Capturing the Earl

by A. S. Fenichel

  “It makes me quite cross, if I’m honest.” She still had no idea why she continued to say what she was thinking.

  “You are never cross, Miss Heath. I have seen you in a temper but being cross would indicate you take out that anger on those who don’t deserve it. I cannot imagine you ever doing so.” He met her gaze and the hint of a smile touched his lips.

  Climbing the hill, she said, “Perhaps you just don’t know me that well.”

  “I know you, Mercy.” His voice was so soft she thought she might have imagined the words.

  At the top of the hill the area was laid out before them in rolling hills and pastures. The village lay nestled at the edge of the forest and Parvus stood sentinel on the hillside.

  Mercy pressed her hand to her chest. “How beautiful.”

  “Yes.” The same whisper just behind her ear.

  A wave of delicious need swept through Mercy and she had to close her eyes and regain her senses.

  “Geb, you had us worried we’d lost you,” Nick said.

  Geb waved from halfway down the hill, then climbed to join the crowd. “I wanted to take a look at the view. Very kind of you all to worry.”

  Poppy walked next to Geb. “Of course, we worry if you go missing. You are part of our little group now, Mr. Arafa. You’ll never be rid of us.”

  Stopping, Geb turned to Poppy and bowed. “It is my honor to be considered your friend. Thank you, my lady.”

  Aurora joined them. “You are one of our dearest friends, sir. Never doubt that. And we take our choice in friendships very seriously.”

  “My deepest thanks.”

  “I adore you, Mr. Arafa, but can we please go back now and stop all this infernal walking.” Faith’s whining made everyone laugh.

  Nick lifted her into his arms, making her scream. “I shall take you back to the carriages directly, my dear.”

  Settling into his arms, Faith put her arm around his neck. “This is much better.”

  “They seem quite happy,” Wesley said once everyone was a few yards ahead of them.

  Happiness for her friends filled Mercy. “Yes. Both Faith and Poppy have been very fortunate in their marriages.”

  “Will you marry Mr. Colby?” A stern edge tainted his voice.

  Her nerves flitted in every direction. She kept her words even and calm. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

  “It is most certainly not my business, but I’d still like to know,” he said with a harsh laugh.

  She could avoid the question or lie. Yet when she peered into Wesley’s eyes all she wanted to do was tell him everything. “As we are friends, I see no harm in telling you that I have no intention of marrying Mr. Colby. He is a fine man, but I do not think we would suit.”

  The rigidity in his shoulders eased. “I’m sorry I pushed him toward you yesterday. I should have known better.”

  “Let’s catch up with the others, shall we, my lord?”

  They approached the carriages and a fierce frown on Jemima Draper’s face hid nothing of her anger over Mercy and Wesley walking together. “My Lord Castlewick, I have had the most wonderful idea.”

  His lips twitched. “Have you, my lady?”

  “Aurora and I are going to Cheshire to view her land when we leave Parvus in a few days. Miss Heath and Lady Mattock are joining us for the trip. You know the area; it would be such a help if you came along and gave us the grand tour.” Jemima beamed with the brilliance of her plan.

  Perhaps she thought to toss Mercy out of the carriage when they reached the edge of some cliff. From the way she glared at her, that might just be the case.

  Wesley blinked several times. “That is a wonderful offer, but I shall only accept if Lady Radcliff is in favor of the notion.”

  Looking shocked with her mouth and eyes wide for an instant, Aurora recovered. She glanced at Mercy before returning her attention to Wesley. “Of course, my lord. You would be most welcome. I’m sure you long to see the property as well.”

  He stared at Aurora a long beat as if he were defining the truth of her kindness. Finally he bowed. “I would be delighted to accept. Thank you, ladies.”

  If a rocket had dropped on the road in front of them, Mercy would have been less shocked. Not only was she to spend the remainder of her time at Parvus pretending she and Wesley could be good friends. Now she was to endure another week or more in his company with Aurora’s mother’s disapproval as well.

