Mistress of Merrivale (34 page)

“I think so. I kicked him.” Her chin lifted in defiance. “Melburn suggested it.”

“My cousin?” Now he was intrigued.

“He said if a man accosted me without permission, I should look for an opportunity to kick him in the balls.”

Leo winced. “Did his advice work?”

“Yes.” She sounded smugly satisfied.

“Let’s get you back to the manor.”

“I want to rejoin our guests,” Jocelyn said.

“I’ll escort you back to the manor.” He intended to have a word with Boynton. He eyed her, relief at finding her releasing the tightness in his gut. “Everyone will leave soon. You’ve worked hard today. Go to your room and rest.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

“Because you don’t trust me or because you think I might be tired?”

Something twisted inside him, and he had to swallow to dislodge the clog in his throat. He caressed her cheek. “I don’t want you to get fatigued. The servants or Mrs. Allenby will supervise the rest of the night. All you need to do is ask.”

She winced when his fingers brushed her jaw. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“Boynton struck me.”

Anger flared again as he turned her face to the light. He trailed his fingers gently down her face until he reached the nasty scratch that marred her silky skin. A trail of smeared blood had dried on her chin, and he rubbed it gently with a damp finger. “He’ll pay for this.”

“Punch him in the nose.”

“You sound bloodthirsty.” Her manner calmed his earlier doubts, shame filling him now for even considering Hannah’s accusations.

“I hate Boynton, and I hope you put a kink in his nose. He said he intends to spread rumors about my past, if he hasn’t already.”

Leo grinned, despite his anger at Boynton. “For you, my dear, it will be my pleasure.”

Jocelyn climbed the stairs feeling every ache and pain. In her bedchamber, she surveyed her face, probing the sore spot on her jaw. She winced and turned away. Bastard. She should have kicked him harder.

After cleansing the wound and applying one of her mother’s salves, she managed to remove her gown and slide into bed. Now that she’d slowed exhaustion struck, but sleep evaded her. Too many thoughts danced in her mind.

Boynton would waste no time spreading the facts of her past. The delicious gossip of a man duped by a courtesan and tricked into marriage would do the rounds in Tavistock and gradually the rumors would wend their way to London. Once the locals learned the sordid truth, they’d turn their backs on her. Leo and Cassie would reap the same treatment by association. Every prediction her sisters had uttered about dire consequences was finally coming to pass. And their baby—what sort of life would he or she have when everyone assaulted them with vicious whispers?

Merrivale was Leo’s home. He was a good man and didn’t deserve any of this.

Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned, wincing with each twist of her body. Damn, Boynton, and a pox on Hannah.

The hours marched past, and someone knocked on her door. Susan probably. At Jocelyn’s muted summons, her maid entered. After setting down a tray, she drew back the curtains. On seeing Jocelyn, her mouth dropped open and her perkiness fled.

“Mrs. Sherbourne. Your face!” She snapped her mouth shut, her lips flattening to a thin line of disapproval. She stole a quick glance at the connecting door.

“Leo didn’t do this.” Jocelyn rushed to his defense.

“Yes, Mrs. Sherbourne.”

Susan didn’t believe her. Jocelyn glanced at the pillow beside, her noting the lack of indentation. She frowned, not sure what Leo’s failure to join her meant. At the very least she’d expected him to check on her.

“Should I help you out of bed, Mrs. Sherbourne?”

“Yes, please.” She noted Susan’s anxious glance and sighed. “My babe is fine. I’m merely a little sore.”

A sharp hiss escaped Susan when she witnessed the extent of Jocelyn’s bruising. “Take a seat and drink your tea while I get some warm water.”

Jocelyn obediently limped over to sit in one of the chairs by the window. She caught a glimpse of her face in the looking glass. No wonder Susan was suspicions. She looked as if she’d taken part in a pugilist match. She moved gingerly, biting back an unladylike curse. The idea was to reassure her maid, not alarm her further.

