Mistress of Merrivale (24 page)

“That would make me look inefficient.” Cartwright shot him a sideways glance, one that Leo had no difficulty reading despite the black of the night. “I give you free rein as it is. I know you sneak off to visit your wife.”

“But you believe my innocence?” If he went to trial, he wouldn’t have a chance with the evidence pointing at him. The locals were scared. Angry. And so they should be, but they were looking for someone to blame, to punish. He was an innocent man.

“I wouldn’t roam the moors at all hours if I didn’t place credence in your story.”

“Each time I’ve seen groups of people at the abbey it’s been after the abduction of a woman,” Leo said thoughtfully.

“We can’t exactly place a trap for them. Your rescue of Ella scared them, made them extra cautious, and the local women aren’t going out at night or walking alone. That must make it more difficult for them to grab someone else. We’ll have to wait until the culprits relax enough to resume their activities. Hell, they’re probably looking sideways at each other, wondering who released Ella, since you’re sticking to your story about finding her wandering the moor.”

“Depends on the tale Sir James spun about that night. And there’s the fact Ella says I kidnapped her.” Leo hated this. From the little Jocelyn said it appeared Ella’s mind was damaged from her experience, and he wouldn’t wish that hell on anyone. “Have the abductions coincided with house parties?”

“Within a few days,” Cartwright replied.

“So someone decides on a target and makes off with them. A secret society along the lines of the Hellfire Club?”

“That’s what I think,” Cartwright said.

“What do we do next?” Discouragement dogged his heels, weighing down his spirit tonight. He wanted to live openly with Jocelyn, instead of paying clandestine visits. Damn it, he needed to walk tall with his name cleared of suspicion.

“I’ll keep an ear open while I do my rounds. Keep track of the comings and goings at Castle Hartscombe and Duxton.” He paused, his face contorting into deep set lines. “Might have a quiet word with the constables in the neighboring parishes to discover if they have unexplained disappearances.”

“And at night?”

“We’ll continue to stake out this place. If any visitors arrive, we’ll track their movements.”

Leo gave a stiff nod.

“Go and visit your wife, lad. Make sure you’re back in time for me to lock you up.”

“Thank you.” Cartwright was doing him a favor, even if the restrictions governing his liberty chafed him. Intending to melt into the darkness, he came to an abrupt halt when a foreign sound cut through the air. He slinked back to Cartwright’s side and peered down at the abbey ruins.

“Two men on horseback,” Cartwright murmured. “Do you recognize them?”

Leo stiffened on seeing the gray stallion one of the men was riding. His gaze darted to the man’s face but it was shadowed and impossible to identify from this distance.

“What?” Cartwright prompted.

“I know the horse. I sold it to Jaego Woodburn about three years ago. The other horse looks like one from the castle stables. Maybe that’s Peregrine.”

Cartwright drew in a sharp breath. “Jaego hasn’t been around for a while.”

“Not since the party at Hartscombe,” Leo said in a tight voice.

“You didn’t know Jaego was sneaking around with your wife?”

Leo tracked the movements of the two men as they swung off their mounts. “No,” he said. “I knew she was seeing other men, but I didn’t realize my best friend numbered among them.”

Silence fell between the pair as they watched from their hilltop. The two men led their horses out of sight.

“Do we follow them?”

“No,” Cartwright said. “There are just the two of them. I’ll watch them and see what eventuates. Tomorrow, I’ll ask a few questions and discover where he’s staying.”

“Probably with Peregrine at the castle.”

“Something always puzzled me,” Cartwright said. “Everyone suspected you murdered Ursula, yet Hannah and Peregrine and their parents stood by you.”

“I think they knew what she was like, that she was meeting other men. Not that they discussed it with me. Ursula spent a lot of nights at the castle. A lot of people knew our marriage was a failure. I told the viscount I didn’t murder their daughter, and he seemed to believe me.”

Down below, the two men reappeared, still leading their horses. Both mounted and rode off.

“I wonder what that was about,” Leo said.

