Engaging the Enemy (25 page)

“Regardless, what did she say about him.” Leopold crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“That he was trouble, whatever that means. She calls half the lads around here trouble, me included.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Leopold grinned. “You are trouble, Eamon. She is correct about that.”

Eamon laughed. “Too right, too right. She said he frightened her near to death. Terrible visage.”

“So, not a handsome man? A brute?”

“She didn’t say he was big or nothing.” Eamon scratched his jaw. “An ape. That was her exact words.”

Leopold frowned. This lead could amount to nothing and it didn’t fit with the man he had seen in the grounds last night. Although at something of a distance, he’d not describe the intruder as ape-like. “Anything else?”

“Nope.” Eamon looked about him curiously. His gaze skimmed over the table where three weapons lay concealed beneath a cloth, he took in the rest of the chamber, and then settled his gaze again on the concealed weapons. “What’s under there?”

As a younger man, Eamon had been a fairly good shot. With those weapons, the duke’s finest, he had a decent chance of hitting any target he chose to aim for. Leopold moved toward the table and set his fingertips on the cloth. “Do you remember playing spies as a boy? You always wanted to defend the king, if I remember correctly.”

Eamon laughed. “Toby always got his way and I had no choice but to be a villain.”

“Well, Tobias isn’t here and I control the game now.” Leopold uncovered the guns. “How would feel about defending a duke instead of a King?”

Eamon gaped.

Leopold handed over a weapon. “The boy’s life is in danger and he has only us to protect him. Are you willing?”

Eamon took the weapon from him and tested the weight. “Thought you’d never ask.”

It was now Leopold’s turn to gape. “What exactly do you know?”

“That the duchess is terrified. The whole village knows of her situation and, despite the danger, are ever so glad you’re back. Can’t understand why she’s still here but we’ll catch the bastard. You just wait and see.” Eamon winked. “I moved some friends onto the grounds when I got your note. I took that as your permission. They’ll advance on the abbey as night falls and take up positions around the place wherever I tell them. We’ll keep you safe and snug here.”

Leopold frowned. “I’ll be outside with you in the grounds.”

Eamon shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. After all, you’re next in line for the title. You’ll need our protection, too.”

~ * ~

Patience had never been Mercy’s strong suit. She paced the chamber while her son napped and couldn’t control her anxiety, counting her steps as she crossed the room. Twenty three wide, sixteen across. She frowned and turned around. Counting again, she retraced her steps.

Where was Leopold, and what perils was he facing?

Worry gnawed her insides. Her troubles had placed him in danger. The whole duchy’s future was in jeopardy if Leopold and Edwin fell victim to this unknown madman. She shivered and rubbed her arms. The estate would fall to the crown and she would be cast out unless the king allowed an unprecedented change to the succession. She doubted that would happen.

She stopped at a sudden thought. If Leopold’s siblings were found, there was still a chance for the estate to remain with the Randall’s. She may only have married into the family, but she was uncommonly fond of the ones she knew. Strange Randall’s would be better than seeing the great family fall.

“What are you plotting now, Your Grace?”

She looked up at the interruption. “Blythe, thank goodness you came back! I was beginning to worry about you.”

“I told Mr. Randall last night I was perfectly safe.” A frown grew across Blythe’s brow. “But I do appreciate his concern for you and the duke. As such, I packed a few things and will stay here until the danger has passed.”

Mercy embraced her sister tightly. That Blythe had changed her mind and would remain here relieved Mercy beyond belief. Now she had only one soul to worry about outside the abbey walls.

Blythe’s embrace grew stronger and then her arms fell away. “You look tired.”

“It’s been a stressful morning. Can you stay with Edwin for awhile?”

“Of course. But what is going on? Your butler was behaving very strangely. He questioned me about the servants I brought to the abbey. He even demanded their names.”

Mercy clutched her sister’s hands. “Leopold saw a stranger outside the abbey last night. He is convinced it is the person threatening us.”

Blythe cried out softly. “You are not thinking of going outside are you? You must stay close to Edwin.”

“No. I will stay inside the abbey, but the waiting is driving me to the brink of madness. To distract myself, I want to continue searching for clues about Leopold’s siblings. If the worst comes to pass, the estate may very well need them.”

“Surely it won’t come to that. But I understand your thinking. If not for my husband having a son from his first marriage, that estate would have fallen to the worst side of that family.” Blythe nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on Edwin where he slept. “I will guard him with my last breath.”

Blythe was always a touch too dramatic. Mercy threw her arms around her sister. “I’m sure it won’t come to that but thank you.”

She turned around and approached the wall containing the only entrance to the duke’s real study—a narrow space connected to three main chambers: drawing room, dining room, and study. The one place she had not searched already but the place she really should have checked first when Leopold had told her of his lost siblings.

Mercy slid her fingers over the rose carvings and set her fingertips apart on the wood. She pushed each petal evenly until the wall issued a clicking noise.

Perhaps she should be ashamed that she had not shown Leopold this chamber, but if the answers he needed were found before she had convinced him to remain, he would have gone too quickly for her comfort. The chamber was not marked on any architectural plan for the abbey that she had ever seen, and she had no idea how long ago it was constructed. It was very likely that Leopold had no knowledge of the chamber. She would tell him when the time was right.

Blythe handed her a lit candle. “I do not like it much in there.”

Mercy pushed the candle away. “I don’t particularly care for the confines either, but it is our best chance for success. I’ll return as soon as I discover something. If you need me, knock on the wall. The sound will travel to me easily enough and I will return to you.”

