Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy

by Regina Jeffers

  “A lady’s maid or companion might serve the purpose,” Mrs. Babcock finished Lucifer’s sentence. “However, until that time, I cannot have the late Lord Lexford’s issue scrubbing floors. The girl will simply play the role of guest until Lord Lexford decides otherwise.”

  Lucifer thought his ruse a wise one. He supposed his close association with the Realm had taught him the art of deceit. He would need all his previously dormant skills to manage His Lordship’s disapprobation. Despite his recent injuries, Viscount Lexford would not be an easy one to fool. “You are likely correct, Ma’am. I knew you would see the right of it. The girl will be avowedly useful.”

  Mrs. Babcock scowled. “The difficulty will be to keep Miss Purefoy’s true familial relationship a secret. Perhaps a cousin would be a more appropriate designation than a sister.”

  Hill could not confide to the woman that he had considered forming Miss Purefoy into Lord Lexford’s cousin, but he had thought a “sister” would provide the viscount with time to discover what mattered most in life. He had allowed himself great latitude in such points. An attraction to one’s sister was frowned upon in Society, but not so much so with a cousin. “Yours is a sensible solution,” Lucifer said as he made to leave. “And a consideration of kindness.”

  “Place the girl in the west wing. I cannot have her staying in the private wing. It would not be appropriate.”

  *

  Mrs. Babcock’s “willingness” to accept his story had pleased Lucifer. However, Miss Nelson’s good opinion was less forthcoming. “You have portrayed me as being born on the wrong side of the blanket,” the lady said incredulously. “Surely Lord Lexford will know the truth.”

  Lucifer had escorted the girl into Lexford’s private study. He had helped himself to a glass of Lord Lexford’s finest brandy and had poured a sherry for Miss Nelson. “Now, that is where you have erred,” he said calmly. Despite her worn clothing and disheveled appearance, Miss Nelson had automatically assumed a dainty pose on the edge of a cushion. The lady’s bearing only went to prove his earlier estimation of the woman he had rescued from the road. “I have a confession of sorts,” he began after taking a seat near the hearth. “I am aware you are a genteel bred lady. Your speech and even how you sit in a chair betrays you.”

  The girl blushed thoroughly, but she squared her shoulders before saying, “I have never portrayed myself as part of the servant class. If you recall, I sought a position as a governess.” Lucifer’s admiration for the woman increased. She would not permit Lexford his way in all matters. It would be a refreshing twist for the viscount had no faults but what a serious attachment would remove.

  “Yet, you have recently held employment as a common maid,” he argued.

  Miss Nelson bit her bottom lip in hesitation. “My situation will not permit my return to my former home, and I am willing to serve in this household as you prescribe.” Again, there was a lift of her chin, which pleased Lucifer. Yes, the girl would do well for Lord Lexford.

  He leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “I am not your enemy, Miss Purefoy; yet, as it is I who have brought you to Lexington Arms, it is I who would suffer at Lord Lexford’s hand if His Lordship discovered the truth of your lineage. Especially if I had you on your knees scrubbing His Lordship’s floors.” He took a sip of the brandy before continuing. “I must tell Lord Lexford something he will believe. It is not likely His Lordship would not detect your cultured tongue.”

  He watched as the girl closed her eyes as if seeking another means of escape from her situation. Finally, she said, “Then I shall use the coins you have provided me for the stage to London. When I have found appropriate employment, I shall repay you.”

  Lucifer considered how easily such an innocent would succumb to the less savory ways of London’s Society. Within weeks of her arrival in England’s capital, Miss Nelson would be either plying her wares behind Covent Garden or be found dead in the stews. Lucifer would not permit either to happen, even if he had to imprison the girl in the viscount’s west wing until Lexford arrived to deal with the stubborn chit. He said, “Although we have yet to decide upon the terms of your presence, you have found sanctuary under Lord Lexford’s roof. Would you prefer to disclose the truth of your journey to the viscount? Would that choice make you feel less deceitful?” A gamut of emotions crossed the girl’s countenance before she shook her head in the negative. Tentatively, he suggested, “You do not wish to return to the road, and, truthfully, I believe you are exactly what this household requires. Lord Lexford has suffered several losses over the past few years: his brother, his father, and his wife. The house has known Death too often.”

