She stirred on the bed, where she’d spent the last hour convincing Edwin to rest, and joined him at the window. “He’s finally asleep,” she whispered.
He had stood apart from them, alert for trouble, pistol loose in his hand. He glanced beyond her to the bed and relaxed marginally. “I thought he might be more difficult for you. This is not a particularly cheerful room.” In fact, this room was quite disgusting. Dusty—unused for perhaps a dozen or more years and smelling strongly of dampness—it was an insult to bring anyone here. But no one would expect the boy in this part of the abbey. No one would imagine a duchess would allow her only child near such neglect. Yet all Mercy had done was wrinkle her nose at the rising dust, and then focused her attention on the boy to keep him amused.
“I told you he has an agreeable temper,” Mercy said. “When I informed him that we would never leave his side he cheered up. He likes you. And he enjoyed the games you showed him earlier immensely.”
A hollow ache started in Leopold’s chest. Although he shouldn’t, he liked the boy, too. He’d felt a profound connection to the child from the moment they’d met. Hiding how much could prove difficult. He checked his weapon again, wishing heartily that he’d taken the time to collect a second from the duke’s study before night had fallen. But he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to what he was doing as yet. For now, all he had to defend them with was one small pistol and a fury unlike anything he’d ever known.
Mercy rubbed her hands up and down her arms briskly to ward off the chill of the cold room. “What time do you think it is?”
“Nearing midnight.” Or at least that hour was drawing close the last time he had checked his fob watch. That habit had grown far too often for his comfort during the course of the evening, so he had made a promise to himself not to check until dawn lightened the sky.
“Are you always armed, Leopold?”
He met her gaze. “Yes.”
She flinched at his immediate answer and lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed. “You must have had a terrible life to always be so prepared for danger.”
What could he say to that? He’d learned his lessons early in life. There was no safe place for him. He had only himself to rely upon. He lifted the pistol and studied it. “I barely notice that I carry it anymore.”
“You carried it the first day we met, didn’t you? You carried it when you met my son?”
He nodded. It was best that she know the worst of him.
“Oh, Leopold. You have nothing to fear from us. The old duke is gone and so is my husband, if he ever harbored any ill toward you. There is no threat to you and your siblings here now. You never need to fear us.”
“There is a threat to you and the child.” He looked out the window to hide the panic he felt at saying it aloud. Who would want to hurt the child, or hurt Mercy? And to stalk them in such a heinous way made his blood run cold. He would protect them, or die trying.
When Mercy approached, he didn’t turn. She spread her hands over his shoulders and smoothed them over his back. One hand slid down his arm and settled on his fist where he clutched the weapon. “Put the pistol down, Leopold, and get some sleep. No one will find us tonight.”
Although he shouldn’t let his guard down by sleeping, he thought her correct that they were safe for the night. The surprise change of location would confuse her enemy for now, but later, he’d have to stay alert all night and day perhaps. He should rest while he could. He set the weapon on a table. Mercy tugged at his arm to lead him to the bed. She climbed up and then patted the empty space beside her. “There’s plenty of room for all of us.”
Leopold hesitated. Although there was ample of room to sleep beside them, he really should not. Not with the boy present and likely to wake and find him beside his mother. What if he embraced Mercy while he slept? What would the boy think of that? “I’ll sleep in the chair.”
Mercy tilted her head to one side then held out her hand palm up. She crooked her fingers to urge him closer and, like the fool he was, he joined her on the bed. She wriggled around to get comfortable then settled close against his side. Leopold glanced down at her curiously and in the half-light spilling into the room. She watched him. A frown marred her features.
Startled by her expression and scrutiny, Leopold lifted his gaze to the ceiling. The more time he spent alone with her in the dark, the more likely she was to recognize him. It surprised him that she hadn’t already. They had been deeply intimate and he’d never acted any differently with her than the first time they had lain together.
Maybe that first night had not been as memorable for her as it had been for him. Maybe she’d taken other lovers and the memory of him was dim. His hands tightened into fists. Damn her. He wasn’t used to caring so much for a woman. But Mercy had ruined all his plans to keep a polite and safe distance between them.
She curled onto her side, head pressing against his shoulder, and sighed. “This is how it should be. Just us.”
Mercy didn’t say another word, and Leopold couldn’t help but be grateful because this thing between them, his growing possessiveness for the one woman he should not want, terrified him. Her breathing evened out in sleep and he stared at the ceiling. He didn’t want to need her like this. If it were possible to cure himself of his infatuation, he would.
~ * ~
Mercy raised her head from Leopold’s chest as the room lightened with the approaching dawn. Despite the poor surroundings she’d slept deeply, content to lie beside her lover and son. With Leopold here, Mercy didn’t fear for her safely, or for Edwin’s. He would never harm her child and she was proud she’d seen his character long before taking him into her confidence.
She eased down to the foot of the bed and climbed off carefully so as not to wake Edwin. While she drew on her wrapper, she glanced between her sleeping lover and son. She stifled a laugh. How could the pair sleep so completely perfect in arrangement, right down to the way their dark hair curled over their ears?
