Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy (19 page)

His Lordship said readily, “Some day I would enjoy showing you about the Capital.”

Mercy sighed deeply. It was a delightful dream: She would walk arm-in-arm with Viscount Lexford along Bond Street, and heads would turn to see such a handsome couple.

He had slowed the horse to a walk and had adjusted his hold to bring her more securely into his embrace. Mercy completely enjoyed the feel of His Lordship’s body along hers. It was a thoroughly naughty thought, but Mercy could not remove the smile from her lips. From deep in his chest, Lord Lexford sighed in what she assumed was resignation. “At one time, I had thought to court Cashémere Aldridge for my own, but the lady preferred the Earl of Berwick.”

Mercy had seen Miss Cashémere once when they were both young girls in the schoolroom. Cashémere Aldridge had gorgeous black hair and emerald green eyes. Mercy considered her sister’s connection to the Aldridge family and forcibly swallowed the desire to comment on her knowledge of Miss Cashémere. “Although I am certain it was awkward at first, you demonstrated true friendship in stepping aside,” she reasoned.

“Berwick is the one with whom I have shared the most experiences, and I could never separate him from the woman he so plainly loves.” The viscount maneuvered the gelding across a footbridge. “I had thought I had wooed Miss Cashémere, but, in reality, I had known Miss Satiné. They are twins and are two of a kind.”

Mercy thought glumly,
Another woman of dark hair
.

“Miss Satiné has gone abroad with her guardian Baron Ashton. I doubt she will return to England any time soon. Their older sister has married the Duke of Thornhill. The Duchess resembles her sisters in color and height. The lady’s name is Velvet, and she is as fine to look upon as the fabric of her namesake.”

Mercy’s misery increased. She had seen renderings of the late Lady Lexford. Susan Kimbolt had been dark of hair and slender in her stature.

“The Marquis of Godown married his love the week before I returned to Lexington Arms. I cannot say I would have thought the new marquise would have made a fine showing, but Godown had the right of it. The marquis’s bride showed her fair countenance at their wedding.”

“And the lady’s looks?” Mercy asked softly.

“Hair of brown with golden tints.” He turned in at the gatehouse. “And then there is Viscountess Worthing. It was with the Worthings I shared my time before returning to Lexington Arms. It is the viscountess I admire above the others.”

“Is Lady Worthing of the same nature as the others?” Mercy asked morosely. How could Lord Lexford truly find her beautiful if every woman His Lordship admired was dark of head?

“Oh, no,” Lord Lexford said wistfully. “Lady Worthing is tall and lithe of figure. Well, not so lithe at the moment as the viscountess is enceinte. The former Lady Eleanor Fowler has reddish golden hair and pale blue eyes.”

Mercy raised her head to study his countenance. “And of all these women, it is Lady Worthing you hold in deepest affection?”

The viscount laughed ironically. “I have cursed myself on more than one occasion for not having traveled to London for last Season. Perhaps if I had, it would be I who would be welcoming a child in a few short days.”

Mercy felt the pang of regret. If only Lord Lexford looked upon her with the same admiration as he did Lady Eleanor Kerrington, perhaps Mercy could convince Lord Lexford her lie had been nothing but a ploy to save face, and the gentleman would forgive her. As it was, His Lordship had loved Susan Kimbolt and had deeply admired Lady Worthing. She had nothing to offer him. Both women had never kept secrets, which could ruin them.
At least, Lady Worthing is fair of head
, she acknowledged with a bit of jealousy.

*

“And you discovered nothing beyond this piece of shrapnel?” he asked Hill as they shared a brandy in Aidan’s private study.

“Boot prints where the dampness remains beneath the trees, but the path leads to the main road to the village. Any number of people could have crossed that particular stretch of land,” Hill shared.

“It was not an accident,” Aidan declared.

Hill nodded his head in agreement. “But why would someone make Miss Purefoy a target? And how would our shooter know the lady was alone?”

Aidan hissed, “Could it have been a warning shot? A means to say the woman had not escaped her enemies?” His gaze demanded Hill maintained eye contact. “Speak to me of the truth. Do you have knowledge of Miss Purefoy’s past, which you have not previously disclosed?”

