Jocelyn kept busy with festival preparations during the days following the funeral, trying to outrun thoughts of her mother and murder.
From her chamber window, she scanned the sky for unacceptable changes in the weather. This morning the sky appeared a brilliant blue with not a cloud to mar the pristine hue. She let the curtain drop back into place. “It’s not raining.”
Susan smoothed the covers of the bed and straightened the pillows. “My mother thinks we’ll have a fine spell. None of the frogs are croaking in the village pond.”
“Are frogs reliable indicators of weather?”
“According to my mother.” Susan moved on to the dressing table, tidying away ribbons and ear rings with brisk efficiency. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Good.” Amazingly, she didn’t feel a hint of nausea, not after eating several pieces of dry bread.
“Keep some bread handy, Mrs. Sherbourne. My sister said the nausea can strike at any time of the day.” She pulled back the rest of the curtains, letting in a burst of sunshine. “It looks like today will be a fine one. I’m sure tomorrow will be perfect for the festival.”
“That’s reassuring. The weather is the one thing Mrs. Allenby can’t order to jump to attention.”
Susan giggled as she assisted Jocelyn to dress in a black gown. Jocelyn smiled until she recalled her mother. Despite the footmen and Woodley plus several of the gardening staff watching the house at night, she didn’t feel easy.
“Your…um…visitor left his gloves. Where should I put them?”
“My visitor? Oh!” Suddenly Jocelyn understood. Susan thought Jocelyn was conducting an affair. Bother, she could hardly tell her maid the truth. “Leave them on the dresser. I’ll make sure he gets them back.”
“Of course.” A prim note entered Susan’s voice—a touch of disapproval.
“How is Ella? Do you think she’d like to come back to work?”
Susan’s frown deepened. “She wakes screaming in the middle of the night. Small noises make her jump.”
“That’s understandable. I have no objection to her working shorter hours if she’d like to get out of the cottage.”
“I suggested she return to work, but it’s the manor.” Susan hesitated, swallowing audibly.
“Speak freely, Susan.”
“She doesn’t want to be reminded of Mr. Sherbourne,” Susan said grimly.
Jocelyn bit back her instinctive protest, but there was nothing she could say in Leo’s defense—not when everyone remained convinced he was responsible for Ella’s abduction.
“I want to attend the Harvest festival,” Leo said when Cartwright made his nightly appearance to release him from captivity. He raised his hand when Cartwright started to speak. “No, hear me out. I’m willing to help as much as you require, but I was thinking if the real murderer thought I was out of jail, they might attempt to frame me again.”
“That’s all very well, but I need to keep watch on the abbey.”
“But you’re attending the celebrations?”
“Yes. Most people in the village are excited about the festival.”
“Why don’t I stay at Merrivale tonight after we finish at the abbey and attend with Jocelyn. If you’re there too we can watch the locals’ reactions as they arrive. See if we can shake any apples off the tree.”
Cartwright’s bushy brows drew together. “And what excuse am I going to give everyone who asks why I’ve released a murderer from jail?”
“The clever ones will already have realized I couldn’t have killed Elizabeth.” Leo’s lips twisted. “The ones who don’t believe I’m in league with the devil, that is.”
A snort erupted from Cartwright. “You weren’t in your cell.”
“We’ve had this discussion before. I want to clear my name, damn it. I want to spend time with my wife and get back to my farm work.”
Cartwright issued a heavy sigh. “You’re right of course. All the evidence against you is circumstantial. The maid isn’t a reliable witness—not when she’s so traumatized.”
“I didn’t abduct her,” Leo snapped.
Cartwright pursed his lips then nodded agreement. “Keep a low profile until most of the locals have arrived. I’ll make sure I’m early so I can witness individual reactions to your presence.”
“Thank you.” In a buoyant mood after persuading Cartwright to let him out of the musty cell, he whistled a tune as he followed the constable outside.
They rode by horseback to a shepherd’s cottage and left their horses in a pen at the rear until their return. In silence, they walked along the narrow sheep track, which led to their favored vantage point above the abbey. They settled in to wait.
“Have you checked the abbey during the day?”
“There’s nothing.” Cartwright heaved a sigh. “They’re careful. I’ll give them that.”
“But you believe me,” Leo persisted.
