Leo grunted and swung a heavy fist, despite the fiery burn in his arm. The man crumpled, and Leo dragged him behind the oak. He grabbed the man’s cloak and swung it over his shoulders.
“You,” a voice called from the ruins. “Who fired the gun?”
“’Twas me,” Leo said, dropping into local dialect. “’Twere only a bird. Frightened the wits out o’ me.”
“You’re sure it was a bird?”
Leo recognized Sir James’s voice. “Aye, sir.” He dipped his head, feigning respect. Bah! He’d like to wring the man’s neck. “’Twas an owl.”
The mournful hoot of an owl came on the heels of his words, Cartwright’s signal to his men. Leo saw Sir James nod and watched his retreat.
Leo backed into the shadows to inspect his arm. A scratch. He’d been lucky this time, but it burned like the fires of Hell. He dabbed the wound with the tail of his cloak.
“You all right?” a gruff voice asked.
“Bullet scratched me. I’m bleeding but I’ll live.”
“Let me see.” Cartwright angled Leo’s arm to the light and nodded. He pulled a kerchief from within his cloak and bound Leo’s arm in the competent moves of one experienced with gunshots. “Have you bound and gagged your man?”
“Not yet. He’s out cold behind the oak.”
Cartwright took care of the chore, pausing to hoot another signal. By the time he’d finished a dozen men stood with them in the shadows.
“We’ll wait half an hour to give them time to settle. Once we move, Jed and Harry, you guard the entrance. Stop anyone who tries to depart. I don’t want any shooting unless you’re being fired upon. Clear?”
“Aye,” the men said in a low chorus.
“The rest of you are with me. I want every man and woman inside the abbey ruins detained for questioning. I don’t care who the hell they are or what title they possess. No exceptions.”
“We’ll find them in the main body of the abbey where the roof is still intact,” Leo said. “Some of the men might be in the old cells where the monks used to sleep.”
“We’ll get them, sir,” one of the men said, his voice rough from smoking tobacco.
When the half hour elapsed, Leo trailed into the abbey with the other men, the glowing torches making their clandestine task easier. The scent of smoke and tobacco hung on the air, along with the sweet scent of something else. Leo recognized the smell as the same one he’d noticed during his previous visit.
Although they hadn’t lingered long outside, the orgy was in full progress. Leo grimaced as they passed a cell. Pale limbs reflected the light, grunts of physical exertion loud and animalistic. A woman groaned, but didn’t seem to participate much. One of Cartwright’s men slid into the cell, his weapon cocked.
Leo noticed a blond man standing in the shadows. Jaego. His smile turned feral as he stalked forward, ignoring the discomfort in his arm. Time for payback.
Jocelyn retired late that night, exhausted but furious, only to wake several hours later, aware of someone entering her chamber.
“Leo?”
“Who else are you expecting to join you in bed?”
“That isn’t funny,” she muttered, turning to glare at him in the candlelight. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you join me last night? I haven’t done anything wrong, and I don’t deserve this treatment. I’m your wife!” Her voice rose with each successive word, and the slight quirk of his lips only made her angrier.
“Tell me about Boynton.”
“Did you find him?”
“We got him.” Satisfaction laced his voice as he stripped off his clothing.
Her gaze came to rest on his upper arm. “You’re hurt.” Her anger fled replaced by concern. She slithered off the bed and rounded it to stand in front of him, her fingers unfastening the makeshift bandage.
He winced, the air hissing from him when she tugged the cloth free. Blood started to flow anew.
“What happened?”
“I stood on a stick and frightened a man. He shot before asking questions.”
“This isn’t a joke,” she snapped.
“It’s a scratch. I won’t die.”
“You will if it becomes infected. Let me cleanse it for you.” She retrieved water and a cloth, her actions revealing the extent of the injury. It was as he said—a mere scratch. She held a pad to the wound until the bleeding ceased and applied another pad smeared with her mother’s salve. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Sir James Harvey, aided by Jack Boynton, started a club at the abbey—their version of the Hell Fire Club.”
