Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)

“There,” the young duke’s piping voice said.

Constantine moved forward to get a better look. The young duke lay upon the floor beneath the ducal desk, his finger pointing at a pencil-sketched map of Romsey. Toys were scattered everywhere between young Edwin and Leopold Randall’s feet. Constantine looked at the other man curiously.

An apologetic smile flitted across Randall’s face. “He’s too young yet to make the decisions himself, but he’s not too young to start learning about the estate. He’s to have a riding lesson in the morning. Shall I inform the stables that you’ll be joining him?”

“Are you not going with him?”

“Of course I am. After breakfast, Edwin spends part of his day with me outside if the weather allows and then he has riding lessons with the stable master, luncheon with his mother, and then lessons with his aunt in the afternoon. The whole house revolves around his schedule until he falls asleep at night. I’m due to take him up to the duchess in a moment, but he wanted to finish his game.” Randall raised a brow. “Did you think I’d leave his care to servants and run the place as if it was mine alone?”

Constantine had. Randall had appeared the interloper when he’d arrived, interrupting his time with his sister and taking charge of the servants at dinner. The change from his last visit had set his teeth on edge. Mercy had run an informal household, but with Randall’s arrival, it functioned like a well-oiled machine.

Leopold Randall might actually be a good influence on the estate as long as he remembered who was to inherit it. He glanced down at the boy again and saw him rub his eyes. The young duke had a full schedule of activities bound to exhaust him each day. Thanks to Meredith’s views on children and what they needed most, he understood a little better now that routine had value for all.

He skirted around Randall to crouch at the duke’s level. “Good evening, Your Grace. Are you almost ready for bed?”

Although Edwin stared, it was clear to Constantine that he’d stayed away from the boy far too long to be remembered fondly. Although he was disappointed that his own nephew didn’t feel comfortable with him, as his own daughter had behaved with Mercy, he held out his hand to help him up.

The boy surged to his feet and grabbed his hand. The shake was surprisingly firm for a child and the boy’s eyes held his steadily. Was this the influence of Leopold Randall coming to the fore so soon?

He stood when the boy released him and assessed the man opposite. Dark wavy hair, cut a little longer than was the fashion in London. Steady dark brown eyes that saw everything but said little. A man of solid build and confidence in his abilities. He was struck by a sudden surety they had met before, in London or perhaps somewhere else in the countryside and he’d forgotten about it. He couldn’t be sure of the time or place except for the nagging suspicion their meeting was recent.

Randall turned away, stepped carefully over the boy’s toys, and began to shuffle journals on the large desk. “The estate accounts are now up to date if you’d care to inspect them, my lord.”

Courteous, too. There must be something wrong with him. No man could be perfectly agreeable to give way to a mere child. The man was next in line for the title. There would be too much temptation to resist. “Was there an issu

e with them?”

Constantine took the journal Randall held out and leafed through the pages idly. He’d give Randall one concession, his entries were meticulously neat and detailed. The journals were possibly better documented than even his own. He whistled at the balance totaled on the very last page. So far Romsey was doing well under Randall’s guidance. He’d still bear watching, though.

Randall shuffled and then bent to pick up a toy that was in danger of being stepped on. “They were woefully insufficient in the beginning. But a little effort and a few dozen late nights in this room have set them to rights. Her Grace is pleased with the work I’ve done.”

Constantine looked at him slyly. “A wife should be pleased with her husband or she shouldn’t have married him.”

Randall threw the toy onto the desk. “Your point?”

“It’s all very reasonable and convenient for you, isn’t it? Marrying my sister, a duchess, and gaining a toehold in the abbey you could one day inherit. I’m sure you set your sights high for a reason.”

“And what reason would that be?” Mercy asked from the door.

Constantine pivoted and took in her bearing. She had a mutinous glint in her eye that boded ill for getting to the truth. “He is the heir.”

Mercy crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “He would never harm Edwin. When he came, he never wanted to stay.”

He glanced at Leopold Randall. “How cunning to make you believe in his reluctance.”

“That’s a dreadful thing to say. Leopold loves me and I him. Just because you prefer to avoid respectable women doesn’t mean I am so easily swayed into a man’s arms. I almost believed your story about the governess. Did she finally discover you never intended to marry her? How typical of you to seduce the help.”

Anger trickled through him. Meredith was an incomparable, both in bed and out of it. And he would marry her one day. He wasn’t keen to rush to that point and scare her away. “What did you hear about Miss Clark?”

“The girls talk of nothing else but missing her. Miss Clark this. Miss Clark and Papa that. Did you become bored with her and dump her at the side of the road to fend for herself?”

“Of course not,” Constantine said quickly. Meredith was never far from his thoughts. “She fell ill on the way here, as I said, and wouldn’t countenance further travel. I told her I’d return tomorrow once the girls were settled.”

“So you say.” Mercy scowled. “What, exactly, is wrong with her? Did you secure a doctor? A servant to attend her? Did you ensure she had funds for a physician should one be needed?”

“I…” Constantine tried to explain, but it was impossible to get a word in when Mercy had a head of steam going. He waited until her rant ended, waited a bit longer until she looked at him to speak.

“Miss Clark is a very private person. If she said she was unwell, then I believed her, but I paid the innkeeper handsomely to see to her every need. And yes, she is my lover. Anything else is for her and me to discuss.”