Blythe nodded as Mercy closed the door softly. She turned as her eyes adjusted to the muted light and then moved into the room, keeping her steps slow and her breathing shallow against the dust that rose up to fill her nose. She only came here when she absolutely had to, and it was only by accident that she had spied the old duke disappearing into the space at all. When he and her husband had passed away, Mercy and Blythe had explored the chamber. Blythe was always anxious to leave the tiny, windowless space, preferring to wait at the door to ensure they could always get out.

Mercy moved to the left wall and to the peep hole that looked into the study. She stretched up on to her toes and peered inside. Leopold stood with his back to her, bent over a large map. The estate? She couldn’t tell from this distance and she shifted slightly to look beyond him when she saw another shape. What was Eamon Murphy, the biggest gossip known to mankind, doing here with Leopold?

She ducked from view as both men lifted their heads suddenly and looked around.

Spying was an unsavory habit. But for the time being it was best not to distract Leopold with thoughts of his other concerns. If she found the answers he needed, then she would tell him as soon as the danger passed. She just hoped he would not disappear immediately after that.

Most of the light illuminating the chamber drifted in from diamond shaped holes cut behind three mirrors in the adjoining rooms. Those large and heavy mirrors had never been taken down and could only be cleaned in situ. A cunning design, indeed. Not one servant to her knowledge, not even Wilcox, had ever mentioned the irregularity or the odd dimensions of the adjoining chambers.

She sat down on a leather upholstered chair. In his day, the old duke had dabbled in many things; investments, successions in other duchies, and matters likely addressed in parliament. But there had been nothing she had read so far that hinted at the whereabouts of any Randall relations. But then she reasoned, their disappearance had been many years ago.

She scanned the spines on the book shelves above her head. There were dozens of volumes, some marked with the numbers on the spine. She took down the first one and opened it to a random page. The hand writing was bold, strong, and undoubtedly belonged to her late father-in-law. But the writing was not in exact English. Why ever had he written them in an addled code?

She grabbed another and flicked through the pages, squinting in the hopes of making sense from the squiggles. She spied a date that seemed familiar and as she followed the lines of characters down the page she thought she saw a pattern. The dates advanced at odd intervals, matched with more indecipherable squiggles. She flipped the pages. There were pages of notations, all leading up to a year ago when her husband had died. The final line—September, 1812 - Gone to God, was written in a different hand.

She looked at the date again and her hands shook. Her father-in-law had been dead six months when Edwin had died and could not have possibly recorded it. She glanced around nervously, half expecting someone to emerge from the shadows to catch her snooping in here. Someone aside from herself and Blythe knew about the room and its contents.

Although her heart hammered, she slid her finger over the page until she found Edwin’s date of birth, the date the stranger came to her bed, and the date of her marriage. However, there were so many notations in between that she wondered what on earth her husband had been doing with his days that the duke felt the need to mark them down.

Her husband had been an unexcitable man, or so she thought. This couldn’t be all about him.

She pulled down the next journal, marked with the number three, and on a whim, flicked the pages until she reached the end. The last entry had been made yesterday in the same unfamiliar handwriting as the first book. It simply said; home. Was this book about Leopold?

After a quick glance through the pages, it seemed very likely. The book contained many notations of money and foreign sounding names that twisted her tongue. Heart in her throat, she rechecked the dates carefully. There were four around the time her stranger had come to share her bed, evenly spaced around that heavenly night.

What to do? She had only her suspicions, but she was certain these journals could contain important keys to finding what Leopold sought. She couldn’t resist digging further, but puzzles were not her specialty. However, Blythe was good with puzzles and games. But could Mercy risk exposing her suspicions to a sister who thought her on the brink of scandal every other minute? She might discover she was right if she cracked the code and uncovered Edwin’s parentage.

Mercy pressed her head into her hand. She was so tired of keeping the secret from her sister. She would take the risk of showing her the journals and if she uncovered the secret herself, she would confess to the possibility. If she did not, Mercy would tell Blythe herself once the danger had passed. Mind made up, she closed the journal, gathered the first three in her arms and returned to the drawing room.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Darkness cloaked Romsey Abbey in sinister shadows, reminding Leopold of all the nightmares he’d endured while away from England. Visions where Rosemary pressed against the glass of an upper bedchamber window, calling for him to come save her from the old duke’s clutches teased at his mind. During the dream, he’d not been able to storm the abbey and save his sister. He’d been trapped outside and alone while the old duke hovered, watching like a specter.

Leopold had thought that dreams of his sister in danger where the worst of his imagination could conjure up on a wind tossed night. Not so, however. His mind now imagined up the worst terrors for his son. Edwin, too young and even more defenseless than Rosemary had ever been, faced an unknown threat that he wasn’t sure he could protect him from. In the past, he’d been assured that his siblings were safe from harm, so long as he obeyed. The duke had given his word, and a Randall never went back on that.

This threat coming toward Edwin made no sense. Who the devil would want to harm a child or Mercy? The threat must be from some trouble of the old duke’s making. And he had made sure Leopold would stick around to clean up the mess should he ever come here again. Leopold ground his teeth as anger ripped through him. God, what a mistake he had made five years ago.

He’d given the old man control of his life even from his grave.

Leopold eased closer to the rough timber door and peered out at the kitchen garden. All was quiet and still, and from his vantage point, hidden in a garden shed out of sight, he gazed longingly at the windows where Mercy and Edwin should be resting for the night. He’d love to return to them and take them in his arms. He’d stand between them and danger until his last breath left him. Why couldn’t the Randall’s live peaceably for once in his life? Why must there always be contention and strife? He delighted at watching Edwin play his games. He’d like to have the chance to grow old watching them.