Arabella started laughing, the sultry tones irking Leo. No wonder Jocelyn had seemed standoffish on her arrival in the breakfast room.
“Leo and I—”
“Stop.” The malicious expression on his cousin’s face thrust Leo into action. He wouldn’t allow Arabella to taunt Jocelyn. “You’ve made your views clear, cousin, and I choose to ignore your advice.”
“You shouldn’t have married her.”
“But he did,” Jocelyn snapped. “Leo is my husband, and I wish you’d accept the fact instead of sniping at me.”
Leo was pleased to see his wife wasn’t allowing Arabella to bully her. “That’s enough from both of you.”
“Why were you embracing Arabella in the garden where anyone could see?” Jocelyn asked.
Honest and to the point. Leo almost smiled. The more time he spent with Jocelyn, the more he liked her, and he didn’t regret his marriage in the slightest.
Arabella smirked, her brows arching. Without saying a word she was throwing out insinuations, implying their relationship was less than proper. “Why do you think we were embracing?”
“Enough, Arabella.” He went to his wife and squeezed one hand before releasing it. “Arabella is homesick for Spain and her family, and I was comforting her. She’s decided to return, but she worries about Cassie.”
“Of course you must go home.” Jocelyn helped herself to several slices of bread and took a seat at the table. She spread a lavish spoon of raspberry jam over one of the slices. “I am sure one of the maids would be willing to look after Cassie.”
Leo admired her calmness, given Arabella’s provocative behavior and the scene confronting her in the garden.
“If it weren’t for my sister’s illness I’d remain here at Merrivale.” Arabella became defensive, as if worried she was disappointing him and she needed to make excuses.
Leo knew better. He could see the steam building. It was time to step in before Arabella had one of her tantrums.
“Arabella, I’ve told you how much I appreciate the way you’ve helped with Cassie, but you must do what is best for you now. Your sister needs you,” Leo said, ringing a bell to summon a maid. With the order for hot chocolate and more tea for him dispatched, his attention returned to Jocelyn. “What do you intend to do today?”
“Mother wishes to visit the village, so I thought I’d take her on an outing this morning. I believe we’re to have visitors this afternoon.”
Leo nodded, taking a mental note to stay away from the manor until the callers departed. “Don’t forget to take a footman with you.”
“Of course,” Jocelyn said. “Arabella, would you like to come to the village with us?”
“Thank you, but I have to pack.” Arabella smiled sweetly, yet it didn’t reach her eyes. It was a smile he’d learned to dread in a woman. Perhaps it was best his cousin was leaving. The last thing he needed was her causing more trouble.
“What are you doing today?” Jocelyn nibbled on a piece of bread, averting her gaze from him when Leo glanced in her direction.
Something in her expression gave him pause. When her attention wavered to Arabella and her face clouded, his mouth compressed. Jocelyn wasn’t convinced of his innocence.
“I’m helping the men muster the cattle. We’re going to sell some at the next Tavistock market.”
“I see,” Jocelyn said. “Will you be home late?”
“Your wife doesn’t trust you,” Arabella said with a touch of glee.
“That’s enough, Arabella.” But Leo saw she was right. Jocelyn was wary of him. No, maybe not of him. She’d been distant since their trip to Tavistock. He opened his mouth to question her then came to a halt. This could wait until tonight. While Arabella was family and wouldn’t gossip, he didn’t want to broadcast Jocelyn’s past to her. His cousin didn’t require more ammunition to wound Jocelyn.
Jocelyn ushered her mother outside, the footman following at their heels. Elizabeth came to an abrupt halt, almost causing an undignified pile of bodies.
“Mother.”
“We should take the child to the village.”
“There isn’t room in the carriage for all of us,” Jocelyn said. Not quite the truth, but Cassie’s presence would require another invitation to Arabella plus a delay in their departure. “Perhaps we can go for a walk together in the gardens later this afternoon. Did I tell you I discovered a folly this morning?”
Diverted, Elizabeth clapped her hands together. “How exciting. We’ll take the child with us when we explore the folly.”
“Of course we can,” Jocelyn said, forcing a smile. She waited until her mother and Tilly were seated before accepting help from the footmen to ascend into the carriage.
The drive to the village didn’t take long. Her mother prattled about everything and anything that caught her attention. Jocelyn tuned her out, only replying absently in the conversational gaps. Instead she visualized the scene she’d witnessed this morning, trying to see the clinch in light of Leo’s explanation.
The seclusion of the garden.
The intimacy of a handsome man and a beautiful woman alone.
An embrace.
Jocelyn flinched, the recollection hurling her into unease. No matter what Leo said, she’d feel better once Arabella departed Merrivale. Arabella’s smug laughter echoed through her mind, bringing a rush of anxiety.
“Arabella is intending to return to Spain. Her sister is ill.” Maybe if she confronted the dragon, she could slay it and emerge unscathed.
“When is she leaving?” Tilly asked.
