Leo cut through the moors, fatigue like a heavy sack of wool bearing down on his back. The scratches on his cheek throbbed, but at least the wound had stopped bleeding, and he’d helped the woman to escape her captives. Loud shouts drifted on the breeze, jerking him from introspection. His eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun as he noted the even spread of the men. They were searching for someone or something.
Leo hastened his pace. As he took the turn in the path, he came face-to-face with one of the Merrivale footmen. “What’s happened?”
“Ella disappeared last night.”
“Susan’s sister?”
“Aye.”
Leo’s left hand curled against his thigh, and he ignored the footman’s curiosity to hurry in the direction of the manor. At the edge of the copse of trees that bordered the gardens, he slowed to a brisk walk. This might prove difficult. He’d have to play cool and limit the information he gave or else he’d become a suspect. If he didn’t say anything he’d appear guilty because of the bloody scratch on his face.
Damn.
The first person he saw was the parish constable standing on the front steps with Woodley and Jocelyn. Captain Cartwright was a scrawny man with fair skin. At present his nose was pink, burned by the hot summer sun. A knife scar dissected one cheek, courtesy of a brigand he met while soldiering in France. Now retired from the army, he wore a cocked hat on top of his pristine white wig. The man was honest and known to refuse bribes. He was also intelligent and determined when it came to seeing wrongdoers received punishment.
Leo changed course, deciding to clean up first. Minimize the damage. He slipped around the back of the manor and entered via the library window, left conveniently open by one of the servants—a man creeping about his own home.
A startled gasp made him stiffen. He whirled around to face the source.
“Leo, what are you doing?” Jocelyn slapped a hand to her breast on seeing his cheek. “What happened to your face?”
How the hell had she got here so quickly? He struggled for a plausible excuse. “I stopped by the inn and thought a man was going to injure his wife. I got into the middle trying to stop him.”
Her gaze flickered to the scratches again, and he witnessed the exact moment she jumped to her own conclusion.
“Where have you been?”
“My sheep have been disappearing. I think someone is stealing them, and I decided watch the flock to see if I could catch the culprit.” He maintained eye contact, despite the brazen lie, despite wanting to stare at the shelves of books instead. The ease with which he managed his deceit made his gut swirl with an edge of nausea.
“I see.” She paused without taking her attention off him. “Ella is missing.”
He didn’t have to force his concern. “Is it possible she has run off with a man? The footman she was walking out with?”
“You knew? I didn’t think you’d approve of servants courting after your valet ran off.”
Some of his tension slipped away. He even managed a laugh. “My staff—our staff deserve the same happiness as us. As long as their trysts don’t interfere with work I see no reason to stop them.”
Jocelyn nodded, her hands gripped in a bunch of fingers, constantly moving, clasping and unclasping. “She hasn’t run away. She and Gavin argued last night. Gavin stomped off and left her alone, and she hasn’t been seen since.” Jocelyn’s gaze searched his features, lingered on the scratches again. “Captain Cartwright is interviewing everyone. He’ll want to speak with you.”
Damn. Cartwright would take one look at his face and start asking the same questions that were rattling around Jocelyn’s mind. “I’ll clean up and meet the constable in the parlor. Offer him refreshments and tell him I’ll be down shortly.”
“Of course.” Jocelyn’s modulated tone held no inflection, and the turmoil in him started afresh.
A screech of feminine rage roared down the passage and into the room where they stood. Leo had never been so happy of an interruption from Elizabeth. “Perhaps you should attend your mother.”
“Of course.” Jocelyn walked away without a backward look, yet her disapproval swirled around him like eddies of Dartmoor fog. She didn’t believe him.
Leo strode from the library and up the stairs to his chamber. He needed to prepare himself for Arthur’s interrogation, and he couldn’t afford a slip.
Dressed in fresh clothes and with the scratches on his face treated, Leo walked down the stairs to meet his fate. He encountered Woodley at the base of the stairs.
“Woodley, have they found Ella?”
“Not yet, Mr. Sherbourne. We’re widening the search out onto the moor.”
Leo gave a curt nod. He’d search for her in the abbey ruins this afternoon, not that he thought he’d have any more luck than those already searching.
“Sherbourne.” Captain Cartwright stretched out a hand in greeting, a frown forming when he noted the scratches on Leo’s face. His gaze grew intent. “Meet up with a she-devil?”
