“What are you doing today?” Jocelyn nibbled on a piece of bread, averting her gaze from him when Leo glanced in her direction.
Something in her expression gave him pause. When her attention wavered to Arabella and her face clouded, his mouth compressed. Jocelyn wasn’t convinced of his innocence.
“I’m helping the men muster the cattle. We’re going to sell some at the next Tavistock market.”
“I see,” Jocelyn said. “Will you be home late?”
“Your wife doesn’t trust you,” Arabella said with a touch of glee.
“That’s enough, Arabella.” But Leo saw she was right. Jocelyn was wary of him. No, maybe not of him. She’d been distant since their trip to Tavistock. He opened his mouth to question her then came to a halt. This could wait until tonight. While Arabella was family and wouldn’t gossip, he didn’t want to broadcast Jocelyn’s past to her. His cousin didn’t require more ammunition to wound Jocelyn.
Jocelyn ushered her mother outside, the footman following at their heels. Elizabeth came to an abrupt halt, almost causing an undignified pile of bodies.
“Mother.”
“We should take the child to the village.”
“There isn’t room in the carriage for all of us,” Jocelyn said. Not quite the truth, but Cassie’s presence would require another invitation to Arabella plus a delay in their departure. “Perhaps we can go for a walk together in the gardens later this afternoon. Did I tell you I discovered a folly this morning?”
Diverted, Elizabeth clapped her hands together. “How exciting. We’ll take the child with us when we explore the folly.”
“Of course we can,” Jocelyn said, forcing a smile. She waited until her mother and Tilly were seated before accepting help from the footmen to ascend into the carriage.
The drive to the village didn’t take long. Her mother prattled about everything and anything that caught her attention. Jocelyn tuned her out, only replying absently in the conversational gaps. Instead she visualized the scene she’d witnessed this morning, trying to see the clinch in light of Leo’s explanation.
The seclusion of the garden.
The intimacy of a handsome man and a beautiful woman alone.
An embrace.
Jocelyn flinched, the recollection hurling her into unease. No matter what Leo said, she’d feel better once Arabella departed Merrivale. Arabella’s smug laughter echoed through her mind, bringing a rush of anxiety.
“Arabella is intending to return to Spain. Her sister is ill.” Maybe if she confronted the dragon, she could slay it and emerge unscathed.
“When is she leaving?” Tilly asked.
“I’m not sure. Soon, I think. She mentioned doing some packing this morning.” Jocelyn continued to stew, another thought occurring. The other morning when she’d woken to find Leo absent, had he been with Arabella? Of course that didn’t explain the wound on his cheek. To her they’d looked like the claw of fingernails. She worried her bottom lip, recalling the suspicion on Captain Cartwright’s face. Still, he hadn’t returned to question Leo again.
She didn’t want to believe the facts she kept stumbling over, but Leo held secrets close to his chest, and it was difficult not to feel concern over their nature.
The carriage swayed over the uneven ruts made by bullock carts. Jocelyn flew against the side of the carriage, an unladylike grunt emerging at the slash of pain at her ribs.
“Jocelyn,” Elizabeth said. “It’s not polite to make noises like that in public places.”
Jocelyn steeled herself as the carriage shuddered on hitting another pothole, a throb radiating down her side.
Tilly sent her a worried glance. “Are you all right?”
“Just a bump,” Jocelyn said.
“Are we there yet?” Elizabeth asked.
“Another five minutes,” Jocelyn said, hoping it was true. The ache in her torso traveled to her head. Surreptitiously, she lifted one gloved hand to rub her temple.
“Whoa there!” the driver called to the horses. The carriage slowed to a creaky halt outside the draper’s shop.
“Oh, look!” Elizabeth cried, off at a trot before Jocelyn or Tilly could react.
With a sigh, Jocelyn scrambled from the carriage, faltering a fraction when pain streaked through her. She watched her mother disappear into the draper’s store. “It’s all right, Tilly. Something in the window has caught her attention.”
“Between her and Miss Cassie, I’m forever running,” Tilly said.