“I wouldn’t be out in the middle of the night at all hours if I didn’t believe you,” Cartwright said gruffly. “Both Peregrine and Sir James have visitors. If there’s ever a time for them to use the abbey again it’s now.”
“I hope you’re right. Nothing happened last time.” Not only was he tired of staring at barred doors, but he wanted the women of Merrivale to feel safe. They wouldn’t feel secure until the real murderer was captured. And he wanted his name cleared, damn it.
“Horses coming,” Cartwright said, gesturing toward their right.
They both peered through the darkness.
“Damn, I can’t see a thing. We need to move closer.”
Leo stayed him with an out thrust hand. “By the time we get down there they’ll be gone again. Wait. The moon might come out again.”
“What are they doing?”
“Is that a package of some sort?”
The clouds shifted, allowing them better vision. A feminine laugh rang out, followed by a masculine chuckle.
“Ah,” Cartwright said. “Maybe this isn’t what we hoped.”
“Not all the women I saw were unwilling.”
Cartwright glanced at him. “You’re saying that she’s there for something more than a tup?”
“Could be.”
Half an hour later, the men exited the abbey, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. They mounted their horses and trotted off.
“What do you think? Recognize the horses?” Cartwright asked.
“Difficult to tell in this light, but I think we should check the abbey and discover what happened to the woman.”
Five minutes passed before they made their way down the hill. The entrance to the ruins yawned in front of them, a huge black hole.
“How are we going to search the abbey in this light?” Leo asked.
“I found a cache of candles the other day,” Cartwright said, sounding a trifle smug.
“Lead the way.”
Cartwright groped for a candle and lit it before handing it to Leo. “Can you hear something?”
“It sounds like crying.”
Holding his candle aloft, Cartwright hurried in the direction of the noise, Leo following swiftly behind. They came across a woman locked in a makeshift room, her hands tied behind her back.
“Isn’t that the blacksmith’s wife?” Leo murmured.
Her eyes widened on seeing them, and she opened her mouth as if to scream.
“It’s Captain Cartwright, the parish constable,” Cartwright said hurriedly. “We’ve come to help. Turn around. Let Leo unfasten your bonds.”
“He’s not a murderer?”
Leo’s mouth twisted in irritation as he made short work of untying her. “No, madam. I am not a murderer.”
“Who left you here?” Cartwright asked.
“That Sir James and his friend, Boynton. They promised they’d give me coin if I let them tup me. Bastards went back on their word. They dragged me here and left me alone in the dark.”
“Do you know why?” Cartwright asked.
“They didn’t tell me.” The woman sniffed, rubbing the back of her hand across her nose. “Heard ’em mention tomorrow.”
Leo nodded, his excitement growing. A witness. At last they had a witness.
“Would you be willing to testify against Sir James and his friend?”
The woman tossed her head, flipping a tendril of black hair away from her cheek. “Ye’d take my word?” She paused. “Wot will ye pay me?”
Cartwright ignored her request for payment. “Do you know if any other local men are involved?”
“I only seen those two gents. They told me to pretend I be running off. Outside of town, they came for me. Stashed me in a right nice room.” Her eyes flashed anger in the candlelight. “Until tonight. If I be knowing they intended to leave me in the dark I wouldn’t ’ave gone for their schemes.”
“What schemes?” Leo demanded.
Cartwright sent him a chiding look, and Leo gave a clipped nod to indicate his silence.
“What schemes?” Cartwright asked, his tone far more gentle and coaxing than Leo’s.
“They’re having a big party. Invited me, they did.”
Leo bit back a curse and stepped away to stop himself throttling the woman. It was easy to imagine squeezing the answers from her. The damn woman had found her equilibrium quickly after her scare. The blacksmith was well rid of her.
“When is the party and where?” Cartwright asked, never losing his patient manner.
“They be ’avin’ it here at the abbey. A masked ball tomorrow night. Accordin’ to them. They told me I’d be sure to find a gentleman to look after me.” Her bottom lip shot out in a pout. “I think they be tellin’ me lies.”
“Tomorrow.” Cartwright scratched his chin, the abrasive sound amplified in the enclosed space.
“They might come back,” Leo said. “We should go.”
“’ere! What about me?”
“Would you like to help us catch these men?” Cartwright asked.