Susan returned with water and, after helping Jocelyn to wash and dress, finally bustled from the room. She must speak with Leo to learn what had happened with Boynton. She and Leo needed to form a plan, present a united front, and they couldn’t do that if Leo was avoiding her.

Susan returned with ointment for her bruises.

“I’ve already applied salve,” Jocelyn said. “Is Leo here?”

Susan sniffed. “No one has seen him since last night.”

“Please make sure Woodley knows I wish to see Leo as soon as he returns.”

“Yes, Mrs. Sherbourne.”

Jocelyn spent most of the day pacing the parlor. She read a story to Cassie and told her she’d walked into a tree branch in the dark when her stepdaughter expressed curiosity about her face. It was the same story she told everyone except Tilly and Woodley.

“What are you going to do?” Tilly asked after Jocelyn admitted the truth of her injuries.

“The man has not a shred of honor,” Woodley added.

“I’ll speak to Leo. If the wretched man ever decides to return to Merrivale. My husband, I mean.”

As the day progressed, and Leo didn’t arrive, her frustration grew. When the man finally made an appearance she might just flay him with her tongue.

“Is the woman all right?” Leo asked. While he was loathe to leave Jocelyn after Boynton’s attempted abduction, she’d be safe at the manor. It was time to clear his name and finish the investigation he’d started on his own, before the constable had tossed him in a cell. Besides, Cartwright had stuck by him, and Leo could do no less now when the constable required his help.

This time they surveyed the abbey from another vantage point. It was closer with better views, and they’d manage to ferret out identities if the men didn’t wear masks.

“The woman is fine. She said a servant took her food and ale. If you ask me they’d drugged it because she said she slept. Her eyes didn’t look right.”

“What the devil do you think they’re up to?” Leo asked, his hands wrapped around a brandy flask as if to ward off the chill. Each exhalation created a puff of steam. “I was sure they’d appear at the abbey last night.”

“They’ll come tonight,” Cartwright said with an air of confidence. “The men I’ve hired are in place and will move when I give the signal.”

Leo wished he held the same certainty. To his mind, the men were playing with them, like a child teasing a kitten. “We know they kidnapped Ella and probably the maid found in the maze. They enticed the blacksmith’s wife.” Leo’s brow crinkled as he stared down at the abbey. “Ursula and Elizabeth were clearly strangled. It’s still puzzling me. Why?”

A rumble of laughter came from Cartwright. “Not just a pretty face. I’ll make a parish constable out of you yet. I wondered if you’d twig to the differences in the deaths.”

“What does it mean?”

“It might mean nothing,” Cartwright said. “It might mean they take turns getting rid of loose ends and have different methods of disposing of the women.”

“Or there might be two separate murderers at work.”

“There is that theory,” Cartwright said.

Leo tossed over the information they had. “I’ve been thinking about this for days. I don’t understand why someone would strangle Elizabeth. She was a harmless elderly woman.” He shifted to a more comfortable position. “Unless she saw something. It’s possible she could have witnessed a crime, but her behavior was erratic. Half her words didn’t make sense.”

“But an odd moment of lucidity might have meant disaster for the person concerned,” Cartwright mused.

“Or Elizabeth might have been murdered because of me,” Leo said, voicing the idea that had plagued him for some time. “As an act of revenge.”

“You haven’t considered Jocelyn or the woman who looked after Elizabeth?”

“No, Jocelyn didn’t murder her mother,” Leo said. “She gave up everything to keep her mother safe, and Tilly is devoted to Jocelyn. I doubt she did it either.”

“You didn’t even pause to think about it,” Cartwright observed.

“I know my wife. She’s generous and loving. She—”

“We have a group of horsemen approaching,” Cartwright said.

Leo watched the men canter up to the abbey and dismount. The raucous screech of feminine laughter floated to him, and an open carriage came into view. Torches and lanterns soon lit the entrance.

“The men are masked,” Cartwright said.

