Blythe bit her lower lip to rein in her emotions. Tobias Randall really was a ridiculous man but he appeared very good at drawing attention toward himself. To think, she’d been afraid of him when they had first met.
Leopold nodded. “That does settle it. Forgive me, Lady Venables, for placing too much faith in gossip. I did not have all the facts at hand. I should never have suspected you would harm the boy.” He turned and grabbed his brother’s arm roughly. “You and I need to have a very long conversation about decorum, young man. Get back to your bedchamber this instant.”
The sheet around Tobias Randall slipped as they gained the door, and Blythe saw more of his skin than a lady should. She also saw scars crisscrossing his upper torso. Blythe shuddered and glanced at her sister to see her reaction.
But it seemed Mercy hadn’t noticed. Her sister crossed the room, eyes downcast as she tugged the bag from Blythe’s fingers. “Forgive me,” she said softly. “Edwin and I would be lost without you. I don’t want you to go. Stay with us. Please.”
After considering, Blythe gave the bag up and her sister began pulling her possessions out again and put them away. But sadness trickled through her. The damage to their relationship was done. They were family and she did care that her sister and nephew were well, but she would never trust her again.
Mercy returned and stopped before her. “I should apologize for Mr. Randall, but I fear I will be saying I’m sorry all day and wear out my tongue. It was he who put the idea in Leopold’s brain about you going into the woods alone. I did not connect your actions with Adam and I am so sorry for that. I should not have forgotten you used to make up stories of the woods.” Mercy sighed. “I’m sure Leopold will do something painful to his brother for the misunderstanding, but this situation is as much my fault as Tobias’.”
“I’m sure Mr. Randall will mete out the required punishment. However, I may never be easy here again, Mercy.”
“I will restore your good name, I promise, and prove the whispers groundless.” When Mercy embraced her, Blythe suffered through the hug for several moments before she shrugged out of it.
“That may never be possible.” Blythe wiped her eyes as weariness tugged at her senses. She felt old, ancient and exhausted. However, she couldn’t rest until the whispers about her sanity had ceased.
Mercy’s fingers threaded through hers and squeezed. “Thank heavens we only had one brother. These Randall men are not above rough behavior. Quite different from our late husband’s in so many ways. I thought they would kill each other yesterday.”
Blythe had thought so, too, hence her decision to flee with the boy and spare him the horror of the fighting. “Leopold is very protective of you. A good trait for a future husband. Speaking of brothers, when is ours coming to Romsey Abbey to meet Mr. Randall? Have you written him?”
“Not yet. But I did receive a note this morning from him. Constantine has put me off again for the holidays, claiming he’s busy. I’m sure once I tell him of Leopold he will change his mind.”
Blythe nodded. Their brother supplied a ready stream of excuses against travel, blaming his three daughters’ delicate health most often for the delays. “He’ll come as soon as he learns. When is the wedding?”
“We haven’t set a date, but I’d like for Constantine to be here before the happy day. I’d like him to become acquainted with Leopold and Tobias, too. He’ll likely have a few things to say about me marrying again but he will see I’ve made the right choice.”
Constantine would rage when he found out Mercy was to remarry. While that was happening, Blythe planned to be elsewhere. “Are you going to tell him the truth about Edwin’s father?”
“I will.” Mercy’s fingers curled over Blythe’s arm and squeezed. “Do you mind very much? Neither of us had a say in the situation, but I would not change the past for all the world. I love Leopold so very dearly and, however unlikely it might seem, I have missed him these past years.”
Blythe shrugged, trying to dispel just how hurt she still was by the news. It didn’t change how she felt about Edwin, but it did make her feel on the outside of events. “Yesterday when we talked, Mr. Randall claimed to love you enough that he’d leave if it was in your best interests. However, if Tobias Randall isn’t the criminal threatening you and Edwin, then he’d better remain. Marriage will dispel the hint of scandal at having a bachelor in your household. At least he may be able to control his brother for the duration of his stay, too.”
“Tobias isn’t so bad.”
Blythe crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”
Mercy had the grace to blush. “I concede Leopold’s younger brother may have a few more rough edges than I’d imagined, or even believed possible for that matter. However, I’m sure with the right prompting he may be able to speak without sounding so shocking.”
“You’re hoping for a miracle.”
Mercy chuckled softly and shook her head. “I know. Do you forgive me?”
Blythe sighed. What was the use of holding a grudge? She and Mercy had always been closest. “Fetch Dr. Heyburn to attend me again and we cease to be sisters. That man is incompetent not to have realized I was feigning unconsciousness.”
Mercy leaped at Blythe and squeezed her in a tight hug. “You fooled me for certain that time, Blythe. Part of me was hoping you were tricking us, but part of me was afraid that Mr. Randall’s entry through the window had been too much for your nerves. You haven’t done that in years and I don’t care to be scared like that again.”
Blythe untangled herself from Mercy’s grip with as much dignity as she could muster and finished unpacking her things. “I’ll say one thing about Mr. Randall, he does like to make a dramatic entrance.”
A male voice cried out in outrage through the wall from the next room. The little bottles of perfume on her dresser shook.
