CHAPTER NINETEEN
Leopold pushed off the low stonewall as Allen’s two sons disappeared into the stables on an errand. The Romsey stables, a mammoth domed building of brick and glass, were quiet at this time of day. Only Allen labored at chores in the yard, rubbing down a gelding that had recently been exercised. His cousin worked with single-minded intensity, barely glancing up when Leopold joined him.
He had intended to wait until Allen was done with the task, but the man seemed in no hurry to engage in conversation. The old duke had done that in his day, too. He would pretend not to notice someone and make them wait or—heaven forbid—interrupt him so he had an excuse to be annoyed. Just how much like the old duke was Allen? Although he searched his memory, Leopold couldn’t remember what Allen had been like as a younger man.
He crossed the yard and approached Allen as he changed sides. The gelding fidgeted a bit, but Allen soothed the beast with firm strokes and soft words. “The building is still grand, isn’t it?” Allen said without preamble.
Leopold looked up at the fanciful turrets that no one could enter and grimaced at the extravagance. “The old duke did love to house his horses in luxury.”
Allen straightened, patting the horse. “Not that they care or notice. Like this fellow here, all he wants is a rub, food and water, and to gallop as often as he can. The stables need a bit of work done around the back. I hear you’re the man to go to if something needs fixing.”
“I am for the moment. The duchess will be hiring a new steward soon, but I will make a note of your concerns and see they are attended to.”
“The walls could do with a lick of paint and a couple of panes of glass cracked last winter.”
Leopold nodded. That wasn’t too bad in the scheme of things. Some of the other outbuildings were in a sorrier state. “I’ll see that it’s taken care of.”
“Much obliged. The horses don’t care for the draft.” Allen glanced at him sideways. “But that’s not why you’re here. What brings you to me, Mr. Randall?”
“Trouble.”
Allen shrugged. “Nothing unusual there for a Randall.”
“No,” Leopold said quietly. “We were an unruly bunch in the past. However, in this instance, I have good reason to be concerned.”
“Concerns your boy then?”
Leopold ground his teeth and then forced his jaw to work again. “It concerns the duke, yes.”
Allen chuckled. “Don’t get on the high ropes with me. You sounded just like your father when he was in a snit. Anyone with eyes and a good memory can tell that boy wasn’t of the fifth Duke of Romsey’s making. He’s not a sickly child, is he? He looks like you.”
Damnation! Was the resemblance that obvious?
Allen looked around, spotted his eldest child waiting in the stable’s shadows, and then led the horse toward him. Once the beast had been passed over, and the youth had disappeared, Allen came back.
Leopold crossed his arms over his chest, determined to ignore the comment about Edwin’s parentage. “Do you know what’s been going on around here?”
Allen smacked his hands over his trousers. “Not much. Wilcox is watching everyone like a hawk, which does seem out of the ordinary. Usually, he’s not such a stick in the mud. And he’s become secretive when he comes out of the abbey. I don’t know where he’s going, but he looks like he’s swallowed a turnip whole.”
“He’s had good reason for the secrecy.”
“Such as?” Allen asked.
Tell the truth or leave him in the dark? If Allen was not involved, he could be useful. If he was involved, Leopold would be tipping his hat that he was aware of the danger posed to Edwin. Leopold did not want to believe that Allen could be a danger. “The duke has an enemy.”
Allen snorted. “He’s too young to have one yet. That takes years of scheming to arrange.” He turned away, heading back toward the stables as if the matter was of no importance.
Leopold followed. “There have been letters sent to the abbey threatening him harm.”
Allen slowed his steps. “Anyone can write nasty letters. What makes you think they are serious in their intent?”
“At first, I didn’t. I thought they were love letters to the duchess.”
“That must have got your hackles up. I’ve seen how you follow her about. She is lively, too kind by half for the likes of my sainted late brother. The only thing good about the marriage is that we have a bright spot of merriment most days when she’s haring about.”
Now that was interesting. If Allen were the one threatening Mercy and Edwin, he’d have had ample time to do the deed already. By his own admission he had confessed to holding a soft spot for Mercy. “There have also been intruders in the abbey, or perhaps it’s a servant doing work other than what the duchess pays them for.”
Allen’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What kind of work?”
“It’s a grim business. Wilcox is finding and disposing of slaughtered animals. They have been left in the duchess’ bedchamber and in other well-used parts of the abbey, I’m told.”
“Dear God! Why the hell wasn’t I informed about this? Father would be spinning in his grave at the idea of strangers making free with his possessions. You know how he was about the abbey.”
Leopold let out a sigh of relief. Allen wasn’t involved. Not with that attitude. “Yes, I remember. But why would you be told specifically? It is my understanding that the duchess does not even know who you are.”
“That bloody Wilcox does, however. Did the little turnip think that I might be responsible?” Allen’s hands curled into fists. “I’ll kill him for keeping me in the dark.”
