Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy (23 page)

The viscount studied her countenance carefully, and Mercy realized her expression spoke the words she had purposely stifled. “Is there something other than a headache, which troubles you? I have never witnessed you so distraught. Has someone treated you unkindly?”

Despite her best efforts, the tears escaped. “Everyone at Lexington Arms has treated me well, my Lord. I have found family here,” she said through trembling lips.

“You are family.” He brushed loose curls from Mercy’s cheeks. “This house knows life because of you.”

Sorrow tugged at Mercy’s heart. She must never speak the truth of what she had discovered to this man. “You are the best Lexford this estate has ever seen.”
Far superior to your father
, Mercy thought. “Promise me you shall mark my praise as your personal motto, my Lord.” She peered deep into his expressive eyes.

Confusion crossed the viscount’s countenance, but he said, “I would promise you anything, Mary Purefoy.”

“Then heed my words: You must not permit anyone to prevent your happiness. You are the finest man I have ever known, and I would see you fulfilled.”

Their eyes met and held. His Lordship leaned forward slowly as if to kiss her. Mercy’s breath shallowed, but she stepped from his embrace. She could not permit herself to become more attached to this man. She pretended to return to her ablutions.

The viscount cleared his throat. “I am to meet with a gentleman regarding Master Aaron’s future, but I will not be long from the estate. If you require anything beyond your maid’s duties, please send for Mr. Hill.”

Mercy returned to her dressing table. “I shall rest, my Lord. Thank you for your concern.”

He bent to kiss the top of Mercy’s head, and she wished desperately to lift her chin and accept the viscount’s tenderness. “As you wish, my Dear.” With that, he left her alone, and Mercy grieved for what might have been.

*

He had thought to kiss her. Aidan frowned in displeasure before giving himself a good mental shake. It had all seemed so natural: He had held her in his arms, and Miss Purefoy had spoken of wishing his future happy. His mind and his body had agreed for a change; they both thought Mary Purefoy would be the remedy for the desolation, which had plagued him for years. Thankfully, the lady had recognized the folly of Aidan’s actions and had moved away before he could pull her deeper into his embrace. Before he could act upon his complete desire for her.

“An absolute fool,” he chastised as he reined in the horse before the solicitor’s home. “You have lost your previous good sense.” Mr. Taylor had agreed to locate a man of the law who could protect Aidan’s rights with his nephew. He also wished more information on what illness consumed Susan’s mother. From the servants’ gossip line, Aidan had discovered several examples of peculiar behavior since Susan’s passing. Earlier he had confided in Hill, “If necessary, I will use Sophia Rhodes’s illness to keep Susan’s parents at arm’s length. I will not permit my wife’s parents to ruin their grandson’s life in the manner in which they had destroyed the child’s mother. Despite my initial qualms, Aaron is a Kimbolt.”

“You wished to speak to me?” Mr. Hill asked. He had arrived within moments of Mercy’s sending for him. She suspected he had anticipated her message. After Lord Lexford’s departure, Mercy had taken her tea in her sitting room before sending for the viscount’s man.

“Please come in, Mr. Hill. I have something of import of which I require your discretion.”

A raised eyebrow and a twitch of his lips said she had piqued his interest. “Should I close the door?” He tilted his head to one side, studying her.

“By all means.” It was her turn to study him. Mercy gestured to a nearby chair. When he had settled, she took a deep steadying breath before beginning. In the hours following her reading of the diary, Mercy had decided to seek Mr. Hill’s advice on how best to be rid of the former viscountess’s words. “In our renovations of the Lady Cassandra’s suite, I have stumbled upon the viscountess’s personal diary.”

Hill sat forward. He eyed her squarely. “I assume you did not share Lady Cassandra’s writings with Lord Lexford?”

A completely outlandish flush of color rested upon Mercy’s cheeks. “I made the decision to read the viscountess’s diary before I turned it over to His Lordship. Viscount Lexford has suffered from his memory loss, and I feared something within might affect Lord Lexford’s recovery.”

Hill rested his forearms on his thighs. “And why would you think anything within his mother’s diary would damage Lord Lexford’s state of mind?”

Wondering how much to disclose, Mercy bit her bottom lip in hesitation. “His Lordship has shared several idyllic scenes from his childhood. Lord Lexford’s memories are so fragile I feared exposing the viscount to shadows from his past. No marriage is perfect, and I was certain after perusing a few of the passages that some of the information within could cloud the viscount’s understanding of what happened behind closed doors.”

“Has Lord Lexford said anything to lead you to believe things were not what he purports them to be?” Hill asked in concern.

Mercy shook her head in the negative. She wondered why she had ever agreed to betray such a handsomely disturbing gentleman. Lord Lexford had placed her already chaotic world in more turmoil; yet, Mercy would never regret her time with the man. “Call it female intuition. The current Lord Lexford does not hide his emotions well. If His Lordship was aware of what I have discovered, the news would torment him.”

