Rakes and Rogues

by Boyd, Heather

  Mercy tapped her fingers against her lips again. Leopold had been more curious about the child than she expected but, like most men, she doubted he’d want much to do with him. Not at his stage of his life anyway. Perhaps later, when Edwin was old enough to venture out of doors to play, they might spend more time together. Edwin would need a man’s guidance more than a mother’s love as he aged.

  However, because a duke must be protected from any possible harm, she was cautious with her son. Yet with Leopold, she couldn’t imagine such measures would be required. However, it would be best to speak up now rather than face an uncomfortable scene later if a servant thought to deny him from visiting with her son. “He may see the duke whenever he wishes, except during His Grace’s naps. I shan’t allow him to be disturbed from his rest for any purpose. But keep a servant with them at all times. Mr. Randall shouldn’t be required to play nursemaid to my son’s daily needs.”

  The butler appeared relieved. Had he really thought she would listen to her sister’s nervous carping? “As is proper, Your Grace. I should also inform you that Lady Venables has arrived much earlier than anticipated. I’ve put her in the morning room and sent in a tea tray.”

  Although Mercy smiled for the butler’s sake, she dreaded the discussion to come. Blythe would not be pleased to have a gentleman she trusted so little staying so close to Edwin. But, Mercy reasoned, it was her responsibility to look after her son’s best interests. She had every confidence that Leopold would do very well for them both.

  The butler held out a tray. “Your correspondence, Your Grace.”

  Mercy glanced at the heaped salver with distaste. “Would you leave all of that in the study? I’ll look at it later. Oh, and be sure to provide Mr. Randall with a hearty luncheon tray. He will not be joining us on the terrace. He may have it either in the study or elsewhere if he desires. I require dinner at eight this evening. Mr. Randall will be joining me.”

  Sure that all the day’s instructions had been given, Mercy hurried along the hall toward the morning room. There were days when she found the sheer vastness of the abbey annoying. To get anywhere quickly one had to almost run. It was a good thing, she thought, that the activity of moving so quickly did not disagree with her as it did with so many highborn ladies. Blythe was forever pleading for Mercy to act with more decorum and walk at a snail’s pace. But if she did that, she’d take all day to get from one side of the abbey to the other.

  At the morning room door, Mercy stopped for a moment. She adjusted her gown, brushed her hands lightly over her hair to make sure most of it remained properly confined after her interlude with Leopold, and then put her hand on the knob. Light pressure swung the door open, and she caught a glimpse of her sister in an unguarded moment.

  The fine lines radiating from around Blythe’s mouth pulled at her heart. Her sister stared across the room with fixed attention on nothing at all. The tea tray remained untouched. Grief had aged her until she retained little resemblance to the youthful girl she had once been. Mercy had even detected the odd glimmer of grey strands in her elegant locks. Once upon a time, she might have teased Blythe about growing older. At one time they had both considered the terror of old age the ultimate horror. Yet, because Blythe still grieved so badly, Mercy held her tongue.

  She missed her sister’s former light-heartedness. Why had the death of Blythe’s husband and child meant that her playfulness had to die, too? Nowadays, her sister appeared exhausted, drained of life and vigor. Mercy had no idea how to change her sister’s life back to lightness and merry, but it was something she wished for every day.

  With a forced spring to her step, Mercy rushed into the room. Blythe’s face soon smoothed into a refined expression as it always did. The swift change pained Mercy. “Good morning, my dear.” She dropped onto the cushion beside her sister, threw her arm around her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her cheek, ignoring Blythe’s stiffness as she squeezed. “Did you sleep well last night?”

  Blythe nodded. “I’ve been thinking about your gowns. You will need new ones.”

  Mercy drew back, puzzled by the subject. “I do not need more gowns, I have a vast sufficiency. Far too many as it is for the country.”

  “Nevertheless, I’ve sent for the seamstress from London. She will replace your wardrobe as quickly as she can. We cannot have you wearing gowns created from material supplied by that man.”