  “And what role do you suggest I play in Lord Lexford’s recovery?” Miss Nelson asked suspiciously. “I shall not become the viscount’s mistress if that is what you are suggesting.”

  Lucifer choked on the brandy he sipped. The girl was plain spoken, which was refreshing. It was a characteristic His Lordship had admired in the eldest Aldridge twin. “I assure you I would never place you in a compromising situation nor would Lord Lexford act without honor.” He sat his glass on a side table. “Do you not see, Miss Purefoy, my tale is the perfect ruse. First, it protects you from what may be perceived as an easy seduction. Lord Lexford would never attempt to know his sister intimately. Secondly, no one would think to search for a woman who poses as an aristocrat’s by blow. Plus, such a distinction would provide you a certain amount of protection. As a Kimbolt, even an illegitimate one, you would no longer know hardship.”

  “But Lord Lexford shall immediately know of the deception,” she protested. “How can you offer assurances His Lordship will extend his benevolence to a wayward soul?”

  Lucifer smiled easily; the lady would be swayed. “I spoke of His Lordship’s personal losses, but I omitted one important fact. Lord Lexford suffered an equally great loss in October. He was struck from behind with a large tree limb. The injury has cost the viscount much of his memory from the past two years. The only memories of those months are those he has borrowed from his most trusted acquaintances.”

  “Men such as yourself?” she accused.

  Lucifer nodded in affirmation. “I spoke the truth of my allegiance to the viscount, and I do not practice this dishonesty without a heavy heart. My vow to see Lord Lexford well overrides all other forms of friendship. I would move the Heavens if I thought it would give the man peace. I owe him my life.”

  Miss Nelson’s eyes widened in astonishment. “You have yet to explain what role I will portray in this deception.”

  “Assist His Lordship’s feet to find a new path. Brighten this house of Death with your smile. Save Lord Lexford from the misery that cloaks his shoulders. Do even one-tenth of these tasks, and I will be in your debt forever,” Lucifer said earnestly.

  Miss Nelson scowled. “You expect a miracle?”

  Lucifer shook his head in the negative. “Simply do your best by the man. Perhaps, in doing so, you will find a bit of yourself as well.”

  *

  He had escorted her to a room in the manor’s west wing. “To where does that door lead?” Mercy had asked as the candlelight invaded the dark passageway. Evidently, no one else held quarters in this wing.

  “No where.” Mr. Hill had said without emotion, and Mercy’s curiosity piqued from his indifference. “There was a fire nearly three years prior. Stay away from that part of the house. It is not safe.”

  “Nearly three years?” she said inquisitively. “Why has the viscount not seen to the repairs? Is Lord Lexford short of funds?” Mercy knew enough of aristocrats who spent beyond their means. Her brother Geoffrey had run the barony into ruin. Her poor father must be looking down in distress from Heaven upon what had become of the estate Thomas Nelson had so dearly loved. Her late father had taken such great pride in his duties to the title.

  “No, Miss,” Mr. Hill said seriously. The man stared off in distraction. “I believe the viscount chose to leave the ruins as a silent punishment. Lord Lexford blames hi
mself for not saving Lady Lexford. Susan Kimbolt perished in the fire.”

  A pain of regret stabbed Mercy’s heart. The viscount had truly known more than his share of woe. Mr. Hill set about lighting candles and a fire in the hearth. “There is nothing amiss with these rooms,” he assured. “Her Ladyship…” he hesitated.

  “Yes?” Mercy pressed.

  Mr. Hill paused before answering. “I should not speak poorly of the dead, but if you are to stay at Lexington Arms, then you should know what happened to the last Lady Lexford.” Mercy nodded her encouragement. “Her Ladyship set the fire which took her life. Lord Lexford could not reach her, but the truth is Lady Lexford had no desire to be saved. She had chosen the fire to end her misery and to punish Lexford for loving her.”

  “I do not understand,” Mercy admitted.