“Catch ’em? No laws against a party, is there?”
“We believe these men are responsible for murder.”
She jerked her chin in Leo’s direction. “Everyone thinks he did it.”
Leo couldn’t prevent his frustrated growl. He took half a step toward the woman. She let out a squeak of alarm and darted behind Cartwright.
“Sherbourne,” Cartwright snapped and turned to the woman. “He didn’t do it.”
“Then why he be in jail?”
“We need you to help us catch the true murderer.”
She twirled a lock of her hair between finger and thumb, shifty intelligence flitting through her eyes. “What’s in it for me?”
It was early morning when Leo skulked through the shadows and entered the manor in his usual clandestine method.
“Who’s there?” a crisp voice demanded.
“Fuck!” Leo muttered, almost leaping out of his boots.
“Stay right there or I’ll put a bullet through you.”
A light flared, and Leo squinted against the sudden brightness.
“Mr. Sherbourne,” Woodley said, lowering his pistol. “You’ll be wanting to see your wife. Best take the servants’ stairs. There’s a footman lurking at the bottom of the main staircase.”
“Right. Thank you.” Leo walked past and turned, curiosity getting the better of him. “Aren’t you concerned about my presence?”
“I reckon if you had murder on your mind, you’d have done it on one of the nights you visited Mrs. Sherbourne,” Woodley said. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your chamber, tidying away evidence so none of the maids suspected anything.”
Leo offered a chagrined smile. “Thank you, Woodley. I’m attending the festival tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Sherbourne will like that. Good night, sir.”
“Good night, Woodley.”
Leo made his way to Jocelyn’s chamber, eager to see her again. He slipped inside and inhaled deeply, pausing to enjoy the floral scent on the air.
Seconds later, he disrobed rapidly, pulled back the covers and slipped into the bed. Jocelyn didn’t wake, but it didn’t matter. This was home.
He woke hours later, only to realize Jocelyn was no longer in the bed.
“Jocelyn?”
“You’re awake.”
“What are you doing?” It was warm under the covers and the sheets smelled of Jocelyn. Flowers again.
“Checking the weather. I want to see if it’s raining.”
“Come back to bed.” Leo stretched, his senses alive, relaxed—yet not.
Her husband’s husky voice told Jocelyn exactly what he had on his mind. “What sort of incentive are you offering?”
His dark tousled head poked above the covers. A crooked grin lit his handsome face, and her heart jogged against her ribs. “Is that a challenge? Come closer.”
“Said the fox to the rabbit?”
“Jocelyn.” His lazy smile lured her, tempted her.
She hurried back to her bed and slipped between the sheets.
“Ow, woman. Your feet are cold.”
Jocelyn laughed and cuddled closer, unperturbed by his complaints. His arms wrapped around her, and she burrowed against him, soaking in his heat. She brushed a kiss against his throat and lifted her head to grin when he grumbled another complaint.
“I need to warm you.” His hand stroked over her head, smoothing down the wayward locks. She’d given up braiding her hair while preparing for bed. The first thing Leo did whenever he came to her was unfasten her braid.
“I’m warming up already.”
“I have a better way.”
Jocelyn drew back to study his face. “Oh?”
He rolled without warning, caging her within his arms and laughing down at her. “I think we can dispense with your chemise.”
“That won’t keep me warm.”
“Trust me.” He licked along her jawline, wringing a shiver from her. Her breasts prickled, the sensation echoing low between her thighs.
She didn’t reply but wrapped her hands around his neck, drawing him closer until his weight rested on her. He allowed it for an instant before moving. He whisked off her chemise and settled against her again. Their mouths joined, and she greedily met his kiss. His taste and masculine scent washed over her while his warm hand cupped the slight mound of her stomach. She gasped at the touch, somehow intimate and loving, and a wave of emotion almost choked her. In that moment, she wanted to tell Leo she loved him, but doubts—her uncertainty—overruled her.
He caressed the upper curves of her breasts and followed his fingers with his tongue. His touch made her breath catch, her pulse race. His proximity seduced her. She jerked when he nibbled at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and sighed when he soothed the sting with a lick of his tongue. A hungry noise escaped as his hands skimmed her body, his mouth moving downward to tongue her sensitive nipple.
