Mistress of Merrivale (11 page)

Mrs. Allenby patted her hand again. “I’m afraid so. Those of us who know Leo understand the accusations are nonsense, but unfortunately this doesn’t stop gossip. The best thing you can do is stand at his side, your head held high and smile.”

“I can do that.” After all, she’d had lots of practice at pretending everything was right in her world.

Once home, Leo and Jocelyn hurried inside to escape the chill of the evening air. Leo’s hand sat warmly on her hip, his arm curved around her waist as he escorted her up the stairs. At her chamber doorway, he paused, his arm slipping away. She missed his touch immediately.

“Why don’t you join me once you’re ready for bed?” His eyes glowed with banked lust, firing an answering call in her. Her breasts developed a sensual heaviness and desire tugged low in her quim.

Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lower lip as she stared up at him. “I’ll do that.”

“Good.” His fingers stroked across her cheek for an instant before he turned away. “I’ll see you soon.”

The firm click of a door closing broke the spell he’d cast with a few words and a mere touch. She blinked then reached for the door of her room with a flash of anticipation. How could anyone suspect this man was a murderer? She knew his cousin and trusted him implicitly. Leo had shown such kindness to her mother. No, she’d never believe the vicious gossip circulating the village.

She found Susan asleep in a chair, waiting for her return, and chagrin filled her. She hadn’t thought to tell her maid not to wait up for her.

“Susan.” She shook the girl gently, not wanting to scare her.

Two candles flickered on the dresser, highlighting the lack of cherubs. Although the room wasn’t yet to her taste, the removal of knickknacks and the pink curtains was a vast improvement. Mrs. Green had ordered the airing of some of the stored bed linens and promised they’d be ready the next day. Jocelyn nodded with approval, enjoying putting her stamp on the manor.

The girl was in a deep sleep, and she hated to wake her. “Susan.” Jocelyn spoke louder this time.

The maid’s eyes flew open. A sharp squeak escaped her before she came fully to her senses. “Mrs. Sherbourne? I’m so sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”

“Susan, you shouldn’t have waited up for me.”

“It’s my job, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Susan’s broad accent wrapped around her stiff, affronted words as she stood. “Would you like me to remove your gown and brush out your hair?”

“Yes, please,” Jocelyn said. Her maid acted as if she’d insulted her when all she’d wanted was to save her work. She stood still while Susan unfastened her garments and removed layers of silk. Jocelyn presented her back and Susan worked on her stays. Finally, Jocelyn stood in only her stockings and chemise.

“Take a seat, Mrs. Sherbourne.”

Meekly, Jocelyn sat and half an hour later, Susan finished with her hair.

“Would you like me to help you with your stockings?”

“No, thank you, Susan. That will be all for tonight. Good night.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Sherbourne.”

When the door closed behind her maid, Jocelyn allowed herself a wry smile. Susan took her position seriously and was determined to do a good job. Jocelyn would need to quell her independent ways and become used to letting her maid do everything for her.

“Jocelyn?” Leo appeared at the connecting door to their chambers.

“I’m almost ready. I need to take off my stockings.”

“I’ll do it for you.”

Jocelyn beamed. “Let me blow out the candles.”

“Go and wait for me. I’ll take care of the candles.”

Jocelyn padded through the connecting door and sat on Leo’s bed. Leo followed her, mere seconds later, closing the door behind him. He prowled nearer in the way of a beast, yet she didn’t experience alarm. He blew out one of the two candles lighting his chamber, enclosing them in a bubble of intimacy.

“Why don’t you have a valet?”

“I did, but he ran away with one of the parlor maids. Stay right there,” he instructed, parting her legs a fraction so he could kneel comfortably in front of her.

Her breath caught, a warm glow suffusing her limbs. When she started to get dizzy, she gasped in air to combat her breathlessness.

Leo chuckled, his amusement bringing a wash of heat to her cheeks. “After he disappeared, I decided to do without a valet.”

“Oh.” It was difficult to concentrate with Leo’s fingers trailing over the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

“You like red stockings?”

“I like red, yet it’s difficult to find a shade of red that suits me.”

Amusement glowed in his dark eyes, the corners of his lips twitching a fraction as he reached for a lock of her hair and gently tugged. “Red is my new favorite color.”

“You are in a minority, I fear.”

“Their loss.” He released her hair to yank at her garter. Soon he was sliding woolen fabric down her calf. After a pause to place a kiss on the skin he revealed, he removed and tossed her stocking aside. Every inch of skin he touched turned tingly. His contact might be innocent, yet they both knew where this would lead. The other stocking followed the first. Leo stood and held out his hand to her. “Time to remove your chemise.”

Once she was naked, he swooped her off her feet and set her in the middle of the mattress. He dropped his robe on the floor, allowing her a glimpse of his muscular body and rampant erection before he blew out the last candle, plunging the room into darkness.

Clouds skittered across the night sky, obscuring the moon for long minutes before racing off again and allowing dull light to pierce the darkness. The faint sound of chanting carried on the breeze, low and harmonious and out of place in the moor.

The man stood on the hill, surveying the scene below, watching for oddities. Deep shadows, cast from the ruined abbey, made it difficult for him to survey the scene, but nothing odd captured his attention. When clouds drifted across the moon again, he made his way down the hill, leading his horse behind him. His cape swirled in the puffs of wind, and his footfalls remained cautious in the darkness.

A woman’s scream rang out. High and ear-piercing, it made the hair at the back of his neck rise. His mount danced a few steps, and he reached out to soothe the beast. “Steady, boy,” he said in a low voice.

He paused to listen and could discern only normal sounds of the night. As he neared, it was easier to see the outline of the ruins, left when Henry the Eighth had ordered many of the country’s monasteries destroyed.

