Mistress of Merrivale (15 page)

“Thank you,” the woman said.

The woman behind the counter took the pie and set it on a shelf. “’Twill be ready this evening.”

The young woman nodded and left.

“Are you Mrs. Samson?” Jocelyn asked.

“Aye, Mrs. Sherbourne,” the woman replied with a grim smile.

Jocelyn’s own smile faltered. “Susan, my maid, suggested I speak to you. I wish to employ someone to look after Cassie. I understand your eldest daughter is very good with children.”

“Aye, she is.” Her eyes flashed and resentment twisted her lined face into a grimace.

Jocelyn took an automatic half step back when the woman continued to glare. “Is something wrong?”

“I won’t let my Agnes work at Merrivale Manor.”

“Why?” Jocelyn asked faintly. Surely this wasn’t anything to do with her mother. She was only a danger to herself, not to other people.

“It’s not safe,” Mrs. Samson said. “I’m not letting my Agnes anywhere near your husband.”

“Leo?”

“Aye, Sherbourne. I know what’s going on at Merrivale. First his wife, then a maid is dead. Other girls missing. He’s selling them into slavery and murdering those what don’t agree.”

Jocelyn drew herself up. “The parish constable hasn’t arrested him.”

“It’s not what you know. It’s who,” Mrs. Samson snapped. “My Agnes is not going anywhere near the manor and that’s final.”

Jocelyn gave a civil nod and kept her tongue still. How could she protest when Mrs. Samson’s words dovetailed so neatly with her own doubts?

Chapter Seven

Hannah and Peregrine’s party, three days later.

“I’m sorry about Mother making us late,” Jocelyn said. “She’s been so good recently. I didn’t expect her to have one of her episodes. Normally we have more warning.”

But that was changing and it was an alarming trend. The silence inside the carriage was rubbing her nerves raw. If Leo decided to cease his support, Jocelyn didn’t know what she’d do. She forced herself not to fidget but couldn’t prevent the curling of her gloved fingers while she anxiously awaited her husband’s reply.

Leo reached out, his hand landing unerringly on her knee. He squeezed lightly. “It’s not as if I wanted to attend to this party,” he said gruffly. “With any luck we’ll miss the receiving line.”

Some of the tension leached from her. “I’m looking forward to meeting more of our neighbors.”

Leo caressed her lower thigh through her skirt, the warmth of his hand shifting her anxiety to other sensual avenues. “Some of Hannah’s friends are…difficult. There will be gossip. Snide comments. I don’t want you to get upset by the things you might hear.”

“Don’t worry. I can handle anything they throw at me.” The past had taught her confidence went a long way in social occasions. It didn’t matter if she was falling apart inside, she could still portray a lady, a woman calm and above the vulgarities of other people.

“You might find them unwelcoming. Everyone loved Ursula, and my remarriage has caused talk.” The tone of his voice suggested he was grimacing. “Gossip.”

“What sort of comments?” He must have realized a second marriage so swiftly after Ursula died would initiate gossip. Her mind tugged and pulled at the reasons he’d given her. He required a mother for Cassie. Not true—not when he had Arabella in residence. “Leo?” she prompted a reply.

The pause lengthened until she wondered if he intended to answer at all.

Finally, he sighed. “Most people expected me to marry Hannah once the period of mourning ended, and they’re likely to make that clear during the course of the evening. They can be petty, and I find their cruelty untenable.”

“I understand what you mean. People judge my mother and laugh behind her back. She can’t help her behavior.”

The carriage coasted to a stop. A footman opened the door and the faint tinkle of music carried to them. Leo stepped from the carriage and turned to assist her to alight.

“I didn’t realize they lived in a castle.” Jocelyn stared up at the tower that loomed in the darkness. A face stared down at her, partially obscured by shadows. “There’s a face—oh! It’s a gargoyle. How interesting.”

“Hartscombe is full of such things,” Leo said. “It’s not a place for children.” He placed her gloved hand on the crook of his arm and turned toward a flight of steps. “This way. Watch your footing. The steps are crumbling in a few places.”

