Engaging the Enemy Read online

  Mercy swallowed, hurt that he would speak formally with her again after they had been so close just last night. “No, I keep them upstairs in my bedchamber under lock and key. I didn’t want the servants to stumble over them.”

  He nodded and then tugged the bell to summon her butler. Mercy cast a quick glance at Edwin. Her son’s dark head was bent over the page; oblivious to what happened around him for now. Leopold had chosen well to give him paper. The boy loved nothing better than to sketch whatever came to hand.

  Mercy jumped as a knock sounded on the door.

  “Come,” Leopold called, withdrawing his weapon and tucking it against his thigh, out of sight but at the ready.

  The door creaked ominously as Wilcox entered. “I’ll have that seen to immediately, Your Grace. You called?”

  “I called for you,” Leopold corrected. “Don’t fix the door, just close it behind you. The creak may come in handy later. Come in.”

  Wilcox hurried forward, but stopped when he noticed the weapon in Leopold’s hand. His expression grew grim. “What has happened?”

  Leopold put the pistol away slowly, eyeing the butler with suspicion. “You don’t seem surprised to see me armed in the duke’s presence and you tried to warn me this morning by asking if I traveled with a weapon. I take it you are aware of Her Grace’s admirer.”

  “It is a sick form of admiration to torment a woman and a child this way.”

  Leopold frowned and held up the letter. “This reads like a love letter, Wilcox.”

  The butler glanced at her guiltily and she knew he would tell Leopold about the animal killings if she didn’t. Mercy drew a deep breath but kept her gaze on her hands. “There has been more to the treats than just letters, I’m afraid.”

  “How much more?” Leopold demanded.

  Wilcox cleared his throat to take over the telling. “The abbey has been penetrated. Gifts have been left in Her Grace’s private quarters.”

  “What kind of gifts?”

  “The most recent was a body of a rabbit, slaughtered on her bed and left to be found.”

  Leopold’s fast indrawn breath chilled Mercy. She risked a glance up at him and wished she hadn’t. His lips had drawn back from his teeth in a murderous snarl. He turned away, stalked toward her son and, after a brief conversation, managed to wrest the pencil from Edwin’s fingers. Then he picked Edwin up in his arms and tucked the boy against his chest. “Precautions must be taken. Come with me. Wilcox, there is a second pistol in that drawer behind you. Take it and remain close to Her Grace.”

  Mercy’s heart raced as Edwin wrapped his arms tighter about Leopold’s neck. Her boy must be scared if he would seek comfort from Leopold, a virtual stranger in his life. Mercy wished she might do the same, but she had to behave with some propriety in front of the servants. She stood, hoping her legs would hold and not buckle beneath her. “Where are we going?”

  Leopold’s head tilted to touch Edwin’s and he spoke quietly to her son. When Edwin relaxed, his gaze fixed on them. “Up. To your bedchamber first to retrieve those letters and then we will secure you both in more defensible rooms, somewhere you won’t be found so easily.”

  That sounded a sensible plan to Mercy so she nodded and followed them to the door. Wilcox lightly gripped her arm and steered them in Leopold’s wake. The fast trip up the stairs and to her chamber was conducted in tense silence.

  When the door of her bedchamber closed behind their backs, Leopold searched the room to ensure they were alone. He placed Edwin on the center of the bed, ruffling his hair as he stepped back. “The letters?” He thrust his large hand palm up in her direction.

  Mercy hurried for the writing desk and opened the drawer, fumbling with the correspondence in her haste. When Leopold’s hand settled on her shoulder and rubbed, she took a deep breath, calming from his touch and then handed them to him.

  Leopold brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “You’ve been frightened for a long time, haven’t you? That’s why you were wary when we first met, and why the boy has a servant with him even when he sleeps. Go and rest with him while I read these. I’ll be watching over you both.”

  “Thank you.”

  As she joined her son on the bed and began to play silly games with him, Wilcox crossed the room and spoke urgently with Leopold. Edwin touched her face and she turned to look into his sleepy eyes. She encouraged Edwin to lie down and rest and very soon he was asleep. But the men continued to talk and she closed her eyes and her ears to the sound of their discussion. Wilcox knew enough of what went on here and she trusted him to tell Leopold everything.

  She woke abruptly as Leopold closed the bedroom door behind Wilcox. His expression was grim as he approached. Mercy sat up to face him and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  Leopold stopped a few feet away, just out of her reach. “I wish you had told me sooner.”

  She wriggled to the edge of the bed. “I wanted to. I didn’t know you well enough and I didn’t want to scare you away by unburdening my fears on you. It is hardly a conversation to have upon a first meeting, is it?”

  “You didn’t trust me.” He nodded. “That was the correct thing to do. We must protect the boy, and you, at all costs.” At last, Leopold closed the distance between them. He pulled her into his embrace and she wrapped her arms about him. Safe. He smoothed his hands over her back, lulling her until her heart no longer beat with fear. “Well, you have your wish, Your Grace. After this discovery, I’ll not be leaving you and Edwin anytime soon.”

  Despite the reason, Mercy’s heart soared, but she was wise enough to hide her smile in the folds of Leopold’s waistcoat.