Mr. Hill kept his expression purposely bland. “For a man trained in complicated charades by the best in the British government, when it comes to his own affairs, Lord Lexford wears his thoughts upon his sleeve.”

Mercy wondered if Mr. Hill could see what was happening between her and the viscount, or rather what she hoped deep in her heart was happening. “I meant only to read a few of the entries–to determine whether to share the book with His Lordship,” she explained.

Mr. Hill stated the obvious, “But you read more than a few.”

Mercy closed her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. “The whole book,” she confessed.

Hill scowled. “Is what you discovered within so dire as to have you pretend a sickness you do not possess? Lord Lexford sincerely worries on your behalf.”

Tears formed in Mercy’s eyes. She hated herself for yet another deception directed toward the viscount. “The entries are truly dreadful,” she said vehemently. Mercy retrieved the book from where she had hidden it among the pillows. “You must read some of the entries for yourself to determine if I speak the truth.” She placed the book in Mr. Hill’s outstretched hands. “I have marked the most important ones. The early entries speak of the late viscount’s lengthy courtship of the former Lady Cassandra Morrison.”

Mercy moved to stand over him. Mr. Hill opened the book to the entry, which had first set her tears flowing. “Read this one first.” She pointed to a passage and stepped away.

When he had finished, Hill said, “It is not uncommon among the aristocracy for a man’s mistress to know more of the gentleman than does his wife. The current Lord Lexford would not approve of his father’s actions, but this information would not be devastating. After all, His Lordship believes your birth resulted from such a relationship.”

Mercy paced the small space from the door to the settee. “Keep reading, Mr. Hill,” she insisted.

Hill flipped to the next page Mercy had marked with strips of foolscap torn into small squares. As he read, Mercy’s pace increased. She wrung her hands in anxiety. Finally, she sat awkwardly on the edge of the settee and carefully examined Mr. Hill’s countenance as the man skimmed one entry after another. His expression spoke of the horror Mercy had known the previous evening.

“That bastard,” Mr. Hill growled, and Mercy made no effort to chastise him. His words spoke to the indignation she had experienced on the viscount’s behalf. “Of all the twisted schemes,” he said incredulously.

“Do you now understand why we must never share these passages with Lord Lexford?” Mercy asked anxiously.

Mr. Hill frowned deeply. “Lord Lexford has a right to know what happened.”

Mercy pressed, “How shall such knowledge alter the viscount’s life for the good? There is nothing but more pain within these pages.”

Mr. Hill flipped through the book. “Where do the entries end?”

“Shortly after Lady Aylene became ill. Lady Cassandra does not write daily. It is as if the viscountess saved this book to record her greatest happiness and her deepest despair.” Mercy leaned into the cushions. “I ask your assistance in ridding this house of Lady Cassandra’s diary.”

Hill’s lips thinned into a tight line. “I am not certain we have the right to make that decision.”

“Yet, we must,” Mercy insisted. “I shall not permit Lord Lexford to know additional pain.”

*

Although Mr. Hill had promised he would see to disposing of Lady Cassandra’s diary, Mercy still spent countless nights lying awake considering Lord Lexford’s reaction if he discovered the truth. She looked upon certain members of the household with dismay. Her knowledge of the perfidy practiced by the late viscount’s most trusted members of his staff troubled her. The only peace she knew during those troubling weeks was the look of contentment upon His Lordship’s countenance. Lord Lexford had taken well to the changes she had made in his home, and that particular fact gave Mercy some solace.

“The family wing possesses an air of freshness,” Lord Lexford said as he seated her for supper. “I am most pleased.”

“Are you truly, my Lord?” Mercy had thought the changes perfect. Each room had known fresh paint and new fixtures. She had kept the maids busy with sewing new draperies and coverings for the chairs. Assuming she was still at Lexington Arms in the spring, she would set the staff to beating the Persian rugs.

The viscount smiled easily at her. “I am so pleased, I mean to host a small house party to permit my friends to observe my good fortune at having a talented sister. Plus, such a party will provide Miss Chadwick an introduction to Society families who will sing her praises. It is what we promised the lady in payment for her companionship and her expertise with both the boy and with the renovations.”

Mercy’s heart plummeted. “When…when would you place the date, my Lord?” She would leave before his friends arrived. It was one thing to foist a deception upon the viscount, but quite another to do so upon Lord Lexford’s dearest friends. She would not embarrass him by appearing at his side and pretending a familial relationship. Mercy would not play him a fool before those he counted as his intimates. Despite her qualms over the role she had played in Mr. Hill’s ruse, Mercy had grown to think of herself as an essential part of His Lordship’s recovery. For what she had accepted from Lord Lexford, Mercy had repaid in her devotion to his household.

“How long will it take to finish the guest rooms?” he asked casually.

Mercy swallowed her sorrow. She would name the date of her self-imposed expulsion from Lord Lexford’s life. “I cannot imagine the task could be accomplished…could be accomplished in less than six weeks,” she said in true distress.