  Mercy adjusted her seat so she could better see her sister’s face. “Blythe, you shouldn’t have sent for the seamstress without consulting me. I like the gowns I have now. The fabrics are so beautiful, and I can at least manage to furnish my own wardrobe. The gowns I wear most often are favorites of mine.”

  A knock sounded on the door and they both turned. “Luncheon is served, Your Grace.”

  Wilcox was a lifesaver. He’d moved luncheon forward to match her sister’s arrival. She’d have to thank him with another bottle of her husband’s best brandy when Blythe had gone for the day.

  The butler crossed the room and set wide the doors to the terrace. The terrace was the perfect place to conduct an informal tête-à-tête. The gardens’ wild unkempt nature held lots to distract Blythe and, with the servant’s hovering, she was less likely to continue her lectures.

  Hopeful that she had been forceful enough with her displeasure of Blythe’s actions concerning the gowns, Mercy chewed slowly, savoring the delicious luncheon fare served up for her pleasure in relative silence. At least that was one area she had not failed at.

  She had managed to hire, and keep, a fabulous French cook who delighted in the challenge of feeding the palettes of a single woman and inquisitive boy. Edwin loved the surprising treats Cook sent to him daily. If it were possible, her son would spend his days in the kitchen as chief sampler for the whole household. But he had another future in store for him. The thought sent a shiver up her spine. She hoped she could prepare him adequately for his future as head of this estate.

  While Mercy ate and engaged in polite conversations with her sister, she ran over the things she had to remember to do for her son. She’d had so little time with her husband and her father-in-law that she often feared she’d neglect something important from his education. However, with Leopold returned to the estate, she had an ally who might know more about raising a boy to become a duke, and a good man, than she did. At least, she hoped he did.

  Mercy ran her fingers over the blue silk gently, thinking of Leopold’s arms curling hard around her.

  “I know that look. Stop it.”

  Mercy glanced guiltily at her sister, and then around the terrace to check for servants. They were alone again. Drat it. “I beg your pardon?”

  Blythe pressed her napkin to her lips. “A lady should keep unrefined expressions off her face. You embarrass yourself and the family.”

  Astonished by the hiss of anger in her sister’s voice, Mercy stood. “Who are you to tell me what I may or may not do? You are forgetting your position, countess.”

  Blythe climbed to her feet, too. “No. You are forgetting yours. Is it necessary for you to behave like a bitch in heat because a man has visited your home? Look at you? The flush to your cheeks, the faraway gleam in your eye, you are thinking of matters best engaged in with a husband. Stop thinking of Lord Shaw that way.”

  Mercy took a careful step back. She’d never seen Blythe so angry. Miserable, yes, but not so furious her eyes gleamed with a wholly unfamiliar light. “I was considering my son’s future actually; a task that occupies a great deal of my time. I do not think of Lord Shaw in those terms, or anybody else for that matter,” she lied.

  It was lucky for Mercy that she’d never confided yesterdays kiss with Leopold to Blythe or else she’d be lashed by the sharp edge of her sister’s tongue.

  Blythe blinked. “Do you deny he was here this morning?”

  “Lord Shaw?” When Blythe gave a terse nod, Mercy took a deep breath. “He was here this morning, but the hour was too early for calls and I sent him away, just as you would have
done. I have spent most of the morning with Leopold Randall.”

  Blythe’s breath hissed out. “You think of that scoundrel, too, in a manner wholly inappropriate for a lady of your station?”

  Mercy set her hands to her hips. “Leopold Randall is hardly the scoundrel you make him out to be. He has been nothing but respectful in our dealings.”

  Blythe didn’t need to know the exact details of her interactions with Leopold. And she didn’t ever need to know about their kissing either. Keeping her sister in the dark about any amorous adventures would be absolutely necessary in the future if this was how she went on without cause for her suspicions.

  “He is a threat to your son’s position and should be removed from the grounds once and for all before the worst comes to pass. I speak in the best interests of the duke.”

