Rakes and Rogues

by Boyd, Heather

  Leopold sat back, crossing one leg over the other as he dipped his hand into his coat pocket. He extracted his notebook and small pencil and without thinking too much about it, or asking if the duchess objected, he scratched out the scene before him on a fresh page. The familiar activity calmed him. While he sketched, he didn’t need to think or act on anything but what he witnessed at that moment. He could rid his mind of guilt and pretend all was right with his world.

  Despite his misgivings, the duchess was lovely. As he neared completion of the outline, the duchess lifted her feet from the floor and crossed them at the ankles. They rocked backward and forward slowly in the air and Leopold hurried to capture the unguarded pose. He looked up as the boy laughed. Two deep dimples—just like his.

  The young Duke of Romsey was a happy child. Perhaps, without the old duke’s influence, he would grow to be an honorable man one day. Leopold hoped so. His child or not, the boy was the only family he had left. He would not like to be constantly checking over his shoulder a few years down the track when the boy was grown and corrupted to resent his existence.

  With the sketch complete, Leopold slid the notebook and pen away before he was noticed and dropped his hands to his knees. He’d add it to the many he carried with him to fill the void of emptiness his life had become. What would the duchess think if she learned he’d keep their images with him long after he’d left Romsey?

  ~ * ~

  Leopold Randall was a captivating man. He watched them without speaking, but his gaze followed their every gesture. For the half hour she’d played with her son and his toys, jumping make believe fences, mimicking the animals of the farm, positioning his infantry about the toy sized estate, Leopold hadn’t spoken.

  He’d sat silent and motionless, so much so that she peeked to check whether he was still with them. But he sat with his hands clenched on his lap, an unreadable expression on his features as he watched her son. When his gaze slipped sideways, and he caught her looking at him, heat stole up her cheeks.

  Too handsome.

  A slow smile grew on his face, warming his eyes to a brighter brown. Mercy turned away, heart thumping fast. That look in his eyes made her body thrum with excitement and she struggled to gather her wits. Luckily, she was saved by the distraction of a knock on the door. A servant arrived with little cakes for Edwin, and placed them on a nearby side table. Between bites, Edwin continued to play and demand her attention until his eyes grew drowsy. When he fell asleep on the floor, she pushed his dark hair from his eyes.

  So precious. So perfect. Her angel boy. So sweet in his dreams.

  She placed her hands to the floor and pushed to stand up. Randall crossed the room, caught her elbow, and helped her regain her feet.

  As she thanked him, her foot landed on a farm animal causing her to wobble and fall into his arms. Delicious heat washed over her as he caught her tightly against him. She kicked away the offending toy, wriggling against the man holding her so silently. When she looked up, his face was inches from hers. The urge to rise on her toes and kiss him overwhelmed her. Those dark brown eyes filled her vision; his harsh unsmiling mouth tempted her to please him.

  The scent of him caught her completely unprepared. Warm sandalwood, enticing and wickedly delightful, reminded her of a long forgotten pleasure. The memory was from so long ago that sometimes she wondered if the occasion had been real or a product of her lonely mind. She was lonely now, and so very attracted to him. Was it wrong to indulge in a small moment of physical pleasure?

  Ignoring the need for decorum in Edwin’s presence, Mercy rose to the balls of her feet, stretching as far as she was able, to press her lips against Randall’s. The light, teasing brush brought a burst of desire to her blood in a shocking rush. But when she angled her head to deepen the kiss for more, he stepped back, far out of reach.

  “Your Grace?” Randall didn’t smile, and the formality of his question suggested to her that what she’d just done was not welcomed. She wasn’t so grand that she could throw herself at any man she found attractive and expect him to feel the same. It was unfortunate he seemed the only man so far to tempt her in that way. Humiliation at his reaction cut into her soul, and she turned away to hide her disappointment and shame. What could one say at such a moment? Should she explain herself? Assure him that it was an impulse born of the moment and loneliness, or ignore what had happened completely? Mercy chose to ignore it.

