Jo Goodman (53 page)

"I do."

"But the earl's dead. They found a body. There was a funeral. Hell, Colin, Mercedes was arrested for his murder."

"And Severn's supposedly touring the Continent. It doesn't make sense."

"She told me there was a third man with them. But she didn't seem to recognize him."

"Mr. Ashbrook, perhaps." Colin shook his head as if to clear it. Sylvia was already farther ahead than he liked. "Let's move on," he said. The sky was nearly cloudless. Sunlight brightened the fields from deep green to emerald. In Colin's current state of mind he saw it all in shades of gray.

"You're not surprised," Aubrey said.

"No," Colin admitted. "I'm not. I wanted to believe I was wrong. It was something of a comfort to think Wallace Leyden was actually dead, but I could never quite accept it."

Aubrey swore softly. "You should have told me."

"I had no proof," he said.

"Just your gut," Aubrey said. "Which I'd trust sooner than a charred, unrecognizable corpse."

Colin grinned. "I wish I could have been so certain."

"What do you think they have planned? It's a sure bet Severn and the earl are working together."

"I don't know. I imagine Sylvia's not far off the mark to suppose that Leyden will return to Weybourne Park."

"To what purpose?"

"Mercedes said once that he wanted to prove that what I did couldn't have been done."

"What does that mean?"

"He was speaking of the wager. I think he believes I cheated to win it."

Aubrey gave a bark of laughter. Ahead, Sylvia turned around, gave him a cursory look, then faced forward. It was going to take powerful groveling to make him fit in her eyes again. He sobered just thinking about it. "Weybourne doesn't know you then."

"No, he doesn't. But perhaps he's found some way to discredit me. That would explain his sudden appearance."

"And Severn?"

Colin's eyes were fixed on the horizon. Sunlight glinted off the gentle slopes in the distance. Treetops formed a dark outline that seemed familiar to him because he wanted to believe it was the rooftop and chimneys of Weybourne Manor. Unsettled, he could only repeat himself. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I just don't know."

* * *

Mercedes had no choice but to sit beside Severn. He was driving a small open carriage, and there was nowhere else for her to go. It was less objectionable than being trapped in a closed conveyance with him as she had been at Tattersall's. There was some safety in being able to be seen. Anyone might come upon them on the road between Weybourne Park and Severn's estate at Rosefield. It eased her mind that the twins and Chloe and Mrs. Hennepin all knew where she was going with him. A passerby could confirm the same thing.

She slid a glance sideways at Severn. He was guiding the horses expertly, his touch on the reins both light and sure. They were covering the ground at a rapid clip, faster than the rutted roads warranted. Mercedes wisely said nothing. It was the price to be paid for electing to be in Severn's company, she thought. She could not ask him to slow down
and
be rid of him straightaway.

He had said very little since helping her onto the carriage bench. It occurred to her that perhaps he found her company as unwelcome as she found his. In his defense, it could not have been easy for him to rush from the Continent to his dying father's bedside and have the earl request her presence. It confirmed her impression gleaned over the years that Severn was something of a disappointment to his father. It did not explain why the earl would take it in his head to see her.

"Your father knows I'm married, doesn't he?" Mercedes asked. It was the logical extension of her last thought. She wasn't aware she had said it aloud until Severn answered.

"He knows," he said. "Or rather, he knew. His mind is not so sharp as it once was. He may have forgotten. Why do you ask?"

Mercedes refastened the ribbon on her bonnet. "I thought it might explain his desire to see me. I believe he would have favored a match between us."

"Indeed," Severn said dryly.

She wished she had not broached the subject. The memories of Severn's offer were unpleasant. To her surprise, Severn did not pursue it. His mind was clearly elsewhere and Mercedes felt rather small for thinking he could not be so moved by the impending death of his father.

Deep in consideration of this matter, Mercedes did not immediately notice Severn had taken a less traveled fork in the road.

* * *

"Why on earth would she go with Severn?" Colin demanded.

The twins looked to each other, then to Chloe. All three of them knew the answer, but not one of them wanted to respond. The captain's cold, tightly leashed anger was terrible to behold. They had no desire to be at the center of its focus.

Pleasure at Sylvia's return was short-lived. Now she sat on the edge of the divan casting nervous glances between Colin and Aubrey. They could sense she had something to say but she remained uncharacteristically quiet.

In the end Chloe believed she was responsible for the reply. "Mercedes felt she could not refuse the request of the earl," she said. When this was met by blank stares from the returning trio, she went on in a rush. "Severn's father is dying. That's the news he received on the Continent and why he returned. He came to get Mercedes because his father had asked for her. He liked her, you know. His lordship always remarked on enjoying her company though he did not often have cause to do so. I think the earl admired my uncle, Mercedes's father. They both shared a passion for astronomy." She came to an abrupt halt, then finished lamely. "At least that's what I've heard Mercedes say."

During Chloe's discourse Colin had moved to the window. He stared out at the grounds of Weybourne Park with no appreciation for the sun-dappled landscape.

Aubrey's mouth had flattened in a grim line. "Do you think it's true, Colin? Severn came at his father's request?"

Colin turned slowly. His dark eyes were still distantly focused. The remoteness of his gaze separated him, made him seem less touched by the humanity that bound the others. "I think Severn hit on the single most effective way of gaining Mercedes's cooperation," he said without inflection. "He used her compassion against her."

No one responded. It was easy to believe of Severn. Sylvia left the sofa and sat on the arm of Chloe's chair as her sister began to weep softly. The twins moved closer together.

"He won't hurt her," Aubrey said. "He wouldn't dare."

Colin was already crossing the room. "I intend to make sure of it."

Aubrey opened the doors for him. "I'm coming with you. I'll see about fresh horses now."