  Mercy set her fists on her hips. “That could not be best for my son. I need Randall to remain here and, in fact, I have requested his assistance with estate matters. He has promised to help me engage a new steward, someone who will not desert his post in unseemly haste like the last, and I hope he will guide me on matters of management that I do not currently understand. You know I was woefully unprepared to manage the abbey upon my husband’s death. Edwin needs him here.”

  Blythe folded her arms across her chest and hugged herself. “You shall bring scandal and shame down upon us all. Mark my words young Edwin will be murdered in his bed late one night. A man like Randall would certainly make an attempt to claim all of this if given half the chance. He will take over everything, make you a slave in his bed, and throw you out when he’s had his fill of you. I doubt society will understand your foolishness, so do not come to me to provide a roof over your head when the worst happens.”

  A chill raced up Mercy’s spine. That wild look was in her eyes again, frightening Mercy out of her wits. She took a step toward the morning room doors while her sister continued to glare. Surely Blythe didn’t mean to sound so cold and hostile.

  “Excuse me, I need to get back to my son,” Mercy whispered. “Good day, Blythe.”

  “Good day, Your Grace.”

  Too stunned to think clearly, to try to resolve the disagreement before Blythe left, Mercy watched her sister depart, spine ramrod straight and proper. She kept an eye on Blythe until she reached the doors and when they closed behind her, Mercy shuddered. She had never feared her sister’s odd moods before now.

  The shock forced her to grab the nearest chair and sit. Her knees were weak, her pulse fluttery, but in her heart she refused to believe Blythe could truly be a danger. Today’s outburst was simply an aberration, brought on by years of suffering and grief. Usually Blythe was as gentle as a lamb.

  And all of this on top of the threats, and Lord Shaw’s ghastly visit this morning. The only bright point of her day had been securing Leopold’s acceptance to remain here with her and Edwin. Now, more than ever, she needed someone she could depend upon. Yet it seemed that a total stranger might be the only one among her longer acquaintances that could provide the support she craved.

  Determined to put the troubling conversation behind her, Mercy lifted her gaze to the gardens. She caught sight of a procession of servants coming from the far reaches of the estate and heading for the abbey. At first, she was puzzled until she remembered she had left Leopold in the study on that side of the building.

  Curious to know exactly why Leopold needed all her outdoor servants, Mercy climbed to her feet, and crept toward the study to engage in some discreet eavesdropping.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Leopold scratched the name of the last Romsey servant on the cramped sheet and slid it under the desk blotter for safekeeping. By his calculation, the estate had far too few outdoor staff to manage the grounds, and not enough housemaids to keep the abbey pristine. No wonder important matters had become neglected. No wonder the dust was thick in the corners of every room.

  “Your brandy, Mr. Randall,” the butler said.

  “Thank you, Wilcox. Pour yourself a glass as well. You sound like you need one.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Leopold scowled. “Enough of that. We’re alone.”

  The butler took a careful sip, and then another. “It won’t do to relax the proprieties. You will need to appear in control of the whole household, including me, if you are to succeed quickly at setting the place to rights.”

  Leopold drained his glass. Being the nearest thing to lord of the abbey didn’t sit well with him, but Wilcox was right. He had to show he was in control here, at least until the new steward was hired and settled in, in order to get what he wanted done quickly, and without any further grumbling. The first way to do that was to raise everyone’s wages.

  He pressed his fingers against his brow rather than look at the mess piled high on the far side of the room. He had cleared a space earlier, but he had merely cleared the desk and chairs rather than deal with any of it. “Wilcox, might you direct me to the books of account. I’d like to know how the estate’s finances currently stand.”

  Wilcox set his glass down, and moved to a nearby bookshelf. “From what I understand, the estate is financially sound. Very little has been spent to drain the coffers in the last few years besides keeping up the necessities. The duchess has never been given to extravagance, and there should not be any outstanding debts.” He held out a narrow ledger.