Leo barked out a laugh. Trust Cartwright to get straight to the point. “I committed the cardinal sin of getting between a woman and her man. They were fighting, I thought she was in danger, and when I tried to rescue her, she turned on me.”
“Where was this?”
“The Running Footman in Tavistock.” Leo wanted to rush into speech, to add more details but knew it would be a mistake. Too much information would raise Cartwright’s suspicions even more. “I understand one of our maids has disappeared. Which areas have been searched? Does it look as if she’s run off?”
“My gut tells me there is more to this situation than a maid running away after a tiff with her suitor. Everyone I’ve questioned confirms she’s a good girl, one unlikely to run away. Time and again this morning I’ve heard she’s a hard worker, a responsible woman. I fear someone has taken her unwillingly.” Cartwright’s voice grew harsh, his need to find the girl resonating in his voice. “You didn’t see her on your way back from Tavistock?”
“No, the road was quiet today.”
Cartwright’s eyes narrowed. “So no one can vouch for your whereabouts?”
“No,” Leo said. “Apart from the man and woman in the pub, and I don’t know their names.”
“That makes things tricky.” Arthur rubbed his chin in an absent manner.
Leo wasn’t fooled and worried Arthur saw too much. A problem. He remained impassive, his practice with Ursula bearing him in good stead. “Was there anything else? I’d like to join one of the search parties.”
“If I think of anything I’ll ask you later.”
Leo gave a curt nod and strode from the parlor, glad to have the interview finished. For now. Gut instinct told him Arthur would seek him out again to probe more about his visit to Tavistock.
This wasn’t over.
Tavistock market, one week later
Jocelyn strolled through Bedford Square and studied the St. Eustachius church. The fine stone building dominated the square, but today farmers, merchants and shoppers brushed past her without a second glance, impatient to complete their tasks. Hawkers hollered over the shouts of their competitors, tempting customers to purchase their wares.
The scent of food, fresh flowers and perfume warred with the less appealing aroma of animal entrails, droppings and unwashed bodies.
“Get yaw ’ot pies here!”
“Oranges. Oranges!” A young girl jostled Jocelyn, trying to get her attention. She held up a glossy orange, waggling her wrist to better display the fruit.
“No, thank you.” Intent on catching Leo and her mother, Jocelyn forged through the crush of bodies, taking care to watch for pickpockets. She was glad of the footman at her back. The hubbub of market day vexed on her after the peace of the moors. Even so, she was happy to be away from the tension of Merrivale for a few hours. Since Ella’s unexplained disappearance, everyone was on edge, glancing over their shoulders with suspicion.
Her nose wrinkled at the acrid cooking smoke coming from the nearby stall. The stallholders were doing a brisk trade in bowls of meat and turnip stew. The vendors next door were roasting chunks of venison over a fire.
“Jocelyn, do hurry,” her mother called.
“I’m right behind you.” Trailing Leo and her mother, she held her breath until they reached the sweeter smelling cloth stalls. Leo had promised her mother they’d purchase several lengths of fabric. The dressmaker would be the next stop, and her mother danced with her excitement.
Leo… Jocelyn’s mind kept returning to his absence the night of Ella’s disappearance, the scratches on his cheek he said had occurred in a fight. Her gaze lit on Leo’s solid back, and a heavy sigh gusted from her. She didn’t know what to think. Her heart kept telling her he was a good man, but her head refused to let go of the facts. Two murders and one disappearance. They all pointed at her husband.
She bumped into someone and their bread toppled to the ground.
“Watch where ya goin’.” The owner of the bread shot her a black glare before snatching up her loaf and brushing off the dirt.
“I’m sorry.” Jocelyn stopped abruptly to avoid a further collision. Now was not the time to think about Leo’s duplicity. She darted around the bread seller and hastened to catch up.
Jocelyn saw Leo maintained a firm grip on her mother’s arm to stop her darting from stall to stall. An excellent strategy. The last thing they needed was a frantic search through the crowded marketplace. Still, it was good to see the bright color in her mother’s cheeks and the way she chatted with Leo with nary a sign of madness.
“Look at that blue damask,” her mother screeched. “See the color. The fineness of the fabric.”