Jocelyn strolled at Leo’s side, glad of his warning and the smoky torches lighting the uneven steps. At the top, Leo guided her through a doorway. A maid took possession of her pelisse and Leo’s hat, then Leo directed her right toward the music. They entered a large salon, brightly lit by candles and full of strangers.

“Leo!” Hannah pushed her way through the crush, her welcoming smile only for him. Her black gown with white accents was stunning in its simplicity, yet it clung to her curves and grabbed every male eye in the vicinity. “You’re here at last.”

“I’m sorry we’re late, Hannah. We had a small problem at home.” Jocelyn smiled brightly at the woman everyone had expected her husband to marry. She turned her attention back to Leo and caught him eyeing Hannah’s charms. Some of her anticipation and pleasure in the evening faded.

“Jocelyn.” Hannah turned her gaze on her, and Jocelyn couldn’t help but notice the malicious glint as the other woman took in her green gown, the splendid emerald necklace and earrings and Jocelyn’s bright red hair in its intricate twist. “Is your mother not well? I hope she isn’t scaring Cassie again.”

“Hannah.” Leo’s voice held a touch of warning.

Hannah’s smile faltered before burning bright again. She approached Leo and took his arm in a familiar manner. “Leo, darling, come and meet my friends from London.”

Jocelyn sucked in a swift breath, humiliated by the way Hannah was ignoring her. The slight hadn’t gone unnoticed by others, and two young women clad in the latest London fashions openly tittered. Her cheeks started to burn.

Leo removed Hannah’s hand from his arm. “Let me introduce Jocelyn to our neighbors first, Hannah.” A rebuke shaded his words, and Hannah shot Jocelyn a scowl before flouncing away.

“Is she always like that or does she save her rude behavior for me?” Jocelyn asked in an undertone.

“She tends to worry about her needs more than others.” Leo looked as if he wanted to say more but politeness forbade him. “Ignore her bad manners. It’s best that you do.”

Leo led Jocelyn over to a group of men and women in the far corner of the salon and started his introductions. She felt the waves of the curiosity from Leo’s friends, and her stomach churned despite the confident tilt of her chin. She observed the whispers, partially hidden by flickering fans, and the way the confidences increased when they noticed the healing scratches on Leo’s face.

“Jocelyn, this is Sir James Harvey from Duxton.”

“Mrs. Sherbourne, charmed.” Sir James took her hand and bowed over it, his lips brushing the back of her glove. Tall and slim, he wore the latest London fashions from the top of his powdered wig to the jeweled buckles on his shoes. His red suit and matching ruby jewels made him stand out from the more somberly clad locals.

“It’s lovely to meet you. Is Duxton very far from Merrivale?”

“About ten miles if you have the skills to fly like a crow,” Sir James said, straightening from his bow. “A bit farther if you choose to travel by carriage or horseback. You must ask Leo to bring you to Duxton to visit, my dear. We have many things from exotic places. The ladies love the sparkling treasures.”

Jocelyn had met men like Sir James before—a wealthy rake. Unconscionable, they seduced every woman crossing their path and if they were virginal or unobtainable, so much bigger the challenge. When they weren’t whoring, the scoundrels gambled with weaker men who should know better. She tugged her hand from his grasp and gave him a chilly smile. “Thank you for the invitation.”

The music started again, and one of Leo’s friends solicited her hand in a dance. Once again people stared, but she went through the measured steps with grace and her head held high. Let them stare.

With Jocelyn safely dancing, Leo made the rounds of his friends and acquaintances, keeping a close ear to pick up any useful gossip. Unfortunately it appeared most of the rumors circulating were about him—his marriage to Jocelyn and the murders.

“Leo,” a crisp voice said from behind him.

Damn, he’d hoped the parish constable wouldn’t attend tonight. Composing his features, Leo turned to face Captain Cartwright.

“Have you made any progress in the search for our maid?” He might as well raise the subject first.

“How did you get the scratches on your face?”

