Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy (30 page)

His Lordship’s breathing indicated his body meant to know sleep. Mercy settled along the length of him. When Lord Lexford finally accepted the exhaustion, which crept through his bones, she would return to her quarters, gather her belongings, and steal out into the night’s darkness. His fingertips sent heat up and down Mercy’s arms. “I know,” the viscount said sleepily, “Mary Purefoy is not your real name. Will you not trust me with your identity?”

Mercy had feared this moment from the day she had crossed Lord Lexford’s threshold. The letter she had left on her bureau addressed to him would explain everything, so she said, “It is a long complicated story, my Lord. We shall speak of it in detail upon the morrow.”

He kissed her forehead. “I will permit you your secrets for a few hours more, but know I mean to have the truth from you.”

*

Mercy had waited until His Lordship’s breathing had indicated the soundness of his sleep before she had pried herself from his grasp. Dressing quickly, she had exited his suite through Lord Lexford’s dressing room. She did not chance releasing the exterior door’s lock in fear of waking him. Before going to his room, she had arranged her gown and cloak and had packed her bag. Mercy had taken only the gowns she had brought with her from Lancashire–none of what the viscount had purchased for her, other than the music box. She had saved the coins Mr. Hill had given her, and Mercy meant to purchase passage to London.

“Running away?” a familiar male voice said as she slipped into the darkness of the kitchen’s garden.

Mercy spun around to find Lucifer Hill sitting upon a small bench. “My Goodness!” she gasped. “You gave me quite a fright.” Her hand fluttered at her throat.

“You did not answer my question,” Mr. Hill said stubbornly. “It is a regrettable habit, Miss Purefoy.”

Mercy’s shoulders shifted in defiance. “I am leaving; it is time, Mr. Hill.”

The man stood to tower over her, but Mercy held her ground. “Without a proper farewell to either me or His Lordship? Do we mean so little to you?”

Mercy glanced lovingly at the house behind her. “You know that is not true. I have seen His Lordship, and I have left a proper note for both you and him.”

“Yet, at this moment, Lord Lexford knows nothing of your flight?”

Mercy dropped her eyes in sorrow. “It would make little difference; it is better this way. Those from whom I sought release have followed me to Cheshire.”

Mr. Hill caught her arm. “Lord Lexford and I would protect you if you require a shield.”

Tears rolled down Mercy’s cheeks. Apprehension griped her. “I cannot ask either of you to place yourself in danger in my behalf. Besides, there are more devious means to exact revenge on Lord Lexford than to stand in defense of my honor. Some of low connections would claim his good name if I remained at Lexington Arms.”

“Should you not permit the viscount to decide if he wishes to deny the connections?” Mr. Hill reasoned. “I would not imagine His Lordship would turn from whatever scandal you name. I have observed how Viscount Lexford looks upon you. The man cares for you deeply.”

Mercy wished she could be assured of the viscount’s affections, but she had chosen to terminate their relationship. She had shared his bed because she loved him, not because she wished to trap him in marriage; and Mercy held no doubt His Lordship would extend an offer of marriage. He was an honorable man. “I am not worthy of Lord Lexford,” she said simply. “Now, if you will excuse me. I must hurry to catch the coach at the inn.”

Mr. Hill did not release her. “If you are set on leaving, I will take you as far as Warwickhsire. The wagon is loaded with wool. I mean to set out as soon as Deland has the horses to harness.”

Mercy’s heart leapt with pleasure. It would be comforting not to travel alone. The possibility of unscrupulous men upon the journey had frightened her beyond reason, but she said, “Lord Lexford would not approve of your involvement in my departure.”

“I am the one who brought you to Lexford’s notice. I should be the one to see you upon your way.”

Tipping her head to one side, she considered Hill’s offer carefully. Mercy would gladly accept his protection. “I do not wish for the others to know I have departed.”

Mr. Hill nodded his understanding. “Take the lane to just past the gatehouse. I will come for you on the main road.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hill. I pray you shall not regret the gesture.”

*

Aidan rolled over to caress her breast. He had had four hours of sleep, enough for him to desire her again, but she had gone. Aidan frowned as he glanced about his quarters. Even the lady’s clothing had disappeared. He rubbed a dry hand across his face in an effort to clear his thinking; yet, nothing wiped away the memory of burying himself deep within her liquid heat. “So sweet,” he murmured to the empty room.