When Allen made to shoot past Leopold on his way to a side entrance to the abbey, Leopold caught his arm and held him in place. “Wilcox said nothing about you, about any of it, actually, until I pressed for more information. I don’t even know if the duchess would have confessed to it at all if I had not read that first letter.”
Allen shook off his grip. “There have been more than enough secrets here to last a dozen lifetimes. Family should not hurt one another. Your side was the only part that was kind.”
“So, we are in agreement then. The young duke and duchess must be protected at all costs.”
Allen adjusted his sleeve and a small blade slid into the palm of his hand. “We have an accord. Wilcox is coming.”
Leopold turned. “Put the knife away, cousin. We might just need to keep Wilcox a while yet.”
Wilcox gestured wildly. “Come. Come.”
He fled back toward the abbey. Leopold glanced at Allen, and then they both followed Wilcox at a run. The butler stopped at the side door, waited for them to catch up, and then led them both upstairs. At Mercy’s bedchamber door, Leopold’s heart raced. What the devil had happened now?
Without a word, Leopold stepped into the room first. And then wished he hadn’t.
“Bugger me!” Allen exclaimed.
Leopold wished he could feel as surprised. Another small creature lay slain in the room, its blood splashed in a wide arc over Mercy’s bed. The dead staring eyes sent a chill through him.
“You have to get them away from here,” Allen said suddenly. “Somewhere safe. Maybe take her to the London Townhouse and engage more staff to watch over them.”
Wilcox sighed. “That has already been suggested many a time but she simply won’t leave. She is adamant that she will not be run off no matter what.”
Now he was seeing this scene, one similar to those described to him before, it surprised Leopold that Mercy hadn’t already fled the estate for the safety of friends or family. But she stayed, practically alone, ignoring this monster and caring for her son. Not for the first time did Leopold wonder why she hadn’t done the expected thing and run away from the coming trouble.
Allen inspected the creature and then stood back. “Whoever did this is good with a knife. I take back my earlier kind words. The duchess is a fool.”
“Watch your mouth, cousin.”
“What would you do if I don’t? Shoot me.” A bitter laugh broke from Allen’s mouth. “I’ve been threatened with that before, by my own brother no less, and you don’t have the bollocks to do the deed.”
Leopold raked his hands through his hair. “There is always a first time.” He paced the room. “Lady Barnet and the duchess’ sister were both here today. It could be someone attending them.”
“It could be either lady as well,” Allen said quickly.
“Nonsense,” Wilcox scoffed. “Lady Barnet and Lady Venables may not like each other but they both love the duchess. They would never wish to hurt her.”
“Are you defending that sanctimonious harridan? Didn’t I hear Lady Venables tried to get you dismissed last month?”
“I may have deserved that.” Wilcox smiled nervously at Leopold. “She does not care for me speaking my mind to the duchess, even when Her Grace seeks out my opinion. I should have waited until Lady Venables had moved out of earshot before speaking up.”
Blythe did seem the kind to cling to proper decorum. Mercy’s consideration of a servant’s suggestion would likely set her teeth on edge. “I believe I understand your dilemma. What was the discussion about, by the way?”
“It was to do with the duke. Her Grace asked my opinion on providing him with a pet for company. Lady Venables believed him to be too young, but she says that about almost everything involving the duke.”
A trifling matter and not one that a servant should be dismissed over. “It is interesting that this latest development occurred on a day when Lady Venables was here.”
Wilcox nodded. “She was here the day of the last one, too. Lady Barnet had been here earlier in the day, but had already departed before the discovery was made.”
Leopold shook his head. He had a lead, two leads, but in both cases the path to finding the culprit was unclear. Perhaps the first thing he should do is become better acquainted with Mercy’s sister. She was already here in the abbey and according to the note he’d received was expected to dine with them tonight. The next time Lady Barnet visited, he’d find out what made her tick, too.
~ * ~
As far as mistakes went, this fiasco was probably Mercy’s finest. She had thought that, by inviting Leopold to dine with her and Blythe, that her sister might have become better acquainted with him. Or at least become comfortable in his company.
Sadly, that was not to be the case. Blythe glared daggers at Leopold while he replied politely to her impetuous questions about his past, present, and future plans. It was a tense battle of wits that was bringing Mercy a megrim. She should still be angry with Leopold. He had deceived her, manipulated her, and shared her bed without a word about their past. However, Blythe appeared annoyed enough for both of them at the present. She didn’t want Leopold to think he wasn’t wanted at Romsey, or that he could leave whenever he chose to go. He was not going anywhere until she had some answers that satisfied her. But at the rate this was going, he would be gone before sunrise.
She licked her lips nervously at the idea. “I saw you out by the stables earlier. Is anything amiss?”
He shook his head. “Simply admiring one of the horses and thinking it will be a good long while before the duke is old enough to ride them. Has he sat one yet?”
“The duke is too young,” Blythe cut in.
Leopold regarded Blythe, a friendly smile on his face. “At what age would you suggest he be introduced to the saddle? It is my understanding that my cousin sat a horse from the age of two, or so he boasted. My parents were somewhat tardier than that. I had to wait for Oliver to be old enough to sit our pony, and then I had to share it with him.”