  She knelt at her son’s side and gathered him into her arms. His weight was slight enough that she could still negotiate the long dress and rise, but she wouldn’t be able to do it much longer. Randall’s hands slid about her waist to steady her ascent. She blushed again, but not with embarrassment. She really had wanted that kiss to continue.

  “Where are you taking him? Shall I open a door?” Randall asked, his tone soft, deep and altogether reminding her that she wanted to feel his breath across her skin again. His hands circling her waist still caused all sorts of problems for her breathing.

  Mercy swallowed nervously. “There is no need.” His hands slid slowly from her waist as she moved away toward a thickly padded window seat. She missed the touch immediately, but she had to be a mother now to Edwin. He would always come first in her world.

  Edwin settled easily enough, snuggling into the light blanket and pillow that awaited his afternoon nap. She leaned down, pressed a kiss to his brow and sat quietly at his side. “We spend most afternoons here, Mr. Randall,” she said softly. “Would you ring the bell again for the servants to bring our tea?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  With Randall no longer hovering so close, Mercy could breathe again. She smoothed Edwin’s hair once more, and when she couldn’t bear the silence any longer, she turned to face her guest. But he wasn’t watching her, condemning her actions with those dark eyes. He’d fixed his gaze on the outside world.

  Knowing her unseemly behavior would always lurk between them, she approached until she could see the side of his face. She should really clear the air or her unforgivable lapse in decorum would always be a discomfort between them. She usually didn’t try to kiss every handsome man that called at Romsey Abbey. So far, only he affected her that way.

  Randall’s head turned after a long moment. “Does he sleep well? Deeply?”

  Mercy drowned in his dark eyed stare. Her breath caught. She let it go in a rush before he noticed. “You could drop a pail of coals beside his sleeping form and he’d not wake.”

  A dimple appeared. “He will grow out of that as he becomes older.”

  Mercy nodded, unsure how he could be so certain, but accepting that with two younger male siblings he might have an idea of what he was talking about. Her brother, Constantine, was older but disliked answering her questions. He said she fussed too much.

  Randall turned to face her. “You are a good mother, never doubt that.” He curled his hand around the back of her skull, pulling her forward and into his arms. His lips pressed briefly, and then he angled his head to deepen the kiss.

  Mercy curled her fingers into the lapels of his coat and savored the moment, to hold someone desirable and warm against her body. It had been an age since she’d been kissed with such passion. With such tender desire evident in the hungry merging of their mouths. Mercy opened to him fully. His tongue invaded, setting her nerves alight with long dormant desire. She slid her hands upward to curl behind his head and lay her body along his. Randall’s hands firmed on her back, tucking them close together until she blazed with need.

  But then he stopped, pushing her away and retreating until a respectable distance stood between them. Dazed, Mercy could think of nothing to say. She blinked at the space he had stood in just moments before. Had her kiss been repulsive and clumsy? She set a hand to her mouth, overcome with panic.

  A knock rattled the door. Mercy took a deep breath, and then another. She must have missed the first knock by her servant, unlike Randall. She glanced at him, but he had turned his back to her and wouldn’t meet her g
aze.

  “Come in,” she called nervously, but she wished that servant to the very devil for disturbing what could have been the best kiss of her life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Leopold was in hell and unlikely to ever return. He hadn’t meant to kiss the duchess, or hurt her feelings by avoiding her first attempt. But the desire simmering behind her gaze proved impossible to ignore. He was only human, fallible, and fast losing his mind. She was the Duchess of Romsey, his superior, and a relation by marriage to boot, even if the connection was far enough removed not to be improper. He should not be having such lustful thoughts about her, especially when the child was in the room.

  But in all fairness, she’d started it.

  Only he was aware of how unwise it truly was.

