CHAPTER ELEVEN
Leopold scratched the name of the last Romsey servant on the cramped sheet and slid it under the desk blotter for safekeeping. By his calculation, the estate had far too few outdoor staff to manage the grounds, and not enough housemaids to keep the abbey pristine. No wonder important matters had become neglected. No wonder the dust was thick in the corners of every room.
“Your brandy, Mr. Randall,” the butler said.
“Thank you, Wilcox. Pour yourself a glass as well. You sound like you need one.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Leopold scowled. “Enough of that. We’re alone.”
The butler took a careful sip, and then another. “It won’t do to relax the proprieties. You will need to appear in control of the whole household, including me, if you are to succeed quickly at setting the place to rights.”
Leopold drained his glass. Being the nearest thing to lord of the abbey didn’t sit well with him, but Wilcox was right. He had to show he was in control here, at least until the new steward was hired and settled in, in order to get what he wanted done quickly, and without any further grumbling. The first way to do that was to raise everyone’s wages.
He pressed his fingers against his brow rather than look at the mess piled high on the far side of the room. He had cleared a space earlier, but he had merely cleared the desk and chairs rather than deal with any of it. “Wilcox, might you direct me to the books of account. I’d like to know how the estate’s finances currently stand.”
Wilcox set his glass down, and moved to a nearby bookshelf. “From what I understand, the estate is financially sound. Very little has been spent to drain the coffers in the last few years besides keeping up the necessities. The duchess has never been given to extravagance, and there should not be any outstanding debts.” He held out a narrow ledger.
“Thank you.” Leopold opened the cover and began to flick through the first pages. “Do you by any chance know if this has been kept up to date?”
“I believe she did her best, sir, but she is unused to such matters and more than once grew frustrated with her lack of experience and knowledge. I believe she’s kept all her correspondence from her London man of business and solicitors separate in the left hand drawer since the steward left.”
Leopold leaned to the side and yanked open the drawer. Ah, neatness! At least Mercy knew enough to keep the most important papers together. The drawer should contain details of his cousin’s will, disbursements, as well as the guardianship details for young Edwin. Familiarizing himself with those important facets of the estate would be his next chore, quickly followed by checking the ledgers before he approached Mercy about increasing the wages of everyone employed on the estate. Given the skin-flint habits of the past duke’s and their wives, he’d better have a firm grasp of the realities of the estate finances before he tried to convince her to dip into the family coffers.
Wilcox cleared his throat. “I’ve assigned a footman for your use. Jennings will be waiting outside whenever you require assistance. Dinner will be in an hour, sir, and your valet is awaiting you in the blue suite.”
Leopold pinched the bridge of his nose to hide his surprise. God in heaven—not the blue suite! He’d never survive if he had to spend more than one night in there. But unfortunately he couldn’t very well explain his reluctance to the butler tonight. Tomorrow he would assess the work required in the east wing and see if the space was in anyway livable. Better far away than close to temptation.
“While I appreciate the thought, I do not require a footman to attend me. My man Colby provides all the assistance I need. Jennings can return to his usual duties. Thank you, Wilcox. I’ll finish up here directly.”
Once the butler disappeared, Leopold threw his quill to the desk. What a bloody mess the estate was in. One glance at the surly faces of the servants proved just how bad things had become for them. Money would smooth the way to a certain degree, but the young duke and duchess needed to be seen as generous by their people more often for his peace of mind.
There had been a level of dissatisfaction that had his senses prickling with unease. The grounds men were bitter, at first. Less so once they understood that Leopold meant to make changes to improve their lives. But until those changes happened he would have to be on hand to smooth the way. That meant he would probably have to accompany Mercy and Edwin on any outings, just to be certain they remained safe.
He’d hate to leave only to find them in more trouble should he ever return.
Leopold dropped his head to his hands and ground his temple hard. He hated being at Mercy’s beck and call. He hated that everyone would see him stand so close to the young duke and speculate about his ambitions to gain the title.
He didn’t want any of this. He wanted Oliver, Rosemary, and Tobias to look after, just as he had when they were small.
A knock on the door brought a groan from his lips. He just needed a moment longer to curb his impatience before dealing with anyone yet. He couldn’t engage in another skirmish with Mercy now. He’d likely give in and help himself to what she offered. When the knock came again, Leopold groaned. “Come.”
Colby’s head poked around the door. “Am I disturbing you, Mr. Randall?”
The disappointment of seeing Colby, and not Mercy, at the door was momentarily unsettling. He pushed it away. “Yes. But the intrusion is welcome. Come closer.”
His valet shut the door behind him and eyed the room. “Is it safe?”
A laugh escaped Leopold. Gods, he needed Colby’s direct way of speaking to improve his mood. “There’s nothing else alive in here. Nothing dead enough to stink up the place anyway. It’s relatively safe.”
Colby picked his way across the room until he reached the desk. “I hope I did the right thing by following the duchess’ instructions today to move us to the abbey, sir. Her note was very insistent that you should be settled in here before nightfall.”