“Leo,” she whispered, the tension stretching to breaking point inside her. “I want you now.” She wriggled a fraction, parting her legs and silently encouraging him to hurry. Thankfully, he did. He slipped between her legs and pushed into her with an easy glide.
His mouth fused with hers, his first sweet kiss changing swiftly to insistent. His hands glided across her body, loving and tender. He made her feel precious. She wondered at his silence, then the thought drifted away, shoved from her mind as his muscles flexed and rippled against her. A fine sheen of sweat grew on their bodies.
“Jocelyn, you make me happy.” He forged into her again, filling her as he spoke. “I’m glad I followed my instincts and offered you marriage. I appreciate your support through all this. Your trust.”
The glow in his eyes warmed her all the way through. Words of love flickered through her mind again, but caution kept them contained. It was enough that the emotions had grown in her.
She clasped his shoulders, luxuriating in the sensations coursing through her. One hand crept down to caress his rump, the shift of firm muscles giving her an intense thrill. He changed the angle of his stroke and a flash of pleasure shocked a cry from her. She bit her lip, holding back a whimper. Her gaze went to his face—the stark muscles and flashing eyes, all determination with a contrasting gentleness when he noticed her close attention.
Another thrust pushed her over the edge. Waves of heat and pressure tossed her into a maelstrom. Leo hammered into her with fast, almost brutal strokes. She clung to him, glorying in his need. He gave one final thrust, his breath a heated rush past her ear. His heart thudded against her chest, and for an instant his weight fell on her again. She ran her tongue over his biceps, the tang of sweat salty. She realized she felt happy, despite the loss of her mother. She’d done her best for her parent, and surely that was all anyone could ask. Now was the time to focus on the present and her own family.
Leo separated their bodies and drew her into his embrace.
“What happens if I have a girl?”
“As long as you both come through the birth safely, I’ll be happy.”
Surprised, she stared at him. “Most men want an heir.”
“Of course I’d like a son, but you’re important to me.”
It was almost a declaration of love, and Jocelyn beamed at him. “I’ll do my best to have a son.”
A tap on her bedchamber door told of the passing time.
“Leo,” she whispered in consternation. She bounded out of bed and thrust her arms into her robe. She belted it with jerky moves. “You shouldn’t have stayed so long.”
“It’s all right. Cartwright knows I’m here. I’ll be attending the festival later and greeting the guests at your side.”
“Has Cartwright found the murderer?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh.” Jocelyn worried her bottom lip and considered the reasoning for freeing Leo.
Another knock sounded on the door. “Mrs. Sherbourne.”
Sighing, Leo rolled out of bed. He picked up his breeches and pulled them on. “Don’t overdo things today. If you start to get tired, make sure you take a rest. Everyone will understand. I’d better not let Susan see me.” He picked up his shirt.
The door burst open. “Mrs. Sherbourne— You!” Susan came to a halt, an appalled expression on her face. “Murderer!” She whirled away, signaling an intention to leave, but Leo grabbed her and shut the door.
“Leo,” Jocelyn protested.
Susan screeched, and Leo clapped a hand over her mouth to mute the sound.
“What are you doing? Let Susan go.”
“I can’t have her telling people I’m out of jail,” Leo said. “Hand me my shirt.” He indicated the shirt he’d dropped when he’d grabbed Susan.
All of Jocelyn’s fears rushed back to swamp her newfound equilibrium. Was he telling the truth? Had Cartwright really released him?
Another knock sounded on the door, and Jocelyn hurried to answer. Her room felt like the front room of a coaching inn this morning.
“Mrs. Sherbourne,” Woodley said. “Captain Cartwright has arrived. He wishes to go over last minute plans with Mr. Sherbourne. I have put him in the study.”
“Let Woodley in,” Leo instructed.
Wordlessly, Jocelyn opened the door and gestured for the butler to enter.
“Susan, I’m going to take my hand away,” Leo said. “Don’t scream.” He slowly removed his hand.
A panicked cry rippled through the room.
Leo slapped his hand over Susan’s mouth again, cutting off the noise. Jocelyn risked a glance at Woodley as her maid kicked in an attempt to gain freedom.
“Stop that racket this instant,” Woodley snapped, acting the stern butler from his rigid expression to his upright carriage.