  Waiting for the tea tray to be settled helped to douse his lust because the duchess stopped gazing at him with such wanting eyes. Did she know that men would fight to the death for such warm appraisal, for the touch of her hand upon their sleeves? Given her heightened color, she was affected by that kiss so at least he wasn’t alone with his impossible thoughts. But he had to ensure such a lapse never occurred again. He could not become any further involved in her life. He was merely passing through on his way to make his own future. He could not act on his desires again without the risk of discovery.

  When the duchess passed over his teacup, he was very careful not to touch her fingers. Another brush of her skin, coming so close on the heels of their kiss, would be unwise. He didn’t trust himself in her presence, and he wasn’t certain whether to trust her either. The fact that she had initiated a kiss of her own made him wonder just how she’d been spending the year since his cousin’s death. The gossip could be wrong. Had she taken lovers already?

  The thought made him sick to his stomach.

  After a few hasty sips, he put the cup down. Better to get his inquiries over and done with and be on his way before he did something stupid. There was no cause for him to linger.

  He cleared his throat. “The reason I returned to Romsey was to make enquiries about the location of my three younger siblings; Oliver, Rosemary, and Tobias. They have been lost to me for many years. I’d like to know what’s become of them.”

  The duchess’ cup rattled to the table between them. “You mean you don’t know where they are? But you sound for all the world like a man who’s seen them every day of his life.”

  The last decade had been unbearably empty without his family. He’d noticed their absence more with each passing day. He touched his head, and then his heart. “All I have of them reside here.”

  “Oh. That is so sad” The duchess dabbed at her eyes as they turned glassy bright with unshed tears. “But why come here looking for them? We have no guests staying at the abbey.”

  Here was the gamble. Was she as innocent as she seemed? There was no way to be completely sure, unless you were like Oliver and could make a rapid calculation. He had to take the chance and trust her with the truth. “The old duke, your father-in-law, knew what became of them.”

  “Really,” she squeaked. “How extraordinary. But I promise you I knew nothing of their existence, or yours, before yesterday. What did he say of them?”

  Acid curled in Leopold’s stomach as he recalled the old duke’s words. He had turned the phrases over and over in his mind, searching for clues to their location. He had found none. “That they would be well cared for if I did as he requested, no matter how distasteful the task he demanded, or the risks I faced in my business dealings away from England. All he cared about was his own needs, and that of the duchy. I had to protect my family in any way I could. I did as he asked, even avoided England when he demanded I stay away. Now he’s dead, I want to find my family. I will not rest until I discover their fate.”

  The duchess’ skin blazed a fiery red. “Of course you want them back. How can I help?”

  He had not expected that kind of response. From the start, he’d assumed the duchess would be a cold woman. How indignant she seemed right now on his behalf.

  Leopold sat forward, praying her expression remained that way after he made his next request. “Perhaps you might allow me to see some of the duke’s papers. He may have left clues as to their whereabouts in a journal perhaps.”

  A frown line appeared on her brow. She bit her lip as she considered his request. Asking for this, to invade the sanctity of the ducal domain, was a risk. But if the duchess had no knowledge of his family then his only hope was to find a reference written down somewhere in the old duke’s papers. And perhaps in her husband’s papers too. He doubted the details about Oliver, Rosemary, and Tobias would be in an obvious place.

  The duchess sat in silence for a long time and Leopold feared she would refuse. But then her gaze refocused on him. “The old duke was not an avid diarist, so it may be difficult to find any information you seek quickly. Perhaps a room-by-room search would be best. If we start in his former bedchamber, which has stood untouched since his death, we might have some luck.”

  Leopold sat back, stunned. “We, Your Grace?”

  The duchess stood. “Of course, I am going to do everything I can to help you find my son’s cousins. It is positively scandalous that the duke has removed them. Come this way.”

  She had bustled to the door before Leopold realized she meant to start the search now. He glanced at the sleeping child, so small and innocent and defenseless. A wave of protectiveness swamped him. At least the boy was free of the old duke’s evil. He would grow up safe and secure and happy. The duchess’ obvious love proved that.

