Hunting the Hero (28 page)

He pushed open the door without knocking. “Randall, we need to talk.”

The fellow’s head appeared from behind the desk and then Randall rolled to his feet from the floor, brushing off his trousers. “How may I help you, my lord?”

“Let me make one thing clear.”

“Oh?”

Constantine stopped before the neat desk and scowled. “Romsey belongs to Edwin. Everything and everyone living here is his responsibility. Not yours. Don’t imagine for a moment that I won’t be watching over him.”

“Then he’s a fortunate boy to have an uncle who treasures him.” Romsey looked down and smiled at his feet. “That’s very good, Your Grace. Now, where do your horses like to run?”

“There,” the young duke’s piping voice said.
 

Constantine moved forward to get a better look. The young duke lay upon the floor beneath the ducal desk, his finger pointing at a pencil-sketched map of Romsey. Toys were scattered everywhere between young Edwin and Leopold Randall’s feet. Constantine looked at the other man curiously.
 

An apologetic smile flitted across Randall’s face. “He’s too young yet to make the decisions himself, but he’s not too young to start learning about the estate. He’s to have a riding lesson in the morning. Shall I inform the stables that you’ll be joining him?”

“Are you not going with him?”

“Of course I am. After breakfast, Edwin spends part of his day with me outside if the weather allows and then he has riding lessons with the stable master, luncheon with his mother, and then lessons with his aunt in the afternoon. The whole house revolves around his schedule until he falls asleep at night. I’m due to take him up to the duchess in a moment, but he wanted to finish his game.” Randall raised a brow. “Did you think I’d leave his care to servants and run the place as if it was mine alone?”

Constantine had. Randall had appeared the interloper when he’d arrived, interrupting his time with his sister and taking charge of the servants at dinner. The change from his last visit had set his teeth on edge. Mercy had run an informal household, but with Randall’s arrival, it functioned like a well-oiled machine.
 

Leopold Randall might actually be a good influence on the estate as long as he remembered who was to inherit it. He glanced down at the boy again and saw him rub his eyes. The young duke had a full schedule of activities bound to exhaust him each day. Thanks to Meredith’s views on children and what they needed most, he understood a little better now that routine had value for all.

He skirted around Randall to crouch at the duke’s level. “Good evening, Your Grace. Are you almost ready for bed?”

Although Edwin stared, it was clear to Constantine that he’d stayed away from the boy far too long to be remembered fondly. Although he was disappointed that his own nephew didn’t feel comfortable with him, as his own daughter had behaved with Mercy, he held out his hand to help him up.
 

The boy surged to his feet and grabbed his hand. The shake was surprisingly firm for a child and the boy’s eyes held his steadily. Was this the influence of Leopold Randall coming to the fore so soon?
 

He stood when the boy released him and assessed the man opposite. Dark wavy hair, cut a little longer than was the fashion in London. Steady dark brown eyes that saw everything but said little. A man of solid build and confidence in his abilities. He was struck by a sudden surety they had met before, in London or perhaps somewhere else in the countryside and he’d forgotten about it. He couldn’t be sure of the time or place except for the nagging suspicion their meeting was recent.
 

Randall turned away, stepped carefully over the boy’s toys, and began to shuffle journals on the large desk. “The estate accounts are now up to date if you’d care to inspect them, my lord.”

Courteous, too. There must be something wrong with him. No man could be perfectly agreeable to give way to a mere child. The man was next in line for the title. There would be too much temptation to resist. “Was there an issue with them?”

Constantine took the journal Randall held out and leafed through the pages idly. He’d give Randall one concession, his entries were meticulously neat and detailed. The journals were possibly better documented than even his own. He whistled at the balance totaled on the very last page. So far Romsey was doing well under Randall’s guidance. He’d still bear watching, though.

Randall shuffled and then bent to pick up a toy that was in danger of being stepped on. “They were woefully insufficient in the beginning. But a little effort and a few dozen late nights in this room have set them to rights. Her Grace is pleased with the work I’ve done.”

Constantine looked at him slyly. “A wife should be pleased with her husband or she shouldn’t have married him.”

Randall threw the toy onto the desk. “Your point?”

“It’s all very reasonable and convenient for you, isn’t it? Marrying my sister, a duchess, and gaining a toehold in the abbey you could one day inherit. I’m sure you set your sights high for a reason.”

“And what reason would that be?” Mercy asked from the door.

Constantine pivoted and took in her bearing. She had a mutinous glint in her eye that boded ill for getting to the truth. “He is the heir.”

Mercy crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “He would never harm Edwin. When he came, he never wanted to stay.”

He glanced at Leopold Randall. “How cunning to make you believe in his reluctance.”

 
“That’s a dreadful thing to say. Leopold loves me and I him. Just because you prefer to avoid respectable women doesn’t mean I am so easily swayed into a man’s arms. I almost believed your story about the governess. Did she finally discover you never intended to marry her? How typical of you to seduce the help.”

Anger trickled through him. Meredith was an incomparable, both in bed and out of it. And he would marry her one day. He wasn’t keen to rush to that point and scare her away. “What did you hear about Miss Clark?”

“The girls talk of nothing else but missing her. Miss Clark this. Miss Clark and Papa that. Did you become bored with her and dump her at the side of the road to fend for herself?”

“Of course not,” Constantine said quickly. Meredith was never far from his thoughts. “She fell ill on the way here, as I said, and wouldn’t countenance further travel. I told her I’d return tomorrow once the girls were settled.”

“So you say.” Mercy scowled. “What, exactly, is wrong with her? Did you secure a doctor? A servant to attend her? Did you ensure she had funds for a physician should one be needed?”

