But Constantine had to admit he wouldn’t mind knowing Meredith a little better. Like her real name. Her obstinacy at sharing it was a constant irritation in their affair. He didn’t believe he would be comfortable until he had it in his possession.
His sister touched his arm. “Don’t tell me this one has gotten under your skin.”
Reluctantly, he nodded. “She’s different. But enough of me. This,” he said and waved his hand about to include Leopold, “is completely different.”
“Yes, it is. Leopold offered marriage rather than to continue our affair. And wipe that smug expression from your face. Our attraction was completely mutual.”
“Really? Forgive me for not believing that.”
Mercy stamped her foot. “Damn you and your suspicions. Can you not allow me to be happy at last?”
Grayling frowned. “You were happy before.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Edwin.” She threw her hands up into the air. “Did you know he had a weak heart before I married him?”
Randall scooped up the boy in his arms and moved him away out of hearing.
“No. Father was alive then and conducted the negotiations with the duke and Edwin. He seemed robust enough to me, but was he ill?”
“Yes and no. But two women, a wife and a mistress, were too great a tax on his stamina. There was no chance for an heir.”
Constantine looked at the boy across the room and pointed out the obvious. “You have a son.”
“I have a son.” She moved closer. “But Edwin did not father him.”
He stared at his sister in shock. Mercy couldn’t have gone that far to be a mother to gain an heir for the estate. But her defiant glare proved she may have done just that. He took a step back from her. “What the devil did you do?”
His sister shook her head a little sadly. “I did nothing. The duke arranged everything. If you had read my letters, you might have an inkling of his malevolence. His son had to have an heir by any means possible, even by blackmailing his own family to get one.”
“Blackmail?”
“Blackmail.” Mercy drew closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “In return for his siblings’ safety, the duke sent Leopold to my bed. That’s why he will never hurt Edwin. Can you imagine anyone murdering their own child just to claim the title their flesh and blood already has?”
Constantine glanced toward the young duke, saw him laughing and smiling at the man playing games with him. There was a certain similarity in their features. The shape of the nose, the curl of their hair as they leaned toward each other over the game.
“The longer I look, the more I see. Leopold realized sooner than I did and still intended to leave us behind.”
Hell and damnation. What else had he missed these past years? “Why did he stay?”
“Besides the fact that we love each other to distraction?” Mercy snorted. “Because of Edwin. Family means everything to Leopold. He didn’t want Edwin to shoulder the responsibilities for this place alone. He stayed to guide my son when all he wanted from the start was to leave and continue his search.”
“The missing siblings?” Constantine scowled. “I keep seeing those damned notices in the paper. Soon all of society will know and start to wonder what else is going on here. I shudder to think of the gossip the season will bring.”
“We will weather whatever comes together. It is what families do. There is only Rosemary to find now.” Mercy turned away and grabbed a handful of papers from the desk. She shuffled through them until she found one and handed it to him. “This is what we believe Rosemary might look like today. Leopold’s sketches of his brothers were remarkably accurate, so we have hope someone will recognize her. Have you seen her? I asked everyone at the wedding with no success.”
Constantine took the paper and stared down at it. At first, the face was that of a stranger. He held it out at arm’s length before his face and then lowered his hand, placing it closer to five feet in height. He was struck by the familiar heart-shaped face and expressive dark eyes. Without color it was harder to imagine, but if those eyes were the color of whiskey and her hair was cut short, that sweetly deceptive face would usually show far more animation.
Meredith. Calista.
He shook his head. That couldn’t possibly be right. If Meredith was in fact Rosemary Randall, and knew full well he was coming here, then she would never have stayed behind in that shabby village. It must be a coincidence.
He lowered the paper and found himself face-to-face with Leopold Randall.
The other man’s eyes skewered him. “Do you recognize her?”