His Lordship appeared deep in thought and did not notice her misery. “Six weeks. Then the first week of April. A pleasant time to travel.”

Mercy forced herself to ask, “How many guests would you ask to Lexington Arms?” She thought,
Please make it a large number. I cannot bear the thought of leaving you
. The more rooms to finish the longer Mercy could delay her departure.

“I had originally thought of only sharing the changes in the house with those I served on the Continent, but I hold no objection in your adding names to the guest list.”

Mercy’s heart raced. “Oh, no, my Lord. I have no one beyond these walls.”

His Lordship’s frown lines met. “We should take in part of the Season. You should develop your own acquaintances.”

Lord Lexford’s kindness brought tears to her eyes. He meant to treat her as his family. “When the spring comes, you should enjoy Society, my Lord, but as for me, I am content to remain behind with Master Aaron.” Before he could insist she accompany him to London, Mercy redirected the conversation. “Tell me who to expect.”

His Lordship’s smile widened. “Lord and Lady Worthing. Her Ladyship should be free to travel by April. I have heard from the viscount, and they have welcomed their daughter Amelia to Linton Park.”

“The nursery will have another resident. Aaron will be excited,” Mercy observed.

“I had not considered the nursery as part of the house’s renovation, but it the first room which knew your touch, is it not?” Lord Lexford said with good-natured enthusiasm. “I have never hosted a party where children must be accounted for.” His Lordship’s smile grew. “I believe I like the idea.” He sipped his wine. “I will be pleased to share the changes more suited for a child with the Kerringtons. They will hold a real appreciation of what you and Miss Chadwick have accomplished.”

“Who else, my Lord?” Mercy made mental notes of how many rooms and something of each guest. She would see His Lordship’s house immaculate. The task would be her personal “farewell” to the man.

“I am uncertain of the Duke and Duchess of Thornhill. The Duchess should be six or seven months with child by then.” He ticked off the others on his fingers. “The Earl and Countess of Berwick, Baron Swenton, and Sir Carter Lowery. I suppose I should also consider Sir Carter’s brother Lord Hellsman and his new bride.”

Mercy would love to have the acquaintance of the people who meant so much to him, but she was certain the Countess of Berwick would recognize her and spoil Mercy’s pretense. “With the opportunity to see his lady love again, Mr. Hill should be beside himself with anticipation,” she said softly. “But what of the marquis?”

Lord Lexford frowned. “Of course, I will extend an invitation to Lord Godown, but the last message from Viscount Worthing confirmed what we all expected: The marquis’s rushed wedding to a woman he suspected of practicing a deception has proven the lady’s true colors. Lord Godown has banished his bride to one of his minor estates.”

“Is there no room for a reconciliation?” Mercy asked in concern. Men of Lord Lexford’s ilk, evidently, were unforgiving. She did not understand how any man could drive his wife from his home. Surely, the marquis did not know the full circumstances. Despite what many men believed, artifice was not a ploy most women practice.

Lord Lexford said disdainfully, “The marquis has known several attacks of late, and all evidence has pointed to Lady Godown’s involvement.” Mercy had never heard the viscount speak with such bitterness. Had his own miserable marriage clouded Lord Lexford’s view of how best to embrace the difficulties of marriage? Mercy had witnessed her parents’ sometimes-loud rows, but she was certain Thomas and Louisa Nelson adored each other.

“Then why did Lord Godown marry the woman if he suspected her of deviousness?”

His Lordship’s mouth thinned to a wry smile. “The marquis had thought to hide his heart, but Lord Godown actually affects his wife. We can never know when love will present itself. Unfortunately, love can often cripple a man.”

Mercy’s heart clenched tightly in her chest. She held silly schoolgirl dreams of Lord Lexford’s forgiving her deception, and even perhaps falling a bit in love with her; but his words of finding love did not match his dreams of family contentment. Which did he truly believe? If given the opportunity, she would remain by His Lordship’s side forever. “I shall add the marquis and Lady Godown to my prayers. Perhaps God shall find a means to their happiness.”

*

It had happened when he had been least prepared to act. Weeks had passed since his last sighting of Susan’s “ghost,” so long, in fact, Aidan had begun to believe the apparition had been but a fragment of the fear he had experienced upon his return to Lexington Arms. If not for the shot, which had wounded Miss Purefoy and the attempted kidnapping of his nephew, Aidan would have pronounced the ghostly visions a remnant of his recent injury: His mind playing tricks upon his conscious thoughts.

For the second time in a month, he had spent a pleasant evening playing cards at Squire Holton’s modest home, but he was well aware of the lateness of the hour. Since the war’s end, the number of poor who had taken to the road as amateur highwaymen had increased significantly, and Aidan remained on alert.

He was on his own property, but still some distance from the main house when he heard a snap of a twig off to his right. Instantly, Aidan’s senses intensified. He slowed the horse to a halt and gently patted Valí’s neck to keep him calm. Aidan’s eyes searched the darkness for any movement.