allenby leapt to his feet.
“My mother,” Jocelyn said wryly. “I’d know that sound anywhere.” Heat suffused her cheeks. Heaven knows what her visitors thought. Sometimes she wished… No, this arrangement was working well. Her mother was enjoying the move to Merrivale. Besides, Leo had agreed to house her mother. He wouldn’t go back on his word. A third squeal right outside the door had Jocelyn moving. She wrenched open the parlor door. “Mother. We have guests. Come and meet the vicar and his wife.”
“Jocelyn, Tilly won’t let me go outside. I want to walk in the garden.”
“Mrs. Allenby, Vicar, this is my mother, Mrs. Townsend.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Allenby walked forward with an outstretched hand. “I understand you’re a very talented seamstress.”
Jocelyn held her breath until the tension seeped from her mother’s shoulders. A broad smile broke out on her face, showing a hint of the beauty both of Jocelyn’s older sisters had inherited. Ah, it seemed the period of relative calm would continue. Jocelyn hid a grimace. At least as long as they let Elizabeth go for a walk later.
After several minutes of animated chatter between Mrs. Allenby and Elizabeth about stitching and fabrics, Vicar Allenby said it was time for them to leave. Trying not to display anything apart from a polite social facade, Jocelyn escorted her visitors outside.
“Let us know how the search progresses for your maid,” Vicar Allenby said in a gruff voice. “We’ll keep our eyes and ears open.”
A horse and rider approached down the driveway.
“That will be Captain Cartwright,” Mrs. Allenby said. “He’s a good man.”
Jocelyn nodded, trying to ignore the trepidation churning the few sips of tea she’d managed to swallow. Leo hadn’t returned yet.