The woman screamed again, and he frowned. They should have waited until they’d entered the secret crypt to start the ceremony. Anyone could hear her, and that was all they needed. One nosy person, a farmer tending his flock, and their sweet setup here at the abbey would cease.

Hastening his pace, he led his horse to the shelter of a lean-to. Disguised from public scrutiny, it already contained four horses. One nickered in welcome, and he covered his own horse’s muzzle with his hand in a sign for his mount to remain silent. He didn’t think anyone had followed him, but he had to take care to minimize the risk. After one final scan of his surroundings, he retrieved a candle from within the temporary stable. He lit the wick while his mind wandered over the last two months—the good and the bad.

Placing the body in the maze had been a mistake.

It cast suspicion, distrust he could do without at present. No, it wasn’t time. Not yet.

He picked his way through the ruins, stepping more confidently now that he carried illumination to light his path. He wove past pillars and crumbling walls, striding deeper into the old abbey.

They’d left the secret chamber open for him, which made his progress rapid. Once through the door, he took care to seal the doorway, shutting him away in gloom, only pierced by his flickering candle. He stalked down a long passage. The downward slope took him deeper into the earth, the rush of the nearby river becoming louder.

The monks had left a convenient legacy, perfect for their needs.

A scream, much weaker this time, rang through the dark. It was a pity he’d had other prior business. His loins tightened at the promise of the evening to come. He looked forward to the entertainment and relieving the tensions of his day.

An abrupt noise jerked Jocelyn from sleep. For an instant she froze, her heart pounding as she attempted to make sense of whatever had awakened her.
Mother?
She strained to hear, tension seeping from her muscles when she couldn’t discern the frantic screeches that signaled a mad fit from her parent. Not her mother then. Feeling more alert, she rolled over to find an empty space where she’d expected Leo.

Puzzled, she slipped from bed and strode to the window. She jerked the curtain aside to stare down at the gardens. A flash of movement caught her attention.

Leo? Squinting didn’t aid with identification. She watched until the figure disappeared from sight, before the cold morning sent her fleeing to her bed.

Something amiss in the stables perhaps. Jocelyn tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, fatigue weighing down her limbs. She must have dozed off at some stage because she woke to daylight streaming through the window.

Susan arrived with her tea. “Here you go, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Instead of her normal competence, her lips quivered and her hands trembled so much splatters of liquid sloshed over the rim of the porcelain cup.

“Whatever is wrong?”

Tears welled at her maid’s eyes. One trickled down her cheek, rapidly followed by another. Her shoulders slumped inward, and an audible sob broke free.

“Susan?”

“It’s my sister, Ella,” Susan said. “She went for a walk with Gavin, one of the footmen, last night after we finished our duties. They argued, and now Ella is missing. She didn’t return last night.”

Alarm shot through Jocelyn. “Has someone talked to Gavin?” Surely this was a misunderstanding. “Have the grounds been searched?”

Susan gave a miserable nod and another tear rolled down her cheek. “Some of the servants are saying Ella has run away, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do anything without telling me she was leaving.”

“Help me get dressed,” Jocelyn said. “Has Leo been informed?”

“No one can find him.”

A chill skipped down Jocelyn’s torso, but she lifted her chin and grasped for confidence. There was a logical explanation for Leo leaving his bed in the small hours of the morning, a good reason for his absence now.

Jocelyn hurriedly dressed. “Leave the tidying,” she said, when Susan started to right the bed. “You’ll feel much better if you’re helping to search. We’ll consult with Woodley.”

Their search produced nothing except hoarse voices and sore throats. Jocelyn grew increasingly concerned, her gaze flitting from person to person. Where was Leo?

A new arrival spiked a spark of relief until she realized it was the vicar and his wife. Jocelyn forced a gracious welcome and ushered Vicar and Mrs. Allenby toward the steps leading inside the manor. When she noticed Susan wringing her hands, her stomach flipped in sympathy.

“Susan, please go and order refreshments from the kitchen, then I’d like you to continue your duties in my chamber. I’m afraid I ripped the hem of my brown gown yesterday.” When a mulish frown appeared on Susan’s face, Jocelyn spoke rapidly, forcing herself to issue the order when she wanted to embrace her maid and offer comfort. “I’ll send word as soon as we hear something.”

Susan’s face crumpled, but she gave a crisp nod and left.

“Why whatever is wrong?” Mrs. Allenby asked. “Have we arrived at a bad time?”

“One of our maids has vanished. She’s normally very reliable, and her disappearance is quite out of character.”

“Oh, dear,” the vicar said.

“This doesn’t sound right, especially since the other maid turned up dead,” Mrs. Allenby said in a troubled voice.

“Is Leo out searching for her?” Vicar Allenby asked.

“Yes,” Jocelyn said, guiding her guests into the parlor. She bit her lip, wondering why she’d lied.

Mrs. Allenby sat on one of the damask chairs and Jocelyn dropped onto the settee.

“Have you summoned the parish constable?” the vicar asked, selecting a sturdier chair more suitable for his robust frame.

“No, we’re still searching the grounds and the riverbank in case of an accident.”

“But you don’t think an accident has befallen the girl,” Mrs. Allenby said.

Jocelyn grasped her hands together, tightly in her lap. “No.”

Silence filled the parlor.

“I think it would be a good idea to summon Arthur Cartwright, given the similar circumstances to the other maid’s disappearance. Do you have paper? I’ll pen a note for Arthur,” the vicar said.

A maid appeared with a tray of refreshments, and Jocelyn bade her escort Vicar Allenby to Leo’s study to procure paper and ink, all the while hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. She hated to implicate Leo.

With the note dispatched, the vicar returned. Jocelyn sat on the edge of the settee, ignoring her tea, while she strained to hear any new arrivals outside.