Jocelyn chuckled as her long-suffering husband allowed her mother to drag him over to inspect the bolt of cloth. She glanced along the line of stall holders, studying the rest of the fabric with a practiced eye. Was there a stall selling lace and trimmings? She turned to scan the offerings in the other direction. A gap appeared in the crowd and a familiar face loosed a startled gasp from deep in her throat.
Boynton? Here?
Shock held her rooted to the spot before self-preservation asserted itself and propelled her to scurry behind a large woman carrying a basket laden with vegetables. God, had he seen her? Apprehension twisted through her veins and nausea shot upward to clump in her throat. She swallowed rapidly, her breathing hoarse with panic.
He must’ve seen her.
Boynton hadn’t been a gracious loser when Melburn won her off him in the poker game. He’d threatened to blacken her name, but Melburn had whisked her away and used his influence to protect her from harm. But now…now Boynton—he was here.
She peeked from behind the woman and glimpsed Boynton again. Her ex-protector hadn’t changed. His dress was immaculate, his coat well-tailored and elegant. He wore a wig and his ruddy features told of his love of port and roast beef. His bulldog face bore a long, narrow nose while his lips curled upward in a cruel twist.
He was scanning the crowd, as if searching for someone. Oh dear. She’d have to tell Leo, would have to involve him in the nastiness of her previous life. Dread lent her speed. She elbowed her way through the crowd with scarcely an apology for her rudeness. She scuttled behind the nearest stall, her breath coming in harsh pants. From her hiding place, she watched Boynton. He cut through the crowd, using his size to bully anyone who dared bar his way. His pugnacious face was set with determination. She crouched against the side of the stall, a tremor weakening her knees.
Questions ran through her mind with breakneck speed. How had he discovered her location? Was it a coincidence or had he followed her from London? And even worse, had he known her address in London all along and simply bade his time?
“Lady, you all right?”
Jocelyn’s head jerked in the direction of the young woman, towing a grubby child. “I’m fine. I felt ill for a moment.” She had to move. Soon. Her mother would require Jocelyn’s opinion on the bolts of cloth available for sale. Where was the footman? He’d be frantic, wondering what had happened to her. “I believe the feeling has passed now.”
The young woman trudged on her way, juggling control of the child and her basket of shopping.
“’ere, you! Wot you doin’ loitering behind my stall?” an irate woman demanded.
“I’m sorry.” Jocelyn repeated her excuses and stepped furtively from hiding, craning her neck in her search for Boynton. If she remained lurking here, Leo would start asking the same questions. Besides, he wouldn’t leave her mother on her own in the market. He’d want to turn her mother over to her before he left to view livestock. She glanced left and right. Boynton had gone—at least for the moment.
“Mrs. Sherbourne.” The footman’s voice held relief.
Jocelyn offered him a wan smile. She spied Leo and her mother in the row of fabric stalls and made her way over to them, maintaining a wary eye for Boynton.
“Leo purchased three lengths of cloth for me,” her mother said, almost girlish in her enthusiasm.
“And I thought you’d need my advice on your purchases,” Jocelyn teased, fighting her impulse to scan the faces in their vicinity.
Leo grinned, the curve of his lips doing strange things to her pulse rate. Despite her worry, Leo only had to turn his charm on her and her anxieties lessened. It was his Sherbourne smile. He flashed it in her direction and every sane thought fled. She squeezed her thighs together as her mind drifted to the joy she found with him in private.
“If only the other women in my life were so easily satisfied. Cassie wants a new doll and was very specific with her requirements.” His good humor faded. “Hannah put her up to it.”
“Why don’t you purchase some extra cloth, and ask Mother if she’ll stitch new clothes for Cassie’s existing doll? That might keep her happy.” She gave into her need and glanced around her, tension bleeding from tight muscles when she didn’t glimpse Boynton’s gloating, cruel visage.
“Is something wrong?” Leo asked.
“No. No, I’m fine.” Now wasn’t the time to discuss the matter with Leo, and besides, she was possibly worrying about nothing. After another surreptitious glance over her shoulder, she allowed Leo to direct her and her mother to another stall.
She caught Leo watching her and offered a bright smile. He didn’t return the sentiment, and her breath caught, uneasiness filling her now. She didn’t know him well enough to decipher what his changeable moods meant.