“I…” Constantine tried to explain, but it was impossible to get a word in when Mercy had a head of steam going. He waited until her rant ended, waited a bit longer until she looked at him to speak.

“Miss Clark is a very private person. If she said she was unwell, then I believed her, but I paid the innkeeper handsomely to see to her every need. And yes, she is my lover. Anything else is for her and me to discuss.”

But Constantine had to admit he wouldn’t mind knowing Meredith a little better. Like her real name. Her obstinacy at sharing it was a constant irritation in their affair. He didn’t believe he would be comfortable until he had it in his possession.

His sister touched his arm. “Don’t tell me this one has gotten under your skin.”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “She’s different. But enough of me. This,” he said and waved his hand about to include Leopold, “is completely different.”

“Yes, it is. Leopold offered marriage rather than to continue our affair. And wipe that smug expression from your face. Our attraction was completely mutual.”

“Really? Forgive me for not believing that.”

Mercy stamped her foot. “Damn you and your suspicions. Can you not allow me to be happy at last?”

Grayling frowned. “You were happy before.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Edwin.” She threw her hands up into the air. “Did you know he had a weak heart before I married him?”

Randall scooped up the boy in his arms and moved him away out of hearing.
 

“No. Father was alive then and conducted the negotiations with the duke and Edwin. He seemed robust enough to me, but was he ill?”

“Yes and no. But two women, a wife and a mistress, were too great a tax on his stamina. There was no chance for an heir.”

Constantine looked at the boy across the room and pointed out the obvious. “You have a son.”

“I have a son.” She moved closer. “But Edwin did not father him.”

He stared at his sister in shock. Mercy couldn’t have gone that far to be a mother to gain an heir for the estate. But her defiant glare proved she may have done just that. He took a step back from her. “What the devil did you do?”
 

His sister shook her head a little sadly. “I did nothing. The duke arranged everything. If you had read my letters, you might have an inkling of his malevolence. His son had to have an heir by any means possible, even by blackmailing his own family to get one.”

“Blackmail?”

“Blackmail.” Mercy drew closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “In return for his siblings’ safety, the duke sent Leopold to my bed. That’s why he will never hurt Edwin. Can you imagine anyone murdering their own child just to claim the title their flesh and blood already has?”

Constantine glanced toward the young duke, saw him laughing and smiling at the man playing games with him. There was a certain similarity in their features. The shape of the nose, the curl of their hair as they leaned toward each other over the game.
 

“The longer I look, the more I see. Leopold realized sooner than I did and still intended to leave us behind.”

Hell and damnation. What else had he missed these past years? “Why did he stay?”

“Besides the fact that we love each other to distraction?” Mercy snorted. “Because of Edwin. Family means everything to Leopold. He didn’t want Edwin to shoulder the responsibilities for this place alone. He stayed to guide my son when all he wanted from the start was to leave and continue his search.”

“The missing siblings?” Constantine scowled. “I keep seeing those damned notices in the paper. Soon all of society will know and start to wonder what else is going on here. I shudder to think of the gossip the season will bring.”

“We will weather whatever comes together. It is what families do. There is only Rosemary to find now.” Mercy turned away and grabbed a handful of papers from the desk. She shuffled through them until she found one and handed it to him. “This is what we believe Rosemary might look like today. Leopold’s sketches of his brothers were remarkably accurate, so we have hope someone will recognize her. Have you seen her? I asked everyone at the wedding with no success.”

Constantine took the paper and stared down at it. At first, the face was that of a stranger. He held it out at arm’s length before his face and then lowered his hand, placing it closer to five feet in height. He was struck by the familiar heart-shaped face and expressive dark eyes. Without color it was harder to imagine, but if those eyes were the color of whiskey and her hair was cut short, that sweetly deceptive face would usually show far more animation.
 

Meredith. Calista.

He shook his head. That couldn’t possibly be right. If Meredith was in fact Rosemary Randall, and knew full well he was coming here, then she would never have stayed behind in that shabby village. It must be a coincidence.
 

He lowered the paper and found himself face-to-face with Leopold Randall.

The other man’s eyes skewered him. “Do you recognize her?”

He handed the paper back, ignoring the thumping of his heart. When he returned to Meredith he would ask her about the similarity. Maybe she had a double. “I’ve never met Miss Randall before.”

Leopold’s nostrils flared and he held out the paper again. “That wasn’t the right answer to my question. I asked if you have seen her face somewhere. Recently.”

Constantine took the paper again. There was a definite similarity, but he couldn’t believe Meredith was related to the Randalls. A woman in her position should have been overjoyed to acknowledge a connection to the Duchess of Romsey. Unless she was too afraid to come home to her family after the life she’d led. “Tell me about her?”

“We lost track of Rosemary ten years ago now. She’d been traveling with our parents and my brother, Tobias, when the carriage overturned. My brother tells me that our mother was injured in the crash and trapped in the wreckage. Tobias and Rosemary ran back to the nearest village to get help. When they returned, our parents’ carriage was surrounded. Our parents were murdered where they lay trapped in the carriage, Tobias and Rosemary captured. Tobias was taken to the docks and thrown aboard a ship. Rosemary was carried away, slung over a horse. We’ve found no trace of her.”

Constantine pinched the bridge of his nose. “Describe her.”

“A hellcat. A risk taker. She has a temper. Despite all our efforts, she either cannot or will not come home.”

He stared at the drawing again. The woman who had graced his life with her vibrant energy for the past months, torturing him with pleasure beyond his wildest dreams, could not be this man’s sister. “It makes no sense.”