Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy

by Regina Jeffers

  Hill asked tentatively, “Then we know agreement regarding increasing the number of guards set about the estate?”

  Again, the lady frowned, but this time in deliberation. “Should we not first determine why someone would choose to kidnap the young master?”

  Aidan’s mouth twitched in amazement. Miss Purefoy had narrowed the problem to its core truth. The lady had the makings of a reliable Realm agent: daring and intelligence. “What do you suppose the person’s motives?”

  “Ransom,” she and Hill said together.

  “I have not had the opportunity to search your quarters, my Dear, but I would venture to say no demand for money exists within.” Aidan had already considered the possibility of ransom.

  Miss Purefoy bit her bottom lip in concentration. “Perhaps whoever took Master Aaron from his bed meant to have the ransom note delivered after the boy was secured.”

  Aidan refilled her sherry glass and Hill’s brandy. “Perhaps.” He liked how the color had returned to Miss Purefoy’s cheeks. The sherry and the lady’s constant need to be of use had warmed her and had restored Mary’s normal curiosity. Aidan made a mental note not to permit Miss Chadwick to tend Miss Purefoy too closely. The shopkeeper’s daughter had a tendency to smother her charges with her maternal instincts. Aidan preferred his “sister” with a bit of fire in her stomach.

  “What can you tell us about the man who took the boy?” Hill asked.

  Miss Purefoy said enigmatically, “Who said it was a man?”

  “Of course the perpetrator was a man,” Aidan declared. “Although I did not have a clear look at the person who threw the wood block at me, my attacker was dressed as a man.”

  Hill added, “And the shadow I chased through the woods was a male. A woman would have not moved so.”

  Miss Purefoy’s nose rose in indignation. “First, Mr. Hill, although I would agree most women would not take to running about dressed in men’s clothing, you must agree the possibility exists.”

  “Of course, my Dear,” Aidan said as he sat forward to listen more carefully to the point Miss Purefoy made. “But could you enlighten us as to why you believe the kidnapper could be a woman?”

  “The boy, my Lord,” she said confidently. “Master Aaron called out for his mother. He said ‘Mama’ over and over again. It is a word we have heard the child use previously, but never in reference to a man.”

  Chapter 11

  Aidan and Lucifer had sat up long after he had insisted Miss Purefoy find her bed. He had instructed Mr. Payne to permit everyone extra sleep in the morning after such a trying night. Deland had reported no signs of the intruder. The lack of any tangible details frustrated Aidan, but he kept his concerns private. Was there a connection between his three sightings of “Susan” and the taking of his nephew? “The question is whether these sightings are related to my return to Lexington Arms?” Aidan could not seem to shake the idea his memory loss played into the strange happenings.

  “Do you ever sleep?” Hill said groggily as he entered the morning room.

  Aidan could not recall when he last slept a full night, and the lack of memory had nothing to do with his head injury. “A few hours.” He gestured Hill to join him at the table. “I am wondering if Realm recruits are enough reinforcements for the house,” he said privately.

  “I will ride into the village and find a few willing souls to guard the grounds at night.” Hill paused before asking, “Will you inform Rhodes of what has occurred?”

  Aidan scowled. “I think not. Rhodes has always considered me less than my father and my brother. My inability to protect my nephew would only prove the man correct.”

  “I have never held any respect for an idiot,” Hill said loyally. “And Jonathan Rhodes is the epitome of an idiot.”

  Aidan nodded his gratitude before excusing the waiting footman. “Any word on Mr. Poley?”

  “According to Mrs. Osborne, late in the evening, Poley complained of a toothache and took himself off to see Mr. Charles in the village. As far as the cook knows, your valet did not return last evening. The woman commented on the unusual circumstances, as your valet rarely leaves the estate.”

  Aidan ventured, “So do we know whether Poley actually saw Mr. Charles?”

  The pitch of Hill’s voice remained low. “I mean to know the truth of the tale.”

  “And Mrs. Babcock?” Aidan had not discounted Miss Purefoy’s idea that the intruder could possibly be a woman.