She stood at the foot of the bed to study their pose. One foot tucked against the other leg to form a triangle between, one hand pressed over stomach, the other open and relaxed on the bed. They could be twins, if two decades or more didn’t separate their ages. Or they could be father and son.
Mercy’s breath caught in her throat as the idea caught hold.
Although she had originally dismissed the notion as a foolish fancy, her son did share more than a passing resemblance to Leopold Randall. Edwin might share her green eyes, but his hair color was dark, a shade closer to Leopold’s.
Her gaze sharpened on her son’s hands.
They were not similar to Mercy’s long, slender fingers. The tips were blunt, the nails square. She had forgotten the precise shape of her husband’s hands, but as she stared at Leopold Randall, she saw more similarities to worry her.
Had the old duke sent this man, a member of his own family, to her bed?
She stumbled into a chair. What was it Leopold had told her? He’d said he hadn’t been here at the abbey for years. Not since the old duke threatened his family with harm unless he did him a service. Leopold had not been comfortable, at first, in her presence and he’d never fully explained what that service was.
She stared at him. She had been forced to share her bed with a strange man when her husband’s failing health had restricted his ability to bed her and bring about a pregnancy. Had she finally found the man who had shattered her perfect world during one long night of frantic bliss?
Then there was the troubling matter of the sudden attraction between them that had caught her unprepared. She had never behaved like this before; pursuing a man who did his best to keep a respectful distance. She had attributed her fascination to Leopold’s reticence. Mercy had always liked a challenge. She had wanted to learn everything about this man before the chance slipped away. Had she unconsciously recognized him when they had met again?
That utter bounder!
Mercy paced the room as anger and humiliation washed
over her. He must think it quite a joke to slip into her bed once more. What kind of man was he to play with her affections this way? She had fallen in love with that stranger. One night. One night of tender loving that had destroyed the fragile bond between her and her husband.
Her husband had not cared for her outrage at the old duke’s plan. He had not cared that another man would bed her. When she’d confronted him before the deed had been done he’d told her without an ounce of regret that she wouldn’t enjoy the experience. Romsey needed an heir and that was all that mattered.
Mercy sat with a thump, ignoring the cloud of dust billowing up from the old cushion.
Edwin had been utterly wrong about that night.
The man sent to bed her had been sweet, and thorough, and more loving than her own husband had been on his best day. He had not done anything to her that she had objected to and when asked for more, he had tenderly swept her away. When her husband had come to her bed the following night, she had not wanted him to come again. Edwin had been cold, and determined to complete the deed without her participation.
She drew in a shuddering breath. No matter how gentle her stranger had been, he had used her, too. If it were true, she would not forgive Leopold for keeping his part in that night secret. He must have known when they met. How could she trust him now?
“Mama?”
As was his habit, Edwin sat up straight away and threw himself sideways over Leopold.
Leopold started up suddenly, too, eyes wide on the small boy draped across his stomach. Edwin yawned sleepily and smiled up at him. Leopold stared at her child a long time, but then he must have registered her absence from the bed as his gaze searched for her quickly.
When their eyes met, Mercy couldn’t force a smile to her lips. She didn’t know what to say to him yet. If her fears were true, she had been utterly duped by a man she thought she could trust from first sight. She had misjudged him very badly if that were the case.
Leopold scrambled out from under Edwin, dropping her son to the bed in the process. Her son’s widened eyes and hurt expression moved Mercy toward the bed to comfort him. She gathered Edwin in her arms, whispering a good morning against his ear. But she kept track of Leopold as he bent to replace his shoes and draw on his coat.
Her lover, the man who may very well have lied to her every moment since they had met, cleared his throat. “We can return to the family wing whenever you are ready.”
“Of course.” Although he was almost too big to manage, Mercy carried Edwin with her as she crossed the room to slide her feet into her slippers. One of them, of course, proved troublesome but she didn’t want to release Edwin. She was afraid that if she did she would blurt out her accusation at Leopold and, if he didn’t deny it immediately, she’d start an argument while Edwin was near. Her fears could be groundless, after all. Mercy hated to be in the wrong.
Leopold crossed the room, bent to capture her ankle, and set her foot within the shoe properly. His hand stroked over her skin, another decadent, hungry touch that reminded Mercy all too painfully of what she’d allowed this man to do. She had pursued him and seduced him and begged him to make love to her.
When he rose, she couldn’t meet his gaze directly. She stared at the roughly tied cravat and did her best not to want to fix it. “We are ready.”
He nodded, crossed to the door, pistol already in his hand, and eased the door open a crack. After a few minutes, he widened it further and stepped out into the hall. Mercy waited, pulse pounding when he disappeared from sight and returned again.
It may have been only a moment but that was all it took for Mercy to bury her anger, at least for the present. They had other problems to face. The madman was still due to call.
“Can I help you by carrying him?” he asked.
Mercy pressed Edwin’s head to her shoulder as he shifted subtly toward Leopold. “I can manage.”