And she had been. Sweet sensuality and sweet innocence. Just considering her soft moans brought another erection. Aidan understood why she had returned to her room. Miss Purefoy could not be found in his bed; yet, acknowledging the sensibility of the lady’s actions did nothing to relieve his renewed hunger. Aidan buried his nose into the bed linens. The scent of lilacs lingered, and he inhaled deeply. His eyes closed to summon forth another dream of Mary Purefoy. Tomorrow, Aidan would discover her name, and then he would make his addresses. Soon, she would be in his bed every night. And soon the hollow emptiness would no longer well up with guilt for having failed Susan.

*

The sharp knock at his chamber door brought Aidan from a sound sleep. “Who knew?” he thought as he staggered toward the door, after wrapping a robe about his naked body. He thought of the pleasure of having Mary Purefoy beneath him and of finally having a full night’s sleep. “A woman and sleep could be complementary.” An ironic smirk touched his lips as he jerked open the door. “What is amiss?” he growled at his properly clad butler. Aidan realized it must be later than he had anticipated.

Mr. Payne took a reflexive step backward. “A message, Sir.” The man extended a silver salver. “From Sir Carter and delivered by a special courier.”

Aidan swallowed his groan. “When?” he asked distractedly.

“Only moments ago, Sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Payne. Please tell Mr. Hill I need to speak to him.” Aidan turned toward his quarters.

The butler cleared his throat. “Mr. Hill departed early for Warwick, Sir.”

Aidan scowled. “Of course. I forgot.” He broke the seal and scanned the hastily written note from the baronet. Sir Carter required Aidan’s assistance with a possible lead on the opium line. “Mr. Payne, send Mr. Poley in, and tell Deland I require a horse immediately.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Also, please inform Miss Purefoy I will be away from the estate for several days on urgent business.” Aidan poured water to wash his face.

Mr. Payne bowed. “Yes, Sir. I will make a point of conveying your message as soon as the lady comes down for breakfast.

Aidan shot a quick glance at the clock upon the mantel. It was shortly after nine. He smiled. So the lady had slept longer, as well. Normally, they both had breakfasted by eight and had started their days.

He hated being drawn away without first making his addresses known to the lady, but, hopefully, Miss Purefoy would understand. When he returned, Aidan would arrange a romantic evening to prove his honest regard. He would propose. Although he could not speak of love, Aidan realized he and Miss Purefoy held a deep respect for each other. It was more than many aristocrats possessed in their marriage. It would be enough. He would not risk his heart ever again.

*

Miss Purefoy’s body swayed against his shoulder. She had fallen asleep an hour into their journey. Hill knew he must discover what the lady had planned before he released her to the London coach. By the time he could return to Cheshire to inform Lord Lexford of her direction, Miss Purefoy would have a four day advance on the viscount. Lexford would never find her if Hill could not convince the woman to confide in him.

A deep rut in the road jarred her awake. “Where are we?” Miss Purefoy asked as she stretched her neck and shoulders.

“Nearing the border of Staffordshire,” Hill explained. “I fear with the wagon laden so heavy with wool that our journey will be slower than if you had traveled by coach.”

Miss Purefoy smiled easily. “On the coach, I would have no shoulder to support me. I am quite content, Mr. Hill, for your company, however much time we have remaining.”

Hill studied her countenance. “Are you certain this is the best choice for you and His Lordship? If you fear Lord Lexford’s retribution for the deception we have foisted upon the viscount, I can tell you from experience Viscount Lexford’s temper flares quickly, but it pales just as fast. He will forgive us both once he admits his heart is engaged. Say the word, and I will turn the wagon about. We will be home before nightfall. His Lordship will not complain if I set out on a different day with the wool.” He watched as indecision crossed her expression, but the lady shook off his suggestion.

“You paint a beautiful picture, Mr. Hill, but my betrayal lies deeper than calling myself Mary Purefoy, half sister to Viscount Lexford,” she murmured with definitive regret.

Hill sighed heavily. He nodded his head with forced politeness. “If that is your wish, I will see you safely upon your journey. Lord Lexford would expect nothing less. I thought we might stop at an inn for a bite of breakfast. That is, if you have no objections to being seen with the likes of me.”

His companion smiled warmly. It was the same smile Hill knew had stolen the viscount’s heart. She gave him a knowing look, her sparkling eyes saying more than mere words. The lady’s thoughts rested on Lord Lexford also. She squeezed his hand. “You are my guardian angel, Lucifer Hill. I would be foolish to deny your company.”