Susan stilled, but Jocelyn could see her panicked eyes, could imagine the frantic race of her heart.
“Mr. Sherbourne didn’t commit those murders,” Woodley said in a crisp voice. “Captain Cartwright is here to speak with him. Mr. Sherbourne isn’t brandishing a weapon, nor is he threatening Mrs. Sherbourne, which tells me the master didn’t escape jail in order to murder us in our beds. Now remain silent, and Mr. Sherbourne will release you.”
Leo carefully let her go, and Susan darted over to Jocelyn, standing protectively in front of her. “You will not hurt Mrs. Sherbourne.”
Leo gaped at her. “Why would I hurt Jocelyn?”
“Because she’s been—” Susan stopped abruptly and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Never mind.”
“What are you going to do?” Leo asked, giving the maid a hard stare.
Leo didn’t cow Susan. She squared her shoulders and glared right back. “I will speak with Captain Cartwright and come to a decision,” she said in a haughty voice.
“This way.” Woodley marched off without a backward glance, clearly expecting Susan to follow him.
Leo waited until they’d disappeared. “What is she talking about?”
“I have a feeling Susan thought I was having an affair while you were locked up. Hannah thinks the same, by the way.” Her hand smoothed over her belly. “Susan assumes that man is the father of my baby.”
Leo barked out a laugh. “I’ll have to challenge him to a duel.”
They chuckled together and Jocelyn acknowledged her earlier fears were silly. Leo would never hurt her. She was displaying the same mad tendencies as her mother for thinking that of her husband.
“I’d better go and see Cartwright,” Leo said, bending to kiss her cheek. “I believe he wants me to stay out of sight until later. I’ll see you then.”
Jocelyn started to dress herself, and Susan arrived ten minutes later.
“This isn’t right,” she burst out on seeing Jocelyn.
“What are you going to do?”
“I intend to watch him,” Susan said, shooting a militant glance at Jocelyn. “I’d persuaded Ella to attend today. I don’t know what she’ll do when she sees him.”
Instead of reprimanding her maid, Jocelyn merely nodded. She understood her loyalty, admired it even. And in truth, she could hardly blame Susan for her behavior.
“Watch the other gentlemen too,” Jocelyn said.
“You haven’t heard Ella,” Susan said grimly. “In her mind she’s convinced Mr. Sherbourne kidnapped and violated her. You should take care. Beneath his charm and pretty face, your husband is a ruthless man. I’ll go and get you breakfast.” Susan marched off, leaving Jocelyn staring after her. Her maid sounded so positive.
Could her faith in Leo be misplaced? Was she stubbornly seeing what she wanted to see?
The morning hours passed rapidly. Jocelyn kept busy with last minute questions and tasks, although her mind flitted from one worry to the next.
A loud noise sounded behind her, and Jocelyn jerked. She whirled around, her heart attempting to leap out of her chest.
“Careful with the tables,” Woodley admonished one of the footmen.
Jocelyn gave a shaky laugh and returned to her list. Her mother would have enjoyed the bustle, and the last minute panic to finish everything in preparation for their guests. Later this afternoon, they’d organized a cricket match with the male Merrivale staff playing against the men from the village. She was positive the children would enjoy their games, and after the cricket, the maze would open for everyone to explore. A group of travelling players was stopping by to perform a play, and the vicar had organized a puppet show, which both young and old would enjoy. A feast would follow the entertainment along with a bonfire and dancing.
Finally the guests started to arrive.
A figure appeared from the direction of the rear garden, drawing her attention. Leo. Her breath caught as she stared at him. Tall and handsome, he wore black breeches and a matching jacket. The silver embroidery on his waistcoat sparkled in the sun. Casually, he strolled to her location, his head held high. On reaching her, he flashed a charming smile, unperturbed by the stunned bystanders.
She was vaguely aware of the shocked whispers from the newly arrived guests. Leo paid them scant attention, focusing fully on her. “You look radiant.” Despite their audience, he kissed her on the lips. “You’re beautiful, and I’m proud to call you wife.” He pulled back and placed her hand on the crook of his arm.
More villagers arrived on foot and via other various modes of transport. Soon a collection of carts, gigs and carriages filled the entrance near the stables. Excited greetings carried on the air. The gaiety faltered once the new arrivals noticed Leo.