  Blindly, Mercy walked to the carriage and, not waiting for assistance, she climbed in.

  Once they were rolling toward Parvus and the men on horseback were well ahead while Aunt Phyllis and Jemima’s carriage was behind, Aurora took Mercy’s hand. “Did I do the wrong thing, Mercy?”

  Her friend’s eyes were full of worry. Mercy squeezed her hand. “What else could you do? It would have been rude to deny his joining us. Besides, you were correct, he probably does long to see that land again.”

  Aurora sat back but kept her gaze fixed on Mercy. “If you wish it, I will take him aside and ask him not to come.”

  “No. It will be fine. We are to be friends, after all. If that is true, I will have to learn to be in his company with ease.” The notion that at any point Mercy and Wesley could be in the same place together and there be any sense of impartiality was ridiculous, but Mercy kept that to herself.

  “So, we are no longer trying to run him off or embarrass him?” Poppy twirled a long lock around her finger.

  Faith’s hair sprang out in every direction and she pushed it bit by bit into her bonnet before retying the peach ribbon. “He is a nice man. Aurora may not want him, but she can just tell him so. She’s a widow not a debutante who can be bullied into marriage. Her mother will have to get over it. I like Lord Castlewick. Don’t you, Poppy?”

  “Of course I like him. What is there not to like? I just thought the point was to get rid of him so he wouldn’t bother Aurora anymore.”

  Aurora’s steady gaze on Mercy forced her to look at her hands. “Lord Castlewick would make a fine husband. Perhaps you should reconsider, Aurora. He might make you happy.”

  “Do you think so?” Aurora’s voice was light and a sense of humor underlined her words.

  Mercy looked at her. “I think he is as likely to make you happy as anyone. Do you like him?”

  “I do like him, but I have not changed my stance on marriage. However, I think he fits in nicely with our little band of friends. We shall keep him around a while longer and see where it takes us.” Aurora glanced from Poppy to Faith and the three nodded.

  * * * *

  “This is our final evening together.” Geb lifted his glass of wine. Though he would never taste it, he always had it filled for such occasions. “Thank you all for coming to Parvus and enjoying all the area has to offer. I could not ask for finer friends. To friendship.”

  Everyone lifted their glasses and repeated the toast. Even Jemima had grown fond of Geb and his very fine hospitality and warmth of personality.

  “I thought as it is our last night, we might relax in the salon with cake. Kosey will play for us and if anyone wishes to play cards that will be possible as well.” Geb put his untouched glass down and smiled warmly at the table.

  “Perhaps Miss Heath will delight us with her talent as well,” Mr. Colby said.

  Nick held her chair as they all rose to go to the salon. “Perhaps, Mr. Colby.”

  Leaning his head near her, Nick whispered. “Don’t let them bully you, Mercy.”

  The warmth of friendship spread through Mercy. “Thank you, Nick. I won’t. You know, I don’t hate to play for people.”

  “I know.” He offered his arm as his wife walked in with Poppy. “But I also know it is not nice the way certain people think you must always be available to play on command.”

  “I am lucky to have such good friends as you
to stand by me. I think I will play as the wilds of Cheshire are not likely to have any instruments and my guitar is rarely appreciated in the parlor.” She allowed him to lead her into the salon and bring her to where the other Wallflowers had collected by the windows.

  “Then we shall all have a treat,” Nick said. “And Mercy, your guitar shall always be welcomed in the Duke of Breckenridge’s parlor.” With a smile, he went to stand with Geb by the pianoforte.

  “Of course it will be.” Faith gaped at her husband’s back. “Why on earth would you think it would not?” She turned to Mercy.

  Laughing, Mercy waved off her friend’s concern. “It was nothing. Poppy, did you taste the cake yet?”

  “No, but it looks wonderful, with some berries for topping. Will you have some with me?” Poppy loved her sweets and never let an opportunity to have them pass her by.