Mercy liked the sound of Leopold’s parents. They had been very practical minded people. She cleared her throat. “We rode later, as well. Mother was terrified of horses and would not let us girls near them. My brother was already cantering about when we got our first chance at the experience. Constantine used to tease us that we were as slow as snails.”
“That’s what brother’s do best. Tease.” His gaze slewed back toward Blythe as he waited on her response.
Blythe shot him a defiant look. “Not before he turns five.”
“Good. That gives us ample time to find a suitably quiet mount that will plod about, despite all the urgent kicks the boy is bound to inflict. There is not a horse like that out in the stable, unfortunately. My cousin has only excitable beasts and they simply will not do for an inexperienced rider.”
Oh, bravo, Leopold! With one answer, he had effectively foiled Blythe’s fears, cited family tradition, and had taken her advice on the matter of Edwin learning to ride. Not many had handled Blythe so masterfully before. Usually, they tried to tell her she worried too much.
Blythe’s lips pursed, and then she returned to her dinner without further comment.
Mercy glanced at Leopold. He offered a brief smile, flashed his dimples, and then he too returned to dining quietly at her side. How could she stay mad at him when he did everything else so well?
The problem vexed her. If he was not being honest with her about sharing her bed five years ago should she necessarily distrust everything else he said and did?
Then there was his closer than expected relationship to Edwin that he never alluded to. He had never given her any hint that he wanted more to do with the boy than he should. If not for the problems facing them, he’d been determined to get his answers and leave immediately thereafter.
Mercy sat back in her chair to ponder her feelings. She was—disappointed. Angry. But when she thought about it, she wasn’t even angry with Leopold. She was angry with her husband, and certainly furious with the old duke above all. They had known who was coming to her bed and why he had been chosen for the task. She simply could not imagine Leopold being a party to a seduction unless he was given no choice in the matter.
“Is something wrong, Your Grace,” Blythe asked.
Mercy forced a smile. “No, just thinking about the future.”
Leopold pushed his plate away, and then motioned to Wilcox that the servants could be dismissed. Wilcox glanced at her and Mercy nodded in agreement.
When they were gone, Leopold addressed Blythe. “The duchess has been kind enough to take me into her confidence about the mad man stalking her. I am greatly concerned and determined to protect my cousin from harm. He is too young for such strife in his life. But I am equally concerned about your welfare.”
A frown line in Blythe’s forehead appeared. “My welfare?”
Leopold sat forward. “I am concerned that this man may try to harm the duke through you. You live alone, just as Her Grace has these last years. You are vulnerable.”
Blythe’s spine stiffened. “I am not vulnerable. I can look after myself.”
“I am sure you are safe in your own home, but the distance between the two properties worries me. Anything could happen to you and we would not know until it was too late. Would you consent to stay here in the abbey? It would set my mind at ease, and the duchess’ too, I’m sure, to have you safe under this roof.”
Blythe shook her head violently. “I’m needed at home.”
Mercy frowned at her words. There was no one waiting for Blythe at home anymore. Her husband and son had passed away. Walden Hall only waited for its mistress’ return and would not miss Blythe for another night.
She set her hand on her sisters, and was startled by how cold Blythe’s skin had become. “I would love for you to stay the night.”
Blythe’s gaze switched to stare at Leopold. “I will be perfectly fine on my own. You need have no concern for me.”
Mercy rubbed her arm. “Please, Blythe. It is not just the danger. I would enjoy your company.”
Blythe shook her head and then stood. “I have a headache coming on. Do excuse me?”
She rushed for the door and, although Mercy followed and encouraged her to change her mind, she would not bend. As the carriage rolled off, Leopold tugged Mercy away from the open doorway. “I didn’t mean to frighten her away like that. I had honestly hoped she would remain here with you and the boy.”
Mercy’s heart ached. “I know what you intended. Blythe is difficult—at the best of times.”
They walked to the library and Leopold shut the door behind them. “She’s had good reason to be unhappy with her lot in life. She must get lonely.”
“You would think that to be the case, but it is rare I can get her to visit with me for any longer than a day. It is as if she is waiting for her husband and son to return. I’ve tried to jolly her out of her mourning, but she resists. The only time she seems truly happy is when she is with Edwin.”
“He is a wonderful boy,” Leopold said quietly.
She met his gaze and held it. “He reminds me of his father.”
At that, Leopold’s expression grew grim and he turned away. Mercy watched him pace the room. His posture had stiffened, his hands were clasped behind his back, and he did not look at her for a long time. She sank into a chair as the possibility, no, the likelihood of Leopold being Edwin’s father refused to go away. Did she mind that it could have been him? Did she care enough for it to make a difference between them? Would she change the past and undo Edwin’s creation?
The answer to all three questions was no.
She stood again, and placed herself in Leopold’s path. He stopped suddenly, eyeing her warily. His uncertainty tugged at her heart. “I think we should go to bed now. It’s already past Edwin’s bedtime.”