His man shook his head in denial. “Nothing, my Lord.”

Aidan studied Hill carefully. He could not abandon the idea Hill hid an important fact, but pressing his friend would prove futile. When Hill chose to confide in him, Aidan would know the secret and not before. “We should place some of the men as guards about the estate.”

“I will see to it.” Hill paused. “How fares Miss Purefoy?”

“Mr. Jamison says the lady will heal quickly. Miss Purefoy claims only her pride to be bruised.”

“I am glad of it,” Hill said earnestly. “By the way, the mare has returned to the stall.” Hill’s expression became one of concern. “Deland is most distraught, my Lord. The groom cannot understand what occurred. Deland swears he added extra padding to fit the mare’s back, but when he removed Miss Purefoy’s saddle, the horse’s back sported saddle galls.”

Aidan asked, “Do you believe him or do you think Deland makes excuses for ill work?”

Hill sat forward to press his point. “Of all the grooms, I have found Deland the most diligent. He genuinely grieves for Miss Purefoy’s injury. If the lady had simply known difficulty with her horse, I might rest the blame on Deland’s oversight; however, when one combines the saddle being under padded with the attack upon the lady, I tend to believe the groom. Perhaps, the lady’s attacker called at the stables before making his presence known in the open.”

Silence filled the space between them for several seconds. “Your conclusion is a sound one.” Aidan’s heart slammed against his ribcage. Adamantly, he said, “I will not have Miss Purefoy know of your suspicions. Neither will I permit another to harm her.”

*

Aidan had appeared at Miss Purefoy’s chamber door early the next morning. He had missed her at breakfast and had wanted to assure himself of her progress.

“My Lord,” she said on a gasp when the maid admitted him into her quarters. “You honor me.”

She appeared a bit rumpled, and Aidan thought her deliciously attractive. “I required the assurance of your recovery, my Dear.” He remained close to the door. “I thought perhaps you might wish to spend time in the library. I know I am not the best of patients, and I assumed you of the same nature.”

Miss Purefoy shoved herself to a seated position. Although she kept the blankets close, Aidan noticed the prominent bandage at the edge of her gown’s neckline. The bullet had grazed the lady’s shoulder blade. “Might we set the servants to the task of reorganizing the library? It would do me well to be of service during my convalescence. Besides, later today you have another interview for Master Aaron’s nurse, and I would not wish to take you away from your duties.”

Aidan smiled at how her mind worked. The woman was always planning and organizing. “I will speak to Mrs. Babcock immediately and return for you in half an hour. I will not have you attempt the stairs alone.”

“It is not…”

“Necessary,” Aidan finished her protest. “You forget, my Dear, I am the master of this house,” he said teasingly. “And I choose what is necessary.” He presented Miss Purefoy a quick bow before reaching for the door latch. “By the way, your boot survived your mishap.” He placed the footwear on a nearby table. “Deland returned it to Mr. Hill.” Smiling at her, Aidan said, “Be about it, my Dear. I mean to see you well quickly. I find I do not care to dine alone.”

*

He had physically carried her through Lexington Arms’ passageways to rest upon a chaise in the library, not because one of the footmen could not have done the job equally as well, but because Aidan enjoyed having Miss Purefoy close. “We are all at your beck and call,” he announced to the room. Mrs. Babcock had objected to his interruption of what the woman termed the staff’s “routine duties,” but Aidan had reminded the estate’s long time housekeeper that “his” wishes would prevail. It was essentially what he had said to Miss Purefoy, but not with the same tone or intent.

Miss Purefoy’s smile widened, and Aidan could have sworn sunlight flooded the room. He was very much attached to this woman’s charms. “I think it best if we remove every book and thoroughly clean each shelf. We should dust the books, as well, and examine them for loose bindings. Those found in need of repair should be set aside until those repairs are completed. Books are too precious not to be treated without respect.” Her excitement grew and so did Aidan’s. “What say you, my Lord? Shall we organize the books by titles or authors?”

“Authors,” Aidan announced. He enjoyed the way Miss Purefoy always deferred to his position.

“Then authors it is,” the lady agreed.