  Hill glanced about to assure himself of their privacy. “The housekeeper contends she had partaken of laudanum to ease the pain of a stiff shoulder. Mrs. Osborne concurs such is Mrs. Babcock’s habit.”

  “No wonder the woman is so lethargic at times,” Aidan said caustically.

  “There is very little of the woman to admire,” Hill declared.

  Aidan placed his serviette on the table. “See me later today.” He stood to leave. “I must post a letter to the Home Office before Miss Purefoy awakes. I plan to spend my day with the lady and my nephew. I fear both may have suffered from their ordeal.”

  *

  “And these are my quarters,” he announced as he led Miss Purefoy and Miss Chadwick into his private chambers. Even though he recognized Miss Purefoy’s opinion before she spoke the words, Aidan waited impatiently for the lady’s assessment of his quarters’ décor. After three days of carefully watching her well-crafted reactions to everyday household business, Aidan had decided to distract Miss Purefoy with a new project. By his sister’s words the woman loved to be of service; he would use that particular fact to assist her in conquering her fear of his house. What better way to overcome her hesitation than to make the lady intimately familiar with each room?

  “I am thankful you warned me of the color,” Miss Purefoy said honestly. “Otherwise, I might have made a terrible guffaw upon observing the inappropriateness of these furnishings for you.”

  Aidan squeezed her fingertips. “I would never wish you a social indiscretion, my Dear,” he said teasingly.

  “This will not do, my Lord,” she continued. “I cannot imagine you comfortable in such surroundings.” The lady’s words rang true. Aidan had never claimed this room as his own. Instead, he had forced his father’s cloak about his shoulders and pretended to be something he was not. He “was” the viscount, but he was “not”Arlen Kimbolt. His temperament, his tastes, and his opinions differed greatly from his father’s. He had seen the world at its worst and its best, while the late viscount had known only the title and the estate.

  Aidan graciously accepted the truth. With an easy smile, he said, “I will leave the choices in your most capable hands.”

  Miss Purefoy turned to her companion. “We should sketch the furnishings.” Miss Chadwick nodded and removed a sheet of paper from the artist pouch she carried at her side. As the girl seated herself at a nearby table to make basic renderings of the room, Miss Purefoy strolled about his quarters to examine items more closely.

  It was odd. He had never permitted a woman entrance into his private quarters. When he and Susan had first married, he had asked her to lie with him in this room, but his wife had adamantly refused. That fact in itself added to the oddness, but what truly brought forth Aidan’s awareness was how natural Miss Purefoy appeared. As if the room had come alive when his sister entered. She gently caressed several items on the desk. Aidan swallowed hard. It was very intimate to have her touch his personal belongings. “When you have made your choices, I will ask Mr. Poley to move my things to another room while the workmen complete their tasks.” The words sounded breathy even to his ears, and Miss Purefoy glanced up suddenly, as if realizing the inappropriateness of her actions.

  Without thinking of the consequences, he gestured to his left. He simply knew he had to maneuver her away from Miss Chadwick, where they might be alone for a few minutes. Of late, Aidan only felt complete in her presence, and the idea of leaving his father’s legacy behind appealed to him. “Would you care to see the dressing room?”

 
; Miss Purefoy took a tentative step in the direction he had indicated. “I…I suppose I should be…should be aware of its arrangement.” The lady blushed, and Aidan realized she thought of his small clothes.

  Taking her hand, he brought her to his side. Whispering in her ear, he said, “Mr. Poley is most efficient in his duties.” Miss Purefoy’s color deepened, but she accepted his hand on the small of her back as they moved across the room. When he opened the door to the narrow dressing area, his finding Mr. Poley hard at work surprised Aidan. The valet appeared equally unawares, but the man managed a proper bow.

  “Did you require my services, my Lord?” The valet avoided making eye contact with either him or Miss Purefoy, a fact which irritated Aidan.