“Gives them a sense of anonymity, makes them feel safe. Don’t worry,” Leo said in a grim voice. “I recognize the horses. The bay with the white socks belongs to Peregrine Richards. The horses all come from the Richards’ stable, which means his guests are with him.”

“But Sir James isn’t here.”

“Give him time.”

A man helped the women from the carriage, sweeping them off their feet into his arms. Shrieks of laughter rang out, bolstered by masculine banter.

“It’s early,” Leo said. “They’ll want to have their fun first.”

Another carriage arrived, horsemen riding either side. The carriage pulled to a halt and four men climbed out. One reached back into the carriage and lifted out something.

“Another woman?”

“I’d lay money on it. I don’t like the escort.” Cartwright watched the men enter the abbey. Two remained at the entrance. “They’re armed. That will present difficulties.”

“Yes, we need to get inside the abbey.”

Cartwright shifted his weight, stretching his limbs. “We’ll have to get rid of the guards.” He scratched his chin then smirked. “Let’s dispose of the guards and replace them with two of my men.”

“I’ll take the one nearest the big oak,” Leo said. “We’ll have to disable the carriage drivers too.”

“We won’t have to,” Cartwright said with a jerk of his chin. “They’re leaving.”

Leo squinted through the growing darkness. “That’s a good plan on their part. They won’t want to attract attention.”

Once they could no longer hear the rattle of the carriages, Leo and Cartwright crept down from their vantage point, stalking their chosen quarry. Leo stole toward the oak, his gaze on his target. He was almost on the man when the crack of the wood beneath his boot sounded like gunfire. The man whirled, gun cocked. Desperate, Leo lunged, his fists swinging. The gun fired and pain screamed through his biceps.

Leo grunted and swung a heavy fist, despite the fiery burn in his arm. The man crumpled, and Leo dragged him behind the oak. He grabbed the man’s cloak and swung it over his shoulders.

“You,” a voice called from the ruins. “Who fired the gun?”

“’Twas me,” Leo said, dropping into local dialect. “’Twere only a bird. Frightened the wits out o’ me.”

“You’re sure it was a bird?”

Leo recognized Sir James’s voice. “Aye, sir.” He dipped his head, feigning respect.
Bah!
He’d like to wring the man’s neck. “’Twas an owl.”

The mournful hoot of an owl came on the heels of his words, Cartwright’s signal to his men. Leo saw Sir James nod and watched his retreat.

Leo backed into the shadows to inspect his arm. A scratch. He’d been lucky this time, but it burned like the fires of Hell. He dabbed the wound with the tail of his cloak.

“You all right?” a gruff voice asked.

“Bullet scratched me. I’m bleeding but I’ll live.”

“Let me see.” Cartwright angled Leo’s arm to the light and nodded. He pulled a kerchief from within his cloak and bound Leo’s arm in the competent moves of one experienced with gunshots. “Have you bound and gagged your man?”

“Not yet. He’s out cold behind the oak.”

Cartwright took care of the chore, pausing to hoot another signal. By the time he’d finished a dozen men stood with them in the shadows.

“We’ll wait half an hour to give them time to settle. Once we move, Jed and Harry, you guard the entrance. Stop anyone who tries to depart. I don’t want any shooting unless you’re being fired upon. Clear?”

“Aye,” the men said in a low chorus.

“The rest of you are with me. I want every man and woman inside the abbey ruins detained for questioning. I don’t care who the hell they are or what title they possess. No exceptions.”

“We’ll find them in the main body of the abbey where the roof is still intact,” Leo said. “Some of the men might be in the old cells where the monks used to sleep.”

“We’ll get them, sir,” one of the men said, his voice rough from smoking tobacco.

When the half hour elapsed, Leo trailed into the abbey with the other men, the glowing torches making their clandestine task easier. The scent of smoke and tobacco hung on the air, along with the sweet scent of something else. Leo recognized the smell as the same one he’d noticed during his previous visit.