"No." The reply was swift and intractable. "Stay with the family." His voice dropped so the others could not hear. "He has to know I'll come for her. It's better that I meet him alone."

Colin was gone before Aubrey could ask if
he
referred to Marcus Severn or the Earl of Weybourne.

* * *

Mercedes recognized the hunting lodge only because her uncle had described it to her. It was a favorite place for him at Rosefield, although it was little used. During hunts he preferred the lodge to staying at the main house and Severn obliged this preference by making it available to him even without special invitation.

The lodge was constructed of fieldstone. It had the rustic look of a tenant's cottage but the size of a country squire's residence. Situated in the deep wood of Rosefield, the lodge was almost entirely shaded from the sun by the trees on all sides. Even before midday shadows fell across the lodge's sloping roof and lent the structure a certain gloom. Neither the lamps lighted in the windows nor the smoke rising from the chimney could entirely erase it.

As soon as Mercedes realized that Severn was not taking her to the manor, she began making plans to escape. That she had not come upon any workable scheme did not daunt her. She promised herself that patience would be rewarded. Severn would expect her to do something, and when she did not, he would lower his guard.

Severn alighted from the carriage, reins in hand. He secured the horses before he offered assistance to Mercedes.

She ignored his extended hand and eased herself down onto the narrow footplate, then the ground. There was a short flagstone walk leading to the lodge. Severn indicated she should follow it.

She did so with scant eagerness. "I do not pretend to understand the bent of your mind, Severn, but you must know nothing but misery can come of it. I can find reason for rejoicing, however, knowing that your father is not dying."

Severn pointed to the door of the lodge again. The gesture was impatient. "I could not imagine another pretext that would have had the same result."

"You were right," she said. She started up the walk. "Did you know that my husband was gone from the Park?"

Severn's mouth flattened. Knowing that Mercedes was deliberately needling him with her pointed reference to Colin did not lessen the impact. It was with difficulty that he kept his hands at his sides—but pleasures of that nature would have to wait. He wished he could savor the anticipation. "I knew," he said. "I inquired of your gardener."

"And had he been in residence?" she asked.

"I would have waited another day."

The way he said it made Mercedes suspect he had been biding his time. Sylvia's disappearance had served his needs.

Severn opened the door and ushered Mercedes inside. The two men in chairs in front of the fireplace immediately came to their feet. They turned simultaneously toward the open doorway.

"You know your uncle, of course," Severn said by way of introduction. "The other gentleman is Mr. Epine and he has a story to tell you."

Mercedes understood what it was to be struck dumb. It was no longer an expression but an experience. Her gaze alternated from one man to the other while her legs began to give way beneath her. As though from a great distance she watched them move forward, and she realized they were coming for her. The darkness at the edge of her vision made it difficult to think. It was the hand that Severn placed under her elbow that gave Mercedes the focus she needed.

Recoiling from his touch, Mercedes bumped into the banister behind her. On her right the door was still open. Without signaling her intention with a glance, she lifted her skirts and sprinted for it and the flagstone walk beyond.

"She does not seem happy to see me," Wallace Leyden said dryly. "One might think she would be grateful to give up mourning clothes. She is not well suited to black, is she?" He looked to his silent companion for help, not an answer to his question. "Mr. Epine, perhaps you would be so good as to bring her back?"

"I'll do it," Severn interjected quickly.

"I'll help you," said Mr. Epine. His offer wasn't accepted or refused. Severn was already in pursuit of his quarry. Mr. Epine hurried after him. Behind him he thought he heard the earl chuckle. Not for the first time Mr. Epine wondered what he had stepped into.

Thistles and underbrush impeded Mercedes's progress. She was quick and light on her feet but no match for Severn's strength and endurance. Without looking behind her Mercedes knew he was gaining ground. The fact that he tripped over the fallen log that she gracefully cleared only bought her time. It did not change the outcome.

Mercedes sprawled on the forest floor, brought down by Severn's tackle. Bits of detritus clung to the bodice and skirt of her black gown. The ribbons on her bonnet were undone and the hat rested askew on the back of her head. She struggled to rise, but Severn's weight and her own winded condition conspired to keep her precisely where she was. Mercedes closed her eyes.

"Let her up," Mr. Epine said. He touched Severn on the shoulder. "You've winded the lady."

Severn lifted his weight off Mercedes but only so he could straddle her. "Stay out of it, Epine. You're Leyden's friend, not mine." Severn tore the bonnet away from Mercedes's hair and turned her onto her back. Although she had ceased struggling, he leaned forward and trapped her wrists with his hands. "There was no reason for you to run, Mercedes," he said quietly. "You have to stop running from me. Where would you go?" Mercedes wasn't listening. Severn's words washed over her. She wasn't looking at him, either. Her startled glance had found another target in Mr. Epine. Her uncle's handsome friend was bent over Severn but his blue eyes were focused on her. He placed one finger to his lips and winked.

Blue-eye. Ponty Pine.

The pickpocket straightened. He took aim at Severn's bent head with the only weapon he had: his fist. A roundhouse punch would lay Severn out. He drew back.

"You found her," Weybourne said. His tone was unruffled, even congratulatory. "She was able to go rather farther than I would have thought possible."

Ponty Pine shook out his arm as if he had been straightening his jacket sleeve. Only time would tell if the gesture was believable. He noticed Weybourne was giving nothing away. The earl's sharply defined features were impassive.

"Do get off her, Severn," the earl said in bored accents. "I know you must be beside yourself at having her under you at long last, but it's most unbecoming as a public display."

Severn's eyes narrowed on Mercedes's upturned face. His fingers tightened on her wrists until he saw her wince. For now it was enough. Still straddling her, he rose and brushed off his jacket. Dried fragments of leaves and bits of stone rained on Mercedes's gown. At his leisure he stepped aside and offered his hand.