  Her Grace directed a maid to stay with her son and then gestured for Leopold to follow her out of the room. “The apartment is largely unchanged. Aside from closing it up when the duke died, I’ve not been there since. Perhaps he kept the information closest to him. He spent the last year of his life giving orders and writing his correspondence from his bed.”

  “If you think that the best place to start then I am grateful.”

  As they headed for the main staircase, the butler rounded the corner and approached. “Excuse me, Your Grace,” Wilcox said. “You have a gentleman caller.” Given that Wilcox’s lips twisted over the word gentleman, Leopold’s curiosity increased. Wilcox pushed a silver salver toward the duchess. It held a single calling card. Discreetly, Leopold inched closer and scanned it over her shoulder. Lord Shaw. Leopold revolted at the notion of that man calling on the duchess, too, but he held his tongue while the duchess decided what to do about the interruption.

  She pushed the salver back at Wilcox and said softly, “Would you please thank Lord Shaw for his visit, but inform him that I am otherwise engaged today?”

  The duchess smiled wearily at Leopold and urged him away from the main staircase. “Perhaps we’ll take the servants’ stairs just this once.” She turned and opened a discreet panel halfway along the hall and disappeared. The familiar, dark staircase brought back unpleasant memories for Leopold, but he instinctively caught the duchess’ elbow for the long climb up the stairs. Since she moved in something of a hurry, she didn’t appear to notice his assistance. But as they reached the upper corridor she murmured her thanks before leading him to the old duke’s chambers.

  The door swung wide and stale dusty air washed over him. He coughed then hurried across the room to throw open the drapes and a window to fill the chamber with fresher air.

  The duchess covered her mouth. “I never dreamed the room would be so bad.”

  Leopold’s disgust rose at the state of the apartment. Dust covered every surface in a thick blanket and swirled on the current of air that they had disturbed. “The housekeeper should have attended to the cleaning of this room without being instructed to do so.”

  She grimaced but didn’t comment.

  Leopold considered the room, wondering where the old duke might have kept his secrets. He wouldn’t want just anybody to stumble upon them. Would the scoundrel want the hiding place in clear sight of his bed or hidden from view?

  Le
opold checked behind every painting and mirror on the walls, looking for hidden compartments opposite the bed while the duchess checked the drawer contents. Since there could be room to hide paper behind each drawer, Leopold moved to the duchess’ side and worked with her, removing the heavy drawers completely and peering behind them.

  “Just think my father-in-law would be spinning in his grave about now. I had my suspicions about his nature, but never knew he was so evil. What did you do to be banished from England?”

  His heart had beat too strongly for the old duke’s comfort, or he’d never wanted Leopold to learn he’d fathered the current duke. Both were probably good reasons for the old duke’s actions, but he couldn’t very well confess the latter to the duchess. Leopold shook his head. “It’s an uncomfortable story.”

  The duchess sat back on her heels and regarded him. From the light in his eyes, he gathered she was preparing arguments to pry the secret from him. But, until he learned the fate of his siblings, he couldn’t risk telling her the truth about his life. She’d send him away for certain if she found out.

  The duchess knocked the dust from her fingers. “Another time, perhaps. When you’ve come to trust me. I should like to right the wrongs done to your family. You are our family as well, now.”

  Leopold swallowed hard, feeling the worst sort of cad. Neither of them trusted the other completely yet, and she certainly shouldn’t trust him. Something she said, though, made him uneasy. The duchess and her son were indeed part of his family; family he didn’t want to have and one relationship he could never acknowledge openly. Leopold shrugged off his discomfort and turned back to the task at hand. Despite the kiss, and their possible past, Leopold had best remember that she was still the enemy.

  When they had exhausted all obvious possibilities, he moved to the bed. The solid mahogany behemoth, another symbol of the duke’s power, took up most of the space. Determined not to be intimidated, Leopold tossed the mattress, and then crawled into the space beneath to check for hidden compartments. He couldn’t imagine the duke on his hands and knees hiding anything, but it was best to discount all possibilities. He rapped his knuckles against the paneling, searching for oddities in the construction of the piece.