Jocelyn drew a sharp breath. “I know she’s not easy.”
“I don’t mean to complain. When Arabella leaves who is going to look after Cassie? She can be a bit of a handful.”
“I know. I talked to Susan before we left. She suggested I stop by the baker’s shop and talk to the baker’s wife. Evidently her eldest daughter is good with children. Perhaps she’ll be willing to help with Cassie.”
Tilly nodded. “That seems like a sensible solution.”
“I thought I’d go and see her now.” Jocelyn shot a glance at the window of the draper’s store. From where they stood, they could see Elizabeth’s enthusiastic hand gestures and the lengths of scarlet ribbon a woman was showing her.
“Off you go.” Tilly made a shooing motion with her hands. “I’ll supervise Elizabeth’s ribbon purchases.”
Jocelyn continued down the dusty road to the bakery. She smiled at two young children teasing a kitten with a piece of rag and string. A plump woman swathed in shawls offered a curt nod, but didn’t stop to speak to her. A scuff on the dirt behind her made her jump. She twisted, let out a pained cry.
“Mrs. Sherbourne?” The footman stood there, surveying her strangely.
Heat flooded her face, and her gaze slid away. Good grief, everything was making her jumpy today. People would start to speculate on her mental condition and whisper she was taking after her mother. “Please stay with my mother and Tilly. I’m going to visit the baker and will return to the drapers. I doubt you’ll shift my mother for at least an hour.”
The footman nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Sherbourne.”
Jocelyn stepped over a pile of horse dung, aware of the local women staring at her. She forced her smile a little wider and inclined her head, acknowledging everyone she passed before arriving at the bakery. The scent of loaves, hot from the oven, floated through the open door.
A young woman set an uncooked pie on the counter and waited patiently for service. A toddler clutched her skirts, his big blue eyes fixed on Jocelyn.
“Good morning,” Jocelyn said softly, and glanced up at the mother. “What a beautiful little boy.”
“Thank you,” the woman said.
The woman behind the counter took the pie and set it on a shelf. “’Twill be ready this evening.”
The young woman nodded and left.
“Are you Mrs. Samson?” Jocelyn asked.
“Aye, Mrs. Sherbourne,” the woman replied with a grim smile.
Jocelyn’s own smile faltered. “Susan, my maid, suggested I speak to you. I wish to employ someone to look after Cassie. I understand your eldest daughter is very good with children.”
“Aye, she is.” Her eyes flashed and resentment twisted her lined face into a grimace.
Jocelyn took an automatic half step back when the woman continued to glare. “Is something wrong?”
“I won’t let my Agnes work at Merrivale Manor.”
“Why?” Jocelyn asked faintly. Surely this wasn’t anything to do with her mother. She was only a danger to herself, not to other people.
“It’s not safe,” Mrs. Samson said. “I’m not letting my Agnes anywhere near your husband.”
“Leo?”
“Aye, Sherbourne. I know what’s going on at Merrivale. First his wife, then a maid is dead. Other girls missing. He’s selling them into slavery and murdering those what don’t agree.”
Jocelyn drew herself up. “The parish constable hasn’t arrested him.”
“It’s not what you know. It’s who,” M
rs. Samson snapped. “My Agnes is not going anywhere near the manor and that’s final.”
Jocelyn gave a civil nod and kept her tongue still. How could she protest when Mrs. Samson’s words dovetailed so neatly with her own doubts?
Chapter Seven
Hannah and Peregrine’s party, three days later.
“I’m sorry about Mother making us late,” Jocelyn said. “She’s been so good recently. I didn’t expect her to have one of her episodes. Normally we have more warning.”
But that was changing and it was an alarming trend. The silence inside the carriage was rubbing her nerves raw. If Leo decided to cease his support, Jocelyn didn’t know what she’d do. She forced herself not to fidget but couldn’t prevent the curling of her gloved fingers while she anxiously awaited her husband’s reply.
Leo reached out, his hand landing unerringly on her knee. He squeezed lightly. “It’s not as if I wanted to attend to this party,” he said gruffly. “With any luck we’ll miss the receiving line.”