“I need to go,” he said. “The footman will escort you to the dressmaker and then to the public house.”
“Of course,” Jocelyn murmured. “You must attend to your livestock. We’ll see you later.”
Leo tugged on a lock of Jocelyn’s hair. “Make sure you keep Gavin with you at all times.”
“We will,” she promised.
Once Leo left, they walked directly to Madam Marie, the dressmaker, with the footman trailing them.
“Ah,” Madam Marie said. “The new Mrs. Sherbourne.” She shifted her gaze. “And your mother. I can see the likeness in the eyes.”
“Good day,” Jocelyn said.
“How can I help you today?” the dressmaker asked.
“My mother requires new gowns, and I’d like to purchase two dresses for my stepdaughter.”
“But of course.” Madam Marie clapped her hands briskly, and one of her seamstresses appeared to help with the measuring. “Did you have any specific styles in mind? Is the dress for a special occasion?” As she spoke, she started to take Elizabeth’s measurements, her competence telling Jocelyn that despite Hannah’s assertions, Madam Marie was a capable seamstress. The measuring took no time at all.
“Is it possible to get dresses stitched for my stepdaughter’s doll? I thought it would be a good idea to match the fabric with Cassie’s new gowns,” Jocelyn said. “Mother is going to sew several, but I thought garments from the dressmaker would make her very happy.”
“Mrs. Sherbourne, but of course.” Madam Marie pursed her lips. “I heard another girl has disappeared from Merrivale.”
“Gossip travels fast.”
“Two girls have gone missing from Tavistock,” Madam Marie said. “The butcher’s daughter vanished last month and no one has seen her since.”
Jocelyn stiffened and glanced at her mother. She seemed content to look at pattern books plus the additional fabrics and trim the assistant brought to show her. “Two?” Why hadn’t anyone mentioned this? “Did they disappear without warning?”
The assistant unwound a length of apricot silk and held it against Elizabeth’s face.
“Neither of the girls had bad reputations. They were hardworking and well-liked.” Madam Marie leaned over and flicked the fabric to make it drape better, a faint frown marring her brow. She tsked under her breath. “No, I don’t think this color will do. Try the dark gray silk.”
Not the kind of women who would run off with a man, then. No, something more sinister was at work here. Surely Leo—no! The knowledge she had of him refused to let her suspicions gain root and grow. There had to be another reason why young women were disappearing from the towns on and around the moors. “Have there been disappearances from other villages?”
Madam Marie cocked her head, intelligence glinting in her sharp gaze. “It’s possible, although, I haven’t heard of others.”
Jocelyn nodded, not inclined to discuss the matter further, and wandered over to look at the selection of hats and shawls. A green hat with a large brim caught her attention—the perfect thing to cover her distinctive hair. And if she added a shawl in a different color—yes, a change in her appearance might help her avoid Boynton until she spoke with Leo.
“Do you have your stepdaughter’s measurements, Mrs. Sherbourne? The measurements for the doll?”
“Yes, certainly.” Jocelyn rattled off the relevant information, having committed it to memory before they left home.
“And which fabrics would you like?”
“Mother, would you like to help me choose fabric for Cassie?”
“I think you should take the pale blue and the red floral,” Elizabeth said decisively. Her cheeks glowed with exhilaration, an emotion that echoed in her eyes. No one looking at her, clad in her smartest yellow gown and a lacy cap, would suspect her of madness. She’d dressed carefully for her trip to Tavistock, driving Tilly to distraction with her demands, yet Jocelyn couldn’t help but smile. This challenging woman was the mother of her childhood—the ambitious one who pulled off splendid matches for her merchant class daughters. A pity the family situation had changed before it was Jocelyn’s turn.
After Jocelyn extracted a promise from the dressmaker to complete the gowns and deliver them to Merrivale Manor within the week, they left the shop. Gavin pushed away from the wall and took up the rear, a silent sentinel.
“I told you they’d manage to complete a gown in time for the party,” her mother said, practically skipping down the street. She skirted a smelly pile of refuse in the middle of her path. “You should have ordered a new gown too.”
“Yes you did say that,” Jocelyn said, scanning the busy street in her peripheral vision. “I have plenty of gowns. I don’t require a new one.”