  Mr. Hill shrugged. “I have no knowledge of the event beyond the words I have spoken in secret. If one would ask Lord Lexford of the right of what happened that day, His Lordship’s opinion would be in sharp contrast to mine. And, in truth, only the viscount knows what occurred. He discovered the fire and his wife long before others arrived to assist with the flames.”

  Mercy quickly made the connection. “And since Lord Lexford has lost his memory, the truth might never be known.”

  Hill nodded his head in affirmation. “The viscount’s associates have repeated what Lord Lexford has told them of that day.”

  “Yet, as you say, Mr. Hill, no one knows if what Lord Lexford’s friends have shared is the absolute truth or the viscount’s abbreviated version of the events.”

  “Only His Lordship’s conscience can speak of Lady Lexford’s motives, and at this time, the man’s memories remain sadly silent on the subject.”

  *

  Although most of the household staff had shown her respect in a “distant” sort of manner, Mrs. Babcock’s attitude spoke of open disdain with a good dose of hasty indignation. The housekeeper’s slights had been most determined. Mercy had expected some censure, and she attempted to ignore the woman’s terse tones, applying the lady’s reproach to the housekeeper’s long-standing position in the Kimbolt’s employ.

  Mr. Hill’s tale of her illegitimacy would cause many to turn from her, but as much as she did not wish to admit it, the excuse for her unexpected appearance at Lexington Arms held credence. It also provided her the privacy she craved. Mercy had spent three days exploring the manor, and she had discovered how much she enjoyed the view from the parkland. Except for the section destroyed by the fire, the house was quite spectacular. Despite the less than inviting decor, Mercy loved the spacious rooms.

  Mr. Hill spent a good portion of each of those three days assisting her in creating a “story” for the viscount. “I was thinking,” he said as he showed her the stables, “you might make over some of Lady Lexford’s gowns to fit. That is if you are handy with a needle.”

  “Would not Lord Lexford object?” she said in concern.

  “First, as I have pointed out previously, His Lordship holds no memories of his wife, and besides, men, even those who have not suffered such a devastating injury, have no mind for frills and lace. Make changes to highlight your fair coloring, and Lord Lexford will never make the connection.”

  “I think not,” Mercy protested. “Mrs. Babcock would not approve of my affront to Susan Kimbolt’s memory.”

  “It is none of the housekeeper’s concern,” Mr. Hill said adamantly.

  “But Mrs. Babcock has warned…” She broke off before disclosing the housekeeper’s latest reprimand.

  Mr. Hill asked suspiciously, “What has the woman said?”

  Mercy waved away his objections. “It is nothing. Truly I should have thought the better. I took it upon myself to move a flower vase to a sunnier location, and my doing so upset the housekeeper. I had no right to consider myself the expert on the vase’s placement.” Mr. Hill’s frown lines met. “Please do not speak to the woman on my behalf. It would only complicate my situation in this house.”

  Mr. Hill scowled. “I will not have you abused by the viscount’s servants.”

  Mercy meant to dissuade him. “The servants will follow the viscount’s lead. I am certain Mrs. Babcock means well. I should be very sorry to be an inconvenience.”

  “I am not so certain,” Mr. Hill argued, “but I will bend to your wishes.”

  Mercy quickly changed the subjects. “I have also been considering my situation under Lord Lexford’s roof.”

  “Go on,” Hill said cautiously.

  “I have taken no notice of His Lordship having a secretary. You serve as his man of all means, but who organizes Lord Lexford’s day, tends his correspondence, and addresses his needs?”

  Mr. Hill said honestly. “I have never known an aristocrat to employ a female secretary if that is what you are implying.”

  Mercy argued, “I must have some means of repaying your kindness, Mr. Hill. Because of me, you have placed yourself in a tenuous situation in Lord Lexford’s household. If you can be His Lordship’s man of all means, why may not Lord Lexford refer to his sister as his woman of all means?”

  Mr. Hill barked out a hearty laugh. “You are quite remarkable, Miss Purefoy. Once Lord Lexford considers his duty to his sister, I am certain you will brighten the man’s days.”