“Don’t. You. Dare,” Tobias Randall shouted.
“Just shut up and sit down,” Leopold Randall barked in return. “You know this must be done.”
Mercy looked at Blythe, a frown creasing her brow. “Sounds painful.”
A warm glow filled Blythe’s chest as she dragged in a deep breath then let it go. She smiled. “Sounds perfect to me.”
Four
Some weeks later . . .
Tobias Randall had faced many dangers in his life; none compared with his current predicament. He would gladly face the enemy in battle, starvation, and the most godforsaken ship's captain ever to sail against England rather than make polite conversation.
But, as he’d been repeatedly warned in the last weeks, the proprieties must be observed if he wanted to remain in good society and have a chance of being acceptable to a well-to-do marriageable woman. He was dressed now in the finest clothing he’d ever owned. Primped and polished until he shined like a new minted penny. There seemed no end to the number of things that he could and could not do or say as brother to the future husband of the Duchess of Romsey.
He stood quietly on the edge of the Romsey drawing room, forgotten for the moment, as his brother and the duchess discussed plans for the future and the estate. A party here, a field plowed there, a trip to London and to Bath to visit with the duchess’ relations and be introduced properly, raising the staff wages. As his brother’s future unfolded, mind-numbingly tedious by the sounds of it, he tried to remain alert.
He was a man of action, and there was no action here. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say, that would add any excitement to the morning. Well, perhaps there was one.
He shifted his gaze across the room. He could, if he was feeling particularly adventurous, engage in conversation with Lady Venables. She was, and had always been, a rather prickly conversationalist. Was he willing to risk a verbal lashing to relieve his boredom? Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, he needed to practice for when he found a woman he wanted to wed.
He crossed the room to where she sat, her head bent over books, ignoring the activity around her. As always, she was dressed
in somber tones: a dark priggish gown, gloves and delicate fichu covering up her skin. She appeared quite spinsterish today, rather than a widow of four and twenty years and long out of prescribed mourning.
He knew few other things about her life. He’d quizzed Leopold during the endless hours of fittings and instructions to pass the time. She’d been married to a man quite a few years her senior, widowed two years ago but still grieved for him. She’d also had a son who’d died of a fever. Aside from observing the proprieties without fault, she had no apparent interest in members of the opposite sex. He’d never met with a woman like her before. Everything about her demeanor was designed to keep others at a distance. Yet he knew her to have a warmer heart than she let on. Those brief glimpses of merriment with the boy duke fascinated him.
Her face lifted as he drew closer, pale green eyes framed by thick lashes unblinking. Her expression changed to one of extreme distaste.
He forced a polite smile. “Good morning, Lady Venables. How are you enjoying your day?”
A very unladylike scowl crossed her face then quickly disappeared again. She marked her place in her book with her fingertip. “The same as I enjoyed it earlier this morning, Mr. Randall. And I am in perfect health, too, in case that was to be your next question. You seem extraordinarily interested in my health.”
Her brow rose while he fumbled for something else polite to say.
Damn Leopold and his list of suggested conversational topics to engage in with proper ladies. He’d never been tongue tied before in his life and he didn’t like the feeling. He usually said the first thing that crossed his mind. Unfortunately, his previous conversations with Lady Venables had not made them the best of friends. Unlike the other women he’d known, suggesting they tumble into her bed and any other gentler teasing had not had a softening effect on her disposition. Quite the opposite in fact.
At his continued silence, her gaze dropped to her book and she ignored him.
Being ignored wasn’t going to alleviate his boredom. He sat beside her on the lounge. “What are you reading so studiously?”
Her lips twisted in a grimace. “I am attempting to unscramble the duke’s journals, if you must know, in an attempt to discover the location of your siblings. However, I’m starting to regret taking on the task.”
“Ah.” Leopold had muttered something about them yesterday, but Tobias had been distracted by a wayward pin in his knee and hadn’t remembered to ask for further particulars. “In what way are the journals difficult?”
“To start, they are not written in the King’s English, they jump from place to place, as if they were pieced together long after the event.” She rubbed her brow. “Quite honestly, I fear this may all be a waste of time and lead to nothing useful.”
“May I see what you are looking at?”
She placed a small scrap of parchment between the pages and held out the book. The heavy, leather bound tome’s cover gave nothing away as to the contents.
“Do you have any inkling as to what the journal might be about?” he asked.
“At a guess, it’s about a member of the Randall family or someone else entirely. Just when I think I have the answer there is something that does not ring true.” She sat back in her chair, but she still had a rod of steel holding her to a stiff posture. Did she never unbend?
“About us? What on earth would he be writing about our family for?”
“A good question. The duke kept a detailed journal of your brother’s affairs. When he traveled, what goods, silks and such, he sent to the abbey as part of their bargain.”
“Bargain?”
Her brow creased again. “Did your brother not mention the duke’s blackmail? I suppose it may not be a subject he cares to dwell on. You would need to ask him for the exact particulars.” She sighed and tapped the book on his knee. “The persons referenced in the other journals are not easily identified. Have you done anything particularly noteworthy in your life Mr. Randall that may assist me in determining if one exists about your life?”