“Hopefully I’ll learn more tomorrow,” Cartwright said. “Go. Visit your wife. I’ll keep an eye on these two.”

“Thanks.” Leo slipped away to where they’d left their horses, his mind full of the past. The smirk on Ursula’s face, the bruises on her body from where she’d said Jaego had spanked her. And Jaego, his friend of many years—the man he’d called brother. He hadn’t been able to deny it when Leo confronted him.

Even now, the memories held the power to hurt, to sling him into fury. A red haze formed in his mind, and he had to fight the urge to grab his horse and gallop after Jaego. What the fuck was he doing back in Merrivale?

Leo reached his mount and swung into the saddle. Despite his urge for vengeance, he steered his horse to the manor and Jocelyn.

Jocelyn lingered in her bed, exhausted, despite a good night of sleep. The indentation on the pillow beside her indicated Leo had joined her at some stage, but she hadn’t heard him arrive or depart.

Susan bustled into her chamber bearing a tray of her normal tea and bread and jam. The scent raised Jocelyn’s gorge.
Oh, St Bridget.
She was going to be sick. She flung back her covers and leaped off her bed, barely making the chamber pot in time.

“Mrs. Sherbourne?” Susan set the tray aside and hovered like a mother hen. “Mrs. Sherbourne.”

Jocelyn caught another whiff of the fresh bread and vomited again. She hovered near the chamber pot and, once she was certain her belly wouldn’t revolt, she lifted her head. “Please take the tray away. I’m not feeling well.”

Susan’s sharp glance dissected her appearance. She gave a curt nod and hurried to carry out Jocelyn’s order. “I’ll be back in a thrice.”

Wearily, Jocelyn straightened and trudged to her bed. She sank onto the edge of the mattress. Something she’d eaten last night hadn’t agreed with her system.

Five minutes later, Susan returned. She handed Jocelyn a piece of dry bread. “Try nibbling on this. It should settle your stomach. My mother swore by it.”

Jocelyn stared at the bread dubiously. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure, Mrs. Sherbourne. I suspect you’re with child.”

Jocelyn’s head jerked up, and she stared at her maid in bemusement. “A baby?” She hadn’t considered the possibility with all that was going on at the manor.

“Yes, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Susan didn’t smile. Instead she glanced over at the indentation on the spare pillow, before shifting her attention back to Jocelyn. Although she didn’t comment, her disapproval was clear. “You’re showing all the signs.”

“But I haven’t noticed—” Frowning, she thought over the past weeks. She’d felt tired, but this was the first time she’d felt physically ill. Her courses hadn’t arrived. She’d put it down to her change in circumstances, worry about her mother, the apprehension and ever-present confusion when she thought of Leo. Hope surged through her now. Excitement.
A baby. Her own child to love and nurture.
“Do you really think I’m with child?”

“You’re displaying the same symptoms my older sister experienced earlier this year. Would you like to go back to bed?”

“No.” Jocelyn nibbled absently on the piece of bread. “I have too much to do for the festival.”

“Do you feel a little better?”

“Yes.” Surprisingly she did.

“My sister swore by the dry bread. She’d nibble on a crust every morning before she started her day.”

“Thank you.” How would Leo take the news? Some of the shine went off her happiness when she thought of her incarcerated husband. Surely he couldn’t sneak around for much longer, not when he’d face the court soon and stand trial. She scowled. She hadn’t managed to wriggle any details from him, despite her questions. It was most vexing.

She stood cautiously, a hand going to her still flat stomach. She felt almost normal, apart from the suspicion of a child dancing through her mind. She was going to have a baby. A warm glow expanded throughout her body, and she couldn’t seem to keep still.

Despite her fidgety twitching, Susan managed to get her dressed, and Jocelyn left her chamber clothed in a lilac gown with matching petticoats in a darker hue. She made her way down the corridor, past an alcove bearing a tall marble urn, the jet-black patina reflecting her face back to her when she paused. Smiling, she continued on her way, her hand cradling her belly.