Leo remained smiling at her side and unfailingly polite. He introduced her to every new arrival, never hesitating with his greetings. Captain Cartwright appeared and some of her uneasiness dispersed when he didn’t haul Leo away in chains.
“Who is ready for arm wrestling?” Leo asked.
Enthusiastic shouts of agreement sounded, and the men left for a bout in the area under the oak trees. Some of the younger women and wives went to watch while Jocelyn, with the aid of Mrs. Allenby, organized the children for footraces.
Jocelyn tried to enjoy herself, but her gaze kept diverting to Leo. A hard knot of worry stirred, churning her belly relentlessly. This was one ill a piece of dry bread wouldn’t fix.
The women from the village were cautious but soon thawed once she drew them out with questions about their offspring.
“I thought your husband was in jail for murder,” the baker’s wife said in a challenging voice. “Why is he here?”
“Because the parish constable said he isn’t guilty.” Jocelyn prayed her words were true. The locals seemed positive of his guilt. How could it not play on her mind?
“How is everything going?” Leo slipped his arm around her shoulders.
Jocelyn jumped. “Leo, you gave me a fright.” Aware her tone held shades of a London fishwife, she took a deep breath and let it ease out slowly. Yet still her heart pounded in an unnatural manner.
“You’re not used to strange men wrapping their arms around you.”
“I should think not,” she said tartly. “How did you go in the arm wrestling?”
“I came up against the blacksmith,” Leo said. “It was simple to predict the winner.”
“It’s probably best you didn’t win.” Jocelyn was uncomfortable with the stares and whispers, but Leo never faltered.
“I had no intention of winning.” A twinkle in his eyes made her smile. “This was a good idea.”
“You know it was Mrs. Allenby’s idea. The vicar’s wife is a determined woman. She’s organizing games for the children.”
“I haven’t seen Hannah or Peregrine yet. I thought they’d attend. I heard their parents have returned from their trip to London. I’ve seen several of their staff.”
“Maybe they’ll come later this evening. Hannah is bringing someone with her. She was a little secretive. A new beau, I think.”
“Nothing would please me more,” Leo said. “There’s Peregrine now. Who is that with—” He cursed suddenly, earning a loud tsk from the baker’s wife. “My apologies,” Leo said in a steely voice. “I need to take care of something.”
“Leo, what is it?” The tension thrumming through him set her on edge.
“That is Jaego, my former best friend.”
“Not the one who—”
“Excuse me.” Leo strode off without another word.
Jocelyn hurried after him. Several of the locals ceased their activities to stare, but Leo ignored them, and Jocelyn saw he remained wholly focused on Peregrine and Jaego.
“Leo, wait,” Jocelyn called.
Cartwright stepped from behind a bush and spoke to Leo. Leo slowed, allowing Jocelyn to catch up with him.
“Madam, I suggest you return to your duties,” Leo said, both face and voice harsh and uncompromising.
She halted, struck by his lack of emotion. It was as if they meant nothing to each other. Too bad. Leo wasn’t going to make a scene and spoil the fair if she could help it. She grasped his forearm and dug in her heels. “Will you listen to me?”
“This is nothing to do with you.”
“It has everything to do with me,” she retorted. “Please. If you don’t agree with me after I’ve spoken my piece, I’ll let you be.”
Cartwright’s solid shoulders were stiff with tension, his gaze watchful.
Leo gave a clipped nod, but his gaze fastened on the two men and didn’t leave them.
Jocelyn tugged on his sleeve, demanding his attention. “Ursula wasn’t a good wife. I don’t condone what your friend did, but from what I understand, it wasn’t the first time Ursula cuckolded you. She’s dead now and it’s all in the past. We’re happy together.” When he didn’t reply, she gave his sleeve another sharp tug. “Aren’t we happy?”
His breath hissed out. “Yes.”
Relief made her knees weak. “Then Jaego’s appearance means nothing to us. We should greet him together and ignore past history.”
“He could even be the man we seek,” Cartwright said in an undertone. “We did see him the other night.”
Leo’s glare didn’t waver. “Despite my dislike of the man, I don’t see him as a murderer. Why don’t we offer our greetings before we return to the rest of our guests?”