  “I will.” Having some cake would at least give her an excuse to choose the time for her performance. No one will expect her to eat cake and play harp or pianoforte at the same time.

  “Is something funny?” Poppy slipped her arm through Mercy’s as they crossed the room to where a footman was slicing cake and adding a generous helping of red and blue berries.

  “Not really. I was just wondering when my playing music for the joy of it had become a chore for the delight of others. I suppose it’s my own fault.” Mercy accepted a slice of cake and a fork.

  Poppy took a large bite and savored it with her eyes closed for a moment before looking at Mercy. “How is it your fault? It is people like that Mr. Colby who bully you and demand you play at all times who have ruined your wish to play in company.”

  Kosey played softly on the pianoforte.

  “I should have been average.”

  “Oh, Mercy. Don’t be ridiculous.” Poppy took another generous bite. Once she had enjoyed it thoroughly, she added, “You could no more hide your talent than I can hide my clumsy nature. We are what we are.”

  Mercy stepped closer. “You are far more than a torn hem on a dress, Poppy. You are the bravest person I know.”

  Poppy blushed. “Well, don’t tell anyone.”

  “Everyone who matters already knows.” Mercy squeezed Poppy’s arm. Taking a deep breath, she ate another bit of cake and berries. Lemon and vanilla along with the sweet tartness of the compote was perfect in her mouth. Mercy left her plate on the table and walked to the harp.

  Kosey raised a brow. “What shall we play, Miss?”

  “Perhaps you can just play whatever you fancy, Mr. Kosey, and I will follow along.” Mercy considered Kosey to be an excellent musician and her curiosity led her to this little test.

  He beamed. “As you wish.”

  The new music that the butler played was fresh and vibrant as the household of Geb Arafa. There were parts that warned of danger and others that spoke of lofty goals and love affairs.

  Mercy listened through the first stanza before she followed along with the sultry sounds of the harp, and let them be an undertone highlighting the magnificent piece that Kosey had obviously composed.

  When the song ended, Mercy’s emotions had gotten the better of her again. Tears rolled down her cheeks without regard for the discomfort it caused some members of the party.

  The hum of music had barely silenced when applause rose up from the room and a white handkerchief appeared before her.

  Wesley’s eyes were full of admiration…or passion, Mercy couldn’t tell as she took the offered cloth. Whatever was in them it was not mild friendship; of that she was certain.

  Patting dry her face, she handed the handkerchief back. “Thank you, my lord. I’m sorry to be in constant need of a gallant gentleman.”

  She’d meant it as a joke, but he frowned. “You need not be embarrassed by the passions you display when you play, Miss Heath. Without them the music would be barren and hardly worth listening to.”

  “That is very kind of you to say. Excuse me.” She got up and waited for him to back away so she could retreat and collect herself.

  For a long moment it seemed as if he wouldn’t move, but then he stepped to one side. “Of course.”

  In that brief moment as she passed him the scent of soap, cigars, and everything good and familiar filled Mercy’s head. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grabbing hold and never letting go, she kept her steps steady and excused herself from the room.

  In the hallway she leaned against the wall and tipped her head back. The pins in her hair poked at her skull, a good reminder to keep her wits about her. It should be an easy enough thing to stop thinking about a man she had no business dwelling on. He wanted to be her friend and nothing more. He had made that quite clear.

  It’s just the music. Kosey’s composition was too emotional and full of transition. She would give herself a few moments and this would pass.

  Aunt Phyllis rounded the threshold and Mercy stood up straight. “Aunt?”

  “You really can do anything when given a bit of music. I’m constantly amazed and proud of you, Mercedes.” Aunt Phyllis leaned against the wall next to her.

  Mercy relaxed. “I’m happy to have you proud of me. I have tried since my parents died to do exactly that.”

  Stepping in front of Mercy, Phyllis frowned. She put a finger under Mercy’s chin and lifted her head. “But, my dear sweet girl, I have always been exceedingly proud of you. I adored the child who came to me so brokenhearted and my heart bursts for the young lady you’ve become.”