  *

  Aidan rode beside the Dowager Duchess’s carriage. He had never been more thankful to place his feet in Valí’s stirrups. He would escort Godown’s three aunts and Pennington as far as Cheshire. The crisp December day had invigorated him. The only thing, which would make it better, was if he could ride break neck across the surrounding hills, but he had promised both Fowler’s personal physician and James Kerrington that he would demonstrate restraint. Restraint. His mind revolted at the concept. Sometimes, Aidan felt he had spent a lifetime practicing restraint.

  “You will ride safely,” Pennington cautioned as they prepared to depart.

  “Not you as well,” Aidan said good-naturedly. He tapped his heart. “I swear to practice vigilance.”

  Pennington smiled easily, and Aidan thought how different a smile made the Realm’s leader appear. Pennington had long loved Godown’s Aunt Bel, and finally, the man had found his happiness. Aidan felt guilty for the twinge of jealousy slipping into his chest. “You were always the first into a fray,” Pennington explained. “Never impetuous like Fowler, but the first to place yourself in danger. It was as if you had a desire to die. I think it is time you uncover a reason to live.”

  Aidan looked off toward the road leading to his home. “God, I wish it were that easy.”

  Pennington chuckled. “I never said it would be easy. Nothing in life worth possessing ever is. Yet, look at me. I have found love with a woman I had thought never to know.”

  Aidan swallowed the bile choking his throat. “Around me, everyone has claimed a piece of happiness. I wonder if I will be permitted to claim my own wedge or whether by the time I reach for it, Happiness will jerk his hand away and announce he holds no more room for the likes of me.” Aidan shook off his maudlin. “Forgive me,” he said honestly. “Such is what happens to my composure when I return to Lexington Arms. I have known little contentment behind its doors.”

  Pennington nodded to the duchess. It was time for their departure. “Perhaps this time will be different. Perhaps Lexington Arms offers adventures, which you have never considered. Open your eyes to new possibilities, Lexford.”

  *

  “Open your eyes to new possibilities,” he grumbled as he rode past the gatehouse and Mr. Brown. The estate’s long-time servant raised his hat in acknowledgement as Aidan set Valí to an easy gallop. At least, Mr. Brown is one servant I recognize, he thought. One of his many unvoiced fears was he would discover several among his employ and in the neighborhood for whom he possessed no name or history. With Sir Carter’s assistance, he had vaguely recalled, at his wife’s request, he had released a handful of servants upon his return to the estate.

  “Open your eyes,” his brain c
hanted in time to his horse’s progress. “Open your eyes,” his conscious mind encouraged.

  As he came closer, Aidan caught glimpses of the manor house through the bare trees. There were few manor houses he could name which exuded a sense of the aristocracy as well as did Lexington Arms. Of course, there were those houses which were more majestic and those more ornate, but none which spoke so well of the English country gentleman. His revelry was sadly broken, however, when he rounded a curve in the parkland, and the burned out shell of a half dozen rooms of the estate’s west wing assumed prominence. “Open your eyes to devastation,” he murmured.

  Aidan dragged his gaze from the rotting wood. Dark regret blocked his ability to swallow. Finally, the tree line masked the hollowed out ruins, and he recovered his breath. “One of my first duties to a new beginning,” he swore quietly as he reined in his horse before the main entrance, “is to remove the smear of deceit from my estate.”

  “Good afternoon, Lord Lexford,” a groom with sun-kissed skin and a shock of red hair said as Aidan tossed the man the straps. “Welcome home, Sir.”

  Aidan scowled as he searched for a memory, but his tongue knew the right words without his thinking on them. “Thank you, Toby.”

  The man smiled in response so Aidan supposed he had spoken correctly. Thank God bits of myself remain, he thought as he slowly climbed the manor’s main steps. Before he could release the knocker, the door swung wide to reveal his father’s butler. His butler, Aidan reminded himself. He had been the viscount for some two and a half years, but Aidan could not say he had ever felt comfortable in the role. As a second son, he had not been groomed for the title. It was a commonality he had shared with Marcus Wellston. Only one of the many traits he had shared with the Earl of Berwick: A younger son assuming the title; an attraction to the Aldridge twins; and an inability to save someone he loved. He and Berwick had been quite the pair until his friend had found “his” happiness with Cashémere Aldridge. Aidan gave himself a good mental shake. He had no time for distant memories. His present awaited him.