  ~ * ~

  Leopold forced himself to be calm, despite the fury coursing through him at this unknown threat to Mercy and Edwin. As he had hoped, Wilcox agreed with him that serious steps must be taken to protect Mercy and the young duke from harm. Although Wilcox’s suggestion that Mercy flee to London with Edwin had merit, they were safer here.

  He glanced at the sleeping child and fury built anew. He would not stand for anyone harming the boy. Not while he drew breath. Mercy’s fingers clutched at his waist and he bent to press a kiss to the top of her head to reassure her that all would be well.

  He wished Mercy had told him earlier.

  He wished she hadn’t let him care for her so much before she did.

  He untangled himself from her grip and tipped her face up to his. “You must gather the few personal items you’ll need for the night, things that won’t be noticed as missing immediately, and be ready to move to another chamber after dining tonight. As far as the servants will know, you slept here. But you, Edwin, and I will spend the night elsewhere. Neither of you will be alone during the day or go on jaunts outside the abbey walls alone. Is that understood?”

  The frown creasing Mercy’s face would have been comical under any other circumstances. She had clearly grown used to being in charge and having everyone defer to her wishes. He wondered how difficult she would become when he told her to stay away from even the windows.

  To his surprise, she nodded. “I won’t need much. I’ll need very little if you are with me.”

  He withdrew his hand from her face with regret. They couldn’t be intimate again, not with danger stalking them.

  Mercy captured his hands and pulled him into another embrace. “What I meant is that with you for company I’ll have you to speak with to occupy the quiet hours at night if I cannot sleep.” She drew back and glanced up at him. “How long do you think we’ll need to take precautions in our home? I should not like to hide forever.”

  Leopold cupped the side of her face, brushing his thumb along the soft skin of her cheek. “Until the danger has passed. But judging from the tone of those letters, and actions, we’ll not have long to wait. His writing has a pattern of growing zeal. Whoever he is, he’ll work himself up into a frenzy before striking at you direct.”

  “You think him mad?”

  Leopold nodded. The letters on their
own were disturbing enough without the brutal and callous killing of innocent creatures. Wilcox’s description of the discoveries had chilled him. No sane person behaved in such a way. “You don’t have to worry now. Whoever he is, we’ll be ready.”

  When the madman came after Mercy and Edwin, Leopold would be squarely in the way. He stepped back.

  Without prompting, she moved silently around the room, digging out a hairbrush and a handkerchief, and wrapped them in a shawl. She placed the bundle beneath her bed, out of sight, and turned to him. “Ready.”

  “Good. Now, I want you to behave as normally as possible. Wilcox will have taken the housekeeper’s keys by now and will search and secure the unused parts of the abbey. Although we have interviewed all the staff since my return and approve of them all, only a few will be taken into our confidence about the threats against you and the boy. Tonight, I would like you to dine with Edwin, as I understand you often do, and send his nurse away early. I’ll be listening from down the hall and will come for you both to take you to somewhere safer for the night.”

  Mercy advanced on him and ran her hands up his waistcoat. “Why not dine with us? Edwin would like that, I think. Perhaps you could persuade him to use better table manners.”

  Leopold couldn’t help the short burst of laughter that escaped him. He’d seen the boy’s careless manners at the picnic and had already guessed he might be a tad messy. “If he is anything like my younger siblings, that feat will take some years to accomplish. Tobias, in particular, showed exceedingly messy tendencies. I cannot join you. I must keep watch.”

  Mercy’s sad sigh touched his heart. “Let’s hope Tobias has grown out of those poor habits by the time we bring him home, otherwise it might not be safe to introduce him to my sister. Blythe takes order to extremes and will likely cause friction.”

  “Tobias will sink or swim when it comes to your family. I have no idea what kind of life he has been living, but I hope the duke kept his word and Tobias has enough gentlemanly qualities to appease Lady Venables and you.”

  “We will rub together well enough, I hope. If not, then Blythe could always offer your brother instruction in the social graces.”

  Egad! That sounded like a nightmare. “Few grown men like to be told what to do, Your Grace.”

  Mercy cuddled into him, “I was teasing you, Leopold. I’d never inflict my sister’s standards onto any man. But let’s worry about him when the time comes, shall we?”

  Mercy was correct; there was more than enough trouble in their lives to worry about now without imagining problems to come in the future. He shifted until he sat in a wing chair and pulled Mercy down onto his lap to simply hold her close. But as he pressed his lips to her brow, his future wavered and shifted, hinting at a future that terrified him utterly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  If anyone had told him a year ago that he would consider murdering anyone who dared threaten a duke or duchess of Romsey he would have laughed in their faces and told them to go to the devil. But today he had felt such fury that it was clear he’d had an absolute change of heart. The boy was innocent and deserved his protection. Mercy was . . .

  He couldn’t decide what she was to him. But the thought of her in danger was torture to his soul. There was no need to feel so possessive about her, yet he was utterly powerless to turn his thoughts away from her for long.

  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 expect a duchess to allow her 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. His promise to God.

  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 f
or 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 over their stomach, the other open and relaxed. 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.