Leo sighed. Straight for the throat. “I told you. I fell when I got between a man and his wife during an argument.”

Another new arrival caught his attention. Leo felt a vein start throbbing at his temple and the blood pounded in his ears. The bastard. Leo clenched his fists, fighting the urge to march over to Jaego Woodburn and issue a challenge.

Their gazes connected across the crowded ballroom, and Leo grit his teeth as he stared at the man who’d once been his best friend.

“Leo. Leo!” Cartwright attempted to retrieve his attention.

“What?” Leo barked.

“I’ll be at Merrivale early tomorrow morning. I have more questions for you.”

Leo shrugged. “I have sheep to dip.”

“The questions won’t take long. I thought you’d prefer privacy.” The veiled threat came through clearly. Cartwright intended to get his answers one way or another. If he refused to entertain an interview, Cartwright would voice his queries in a public venue.

Aware of interested bystanders, Leo gave a curt nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If I’m not at the manor, I’ll be at the sheep yards.”

“Thank you.” Cartwright moved away to mingle.

Leo scanned several familiar faces and noticed some acquaintances looked away in firm snubs.

“Leo, how are you?” Hannah’s mother, Viscountess Hartscombe, approached him.

Leo offered a stiff smile and relaxed when she behaved in her normal, friendly fashion. “I’m fine. How long are you home for this time?”

“Only for a few weeks while we prepare for another journey to Egypt. I hear you’ve remarried,” she said abruptly.

“Yes. I’ll introduce you to Jocelyn.” Leo scanned the dance floor and couldn’t see his wife. “When I find her.”

Jocelyn couldn’t help but be aware of the pointed stares and speculation. She scanned the crowded room, searching for Leo. On locating him, she witnessed his ease with everyone, his apparent unconcern about their opinions. She took her cue from her husband. No doubt there were rumors flying around about her mother’s behavior along with the ones about their abrupt marriage.

The murders.

Hopefully, the gossip would die. All she needed to do was grit her teeth and smile. And hope that Leo wasn’t involved with the murders…

There!
She’d actually admitted her concerns. Leo might share her bed, but he was still an enigma—an unknown quantity.

“Would you like to dance?” A man Leo had introduced her to earlier stood in front of her.

“Thank you. That would be lovely.”

One dance moved into another. Jocelyn suspected everyone wanted to gather information to add to the gossip vine, but she was politeness itself, exchanging pleasantries with each of the men who secured her hand for a dance. Finally, Jocelyn excused herself to visit the ladies’ retiring room. On the way back, she dawdled and, on seeing a set of open doors, sought brief respite from the constant surveillance of strangers.

Lit by torches, the gardens were wild and untamed compared to those at Merrivale, yet they bore a certain charm. She breathed in the scent of roses, the sweet perfume relaxing her and bringing a spurt of pleasure. Her mother would love to use these petals in her potions. Perhaps she could ask Hannah—no, maybe not.

“Don’t you think he has a nerve appearing in public, especially at a party at Hartscombe?” A woman’s tart voice carried on the night air. “Sherbourne is a murderer.”

Jocelyn came to an abrupt halt, her heart jumping in a noisy
thump-thump
.

“I daresay Hannah and Peregrine thought they had to invite him. I mean, they used to be related by marriage,” a man drawled, amusement clear in his lazy tone.

“But he murdered her,” the woman snapped. “If I were his new wife, I’d worry about my safety.”

Jocelyn caught back a gasp, her hand fluttering at her breast.

“The officials cleared his name,” the man said.

A tinkle of laughter came from the woman. “He paid them off.”

“Maybe,” the man mused. “He certainly had reason to rid himself of Ursula. No man wants a wife who cuckolds him.”

The voices sounded closer and, afraid of discovery, Jocelyn ducked off the path and pressed into a corner. Luckily, she blended into the shadows. A rose branch dug into her arm, the jab of thorns piercing her long gloves. Wincing, she froze and prayed the couple wouldn’t linger.

“Do you think the child is his?” the woman asked.