“Thank you.” Jocelyn placed her hand on the crook of his arm and stepped forward confidently at his side. A façade. Inside she trembled with the strain of maintaining a calm demeanor. She recalled Hannah’s tearful request to invite friends. The woman wasn’t to be trusted. It made Jocelyn dread to learn the identity of Hannah’s guest.
“Peregrine. Jaego,” Leo said in a smooth voice. “Welcome to Merrivale Manor.”
“What are you doing here?” Peregrine asked. “I thought you were arrested for murder.”
Jaego stepped forward, his attention on Leo. He stretched out his right hand. “Thank you for inviting me. Most men wouldn’t be as generous, given the circumstances.”
Jocelyn waited anxiously, praying Leo wouldn’t make a scene.
“Jaego.” Leo ignored the outstretched hand, giving a stiff nod instead. Jaego finally dropped his hand back to his side. “This is my wife, Jocelyn.”
Jocelyn inclined her head, not offering her hand either. She wanted to make it plain where her loyalties lay. Where they should lie. There were moments of discomfort as the silence stretched, but Jocelyn didn’t intervene to smooth the awkwardness. She would follow Leo’s lead now that she knew he wouldn’t cause a disturbance. His ex-friend simply seemed relieved Leo hadn’t pulled a pistol on him.
Peregrine spied Cartwright standing in the background. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
“I’m an innocent man,” Leo said softly.
The shout went up to summon the men to play cricket.
“I must go,” Leo said. “I am the host after all.”
“Wait, I wanted to speak with you,” Jaego said.
“I don’t think so,” Leo said, turning away.
“I say,” Peregrine said. “Jaego has come all the way from London to see you. Don’t you think you could make the time to entertain him?”
“You could have visited me in jail,” Leo said. “From what I understand you’ve been in the area for a while now.”
Jaego’s throat worked, his blond hair almost the exact shade of Cassie’s. Jocelyn bit back her shock. There were other similarities between this man and her stepdaughter. Had Leo noticed? It was a motive for murder.
“Not now,” Jocelyn said, frowning at them both. “Leo is busy.”
Leo led her away, tension evident in the tight lines of his body.
“Are you good at cricket?” Conversation would lighten the rigidity in Leo’s shoulders.
“Yes.”
“No false modesty,” she teased.
“Thank you, Jocelyn. Your presence has helped. I’m not sure I could’ve kept my hands to myself if I’d been on my own.”
“How long have you known him?”
“We were children together. He used to live at Duxton before Sir James. I believe he rented Duxton to Sir James after Ursula…” Leo trailed off, his muscles tensing again.
“Some things cross the bounds of friendship,” Jocelyn said.
“Yes.”
Together, they walked to the area the gardeners had mown in preparation for the match. Jocelyn parted from him and went to join the other women seated in a shady area to watch the game. Several of the women were whispering excitedly, their heads close together. When she arrived, the frantic whispers cut off abruptly. Jocelyn smiled and pretended she hadn’t interrupted a gossip session. She sat on one of the seats they’d provided, fluffing out her black skirts to avoid crinkling the fabric.
“Susan said you’re with child,” one of the women said after another nudged her with an elbow.
“Yes,” Jocelyn said calmly.
The fraught silence made her want to scream, but she kept her eyes raised, her carriage straight and erect. Pride and her mother’s training kept her focused. The village women could count and suspected she’d broken her wedding vows.
Sighing, she concentrated on the cricket game. She clapped and cheered with each run the Merrivale male staff managed, and gradually the village women shifted their focus to the game too.
Much shouting ensued during the next two hours. Jocelyn had imagined she’d joke and laugh with the other women while watching the match, but this didn’t happen. When Leo walked up to the stumps, the encouragement halted. Everyone fell silent, but she appreciated Leo’s quick bow of acknowledgement in her direction. Ironic, really. The one person who paid her attention was the one who caused doubts to rise to the surface.
She glanced over at the other groups watching the match from different vantage points. Spotting Hannah, she raised her right hand to wave. She froze when she saw the face of the man standing next to her.
Jack Boynton.
As she stared with horror at the man who had caused her so much pain and terror, Hannah turned her head. Their gazes met. Jocelyn couldn’t read Hannah’s expression from this distance, but Boynton’s presence shrieked of mischief.