“Your husband might decide to never purchase a dress for you again if you tell him that,” her mother said sharply, once again reminding Jocelyn of the past, and the shrewd woman who’d snared titles for Georgina and Charlotte.
“He was very generous with you and Cassie.”
“Yes, I was surprised. You were lucky with your choice of husband. Most men wouldn’t have married you.”
“Mother,” Jocelyn hissed, her gaze darting to check for Boynton and eavesdroppers.
While she was pleased her mother was showing signs of her old self, she could do without the criticism. She bit back the sharp words on the tip of her tongue—the fierce resentment because if it wasn’t for Jocelyn embracing the life of a courtesan, they would’ve ended up out on the street, penniless and desperate.
“The Bull and Bear. This is our destination.” Thank goodness. Hopefully her mother would focus on something else now that they’d arrived at the pub.
Leo had booked a private room, and Jocelyn gratefully followed the innkeeper who directed them to his best parlor. Although small, the room was clean and comfortable with several upright chairs and a sturdy wooden table.
Jocelyn wandered to the window and massaged her right temple, pressing carefully with her fingertips in an effort to shift the dull throb that had settled since leaving the dressmakers. A respite from the flurry of the marketplace would prove welcome, give her time to think. She let out a muffled snort, directed more at herself than anyone else—a chance to sulk because her mother wasn’t appreciative of her sacrifices.
A heavy sigh followed, the burden heaped on her as she considered the choices she’d taken since meeting Leo. Foremost came the worry that she’d made a huge mistake in accepting his offer. What if she’d placed her mother directly in danger?
“What do you think of Tavistock, Mother?” Jocelyn caught a glimpse of a tall man who looked a bit like Boynton, and she drew back from the window in two jerky steps.
She was a married woman. Boynton no longer held power over her, but he could cause trouble for Leo if he decided to inform everyone of her past. Jocelyn’s hands trembled, and she clenched them in an effort to calm her escalating dread. There was no reason for Boynton to visit Dartmoor. His family held estates in Yorkshire. And Leo…what would he think when she told him? She and her mother had brought a stack of problems to Merrivale Manor.
Leo arrived after seeing to his business, and her mother immediately regaled him with their activities since they’d parted. Her husband listened closely, and Jocelyn felt her heart turn over. Gratitude filled her at the way Leo treated her mother—like an adult instead of an imbecile.
“And what about you?” Leo asked. “Did you also attempt to spend all my money?” His eyes glowed, and Jocelyn basked in the warmth of his regard. When his charm focused on her like this, her concerns and doubts about their marriage seemed trivial.
“I managed to spend a little,” she said. “I didn’t expect the market to be quite as crowded. Are the weekly markets always this large?”
“The locals use the market to sell their wares and exchange news and gossip.”
“So the market is mainly for locals?”
Leo shot her a dissecting glance. “Why?”
Jocelyn checked on her mother and saw she’d moved to another window to watch the antics of a juggler down on the street. She leaned nearer to Leo and lowered her voice. “I saw Boynton in the crowd. I know he saw me.”
“Boynton? The man Melburn mentioned from your past?”
“Yes.”
“You’re safe at Merrivale.”
She groped for Leo’s left hand as she recalled Boynton’s frequent rages. “What if he spreads gossip about my past? Surely you don’t want rumors spread throughout the parish?”
“To my knowledge, the man hasn’t been near Merrivale. His presence is a coincidence, and he’s merely traveling through the area.”
Jocelyn doubted that very much and feared nothing good could come from her sighting. Boynton had seen her, and the man wasn’t a good loser. “His estates are in Yorkshire.”
Leo smoothed his fingertips across one cheek. “Sweetheart, you’re worrying unnecessarily. He can’t hurt you, but if it sets your mind at rest I’ll make discreet enquiries.”
“Thank you.” She shivered when she registered his hot intent. If it wasn’t for her mother’s presence, she was positive he’d haul her into his arms. Warmth suffused her cheeks.
He smiled down at her. “I’m sure there’s no need for concern.”
Despite her qualms, Jocelyn nodded and released her desperate grip on her husband. “I’ll give you a description. He’s about your height but stockier in build. He usually wears a wig, and keeps his blond hair clipped short. He enjoys his food and drink, and it shows in his body.”