“Yes, yes.” Leopold waved his hand at the disaster around him. “I was somewhat preoccupied with all this and it slipped my mind to send a note myself. You did the right thing following Her Grace’s instructions.”
Colby picked up a desktop curio and rubbed the dust from the top. “Her Grace has a lovely way about her.”
Leopold squinted at the younger man. “Don’t tell me you’re captivated of another highborn lady so quickly. We’ve only been in the district a few days.”
An impish grin crossed Colby’s face. “She wasn’t anything like I expected a duchess to be. Very anxious about your comfort, she was. Her Grace came up to your bedchamber herself and wanted to be sure you were squared away properly. For a moment there I was afraid she would supervise my unpacking.”
Leopold pursed his lips, puzzled by Mercy’s inquisitiveness. “Are we? Squared away, that is?”
“You are, sir. My quarters are on the floor above. I have a narrow chamber to myself with a view to the west gardens. Much better than our last quarters.”
Leopold chuckled as he relaxed into the hard backed chair. “Was the view of the pig-sty from the Vulture windows unappealing?”
Colby said nothing, but neither of them would miss the stench. “I’ve arranged for hot water to be sent up to your chambers in half an hour, sir. Her Grace was most insistent that you be given ample leisure this evening to prepare for dinner. I think she must be very lonely here, sir. The staff below stairs are all in a rush with preparations for tonight.”
Leopold choked. Mercy couldn’t manage the estate, yet she fussed over his comfort and had arranged an unnecessarily extravagant dinner. Would an hour go by without her astonishing him? Leopold feared there wouldn’t be. But then he remembered she’d been raised to be the perfect hostess. Why else would the old duke have arranged the match for his son to such an impetuous woman?
No matter how hard he tried, Leopold could not imagine cousin Edwin and Mercy married. Perhaps that woman in the painting fit the bill. But the woman he’d held in his arms this morning did not.
He closed his mind to the past, shut the journal carefully, and dropped it into the open desk drawer. “I’ll come up now. No point continuing with anything at this hour.”
“Very good, sir. Do you like it here in the abbey better than the palaces of India?”
Colby kept up a steady chatter as Leopold followed him upstairs and along the corridor to the family wing. His servant’s curiosity about the abbey amused. Colby wanted to know who graced each painting, as if Leopold had a close connection with the contents of the house. He did know the details of some, simply because his father had pointed them out when they had visited. Leopold had committed those few to memory, but Romsey Abbey housed a great collection of art and furniture, dating back centuries. Only the old duke and his son would have known the stories of all.
As he passed one closed door, he heard young Edwin squeal with joy. Leopold gritted his teeth and turned into the blue suite. He didn’t recognize anything in the chamber, but he knew the space well. The bed stood seven long paces from the door, and it squeaked.
“The duchess was curious about your other possessions, sir. Shall I have them sent up from Portsmouth?”
In the act of parting the drapes, Leopold turned. “No. I have no need of those items until we settle into our permanent accommodations.”
Colby appeared ready to say more, but instead closed his mouth. It was clear the young man liked Romsey better than anywhere else they had traveled. But staying here brought too many complications for his peace of mind. He would find his family, organize things so Mercy and Edwin would be better prepared for the future, and then set up his own estate. Perhaps he could visit occasionally when time allowed. But those visits would be brief and far between.
While Colby hurried from wardrobe to bed and back again, Leopold told himself his decision was still the correct thing to do. Right for him, right for her, most especially right for Edwin. The boy might never question his parentage if Leopold went away.
The deep bath and relaxation of his quiet chambers were just what he needed. He hadn’t sat still behind a desk for that long in ages and his body ached from the strain. When he was clean, neat, and presentable, according to Colby’s strict standards, he followed a footman down to the drawing room.
Mercy was already waiting for him.
For a brief, delicious moment, Leopold looked his fill. Tonight she had dressed in a simple pale green silk, cut low over her breasts with tiny slivers for sleeves. Leopold’s mouth watered with the urge to rip the gown apart with his teeth. Yet he managed to cross the room, bowed respectfully, and kept his hands at his sides by sheer force of will. Up close, the smooth swells of her breasts beckoned him to feast. He hastily lifted his gaze to her face.
“I trust your day wasn’t too distressing, Leopold.”
He glanced at the footmen lining the walls, surreptitiously listening in to every word Mercy spoke. He hoped she wouldn’t set too many tongues wagging with her lack of formality in using his given name because once Eamon Murphy learned every word they’d spoken tonight, the gossip would pass around quicker than lightning. He could feel his ears burning even now. “You have good workers, Your Grace. You should be well pleased.”
“Oh, I am.” Mercy set her hand to his sleeve, but then her fingers slid downward to squeeze his fingers. “I feel ill knowing I have continued my husband’s habit of paying them so poorly. You must raise their wages at once.”
Her bare fingers tightened on his and he caught a servant gawking. He twisted his hand free and stepped back, putting a greater distance between them. “I was intending to speak to you about that tomorrow in private. How did you know about the low wages already?”