Hill directed the horses through a difficult section of the road before saying, “Lord Godown keeps a small hunting lodge on the edge of his property. I have used it often when I am in the area. The marquis regularly restocks the place with food and clean linens. It will mean a shorter day today and a longer one tomorrow, but it will keep us from taking refuge in an unsavory inn. I would not have you exposed to the likes of The Purple Goose. Yet, please know the marquis’s lodge is nothing more than one large room with a lean to behind. I could ask at the main house for sanctuary. Lord Godown has gone to London for his aunt’s engagement party; yet, I am certain his staff could find us appropriate lodging.”

The lady frowned deeply. “I would not wish to involve the marquis in my difficulties. Beyond your loyalty, Lord Lexford speaks of the Earl of Berwick and Lord Godown as his closest friends.” Hill smiled at her diplomacy. He was nothing more than a farmer, who had learned to operate in the world of aristocrats. He had learned much while serving with Viscount Lexford, but Hill held no delusions of his own worth. “We are mature enough to share the shelter of the room without making propriety an issue. I am not so high in the instep to look poorly upon your kindness, Mr. Hill.”

“If Lord Lexford extends his forgiveness, Miss Purefoy,” Hill pleaded. “Please accept the man’s promise and make an honest man of the viscount. Your tenacity is exactly what Lexford requires for his happiness.”

A tear escaped the corner of the lady’s eye. “Your word picture is the perfect portrait upon which to latch my dreams, Mr. Hill. Perfect, indeed.”

Aidan had spent four days in disguise infiltrating a group, which transported the opium into the various shires. It was the role he had regularly played in the Realm. Aidan assumed many faces and accents to secure information. Those involved in the shipments had seen both Lowery and Swenton so Sir Carter had sent for Aidan. For three days, he had dressed in filthy clothes and had spoken with a Scottish accent. Sir Carter had even arrested Aidan’s “character” as part of the group. Later, if he met any of those involved, Aidan’s “Kell MacLeary” would claim having escaped his gaolers.

He had enjoyed stopping the supply line into his home shire, but Aidan held no delusions of the British government driving opiates from its shores. Most people thought men placing themselves under the power of the opium from the beautiful poppy plant were a problem found exclusively in London’s slews, but the growing use of the drug was everywhere, among the rich and the poor, and the city dwellers, as well as common villagers. The fight would know no end.

Aidan had hoped to arrive home before his household had retired for the evening, but it was near eleven of the clock when he had used his key to enter his home. He was exhausted, but his desire to see Miss Purefoy had guided his thoughts for the past three hours, and he wanted to look upon her countenance before another minute passed. He would not wake her, but Aidan meant to sneak into her room and satisfy his obsession with the woman.

Avoiding the main stairs, he had circled through the servants’ quarters, making his way toward the west wing. He would steal a quick peek and then seek his bed for the evening. Aidan would surprise the lady at breakfast tomorrow.

Quietly easing the servants’ door open, he stepped into the muted light of the passage. Aidan clung to the shadows. He was Lexington Arms’ master, but he would not embarrass Miss Purefoy by permitting others to see him enter the lady’s room. If he were to make Miss Purefoy his wife, Aidan would not have her name defamed by his actions.

“Her name,” he whispered to the stillness. The words brought a new recognition. He must maintain the ruse of their relationship. The realization stayed Aidan’s progress. His household and the neighborhood thought of her as “Mary Purefoy.” Calling the lady by her given name would not be an issue. He could claim “Mary” as the lady’s middle name or pet name.

“Yet, how will the banns be called?” he reasoned. Aidan had not considered the ramifications of his decision to make the woman his wife. “A special license will be required and in another parish.”

He slid down the wall to sit upon the floor. There were so many issues to which he had never given reflection. How had he not thought this through before he became involved with the woman? “Because your lust has controlled your motives.” He chastised himself for his foolish lack of forethought. It was certainly not characteristic of him. True. He often walked about with his heart upon his sleeve, but his logic had always prevailed until he met Miss Purefoy. “The lady has you bamboozled,” he said ironically.

Aidan circled his legs with his arms and rested his forehead on his knees. His chest contracted. He wondered how things might have played differently. If he made the lady his wife, he would become part of the perfidy, and he was not certain he cared to begin his new life in a bed of lies. In reality, he knew not the depth of the woman’s deceit. “What if Miss Purefoy was another Doña
Marina or like Samson’s Delilah
? The possibility existed. Aidan knew only of her assuming another’s name.
What if she had come to Lexington Arms to learn his secrets
?
Had not all of the unusual happenings of late begun after Miss Purefoy’s arrival
?