  “No, Poley,” Aidan said with a bit of suspicion. Why would Poley be found at work at the precise moment Aidan had chosen to show his quarters to the lady? Did the man spy upon him? “Miss Purefoy and I are examining my chambers in anticipation of setting workmen to executing the changes I have ordered.”

  The valet shot a glance in Miss Purefoy’s direction before saying, “Of course, Sir.”

  Aidan said perversely, “I pray your tooth pain has eased, Mr. Poley.” The muscles of Aidan’s jaw tightened.

  The valet’s expression showed confusion before the man schooled his emotions. “Much better, my Lord. Thank you for your consideration.” The man hid something, and Aidan did not like it.

  He said cautiously, “I feared you fared poorly as you did not return to the estate until the wee hours of the morning on the evening we experience the attempted kidnapping of my nephew. I had thought to send someone to search for you, but no one appeared to have knowledge of your whereabouts. Later, I discovered your suffering had forced you to seek Mr. Charles’s assistance.” He turned a sharp gaze upon the valet.

  Mr. Poley shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I did not intend to remain so long in the village, my Lord, but Mr. Charles’s special painkiller was more than I could handle. I am ashamed to say, I was not fit to ride afterwards. I apologize, Sir, for my shortcomings. I did not realize you would require my services, Lord Lexford.”

  Aidan could not find the falsehoods in his man’s story, but he meant to examine it more closely. He had sent Hill into the village to speak to Mr. Charles. He pushed past the man. “Although I must admit to have grown accustomed to tending to my own needs when I lived abroad,” he prefaced his statement so the valet would know his standing in the Kimbolt household remained on shaky ground. “Your services were missed, Mr. Poley.” He caught Miss Purefoy’s elbow. “Come along, my Dear.”

  He gestured the lady through the adjoining door before he realized what he had done. The drapes were closed, but Aidan required no light to see the room. Even if the sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, he would still fill the cold dread, which had lodged itself in his stomach. “My mother’s room,” he whispered to the emptiness. He had entered the room only twice in the past eighteen years: once as a ten-year-old child grieving for his mother and a second time when he had attempted to convince Susan to agree to change her residence from the west wing to the suite meant for the viscountess. They had had a noisy row, which had the servants gossiping for several days. Six months later, he had buried any hopes of knowing Susan as his wife.

  Miss Purefoy’s soft hand slid into his. “It is not necessary to change anything within, my Lord,” she said gently.

  Aidan did not move. For a dozen elongated seconds, he did not breathe. Crippling anxiety held him immobile. “I wish to see it in the light,” he rasped.

  “Of course, my Lord,” the lady said with a comforting stroke of his arm.

  Aidan remained in place as Miss Purefoy moved deftly across the room to drag the drapes to the side and to admit the light. His gaze searched each corner for the ghosts he suspected lingered in the shadows. “The former Lady Lexford…my mother…always welcomed her children in this room. If we were not in the nursery or the schoolroom, Aylene and I were in her presence, playing with toy soldiers or drawing pictures or sharing cakes and tea.”

  “Not Andrew?”

  Aidan gave a slight shake of his head. “No, Andrew was several years older than Aylene and I. He was at university when my mother passed. While my sister and I played our childhood games, Andrew was learning of his responsibilities to the estate, practicing to be the viscount.”

  Miss Purefoy stated the obvious. “Your brother would better have joined his siblings.”

  Aidan took a step closer to the bed. “Spending time with my mother remains one of my most cherished childhood memories. I had hoped to marry a woman who would agree such moments were important to a child’s development. I had even foolishly thought as their father I could show my children love also.”

  From quietly beside him, Miss Purefoy said, “It is a magical picture you create, my Lord.”

  He grimaced in a rueful manner. Aidan was not certain when she had returned to his side, but he brought her into a loose embrace. “It was a foolish dream,” he said bitterly, ashamed of his moment of vulnerability.

  Miss Purefoy gave him a hard shake. Her gaze never wavered from his. “I shall tolerate no disparagements, Lord Lexford. I speak for my sex when I say your dream is one any woman would embrace.”