“Sailed the world, drank too much, and climbed into women’s bedchamber windows. The usual thing a young man likes to do as often as he can arrange it,” he said without thinking his response through properly.
Lady Venables sucked in a sharp breath, and when he didn’t say anything else, she let it out slowly again. Was that all it took to put the wind up her sails?
She faced him. “I had been led to believe that your brother had suggested you moderate your comments when in the presence of ladies. I see his instructions didn’t take.”
Tobias sat back, crossed one leg over the other and sat the book against his upraised knee. “Oh, I listened. I will, however, choose exactly when I need to be a gentleman,” he met her gaze, “and when gentlemanly behavior would prevent me from acquiring my heart’s desire.”
It was tempting to try to loosen her up. She was much too pretty for the sour expression gracing her features now.
She turned away, back stretching further, as straight as an arrow. Rigid to the core. “I doubt your heart will be involved, pirate,” she said.
Tobias chuckled softly so Leopold wouldn’t notice. “No disrespect intended. I was not referring to a wish to revisit your bedchamber, but I was actually referring to honest conversation rather than the banal fripperies Leopold insists are proper for when conversing with unmarried ladies. How the devil can conversations about flowers be in any way a manly topic?”
She sniffed. “A man should learn to converse on subjects the ladies of his acquaintance hold an interest in. Our society would suffer without adherence to the proper forms of etiquette.”
The pompous statement forced a groan from his lips. “Do you honestly care what I think of that flower arrangement over there?”
A small smile crossed her lips and disappeared just as quickly. “Well, maybe not that particular vase of flowers. I didn’t do the arranging so I have nothing to gain from any flattery on the subject.”
Wretched wench. She’d been playing with flowers earlier. He scanned the chamber for another vase. “Is that one yours, then?”
Her head nodded a fraction.
Tobias pursed his lips as he assessed them. “They’ll outlive the other ones by a day at least, maybe two.”
Her brow rose. “You know a little of flowers? How extraordinary.”
Tobias smiled. “My mother loved flowers. I’ve been sent to pick many a bunch in my youth. Your flair for arranging is as good as hers.”
Lady Venables pressed her lips together until the edges paled. After a pause, she relaxed again. “Was that your very first attempt at a compliment?”
“Second.”
She nodded. “You might want to practice a bit more before the ball tomorrow night. Comparing a woman favorably to your mother, while kindly said, may lead to a premature expectation of romantic interest. Mercy is determined to introduce you to her acquaintances and quite a number are unwed.”
“Please don’t remind me. It is all she has spoken of in days.”
Lady Venables spine sagged slightly before she sat up straight again and laid her hands flat on her knees. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure you will survive the event. Just try not to embarrass her by saying the first thing that crosses your mind. Are you even going to look at the journal? If not, I should like to return to reading.”
He squinted at the squiggles and lines. “Dear God. I’d have tossed this nonsense into the fire long before this.”
She held out her hand. “Yes, it does not surprise me that you are a man of limited patience.”
He snuck a look at her again. Beautiful, but a harsh judge of character. Tobias could, in fact, be very patient when he wanted something badly enough. He’d waited for a chance to escape so he could return home, hadn’t he? It might have taken him ten years, but Lady Venables assertion that he lacked conviction tempted him to prove her wrong. He kept the book, skimming over pages containing gibberish and the odd number.
Lady Venables hand
lowered as she sighed. “Please do not lose my place.”
He spied his birth year and his heartbeat increased. “I won’t. How long have you been working on this journal?”
“A week or two. I juggle between them all. Trying to find a pattern to unlock the duke’s codes.”
He flipped forward a handful of pages. “All?”
Tobias opened the page containing the countess’ place marker and tried to make sense of the scrawl. Nothing else made sense to him. He closed the book as disappointment curled through him.
“Yes, there is a vast collection. Hasn’t your brother shown you the duke’s sanctuary yet?”
Tobias glanced over his shoulder, only to find his brother whispering in the duchess’ ear. They kissed and he turned back to Lady Venables. “Ah, no. He’s had more than a few things on his mind of late.”
Lady Venables glanced over his shoulder and a blush swept her skin. “Perhaps I should show you now.”
She stood suddenly, crossing to the far side of the room with haste, leaving him to follow at his own pace. The sway and rustle of her dark gown mesmerized him momentarily and he wrenched his gaze up to the back of her head. How damned inconvenient to admire the haughty wench’s body. She was trim and lean. Two things he admired greatly in women.
She stopped at a wall, pressed her fingers to a carved rose set in the panel and the wall clicked.
He cursed as a doorway opened up in the wall. “Damn me, I never would have suspected.”
“Mercy spotted the old duke slipping in here a few years before he died. The room needs to be kept secret from the servants, but for the moment, leave the door open please.” She moved ahead and stopped close to the wall so he might pass her.
Books and curios littered the bookshelves. “Did you find the journal here?”
“Yes, along with others. It seems the duke liked to keep an accounting of quite a few people in society, but never by any name I’m familiar with. I read an unknown ladies journal last week. She talks quiet scathingly of her husband’s many scandals.”
Forsaking the Prize Page 3