Engaging the Enemy Read online

  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 came to pass 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 more 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 either. 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.”

  An impish grin crossed Colby’s face. “She wasn’t anything like I expected a duchess to be. Very anxious about your comfort, she was. Her Grace came up to your bedchamber herself and wanted to be sure you were squared away properly. For a moment there I was afraid she would supervise my unpacking.”

  Leopold pursed his lips, puzzled by Mercy’s inquisitiveness. “Are we? Squared away, that is?”

  “You are, sir. My quarters are on the floor above. I have a narrow chamber to myself with a view to the west gardens. Much better than our last quarters.”

  Leopold chuckled as he relaxed into the hard backed chair. “Was the view of the pig-sty from the Vulture windows unappealing?”

  Colby said nothing, but neither of them would miss the stench. “I’ve arranged for hot water to be sent up to your chambers in half an hour, sir. Her Grace was most insistent that you be given ample leisure this evening to prepare for dinner. I think she must be very lonely here, sir. The staff below stairs are all in a rush with preparations for tonight.”

  Leopold choked. Mercy couldn’t manage the estate, yet she fussed over his comfort and had arranged an unnecessarily extravagant dinner. Would an hour go by without her astonishing him? Leopold feared there wouldn’t be. But then he remembered she’d been raised to be the perfect hostess. Why else would the old duke have arranged the match for his son to such an impetuous woman?

  No matter how hard he tried, Leopold could not imagine cousin Edwin and Mercy married. Perhaps that woman in the painting fit the bill. But the woman he’d held in his arms this morning did not.

  He closed his mind to the past, shut the journal carefully, and dropped it into the open desk drawer. “I’ll come up now. No point continuing with anything at this hour.”

  “Very good, sir. Do you like it here in the abbey better than the palaces of India?”

  Colby kept up a steady chatter as Leopold followed him upstairs and along the corridor to the family wing. His servant’s curiosity about the abbey amused. Colby wanted to know who graced each painting, as if Leopold had a close connection with the contents of the house. He did know the details of some, simply because his father had pointed them out when they had visited. Leopold had committed those few to memory, but Romsey Abbey housed a great collection of art and furniture, dating back centuries. Only the old duke and his son would have known the stories of all.

  As he passed one closed door, he heard young Edwin squeal with joy. Leopold gritted his teeth and turned into the blue suite. He didn’t recognize anything in the chamber, but he knew the space well. The bed stood seven long paces from the door, and it squeaked.

  “The duchess was curious about your other possessions, sir. Shall I have them sent up from Portsmouth?”

  In the act of parting the drapes, Leopold turned. “No. I have no need of those items until we settle into our permanent accommodations.”

  Colby appeared ready to say more, but instead closed his mouth. It was clear the young man liked Romsey better than anywhere else they had traveled. But staying here brought too many complications for his peace of mind. He would find his family, organize things so Mercy and Edwin would be better prepared for the future, and then set up his own estate. Perhaps he could visit occasionally when time allowed. But those visits would be brief and far between.

  While Colby hurried from wardrobe to bed and back again, Leopold told himself his decision was still the correct thing to do. Right for him, right for her, most especially right for Edwin. The boy might never question his parentage if Leopold went away.

  The deep bath and relaxation of his quiet chambers were just what he needed. He hadn’t sat still behind a desk for that long in ages and his body ached from the strain. When he was clean, neat, and presentable, according to Colby’s strict standards, he followed a footman down to the drawing room.

  Mercy was already there waiting for him.

  For a brief, delicious moment, Leopold looked his fill. Tonight she had dressed in a simple pale green silk, cut low over her breasts with tiny slivers for sleeves. Leopold’s mouth watered with the urge to rip the gown apart with his teeth. Yet he managed to cross the room, bowed respectfully, and kept his hands at his sides by sheer force of will. Up close, the smooth swells of her breasts beckoned him to feast. He hastily lifted his gaze to her face.

  “I trust your day wasn’t too distressing, Leopold.”

  He glanced at the
footmen lining the walls, surreptitiously listening in to every word Mercy spoke. He hoped she wouldn’t set too many tongues wagging with her lack of formality in using his given name because once Eamon Murphy learned every word they’d spoken tonight, the gossip would pass around quicker than lightning. He could feel his ears burning even now. “You have good workers, Your Grace. You should be well pleased.”

  “Oh, I am.” Mercy set her hand to his sleeve, but then her fingers slid downward to squeeze his fingers. “I feel ill knowing I have continued my husband’s habit of paying them so poorly. You must raise their wages at once.”

  Her bare fingers tightened on his and he caught a servant gawking. He twisted his hand free and stepped back, putting a greater distance between them. “I was intending to speak to you about that tomorrow in private. How did you know about the low wages already?”

  Honestly, she should have raised them herself long ago if she’d known.

  Mercy shook her head. “I hope you will spare me from confessing to an unsavory habit, something totally unfitting for a duchess to do.”

  Her odd smile had him thinking hard until he guessed that she’d spent the afternoon secretly observing him. “You spied on me?”

  She nodded ever so slightly. A pink blush spread up her cheeks.

  Leopold couldn’t imagine a duchess with her eye to a keyhole, which meant that there may just be hidden nooks within the walls of Romsey Abbey, the old duke’s sanctuary, as his father had once claimed. At least that explained the odd sensations he’d experienced during the day. The hair on the back of his neck had stood up quite often. At the time, he’d imagined the old duke’s shade had been breathing down his neck, warning him to leave the abbey.

  Mercy smiled suddenly. “You need not bring every tedious matter to me. I trust you not to bankrupt the estate with every additional expense in order to make things run smoothly.”

  The waiting servant shuffled restlessly, no doubt curious about his response. “The estate belongs to the duke and, until he comes of age, his mother should make every last decision for him.”