A loud shriek echoed from the room they used to break their fast. Oh, joy. What had upset her mother now? When a second higher-pitched scream joined the first, she hurried toward the screeches.

She found her mother hovering over Cassie, her face contorted into a horrendous expression. Cassie crouched in a corner, her small mouth open in preparation to release another terrified squeal.

“What is going on?” Jocelyn’s stern voice cut the tension, and her mother backed up, the extra distance between them giving Cassie the façade of security.

“Who is this child?” Elizabeth spun around to face Jocelyn. “Who are you?” Her frown intensified. “Where is my daughter? Charlotte? Charlotte! This isn’t Charlotte’s child. Who is she?”

Cassie let out a squeak, pressing her tiny body deeper into the corner, her eyes large and fearful.

“Mother, take a seat. You’re scaring Cassie.” Jocelyn glanced at Tilly, before attempting to steer her mother to one of the vacant seats. Elizabeth resisted, wrenching her arm free and whirled around to glower at Cassie. With her dark gown and the untidy wisps of hair escaping her cap, she appeared crazed, and she was certainly acting in the same way. “Perhaps Mother’s medicine would calm her,” Jocelyn said.

“I don’t require medicine.” Elizabeth’s gaze darted frantically around the room, searching faces. Unhealthy red splotches grew on her cheeks. “If Charlotte isn’t available, then where is Georgina? I want Georgina.”

But Georgina doesn’t want you, Mother
. Jocelyn strove for patience. “Georgina is in London. Please, let me get you something to eat.”

Finally, her mother moved away from Cassie, and Jocelyn scooped the small girl up, giving her a cuddle. “I’m sorry my mother scared you, sweetheart.” Now that Arabella had left, she needed to find someone to take her place. This current arrangement wasn’t working, especially with Elizabeth taking exception to Cassie’s presence. Maybe Mrs. Green would have a suggestion as to someone suitable.

Cassie’s small hands curled around Jocelyn’s neck. For once the child accepted comfort from her instead of rejecting Jocelyn. Her mouth wobbled and tears filled her big blue eyes. “She doesn’t know my name.”

“Yes,” Jocelyn said with a trace of sadness. “She forgets mine too.”

“Hannah says she’s mad. Why is she mad?”

Hannah needed to stop her unguarded speech. “My mother isn’t feeling well. It makes her unable to recall some things.” Jocelyn made her explanation simple enough for Cassie to understand while attempting to keep her irritation contained. Although she preferred not to confront Hannah and cause further ill-will, she didn’t like the way the woman manipulated her niece. It was time to have a word and request her to desist.

Leo sneaked into the manor, dirty and exhausted, after skulking around Hartscombe Castle for most of the evening. He’d like nothing more than a bath, but resigned himself to a cold wash. At least he’d confirmed Jaego was staying at the castle. Hannah and Peregrine were playing host to several other friends as well, which made Leo’s hopes surge. Maybe an end was in sight. He was tired of spending his days locked in a cell and sneaking around the moors in the middle of the night. He hated having to creep into his own home to visit his wife.

Inside his chamber, some of the tension left him. He pressed his ear to the door and heard the faint murmur of feminine voices. Damn. How long was the maid going to stay? He’d promised Cartwright he wouldn’t reveal himself to anyone except Jocelyn.

At least his farm employees were carrying out the instructions he’d given them before Cartwright had arrested him. Most landowners expected their workers to attend to the day-to-day toil on the land. Leo liked to participate. It was a point of pride to know what was happening with each part of the farming process even if he arrived home looking like a laborer. Days of sitting in his cell, unable to do more than pace, put him in a bad temper. He missed the physical labor. He missed freedom.

He listened at the door again and heard nothing. After waiting for another three minutes, he carefully opened the door. A hipbath sat near the doorway, steam still rising from the scented water.

Cautiously he peeked into Jocelyn’s chamber. To his relief, he found her alone.

“Jocelyn.” He waited until he was sure she’d seen him, not wanting to scare her. Sometimes he thought she was frightened of him, although she hid it well.