  “Thank you.” Leopold opened the cover and began to flick through the first pages. “Do you by any chance know if this has been kept up to date?”

  “I believe she did her best, sir, but she is unused to such matters and more than once grew frustrated with her lack of experience and knowledge. I believe she’s kept all her correspondence from her London man of business and solicitors separate in the left hand drawer since the steward left.”

  Leopold leaned to the side and yanked open the drawer. Ah, neatness! At least Mercy knew enough to keep the most important papers together. The drawer should contain details of his cousin’s will, disbursements, as well as the guardianship details for young Edwin. Familiarizing himself with those important facets of the estate would be his next chore, quickly followed by checking the ledgers before he approached Mercy about increasing the wages of everyone employed on the estate. Given the skin-flint habits of the past duke’s and their wives, he’d better have a firm grasp of the realities of the estate finances before he tried to convince her to dip into the family coffers.

  Wilcox cleared his throat. “I’ve assigned a footman for your use. Jennings will be waiting outside whenever you require assistance. Dinner will be in an hour, sir, and your valet is awaiting you in the blue suite.”

  Leopold pinched the bridge of his nose to hide his surprise. God in heaven—not the blue suite! He’d never survive if he had to spend more than one night in there. But unfortunately he couldn’t very well explain his reluctance to the butler tonight. Tomorrow he would assess the work required in the east wing and see if the space was in anyway livable. Better far away than close to temptation.

  “While I appreciate the thought, I do not require a footman to attend me. My man Colby provides all the assistance I need. Jennings can return to his usual duties. Thank you, Wilcox. I’ll finish up here directly.”

  Once the butler disappeared, Leopold threw his quill to the desk. What a bloody mess the estate was in. One glance at the surly faces of the servants proved just how bad things had become for them. Money would smooth the way to a certain degree, but the young duke and duchess needed to be seen as generous by their people more often for his peace of mind.

  There had been a level of dissatisfaction that had his senses prickling with unease. The grounds men were bitter, at first. Less so once they understood that Leopold meant to make changes to improve their lives. But until those changes happened he would have to be on hand to smooth the way. That meant he would probably have to accompany Mercy and Edwin on any outings, just to be certain they remained safe.

  He’d hate to leave only to find them in mor
e trouble should he ever return.

  Leopold dropped his head to his hands and ground his temple hard. He hated being at Mercy’s beck and call. He hated that everyone would see him stand so close to the young duke and speculate about his ambitions to gain the title.

  He didn’t want any of this. He wanted Oliver, Rosemary, and Tobias to look after, just as he had when they were small.

  A knock on the door brought a groan from his lips. He just needed a moment longer to curb his impatience before dealing with anyone yet. He couldn’t engage in another skirmish with Mercy now. He’d likely give in and help himself to what she offered. When the knock came again, Leopold groaned. “Come.”

  Colby’s head poked around the door. “Am I disturbing you, Mr. Randall?”

  The disappointment of seeing Colby, and not Mercy, at the door was momentarily unsettling. He pushed it away. “Yes. But the intrusion is welcome. Come closer.”

  His valet shut the door behind him and eyed the room. “Is it safe?”

  A laugh escaped Leopold. Gods, he needed Colby’s direct way of speaking to improve his mood. “There’s nothing else alive in here. Nothing dead enough to stink up the place anyway. It’s relatively safe.”

  Colby picked his way across the room until he reached the desk. “I hope I did the right thing by following the duchess’ instructions today to move us to the abbey, sir. Her note was very insistent that you should be settled in here before nightfall.”

  “Yes, yes.” Leopold waved his hand at the disaster around him. “I was somewhat preoccupied with all this and it slipped my mind to send a note myself. You did the right thing following Her Grace’s instructions.”

  Colby picked up a desktop curio and rubbed the dust from the top. “Her Grace has a lovely way about her.”

  Leopold squinted at the younger man. “Don’t tell me you’re captivated of another highborn lady so quickly. We’ve only been in the district a few days.”