What was he to do? Not an hour passed in which Miss Purefoy was not in his thoughts. If he looked at a new horse to add to his stable, he also examined the mares in hopes of finding a horse with a personality Mary might enjoy. If he recorded items into his expenditure ledger, Aidan would think on the role Miss Purefoy played in turning his once stale existence into something exciting. And he could not shake the image of Mary writhing in pleasure beneath him; yet, it was folly to permit his heart its reins.

His mind might not recall what happened with Susan’s depressed state, but it knew the scent of Mary Purefoy as if God had ingrained her mark on him. Aidan knew the taste of her lips and the feel of her body clinging to him. Tight and hot. And how perfect it felt to be deeply embedded in her.

Just the thought of Mary Purefoy erased all the evils in Aidan’s world. He would never forget her, and he could certainly not ignore the fact he had taken the woman’s virginity. He had vowed to keep his distance, but Miss Purefoy had overwhelmed his resistance. He had made the mistake of allowing her into his heart. God! Did he love her? He had never thought to love again.

He should send her away, but Aidan suspected it would not be that easy. The possibility shook him to his core. He had lost so much. Lost his dream, the one to which he had clung for so long. Now, he wanted the dream again. He wanted a wife and a family; yet, was he willing to risk having his heart crushed again to claim a bit of happiness?

He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Silence, thick and despairing, cloaked his shoulders. “What am I doing? I have played the role of tinker and gentleman, but my trickery has been in behalf of the British government. Suddenly, an idea so dreadful it rocked his composure exploded in Aidan’s head. Could Miss Purefoy repeat lines in a theatre greater than a country assembly? Could she be an agent for the Realm’s enemies?

Aidan wished for his memories to return so he would have a point of reference by which to judge what had happened of late. As if something was missing, an aching pain filled his heart. He felt all of the uncertainties were held in the lady’s delicate grasp.

He had no idea how long he had sat as such. Somewhere below, a clock struck one. Slowly, Aidan forced himself to his feet. He had returned to his home with grand plans only to second-guess his choices. “I cannot go forward until I speak to the lady.” Dejected, Aidan turned his steps toward his quarters.

However, the sound of a door opening behind him had him spinning around to meet what he instantly knew was an intruder. Other than the two at the head of the hallway, no rooms in this part of the house were occupied. Aidan had expected to meet, at best, a familiar thief, but he had not been prepared to face Murhad Jamot; however, that was who stood before him. “What the bloody hell!” he exclaimed.

The Baloch smiled warmly as he unsheathed a long knife at his side. “I was told you were away,” he said in heavily accented English.

Aidan edged toward the light. He did not think he could retrieve his gun from his inside pocket without the Baloch noting the movement. He would face the Realm’s enemy bare-handed. Aidan could set up an alarm, but he was better trained to fight this intruder than were his most burly footmen. “Who spoke of my absence?” he demanded.

Jamot took a defensive stance. “You have those upon your staff not so loyal. I have visited your house previously.”

“So I have heard,” Aidan snarled. His eyes searched the hall for possible weapons. Several seconds ticked off before he asked, “What brings you to my home for a second look?”

The Baloch stood perfectly still, and Aidan could not help but to admire the man’s bravado. Murhad Jamot did not fear dying. Aidan wondered if his enemy could read him as easily. Until of late, he had had little for which to live, but with Miss Purefoy in his life, he held a reflection of hope. Despite his earlier misgivings, Aidan doubted he could give her up.

“I search for the emerald,” the Baloch said matter-of-factly.

Aidan chuckled ironically. “After all this time, you still believe one of us involved in Ashmita’s escape had something to do with Mir’s emerald? And here I had given you credit for more intelligence. I begin to think you have no desire to return to your home. England has grown on you.” Aidan flexed his fists, waiting for the Baloch’s attack.

“As for this God-forsaken damp country, you are welcome to it.” The Baloch scowled. “Yet, Mir expects by diligence.”

Aidan actually felt empathy for the man. The Baloch had been sent on an impossible mission, and, unfortunately, Jamot would never be welcomed home unless he succeeded. The man was in permanent exile. “You will never know fruition.”

Jamot smiled dryly. “We will see.” A long pause was interrupted by the smell of smoke.

“What have you done?” Aidan charged forward, and Jamot countered with a move, which placed Aidan on his backside and the Baloch towering over him.