Jocelyn’s mind raced ahead. “They’re responsible for the murders.”
“Cartwright thinks so, although they haven’t confessed their crimes.”
“Boynton never liked Mother,” Jocelyn said. “He told me he’s been lurking around the manor for weeks.”
Leo nodded. “Tell me everything he said.”
Jocelyn repeated Boynton’s words from the night of the Harvest festival.
“Hannah said you asked her to invite Boynton.”
“She would say that. My past mightn’t be pristine, but I’m not a liar.” Jocelyn glowered at him, incensed he’d spoken to Hannah before bothering to hear her side of the tale. “She thought you’d marry her. The truth is she asked me if she could bring two guests. Stupidly, I assumed both she and Peregrine would bring one guest each of the opposite sex.”
“She brought Jaego and Boynton, men who were guaranteed to upset us.”
“Yes.” Jocelyn’s brows drew together. “Which tells us what?”
“That she planned this entire debacle to cause dissension between us.”
Some of Jocelyn’s apprehension dispersed. “Hannah has never liked me. Her goal was to wed you, and she hasn’t given up, not even after our marriage.”
“I’ll talk to her and make sure she ceases her troublemaking. What about Boynton?”
“I told you. He threatened to tell everyone of my past.”
The flicker of the candle he’d set on the dresser highlighted his scowl of displeasure. “I wish I could have stayed to reassure you. Cartwright needed my help. Most constables would have locked me away and refused to listen to reason. I doubt Boynton will bother you any longer. He’ll be too busy trying to save his own skin.”
Jocelyn frowned. “But what if he’s already spread rumors?”
Leo laced their fingers together. “If he has we’ll face the trouble together.”
“But we’re not the only ones involved. What about Cassie and our baby? The gossip will stain their reputations too. Maybe even Melburn.”
“We’ll learn who our real friends are,” Leo said with a sigh. “But I don’t think we’ll need to worry. The gossip from tonight will overshadow everything else. Along with Sir James and Boynton, Peregrine and Jaego were arrested plus several of their visitors.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“They’d drugged some of the women to keep them calm, but Cartwright thinks they’ll recover.”
“So it’s really over? They’re responsible for terrorizing Ella?”
“I think so. Cartwright will question them about the murders and the other missing women.” Leo drew her into his arms, freezing when he heard her faint cry. “I didn’t ask you how you were. Hades, I’m sorry, Jocelyn.” He carefully turned her face to the light, swearing when he saw the slight swelling and the bruises. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Susan thinks you did it.”
“The devil she does.”
“Believe me. She thinks much worse. She still thinks you’re guilty of murder and that I’ve been having an affair behind your back. It might be a good idea for her to find us both in here tomorrow morning,” Jocelyn said with a teasing smile. She sobered when her thoughts returned to Boynton. “I’m happy here at Merrivale with you, Leo. I’m happier than I ever thought I would be, given my past. Tell me you don’t regret our marriage.”
“Of course not.” Leo lifted her ca
refully into his arms and placed her on the bed. He rapidly stripped the rest of his clothes and joined her, pulling the covers over them.
She settled against him, savoring his warmth and the weight of his arms around her. His breathing settled into sleep, and she smiled in satisfaction until she replayed the last minutes of their conversation. Leo hadn’t returned her sentiments.
Leo stalked from Merrivale, a swagger in his step. His limbs were loose and limber, a sense of wellbeing pervading him. There was something to be said for an ex-courtesan as a wife. Jocelyn never hesitated in her loving, and the memories of her mouth stretched around his cock would bring a smile for the rest of the day. Susan’s dismay at his presence made his good humor fade. It would take time for everyone to trust him, but soon word would circulate about Cartwright’s latest arrests. His name would be cleared.
Now it was time to deal with Hannah, and he wasn’t looking forward to the task.
He strode to the stables. Once in the saddle, he turned his horse for Hartscombe. It was time to confront Hannah and let her know his loyalties lay with Jocelyn.