There must have been a touch of anger in her words because one of Leopold’s eyebrows rose. She hurried forward, along the hall toward the family wing, ignoring the man following in her wake. It would take a while to be easy with him if her suspicions were true, but until that time she would behave as a duchess should. She would keep Leopold Randall at arms length and out of her bed.
She quickened her steps along the hall and slipped into her son’s bedchamber. Then, because she was still very angry, she set Edwin on his feet and slammed the door in Leopold’s face.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As the door shut with a loud crash, Leopold blinked in surprise. He’d thought Mercy had woken out of sorts this morning, but he hadn’t realized her dissatisfaction lay with him. What he had done between last night and this morning, he couldn’t imagine. But her coldness today did remind him that he knew very little about the woman. Maybe she’d had enough of him. Maybe her actions were designed to put him firmly back in his place as her inferior.
Leopold retreated to the chamber across the hall, leaving the door ajar in case he was needed. Mercy had his thoughts spinning, none of them good, none of them satisfactory, and every one determined to drive him wild.
He grabbed a chair and straddled it, resting his arms across the back as he faced the door she had disappeared through. How had he come to be in this situation? How had he forgotten completely what he was here for? It seemed that the moment he’d learned of the threat to Mercy and the child his whole world had changed direction, and all because he couldn’t silence his unease.
Was that truly his cousin’s son?
Or was Edwin his child?
A child’s parentage mattered to society. Edwin was the legal heir, born within the marriage and had inherited the title of duke, the estate, and every responsibility when his father had passed away. But the boy reminded him of his two brothers when they were younger. Similarities he strove to ignore. For the devil’s sake, he’d almost embraced the child this morning, and yesterday when he’d carried the boy through the abbey he’d thought his heart might burst with joy.
If Edwin was his offspring, he’d never be able to tell a sole but neither could he turn his back on the boy if he were in any form of danger.
And the danger was coming to Romsey Abbey. He just didn’t know from where. Frustrated, he stood, checked the hall, and then prowled about the room. There was no telling where the danger might lie. Out in the open or already within the abbey walls? How could someone bring a live animal into a building, slaughter it, and no one notice? Wilcox had questioned every servant personally, but none had offered up any clues. Were some in league with this monster, a lover of words and grim offerings?
He didn’t know who to trust in this place.
He stopped at the window and looked out. He trusted Wilcox and his valet, Colby—two people in a house full of dozens. And what about Allen and his boys? He claimed to want to live quietly out in the stables without Mercy knowing of his connection to the duke. But he’d have the means of entering the abbey and leaving the grim gifts about the place. Hardly anyone would wonder what he did. He could very well be the source of the threat. Was he as cold blooded as the old duke?
Leopold raked his fingers through his hair. Everyone had to be held in suspicion until he got to know them better. Even Mercy herself could not be overlooked. He set his hand to his chest as the memories of her in his arms, against his body, roused his desire. He couldn’t even trust those moments with her to be anything more than mutual lust.
He did desire her. She gifted her body without hesitation. But her mind, motives, and her heart were a complete mystery to him. That she loved her son was in no doubt. But would she be happy if her son turned out to be his?
A movement in the distance caught his attention. A carriage rumbled down the drive. As he squinted to see the conveyance more clearly, he recognized it from his first visit to the estate. Mercy had company coming and he should inform her so she might be ready in good time.
He turned on his heel but then stopped. Across the hall, Mercy stood in Edwin’s doorway consid
ering him. Her hand was on the door but she neither frowned nor smiled when he noticed her. She just stood there, as if she’d seen a ghost.
“There is a carriage coming up the drive,” he said softly.
“Is there?”
Leopold nodded. “Yes. I remember the carriage from the other day. It is the same one that I passed as I came to see you the first time.”
“The first time,” Mercy said slowly, eyes traveling the length of his body and back.
The effect of her perusal, unfortunately, was immediate. His pulse raced and his arms ached to step forward and embrace her. Leopold quashed the notion as she folded her arms under her breasts. He swallowed. “Do you remember whom the carriage might belong to?”
Her head tilted to one side and she continued to stare at him without blinking. “Lady Barnet visited here a few days ago along with her brother Lord Shaw.”
Leopold couldn’t move. He was pinned in place by the coldness of her stare. For the first time since they had met, she resembled the woman in the drawing room painting downstairs. “Then it might be her carriage. It’s not too far away,” he warned.
She pursed her lips, called her son to her, and hurried toward her bedchamber. Leopold hung back, confused by her behavior. He had upset her somehow, he was sure of it. But if she was upset she was not going to give him any clues on how to make things right between them.
At her door, she stopped. “Are you going to inspect my chamber first or shall we both be slaughtered while you do nothing but stare?”
Puzzled by her hostility, Leopold stepped into her chamber first, checked beneath the wide bed, drapes and connecting chamber then gave her a nod. She flicked her hands at him impatiently and he hurried to the door. But at the threshold, he glanced over his shoulder and found her standing with her face buried in her hands.
Leopold couldn’t bear it. He shut the door, ruffled Edwin’s hair as he passed the boy, and pulled Mercy into his arms. “Don’t fret, love. All will be well soon.”
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