  Bringing her voice to a whisper, Mercy fought back tears. “But I cannot like Mr. Colby. I know you want me to marry and be settled, but I’d rather die a spinster than marry a man who only really loves my playing and knows nothing of me.”

  Aunt Phyllis pulled her into a warm hug and chuckled. “Mr. Colby is a good man, but you do not have to marry him. I agree, he seems to have little real feeling for you. However, I seriously doubt you will die a spinster.”

  Something in her aunt’s tone made Mercy step back and look into her eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because another man seems quite smitten with you.” Aunt Phyllis’s grin spread across her lovely face, making her even more so.

  “Lincoln Baker is no better than Mr. Colby.” Mercy propped her hands on her hips in an effort to be more forceful with her decree that she’d not marry one of these men who loved music and not her.

  Aunt Phyllis laughed and threaded her arm through Mercy’s elbow. “Oh, my dear, you are precious.”

  She guided them back into the salon, leaving Mercy no opportunity to ask what she meant.

  Chapter 14

  It was late when Wesley went downstairs to find something to read. His mind would not put aside the way he longed for Mercy or the way he did not have that same desire for Aurora. It was very much like him always to do everything the hard way.

  In the study, he put his candle on the desk and searched the solitary bookshelf for something to occupy his mind. He trailed his fingers along the titles of books he’d never heard of and some in languages he’d never seen. Finally, his hand settled on a copy of King Lear. Perhaps a good tragedy would be enough to make him sleep.

  He lifted the book but it only rose an inch and then something held it in place. A snick sounded inside the bookshelf.

  Wesley stepped back.

  The shelving was ajar from the wall on the right side. He gripped the side and pulled. The shelves easily opened to reveal a dark corridor beyond.

  A thrill of excitement heightened Wesley’s senses. He listened, but the hallway was silent. The air was fresh, which made him even more curious as to where the secret passage might lead.

  Taking his candle, he stepped behind the bookshelf, through an opening big enough for one person to pass. The floor sloped down and went straight for about twenty yards before ending at a door. The entire idea was strange beyond anything Wesley had ever e
ncountered.

  Wesley pushed open the door and stepped into a surprisingly lit room.

  Mercy shot up from a red and gold flowered sofa. “Don’t let the door shut.”

  The heavy door slammed behind him. His imagination had conjured a dungeon or hidden treasures at the end of the hall. A study with Mercy in her nightclothes was the last thing he’d expected.

  She ran toward him, her white nightgown and cotton robe billowing around her and her long reddish blond hair loose down her back. Eyes wild, she passed him and grabbed the door handle pulling desperately. “No.”

  Wesley turned and pulled her gently back from the door. He tried the locked handle himself. “How long have you been in here?”

  She pressed her head against the wood. “An hour. Maybe more.”

  “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. He would have liked to have been her savior, but he wasn’t really sorry to be stuck in a lovely little parlor with her. The dark red rug was thick and two chairs in gold velvet faced the sofa. A small desk sat in the corner and six small tables were arranged with treasures.

  She sighed and returned to the sofa. “It’s not your fault. The door closes very quickly. It is how I ended up here. I should have walked out of the study when the bookcase opened, but my curiosity was too great.”

  He sat next to her, but didn’t touch her. “What is this place?”

  Shrugging she pointed at the tables. “I think Mr. Arafa keeps his favorite treasures here. I’m not sure what else. I thought it would be too rude to search the desk. Since the door has no keyhole on this side, I assume there is some trick like King Lear to escape, but I couldn’t find it.”

  The tables held an elaborate gold box with emeralds embedded in the top, a statue of a goddess with six arms, a silver and gold horse fitted with armor, a diamond necklace that the queen would be honored to wear, a scroll with writing Wesley didn’t recognize, and a miniature of a woman and man from the East. The man in the picture was an older version of Geb, likely his father if Wesley’s guess was correct. “There are worse places to be trapped.”