A tap on the door announced the arrival of their meal. The innkeeper’s wife and a maid entered the parlor bearing trays. The moment they lifted the covers on the food, the delicious scent of beef and oyster pie drifted through the air. Lunch was a gay affair, full of laughter and good spirits, and Jocelyn allowed the delicious food and jolly atmosphere to lull her trepidation.
Jocelyn woke in an empty bed again, despite the early hour. When she’d first arrived at Merrivale, Leo had risen early, but not before kissing her awake. Slowly, things had changed. He visited her bed and sometimes left after they’d made love. Last night he’d stayed, or at least he’d remained until she fell asleep. She stared at the ceiling, trying to quell the doubt demons popping to life.
There was a good reason for Leo’s absence. Yes, he was likely in his chamber now. She found herself out of bed and halfway to her dressing room before the thought properly formed. The Oriental rug was soft beneath her bare feet, her footfalls silent as she approached the connecting door. She opened the door and peered into Leo’s chamber.
He wasn’t there.
His bed hadn’t been slept in, the covers smooth and unruffled.
Deep in thought, she retraced her footsteps, but instead of returning to her bed, she drew back the curtains. A wash of light lit the horizon, backlighting the contrasting dark silhouettes of the trees and piles of stone. On impulse, she let the curtains fall back and dressed rapidly in one of her simpler gowns. A peaceful walk in the garden would be a lovely way to start the day.
Outside, the cool breeze tugged at her hair, and she wished she’d taken the time to confine her locks. She grasped her hair with one hand and tucked the long ends haphazardly beneath her shawl. The sky was lighter now, and the cheerful chorus from a nearby thrush was almost deafening. Her skirts brushed the dew-covered plants, absorbing the moisture and dragging under the weight.
Choosing to take a path she hadn’t explored before, she strolled without purpose, merely enjoying the slice of morning quiet. She rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt, her hand rising to cover her gaping mouth. Hurriedly, she drew back out of sight but not before the image of her husband embracing Arabella seared to her mind.
Anguish gripped her chest, making it difficult to draw breath. She stumbled in the opposite direction, only wanting to escape. Leaves and branches grabbed at her clothes and clung. She burst into a clearing she hadn’t seen before and sank onto a seat in a folly overlooking the moors. She couldn’t stop trembling.
The betrayal…she should have expected it. Most men had mistresses. She’d been a mistress, seen the way men behaved and heard the way they spoke about their wives with contempt and sniggers.
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the tears pouring down her cheeks. She wiped them away with an abrupt rub of her hand. Their marriage—despite the odd way they’d come together—she’d expected they’d deal well together because they’d started with honesty. A snort erupted. At least there had been openness on her part.
No wonder Arabella treated her so shabbily. She resented Jocelyn’s presence at Merrivale. Perhaps she’d expected Leo to offer her marriage.
Gradually her tears stopped. A chill from her damp clothes sped through her, yet she was hesitant about returning to the manor. The last thing she wanted when she felt so raw was to confront Leo and Arabella. She took a deep breath, striving for composure. After smoothing her hair, she stood and retraced her footsteps.
Jocelyn nodded to the footman as she entered the Great Hall. Low feminine laughter came from the morning room, and when she heard the rumble of a masculine voice, she turned in that direction. Lifting her chin, she sailed through the doorway, scanning the dark-paneled room to ascertain the occupants.
Leo and Arabella.
“Good morning,” Leo said in a warm voice as he walked toward her, his obvious intention to embrace her written on his handsome face.
She dodged behind the table and slipped into one of the vacant chairs. “Summon a maid please, Leo. I require hot chocolate.”
“Of course.” Leo’s smile of greeting faded into a frown, and she could feel his disapproval. Too bad. She wasn’t the one in the wrong here.
“Good morning, Arabella.” Jocelyn couldn’t keep the bite from her voice.
Arabella quirked an eyebrow, a hint of mischief twinkling in her brown eyes. “Whatever is your maid thinking? Surely she didn’t send you out this morning looking like that? Your hair…” She trailed off, her gesture toward Jocelyn leaving little to the imagination.
“I went for a walk in the garden.” Jocelyn’s pulse raced a little faster. “There is a heavy dew on the ground this morning, and the wind was blowing up on the hill.” She swallowed and knew she couldn’t pretend. “I saw you this morning, out in the garden.”