Honestly, she should have raised them herself long ago if she’d known.
Mercy shook her head. “I hope you will spare me from confessing to an unsavory habit, something totally unfitting for a duchess to do.”
Her odd smile had him thinking hard until he guessed that she’d spent the afternoon secretly observing him. “You spied on me?”
She nodded ever so slightly. A pink blush spread up her cheeks.
Leopold couldn’t imagine a duchess with her eye to a keyhole, which meant that there might just be hidden nooks within the walls of Romsey Abbey, the old duke’s sanctuary, as his father had once claimed. At least that explained the odd sensations he’d experienced during the day. The hair on the back of his neck had stood up quite often. At the time, he’d imagined the old duke’s shade had been breathing down his neck, warning him to leave the abbey.
Mercy smiled suddenly. “You need not bring every tedious matter to me. I trust you not to bankrupt the estate with every additional expense in order to make things run smoothly.”
The waiting servant shuffled restlessly, no doubt curious about his response. “The estate belongs to the duke and, until he comes of age, his mother should make every last decision for him.”
Her nose wrinkled and she gestured to the table. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
Mercy sat and Leopold took a place at her side. Wilcox supervised a meal fit for royalty and despite the many courses set before them, gradually Leopold relaxed. It helped that his glass was liberally refilled, as was Mercy’s throughout the meal. They discussed all manner of harmless events, but most especially Mercy wanted to hear his remembrances of the district.
As her finger circled the top of her wineglass, making the half-full crystal sing, Leopold shifted in his chair and adjusted the napkin in his lap. Despite the setting, her actions aroused him. He fought to bring order to his mind and body but his gaze fell to her displayed décolletage. From the way the firm globes of her breasts pushed up, he assumed she wore a corset. He itched to replace the whalebone about her chest with his hands and test the softness of her skin to see if she was as enticing as he remembered. Leopold hastily strove to find the far wall fascinating.
“I understand that you drew a weapon on a debt collector a few days ago. Care to elaborate, Leopold?” One of the footmen gasped in shock. Leopold scowled at him then glanced at Mercy quickly.
He wasn’t surprised that she’d heard; only that she brought the matter up before the servants. He leaned back in his chair and wondered if he was about to be chastised. “The man had intended to force a boy into service to repay his mother’s debt. The debt collector’s stubborn nature required readjustment.”
Mercy’s rich laugh echoed through the room. “That is a fine way of saying you scared him witless.”
“Did he have them to begin with?” Leopold threw his napkin on the table, thankful his body was once more in his control. “Either way the matter is settled, the debt is repaid, and Mrs. Turner will not be bothered by the scoundrel again.”
She leaned toward him, resting her chin on her hand. “You are very loyal to your friends, Leopold. Mrs. Turner is a very lucky woman to have your support.”
His skin heated at her praise, and with horror he realized that Mercy had the power to make him blush. “It was nothing. Mrs. Turner is a widow and utterly defenseless against such threats.”
“And very pretty by all accounts,” she teased. She pressed her lips together in a rueful smile and threw a glance at her butler. Wilcox hurried to clear the room of dishes and servants. Once they were gone, Mercy smiled. “Do you find her attractive?”
Leopold frowned. “Turner’s widow deserves my protection, not my pawing. Where do you get your intelligence from?”
“Same place as everyone.”
Leopold rolled his eyes. “Eamon Murphy? What the devil has that idiot said now? He will ruin her good name by allowing such speculation to continue.”
“The speculation was mine. Are you not tempted by her?”
“Good God, no. She is my friend’s widow.”
Mercy smiled suddenly, and then her fingers rose to the edge of her bodice. Leopold followed their movement as they trailed along the edge of fine white lace, wishing he could touch her instead of sitting still like a blasted saint. Her gown slipped, exposing the creamy smooth apple of her shoulder. Her languorous gaze, better suited to the bedroom than the dining room, slipped from his and roamed over his upper body. “Eamon knows everything, including the fact that you left an exotic mistress behind in India. Do you miss her skills very badly?”
He bit his tongue to keep from confessing that he hadn’t thought of another woman since the moment they’d met. Gods, she was unrelenting. She’d have made a grand inquisitor ashamed of his skill. “My personal life is not open for discussion, Your Grace. A man must have some privacy.”
Her eyes lit up as if she sensed a challenge to be conquered. “Oh, I think you have secrets I’d like to hear. I’m very open to discovering all I can about you, Leopold. Your reticence intrigues me.”
She was also attempting to seduce him, and he wasn’t putting up much of a defense. His body had hardened to near painful levels as he’d watched her fingers at play on her skin. Leopold stood, and the harsh grate of the chair over the parquetry snapped Mercy out of her slumberous seduction. She sat up quickly.
“If you will excuse me, Your Grace, I will leave you now. I have much to do over the coming days. Goodnight.” Without waiting for her response, Leopold bolted for the safety of the hall and the fastest way out of the abbey before he acted on Mercy’s invitation and made love to her on the dining room table.