Some of the tension leached from her. “I’m looking forward to meeting more of our neighbors.”
Leo caressed her lower thigh through her skirt, the warmth of his hand shifting her anxiety to other sensual avenues. “Some of Hannah’s friends are…difficult. There will be gossip. Snide comments. I don’t want you to get upset by the things you might hear.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle anything they throw at me.” The past had taught her confidence went a long way in social occasions. It didn’t matter if she was falling apart inside, she could still portray a lady, a woman calm and above the vulgarities of other people.
“You might find them unwelcoming. Everyone loved Ursula, and my remarriage has caused talk.” The tone of his voice suggested he was grimacing. “Gossip.”
“What sort of comments?” He must have realized a second marriage so swiftly after Ursula died would initiate gossip. Her mind tugged and pulled at the reasons he’d given her. He required a mother for Cassie. Not true—not when he had Arabella in residence. “Leo?” she prompted a reply.
The pause lengthened until she wondered if he intended to answer at all.
Finally, he sighed. “Most people expected me to marry Hannah once the period of mourning ended, and they’re likely to make that clear during the course of the evening. They can be petty, and I find their cruelty untenable.”
“I understand what you mean. People judge my mother and laugh behind her back. She can’t help her behavior.”
The carriage coasted to a stop. A footman opened the door and the faint tinkle of music carried to them. Leo stepped from the carriage and turned to assist her to alight.
“I didn’t realize they lived in a castle.” Jocelyn stared up at the tower that loomed in the darkness. A face stared down at her, partially obscured by shadows. “There’s a face—oh! It’s a gargoyle. How interesting.”
“Hartscombe is full of such things,” Leo said. “It’s not a place for children.” He placed her gloved hand on the crook of his arm and turned toward a flight of steps. “This way. Watch your footing. The steps are crumbling in a few places.”
Jocelyn strolled at Leo’s side, glad of his warning and the smoky torches lighting the uneven steps. At the top, Leo guided her through a doorway. A maid took possession of her pelisse and Leo’s hat, then Leo directed her right toward the music. They entered a large salon, brightly lit by candles and full of strangers.
“Leo!” Hannah pushed her way through the crush, her welcoming smile only for him. Her black gown with white accents was stunning in its simplicity, yet it clung to her curves and grabbed every male eye in the vicinity. “You’re here at last.”
“I’m sorry we’re late, Hannah. We had a small problem at home.” Jocelyn smiled brightly at the woman everyone had expected her husband to marry. She turned her attention back to Leo and caught him eyeing Hannah’s charms. Some of her anticipation and pleasure in the evening faded.
“Jocelyn.” Hannah turned her gaze on her, and Jocelyn couldn’t help but notice the malicious glint as the other woman took in her green gown, the splendid emerald necklace and earrings and Jocelyn’s bright red hair in its intricate twist. “Is your mother not well? I hope she isn’t scaring Cassie again.”
“Hannah.” Leo’s voice held a touch of warning.
Hannah’s smile faltered before burning bright again. She approached Leo and took his arm in a familiar manner. “Leo, darling, come and meet my friends from London.”
Jocelyn sucked in a swift breath, humiliated by the way Hannah was ignoring her. The slight hadn’t gone unnoticed by others, and two young women clad in the latest London fashions openly tittered. Her cheeks started to burn.
Leo removed Hannah’s hand from his arm. “Let me introduce Jocelyn to our neighbors first, Hannah.” A rebuke shaded his words, and Hannah shot Jocelyn a scowl before flouncing away.
“Is she always like that or does she save her rude behavior for me?” Jocelyn asked in an undertone.
“She tends to worry about her needs more than others.” Leo looked as if he wanted to say more but politeness forbade him. “Ignore her bad manners. It’s best that you do.”
Leo led Jocelyn over to a group of men and women in the far corner of the salon and started his introductions. She felt the waves of the curiosity from Leo’s friends, and her stomach churned despite the confident tilt of her chin. She observed the whispers, partially hidden by flickering fans, and the way the confidences increased when they noticed the healing scratches on Leo’s face.