Aidan took over from there. “From what I have observed this job is not as daunting as it first appears. The majority of the books are already arranged alphabetically by author. We will each take a section and first remove the books, which do not belong. Then we will place those ‘lost’ books on the shelf where they should be alphabetically. Afterwards, we will clean and organize each shelf.”

“We?” Mrs. Babcock said skeptically.

“We,” Aidan asserted. He removed his jacket and handed it to Miss Purefoy. “I have never been one to object to a bit of dust upon my hands.” To Miss Purefoy, he said, “You, my Dear, are to design other improvements we might make in this room.” He retrieved paper and artist pencils so his sister could make sketches and notes, an activity he had observed her doing when the household carried out her instructions for the nursery. She was obviously a “list” person.

Mrs. Babcock’s countenance spoke of the woman’s disdain. “This room has been a showcase for the past half century. The late viscount would be most displeased.”

Aidan said incredulously, “You forget yourself, Madam. Arlen Kimbolt is no longer the master of this household. I am Viscount Lexford.”

The housekeeper dropped her eyes in a subservient manner, but Aidan was not fooled by the action. “I apologize, my Lord.”

“As this was my mother’s favorite room, it will be restored to its former glory and as my cousin sees fit.” He suggested judiciously, “Perhaps you should see to rearranging the duties of the others while we begin our work in here.”

With a poorly disguised glare in Miss Purefoy’s direction, Mrs. Babcock made her curtsies.

“Odd,” Aidan said under his breath.

Miss Purefoy paused to collect her composure before leaning forward to speak privately. “Perhaps not so odd. Likely, you have not taken notice previously.”

*

Aidan had left the women to their cleaning, but Miss Purefoy’s words clung to him like a winter cloak. Had his distress upon being forced to return to Lexington Arms blinded him to the real goings on under his roof? Had he refused to take notice of what had become of his family’s title? Grudgingly, he waited for Mr. Payne to show in the scheduled candidate for a nurse for Aaron. He would have preferred to remain in the library with Miss Purefoy. The woman had made a game of finding various volumes, and the maids had scrambled to do her bidding. It was intoxicatingly lively wherever she was, and Aidan ached for what the lady brought to his household. Now, if he could simply resolve his growing desire for her, Aidan would find some peace at last.

At a rap on the door, Aidan looked up as Payne escorted a freckled faced girl of possibly twenty years into the room. “My Lord, this is Miss Hanson. She is Mrs. Osborne’s niece, Sir.”

Miss Purefoy had convinced Aidan to allow the girl an interview. Reportedly, his cook had pleaded with his sister to intervene in Miss Hanson’s behalf, and, as usual, Aidan had agreed with Miss Purefoy’s suggestion. He chuckled at his own domestication. “Thank you, Mr. Payne. Would you ask Miss Chadwick to bring in Master Aaron?”

“Immediately, Sir.”

Aidan rose and gestured to a nearby chair. “Please, Miss Hanson.” He waited for the girl to seat herself on the edge of the cushion before he continued. “I am to understand you are Mrs. Osborne’s niece.”

“Yes, Sir. The late Mr. Osborne and my mother were brother and sister.” The girl’s lips trembled, but her voice was strong. At least, he had not intimidated the girl completely.

“And what of your qualifications, Miss Hanson? How might I judge you as competent to tend my nephew?” Aidan sat across from her.

The girl shot a quick glance about the room and sighed in admiration. “I…I have four younger brothers and sisters, and last year I served Mr. Shankler after his wife passed in child birth. The gentleman kept Mrs. Titus as the wet nurse when he decided to return to Edinburgh, but I held no desire to leave Cheshire, Sir.”

A light tap announced the arrival of Miss Chadwick and the child. “Wunkle Waden,” the boy squealed as he scampered to meet Aidan’s open embrace. It still amazed Aidan how quickly the child had wormed his way into Aidan’s heart. He caught the boy’s shoulders and turned him to where Miss Hanson looked on. “This is Miss Hanson.” He balanced Aaron upon his knee. The boy’s eyes widened, but he did not shy away. “Miss Hanson has asked permission to escort you on a walk about the grounds.”