Engaging the Enemy (The Wild Randalls 1)

Leopold stood. “I will take my leave of you now. But I will want to hear if you have any more trouble. Be sure to send word to me.”

Beth scrubbed her hands over her knees again, a sure sign his request troubled her. “Where exactly are you staying?”

“The Vulture.” He’d not be welcome at the abbey beyond an hour, and most certainly never asked to stay so he might have the chance to decline graciously. The village inn was preferable to anywhere else. “I’ll expect to hear from you if there is trouble again.”

Beth Turner’s shoulders relaxed.

Leopold nodded then stepped out into the yard with Colby hurrying in his wake. At the horses, he set his foot into the stirrup with a heavy heart. “Make it right, Colby.” He swung into the saddle. “Food on the table for tonight, speak to Brown about fixing the roof, and see to it that the boy and mother are properly prepared for the coming winter. Tell Brown I’ll settle funds on him this evening to cover every expense required. Once I have matters settled at the abbey, I’ll make arrangements for their future.”

Colby’s eyes widened with surprise, but he wisely nodded and directed his horse back toward the village. As much as Leopold didn’t want the responsibility here at Romsey, he wouldn’t turn his back on William’s widow and son. He would see she had the protection of the Randall family, even if it was from the disreputable side.

Chapter Two

The trouble with Mercy Randall’s friends, childless friends in particular, was that they did not understand the great responsibility placed upon her shoulders as the widowed Duchess of Romsey. She shook her head to deny the latest invitation to revisit London and take in the delights of the capital. She was the mother of a young duke, the last of his line, and thus her sole responsibility. She could not come and go from Romsey Abbey at will, even if she might wish to run away at times.

The responsibility was so great that Mercy often had nightmares in which she imagined all manner of duties she may have neglected that day. Romsey Abbey comprised eighty-nine chambers, four green houses, various outbuildings, and one hundred souls dependant on her largess. Fifteen hundred acres of fertile farm land—hers to care for until her son came of age. What had she been thinking to accept a proposal of marriage from a seemingly healthy marquess seven years ago?

“You are kind to invite me again,” Mercy said firmly. “But my life is here now.”

Anna, Countess Barnet, gave her arm a squeeze. “Now, my dear, dear duchess, I shall hear no arguments this season. You are out of mourning and it is much too long since you’ve come up to London. I cannot allow you to wallow here forever. Your husband died a year ago now. He would never want you to remain after he was gone.”

Mercy glanced beyond the gardens to the dark woodlands and shuddered. “I could not leave Edwin here alone.”

When Mercy had married Edwin Randall, the Marquess of Manderson, at eighteen, she wasn’t told that he had a weak heart. If she had known from the start, she’d have at least considered the likelihood that she’d be left to manage everything should he die before her. But she’d lived in ignorance until the day he’d collapsed while out walking the grounds a year into their marriage.

At the time, the doctors had said the exertion, coming so soon after a mild fever, had brought on the attack and had cautioned Mercy to limit her demands on his time. Not something a new wife particularly wants to hear when she was just coming to know the man she had married. The year since her husband’s death had taught Mercy that she had to think of the future more often to avoid nasty surprises.

Anna waved her hand dismissively. “The child will go on well enough without you.”

If Anna knew the truth, she wouldn’t be so sure. There was danger circling her son. He was too young to face that alone. Mercy forced a bright smile to her face. “I do wish it were that easy, Anna. But I would not rest without Edwin.”

Anna shuddered. “A child in London is quite out of the question. How could you consider it? What if he should stumble into your private chambers while you were entertaining a friend?” Anna smiled wickedly. “I can think of no faster way to cool a man’s ardor than to have a child thrust into a room with him. I’m told it is quite draining.”

Although Mercy was terribly lonely, and at times desperately afraid, what Anna suggested was quite out of the question. As much as she might miss the intimacies of the bedchamber, she had no time to spend with a lover. All her energy was devoted to her son and his welfare. A lover would take her away from him for too long a time for her peace of mind.

Anna’s earthy laugh filled Mercy’s ears. “Speak of the devil. Look, here comes Shaw now.”

Lord Shaw, Anna’s elder lecherous brother, strolled about on the far side of the garden with Mercy’s sister, Blythe—Lady Venables—by his side. Blythe seemed content enough in Shaw’s dubious company for now, but Mercy would have to rescue her soon. Shaw was not the sort of gentleman Blythe approved of. He was too bold, too forward and lusty for long conversation. According to Blythe, a gentleman should convey his hearts desires discreetly. Shaw made no bones that he was eager for bed play with any woman he met.

If not for the much needed distraction of having guests at Romsey Abbey, Mercy wished with all her heart that Shaw would have stayed in London and found another lady to call on. He came to visit with too much frequency for her peace of mind. Despite all she had done to dissuade him, Lord Shaw was determined that he would spend a night in her bed.

Mercy stopped suddenly. “I care not if a mans ardor is drained or not by the appearance of my child. I have no intention of going anywhere without my son, and I have no intention of taking a lover. Why must you always be going on about that?”

Anna tipped her chin toward her brother. “You cannot deny Shaw hasn’t expressed a particular interest in you, and it is to his credit that he seeks to entertain Lady Venables in such a way. She has a prickly demeanor that you know I find unsettling. However, he sacrifices his time so we may have an enjoyable visit. What more could you want in a man?”

Mercy bristled. Perhaps what she wanted was someone who did not fake pleasing manners around her family in the hopes of getting beneath her skirts. “He does not need to play my sister false on my account. I enjoy my sister’s company and her visits.”

Anna’s brow rose as if she didn’t

believe her. “We shall never agree on her character and I want no ill will between us. However, in order for my brother to court you, you must see that a trip to London will give you time to come to know him better. He cannot spoil you as he wishes if your sister is close by. Oh, when you come up to London, things will be easy. No more bothersome Blythe shooting daggers at our conversations. It is hard to imagine a woman of her reticence captured a husband at all, let alone Venables. They say he had an adventurous disposition while he lived.”

Mercy smiled, but the conversation was growing tiresome. She liked Anna, when they discussed other matters besides Blythe and Lord Shaw. Her visits turned Mercy’s mind from the danger facing her son. They had been close friends since her first season, but Anna’s obsession with Mercy’s love life, or lack of, was driving her to the brink of being rude. The snide comments against her sister were a problem, too. Blythe might be laced up tighter than necessary, but she had a good and generous heart under all her frowning.

As Blythe and Lord Shaw joined them, Mercy forced herself to smile and pretend all was right with her world.

“Ah, Your Grace, you do know how to please a man.” He looked about the garden with a proprietary smile. “Nothing could give me more pleasure than to remain at Romsey Abbey for the rest of my life. The quiet, the solitude, the breathtaking vistas. I do not wonder that you prefer this locale to anywhere else. I know I would remain here for all my years if given a chance.”

A scandalized expression crossed Blythe’s face. Mercy could feel a headache coming on. The very unsubtle suggestion that Shaw particularly liked Romsey Abbey would bring on yet another lecture from Blythe later. Danger or not, Mercy couldn’t wait for Anna and Shaw to go away so she could put Shaw’s behavior from her mind. She would have to assure Blythe, again, that she wanted nothing from him. “You are kind, my lord. But obligations must be met, despite the disappointment of our feelings. Please give my regards to your mother. I look forward to seeing her again one day soon.”