After a gallop across the moors, he trotted up to the castle, handing his mount off to one of the stable lads. Fractious kicking and neighing from one of the stalls told him Hannah hadn’t visited the stables this morning. She was one of the few who could control the bay stallion. The butler showed him into the breakfast room where he found Hannah’s parents breaking their fast.
“Leo, what brings you for a visit?” Viscount Hartscombe waved at an empty chair, his weathered face wreathed in a smile. “Have a seat. Join us.”
Leo grimaced inwardly. They didn’t know, and he didn’t want to be the one to tell them. “I came to see Hannah.”
“Ah,” the viscountess said, her blue eyes bright in an unfashionably tan face. “I believe Alfred said she’d gone for a ride, perhaps to join Peregrine and our other guests.”
“Her horse was still in the stables.”
“She probably went out the side door and you missed her,” Viscount Hartscombe said. “Can we help with anything?”
“Not unless you’re involved with her scheming to upset my wife,” Leo said, watching Hannah’s parents closely for their reaction.
“Oh, dear,” the viscountess said. “I thought she was past her infatuation with you. What has she done now?”
“It doesn’t signify,” Leo said in a curt voice. “She won’t repeat the action after I’ve spoken with her.”
“Jaego’s appearance, I presume,” the viscountess said. “After all that has happened, I admit I was surprised to hear he’d received an invitation to visit the manor.”
“Have the charges against you been dropped?” Viscount Hartscombe asked.
“Yes. I believe Cartwright captured the real culprits last night.”
“Oh? We hadn’t heard, but what a relief,” the viscountess said. “The maids have been quite silly about the situation.”
Leo gave a curt nod. Silly? Several women had died. “If Hannah returns please let her know I wish to speak with her.” After another strained smile, he strode from the breakfast room. He’d talk to the stable lads. Hopefully they’d give him an indication of where to find Hannah.
Hannah’s horse was gone when he arrived, even though she must’ve seen his mount and known he was looking for her. Avoiding him. Too bad. He intended to settle this matter between them today. Hannah’s behavior wasn’t fair to Jocelyn. It was no wonder he’d caught Jocelyn studying him with uncertainty. She might think he hadn’t observed her fear and her struggle to contain it, but he noticed everything about Jocelyn. His wife delighted him, and he’d do anything to make her happy.
As he’d hoped, the stable lads pointed him in the direction Hannah had ridden. He headed onto the moor, past piles of rocks that looked like stacks of building blocks. Normally, he loved riding in the moors, but today all he wanted was to see Hannah and make sure she knew not to upset Jocelyn again. If that meant barring her from the manor and refusing to let her see Cassie then he’d do it. Jocelyn meant that much to him and he wouldn’t see her upset any further.
After half an hour he finally spotted Hannah galloping alongside the river. He guided his horse in the same direction, intending to intercept her. To his frustration, Hannah didn’t slacken pace.
Unwilling to risk his black, he slowed to a trot. “She’ll break her bloody neck before I get a chance to do it for her,” he muttered. By Hades, the woman was a menace. He didn’t intend to chase her all over Dartmoor. Leo swung his horse back toward Merrivale, only slowing when he heard the thunder of hooves behind him.
“Leo, you didn’t take up my challenge.” Hannah pouted, her fair hair tousled from her mad gallop, her cheeks rosy and eyes bright with excitement. She was a beautiful woman, but not for him.
“I’m not willing to break my neck in a stupid race.”
“Pooh, you never used to be so straight-laced.”
“I have responsibilities.”
Some of her gaiety faded, her mouth crimping into a line. “You shouldn’t have married her. She’s a whore.”
His mouth tightened. “She’s my wife.”
“I bet you didn’t know she earned her living lying on her back.”
“Jocelyn is my wife. If you insist on spreading vicious rumors about her, you won’t be welcome at Merrivale Manor.”
“Bah! Shouldn’t you be worried about her past soiling your good name? Cassie’s good name? Even Peregrine and I will be sullied by the gossip.”