“I’m not sure. Soon, I think. She mentioned doing some packing this morning.” Jocelyn continued to stew, another thought occurring. The other morning when she’d woken to find Leo absent, had he been with Arabella? Of course that didn’t explain the wound on his cheek. To her they’d looked like the claw of fingernails. She worried her bottom lip, recalling the suspicion on Captain Cartwright’s face. Still, he hadn’t returned to question Leo again.
She didn’t want to believe the facts she kept stumbling over, but Leo held secrets close to his chest, and it was difficult not to feel concern over their nature.
The carriage swayed over the uneven ruts made by bullock carts. Jocelyn flew against the side of the carriage, an unladylike grunt emerging at the slash of pain at her ribs.
“Jocelyn,” Elizabeth said. “It’s not polite to make noises like that in public places.”
Jocelyn steeled herself as the carriage shuddered on hitting another pothole, a throb radiating down her side.
Tilly sent her a worried glance. “Are you all right?”
“Just a bump,” Jocelyn said.
“Are we there yet?” Elizabeth asked.
“Another five minutes,” Jocelyn said, hoping it was true. The ache in her torso traveled to her head. Surreptitiously, she lifted one gloved hand to rub her temple.
“Whoa there!” the driver called to the horses. The carriage slowed to a creaky halt outside the draper’s shop.
“Oh, look!” Elizabeth cried, off at a trot before Jocelyn or Tilly could react.
With a sigh, Jocelyn scrambled from the carriage, faltering a fraction when pain streaked through her. She watched her mother disappear into the draper’s store. “It’s all right, Tilly. Something in the window has caught her attention.”
“Between her and Miss Cassie, I’m forever running,” Tilly said.
Jocelyn drew a sharp breath. “I know she’s not easy.”
“I don’t mean to complain. When Arabella leaves who is going to look after Cassie? She can be a bit of a handful.”
“I know. I talked to Susan before we left. She suggested I stop by the baker’s shop and talk to the baker’s wife. Evidently her eldest daughter is good with children. Perhaps she’ll be willing to help with Cassie.”
Tilly nodded. “That seems like a sensible solution.”
“I thought I’d go and see her now.” Jocelyn shot a glance at the window of the draper’s store. From where they stood, they could see Elizabeth’s enthusiastic hand gestures and the lengths of scarlet ribbon a woman was showing her.
“Off you go.” Tilly made a shooing motion with her hands. “I’ll supervise Elizabeth’s ribbon purchases.”
Jocelyn continued down the dusty road to the bakery. She smiled at two young children teasing a kitten with a piece of rag and string. A plump woman swathed in shawls offered a curt nod, but didn’t stop to speak to her. A scuff on the dirt behind her made her jump. She twisted, let out a pained cry.
“Mrs. Sherbourne?” The footman stood there, surveying her strangely.
Heat flooded her face, and her gaze slid away. Good grief, everything was making her jumpy today. People would start to speculate on her mental condition and whisper she was taking after her mother. “Please stay with my mother and Tilly. I’m going to visit the baker and will return to the drapers. I doubt you’ll shift my mother for at least an hour.”
The footman nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Sherbourne.”
Jocelyn stepped over a pile of horse dung, aware of the local women staring at her. She forced her smile a little wider and inclined her head, acknowledging everyone she passed before arriving at the bakery. The scent of loaves, hot from the oven, floated through the open door.
A young woman set an uncooked pie on the counter and waited patiently for service. A toddler clutched her skirts, his big blue eyes fixed on Jocelyn.
“Good morning,” Jocelyn said softly, and glanced up at the mother. “What a beautiful little boy.”
“Thank you,” the woman said.
The woman behind the counter took the pie and set it on a shelf. “’Twill be ready this evening.”
The young woman nodded and left.
“Are you Mrs. Samson?” Jocelyn asked.
“Aye, Mrs. Sherbourne,” the woman replied with a grim smile.
Jocelyn’s own smile faltered. “Susan, my maid, suggested I speak to you. I wish to employ someone to look after Cassie. I understand your eldest daughter is very good with children.”
“Aye, she is.” Her eyes flashed and resentment twisted her lined face into a grimace.
Jocelyn took an automatic half step back when the woman continued to glare. “Is something wrong?”
“I won’t let my Agnes work at Merrivale Manor.”
“Why?” Jocelyn asked faintly. Surely this wasn’t anything to do with her mother. She was only a danger to herself, not to other people.
“It’s not safe,” Mrs. Samson said. “I’m not letting my Agnes anywhere near your husband.”
“Leo?”
“Aye, Sherbourne. I know what’s going on at Merrivale. First his wife, then a maid is dead. Other girls missing. He’s selling them into slavery and murdering those what don’t agree.”
Jocelyn drew herself up. “The parish constable hasn’t arrested him.”
“It’s not what you know. It’s who,” Mrs. Samson snapped. “My Agnes is not going anywhere near the manor and that’s final.”
Jocelyn gave a civil nod and kept her tongue still. How could she protest when Mrs. Samson’s words dovetailed so neatly with her own doubts?