“I have done nothing, Lord Lexford,” Jamot hissed. “But you have many enemies, and several reside under your roof.”

Aidan made no countermove. The Baloch held the advantage of a weapon. Aidan desperately wanted to know of whom Jamot spoke. Possibly his memory loss had a source close to home. “You have claimed solidarity twice. Name your compatriots,” he growled.

Jamot smiled deviously. “That would be too easy, my Lord. Why do we not negotiate? I will name those who opened your doors to the likes of me if you will return Mir’s emerald.”

Aidan scooted backwards out of the Baloch’s reach. “I will permit you to search my house without fear of incarceration if you provide me the names of those who mean me harm. If you find the emerald, it is yours. I simply want my life to know normalcy.” He stood gingerly to face Jamot again.

The Baloch sighed. “It is the wish of many men, but I have only two names to share. Are two names enough to whet your taste, my Lord?”

Jamot switched the knife to his less-dominate hand, and Aidan wondered what the man planned. “As I have nothing to hide, your terms are most amenable.”

“Nothing to hide is it, my Lord? Then why have you placed young guards about your estate?” Jamot maintained his threatening stance. “Perhaps you should study your family tree as closely as have I. I find my strength in knowing my enemy’s weaknesses.”

Annoyance chewed upon his patience. Aidan said testily, “What does all your tosh mean? Just speak the truth. My temper has known enough of the world’s manipulations.” In frustration, he unconsciously jammed his fingers into his hair. Aidan knew he should not ask, but he could not stop the words. “Is Miss Purefoy one of my enemies?”

The Baloch smiled knowingly. “Miss Purefoy?” he said with satisfaction. “Is that the lovely lady’s name?”

Aidan’s heart sank. “Do you know Miss Purefoy?” He had been so certain he could have the woman without his heart being involved. Unfortunately, Aidan suspected misery would soon become his companion.

The knife rested again in the Jamot’s right hand, and he gestured with it. “I have not had the acquaintance of Miss Purefoy, but I do know a Miss Nelson.”

“N…Nelson?” Aidan could barely get the word out. His throat closed in dread. “As in the marquis’s wife?” But before he could ask more, a door opened at the end of the hall, and a young gentleman with whom Aidan held no knowledge stepped into the muted light. With hair as dark as the night sky, the man had a presence of authority.

“Talpur?” The stranger spoke with a Northern accent. “Have you…” The intruder broke off when he spied Aidan.

Aidan asked suspiciously. “Talpur?”

The Baloch shrugged. “It is as it should be,” he said softly.

“We must go,” the stranger called urgently. Aidan wished he could see the man clearly, but Jamot stood between him and the Englishman.

Jamot began to back away. “I fear our negotiations have taken a divergent path, my Lord. You must discover the answers on your own.”

Aidan stalked Jamot’s retreat. “You have entered my house for the last time. You come again, and I will kill you.”

The Baloch laughed. “And here I thought we had come to an understanding, Lord Lexford.” Without removing his eyes from Aidan, Jamot executed a flamboyant bow before turning toward the still open door through which the gentleman had disappeared.

Aidan gave pursuit, but he pulled up when the smell of smoke became more pronounced. Instead of giving chase, he followed the scent of burnt timber to open the door leading to the area, which had haunted his house and his dreams forever. Flames rose from the shambles of the former west wing of Lexington Arms. His heart stumbled to a halt. He could lose it all.

He turned toward the main stairs. In a panic, Aidan called out the alarm. “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

A footman appeared. “What is amiss, my Lord?”

“The west wing,” he huffed. “Another fire! Rouse everyone!” Without waiting for the man’s response, Aidan returned to the wing. He had to warn Miss Purefoy. Skidding to a halt before her door, Aidan pounded with both fists. “Mary! Mary! Do you hear me? Mary! Please.”

“What is the danger, my Lord?” He turned his head to find Serena Chadwick clutching a robe to her chest.

“There is a fire, Miss Chadwick. I need you and Miss Purefoy out of the house immediately.”

The woman glanced toward the open door and the smoke billowing into the hall. “Miss Purefoy is gone, Sir. She left while you were absent from the manor. In fact, the night of your leaving from what we can decipher.”

Aidan could not comprehend how what Miss Chadwick said could be so. He and Mary had finally known sweet intimacies. He meant to make his addresses to the lady in the morning. “Gone?”

“Yes, Sir.”