Leo glared at his sister-in-law. “It’s your prerogative to feel that way, but Jocelyn is my wife, and I intend to stand by her. I won’t tolerate your mischief. I know you invited Boynton and Jaego to the festivities with the sole purpose of causing trouble.” He spurred his horse into a canter and rode off without another word.
Jocelyn wandered the garden with Tilly, a basket dangling over her arm. “I’d like to make some of the healing ointment. It seems to help with the pain of my bruises. Do you know the salve I mean?”
“I watched Elizabeth make it many times. We’ll need at least three handfuls of willow bark. Mrs. Green told Elizabeth there are several willows growing on the riverbank. Do you feel up to a walk?”
A pang went through Jocelyn at the mention of her mother. Guilt settled uneasily on her shoulders. Boynton had killed her mother because of Jocelyn. “Of course I can walk. It’s when I stop that the aches become worse.”
“I’d feel better if you rested and ate something before we went. I promised Mr. Leo I’d look after you. You must consider your babe.”
Warmth rippled through Jocelyn. She hadn’t realized Leo had made a special point to ensure her care and the considerate nature of his request made her wish for his presence now. Her husband had given her much. Subconsciously, she caressed her belly, her lips twitching when she realized what she was doing. It had become a habit to soothe her when she was troubled or vexed.
“Very well, Tilly. I’ll humor you and rest. We’ll go for a walk this afternoon.”
Several hours later she and Tilly left the garden via a small gate near the fruit orchard. Tiny brown birds flitted through the trees, and she caught a flash of movement to her right.
“Ooh, look. It’s a rabbit,” she said, pausing to watch the creature hop into the hedgerow. “How adorable.”
“They’re better in a pie,” Tilly said. “The gardeners are always trying to trap them. You should hear them complain about the beasties eating their vegetables.”
Jocelyn started walking again, wondering if she should summon a footman to accompany them. No, it should be all right. Leo had said they’d captured those responsible for the murders. “Did everyone enjoy the Harvest Festival?”
“Oh, yes. I think they’ll be talking about it for weeks to come. In the past, the staff wasn’t allowed to attend. They were expected to organize food for the guests, so they were very excited when you made sure they could participate.”
“Everyone worked hard with the pr
eparations. It was only right they enjoy the festivities with everyone else.”
Tilly slipped her a sideward glance. “From what I understand the staff was worried Mr. Leo would marry Hannah.”
“They were slow to warm to me,” Jocelyn remarked. “I thought they preferred Hannah. She’s very beautiful.”
“That one trades on her beauty and expects everyone to jump at her demands.” Tilly wrinkled her nose. “She isn’t beautiful inside. They say she has a temper.”
Jocelyn had seen Hannah in a sulky mood and sometimes a little snappish, but she’d never seen her lose control. “Maybe she’s learned to rein in her rage.”
“Maybe.” Tilly didn’t sound certain.
“We shouldn’t gossip,” Jocelyn said. “Are we taking this fork in the path?”
“No, the next one leads directly to the riverbank.”
“I thought they said it rained a lot in Dartmoor.” The path narrowed, and Tilly slowed to walk behind her.
“I expect the winter will be cold.”
“Oh, curse it.” Jocelyn slowed to untangle her skirts from a protruding branch. “The path is very overgrown. I didn’t think it would be such an obstacle course.”
“I don’t think anyone comes here much. Mrs. Green mentioned the locals think this particular spot is haunted after the first Mrs. Sherbourne died in the vicinity.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Jocelyn said. “All the ghosts I’ve heard of recently have turned out to be human.”
“You keep thinking that,” Tilly said. “And if a ghost attacks you can beat them away with a stout stick.”
“Tilly,” Jocelyn remonstrated. “You sound as if you believe in ghosts.”
“I don’t disbelieve,” Tilly said.
Jocelyn laughed. “Next you’ll be telling me the tales of fairies and evil pixies, black dogs and evil witches roaming Dartmoor are true.”
“The locals believe the tales.”
“Yes, they do.” A shiver drew a rash of goose bumps to her arms and legs. “We should talk about something more cheerful,” she said.
“How are your aches and pains?”
Mistress of Merrivale Page 26