  Despite his growing despair, the lady’s loyalty brought a smile to Aidan’s lips. “Not every woman,” he contended. “My wife shunned the possibility. In the few short months Susan lived after Aaron’s birth, I recall but a half dozen times she showed tenderness toward my brother’s child. Toward her child.”

  He heard the snit of disapproval Miss Purefoy attempted to hide, and Aidan found he desired the lady’s endorsement. “I cannot speak to Lady Susan’s mental state for I have known no one who has experienced such incapacitating grief, but I would imagine the previous Lady Lexford’s circumstances did not permit her a clear head.”

  Despite his heartache, Aidan agreed. With a determined smile, he turned Miss Purefoy where she might view the room. “What should be changed in this one?” he said with feigned joviality.

  A long pause followed. So long he did not think she would answer. “Actually, the colors are not as severe in this room as in yours,” she said kindly. “I would keep the lilac, but add a leafy green and the purest white to brighten the room. Several of the pieces are too heavy and too dark for most contemporary tastes. However, I think them quite interesting in their design. I would move them to one of the guest rooms. That wardrobe, for example, has a distinctive cut, and in a room with rose tones, the color would take on a mahogany shade.”

  Aidan studied the piece in question. “I believe you correct, my Dear. The chest belonged to my maternal grandmother. I suppose my mother held onto it in remembrance. It would please me to see it shown to its best advantage.” Miss Purefoy leaned against him, her back plastered along his front. Aidan rested his chin on her head and his hands on her upper arms. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for allowing my dream to live. For permitting me to hope again.”

  *

  The work began in earnest before the week was out. Miss Chadwick’s sketches and Miss Purefoy’s detailed lists had men scurrying to meet both ladies’ wishes. Aidan enjoyed the activity. It made his house appear alive. Between Mr. Hill, who had volunteered to oversee the workers, and Mr. Chadwick, who meant to see his daughter’s vision successful, additional men had been hired to complete the work with record speed. Aidan had moved into a room across from his quarters so he might keep his eye on the progress. “A new beginning,” he had told himself repeatedly.

  “What have we here?” he asked as he casually strolled into his bedchamber. It was the second week of the transformation, and he looked upon the busy workers with anticipation.

  Hill glanced up from where he studied Miss Chadwick’s drawings. “These women have great vision,” Lucifer said jovially.

  “Too great?” Aidan asked in curiosity. He observed his friend with suspicion.

  Hill laughed easily. “Certainly not,
my Lord. This mausoleum has required a change since long before the former viscount passed.” He gestured to the sketches. “Look at how the ladies have incorporated the morning light to keep the room warm in the winter. I swear sometimes I think God created women to see the truth of a man’s soul.”

  Aidan examined the drawings. “Miss Chadwick certainly holds a talent for such work,” he mused aloud. Aidan would be pleased to recommend the lady to others. “What is this?” he pointed to a side view of the room.

  “Miss Purefoy suggested a natural wood frame along this wall.” Lucifer gestured to the wall opposite the hearth. “The men will remove the faded paper before painting this section a milk swirled green. Then a panel made from this hardwood will be added.” Hill handed Aidan a sample sliver of the wood. “The panel will be cut to interlock tightly, but it will only cover the lower third of the wall. A thinner molding will lock the sections in place.”

  Aidan studied the cut of the wood. His expression lightened. “I like the concept. Too much of this wood would overpower the room, but against a paler tone it would accent the color.” Aidan admitted he would never have thought such a combination attractive, but the idea certainly appealed to him when he saw the wood and the paint streak on a scrap of paper together.

  “The maids have finished the drapes. By this time next week, you will have new quarters, my Lord.”

  Aidan’s smile widened. “Who would have thought a woman could change my life so completely?”

  *

  Mercy could hear the distinct timbre of His Lordship’s voice, but she did not seek out the man. Instead, she had accepted the task of separating his mother’s clothing into items to be donated to the poor and those to be placed in storage. She had layers of cotton paper to wrap the pieces to be kept in a chest in the drying room.