“Jocelyn, this is Sir James Harvey from Duxton.”
“Mrs. Sherbourne, charmed.” Sir James took her hand and bowed over it, his lips brushing the back of her glove. Tall and slim, he wore the latest London fashions from the top of his powdered wig to the jeweled buckles on his shoes. His red suit and matching ruby jewels made him stand out from the more somberly clad locals.
“It’s lovely to meet you. Is Duxton very far from Merrivale?”
“About ten miles if you have the skills to fly like a crow,” Sir James said, straightening from his bow. “A bit farther if you choose to travel by carriage or horseback. You must ask Leo to bring you to Duxton to visit, my dear. We have many things from exotic places. The ladies love the sparkling treasures.”
Jocelyn had met men like Sir James before—a wealthy rake. Unconscionable, they seduced every woman crossing their path and if they were virginal or unobtainable, so much bigger the challenge. When they weren’t whoring, the scoundrels gambled with weaker men who should know better. She tugged her hand from his grasp and gave him a chilly smile. “Thank you for the invitation.”
The music started again, and one of Leo’s friends solicited her hand in a dance. Once again people stared, but she went through the measured steps with grace and her head held high. Let them stare.
With Jocelyn safely dancing, Leo made the rounds of his friends and acquaintances, keeping a close ear to pick up any useful gossip. Unfortunately it appeared most of the rumors circulating were about him—his marriage to Jocelyn and the murders.
“Leo,” a crisp voice said from behind him.
Damn, he’d hoped the parish constable wouldn’t attend tonight. Composing his features, Leo turned to face Captain Cartwright.
“Have you made any progress in the search for our maid?” He might as well raise the subject first.
“How did you get the scratches on your face?”
Leo sighed. Straight for the throat. “I told you. I fell when I got between a man and his wife during an argument.”
Another new arrival caught his attention. Leo felt a vein start throbbing at his temple and the blood pounded in his ears. The bastard. Leo clenched his fists, fighting the urge to march over to Jaego Woodburn and issue a challenge.
Their gazes connected across the crowded ballroom, and Leo grit his teeth as he stared at the man who’d once been his best friend.
“Leo. Leo!” Cartwright attempted to retrieve his attention.
> “What?” Leo barked.
“I’ll be at Merrivale early tomorrow morning. I have more questions for you.”
Leo shrugged. “I have sheep to dip.”
“The questions won’t take long. I thought you’d prefer privacy.” The veiled threat came through clearly. Cartwright intended to get his answers one way or another. If he refused to entertain an interview, Cartwright would voice his queries in a public venue.
Aware of interested bystanders, Leo gave a curt nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If I’m not at the manor, I’ll be at the sheep yards.”
“Thank you.” Cartwright moved away to mingle.
Leo scanned several familiar faces and noticed some acquaintances looked away in firm snubs.
“Leo, how are you?” Hannah’s mother, Viscountess Hartscombe, approached him.
Leo offered a stiff smile and relaxed when she behaved in her normal, friendly fashion. “I’m fine. How long are you home for this time?”
“Only for a few weeks while we prepare for another journey to Egypt. I hear you’ve remarried,” she said abruptly.
“Yes. I’ll introduce you to Jocelyn.” Leo scanned the dance floor and couldn’t see his wife. “When I find her.”
Jocelyn couldn’t help but be aware of the pointed stares and speculation. She scanned the crowded room, searching for Leo. On locating him, she witnessed his ease with everyone, his apparent unconcern about their opinions. She took her cue from her husband. No doubt there were rumors flying around about her mother’s behavior along with the ones about their abrupt marriage.
The murders.
Hopefully, the gossip would die. All she needed to do was grit her teeth and smile. And hope that Leo wasn’t involved with the murders…
There! She’d actually admitted her concerns. Leo might share her bed, but he was still an enigma—an unknown quantity.
Mistress of Merrivale Page 11