Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

Tobias blinked at the carnage on Mercy’s bed. Blood soaked linen, mangled rabbit corpse. Whoever was trying to scare Mercy away was a determined fellow. “So we can assume the same culprit is at work again.”

“It looks that way,” Leopold said darkly.

Tobias picked up the rabbit by the ears, watching the way the body dangled by the remaining thin cord of flesh and skin. The poor creature had almost been decapitated. A strong person had done this, someone without a shred of compassion in their being. He dropped the rabbit. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s take the boy outside to kick his pigskin ball around.”

He met Blythe’s gaze. She was pale, backed up against the bedchamber wall taking shallow breaths, but so far she hadn’t fainted. He held out his arm and the beauty took it, a tremble of distress passing through to him as she clung. Poor creature to be so affected by blood. This event must be quite unsettling for her. If not for his life at sea, he too might be feeling as discomforted. But there was little that could shock him after seeing a man cut in half before his eyes and hearing his futile pleas for help.

He shook off the memory. After finding the child’s toy, they walked outside to a patch of sunlit ground without a servant lingering nearby. Tobias led Blythe to a stone bench, saw her settled, and then moved away to think. He hunkered down against a low stone wall in the sun and closed his eyes to block out the distraction of his brother at play with the child.

There had been no further threats to Mercy or the young duke until today. There had been very few visitors at the abbey since he’d come home and frightened Mercy and Blythe out of their wits.

He pursed his lips together. The obvious connections were again Blythe’s presence at the abbey or the visitors.

Approaching footfalls sliced through the grass. Tobias opened his eyes as Leopold stopped before him. “What are you thinking, brother?”

He looked for young Edwin and saw that he’d tired of the ball and was digging in the earth at Blythe’s feet with a short stick. Tobias squinted up at his brother. “Has it always been different visitors coming and going on the day of these atrocities?”

Leopold crouched down against the wall, too. “I believe so, yes.”

“Is there anything to connect the visitor’s servants to Romsey Abbey? A footman who has changed employers perhaps—one who might want to seek revenge for a past wrong committed against them?”

“Not that I can tell. Wait. Mercy said the steward who managed the estate left suddenly after our cousin died, but that was, oh, two years ago now. I should discover where he went. Perhaps Wilcox will know. These acts only started a year ago and it seems a long time for him to wait to seek revenge.”

Tobias squinted at the cloudless sky. “It all started at the time Mercy came out of mourning?”

“Yes. About then, I suppose. I hadn’t connected the timing of the two events together.”

Someone had wanted Mercy to leave Romsey Abbey as soon as her mourning was over. But why? “Is there a particular reason Her Grace did not return to London when her mourning finished, aside from the boy?”

Leopold ducked his head. “She said she was waiting, hoping I’d return.”

Tobias laughed. Now that wasn’t the response he’d expected, and it was particularly sweet to see his brother’s discomfort.

He looked over at the duchess. Mercy was in no way a typical female, much less a stern aristocrat. It might have been an easy thing to do to frighten a widow from the country if that woman hadn’t been as stubborn as an ox and bent on remaining in wait for her lover. She might parade around in feminine garb, but there was steel in the Duchess of Romsey’s gaze. Fierce loyalty, too. Whoever was doing this had grossly underestimated her character. She’d leave when she decided to go and not a moment sooner.

The wind picked up, sending a chill through him. Whoever it was that committed these crimes may already be at the abbey and they used the arrival of visitors to cast doubts about their identity. Add Lady Venables odd behavior, fueled by grief, into the equation and the suspect might well have succeeded in driving Mercy from the abbey.

Oliver, if he lived, would solve this puzzle easily. He’d find the pattern in the chaos and offer up a perfectly logic

al explanation for the events that were unfolding. Without him, they’d have to muddle through as best they could and hope they didn’t miss a clue.

He studied the women seated on the bench. Despite the troubles surrounding them, the sisters were still close. Family and the best of friends. Their recent problems had temporarily driven them apart, but now they appeared to have mended their fences completely. Tobias was glad for that. They needed each other.

He set his arm about his knees and leaned forward. “We must read everything in the duke’s sanctuary. Someone is trying to drive Mercy from the abbey. We need to work out why?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

“Running the estate, arranging a wedding.” He slapped his brother’s leg and stood. “We’ll get to the bottom of this together. I’ll start today. Keep Mercy and the boy with you at all times. Lady Venables might not like it, but we are going to spend a lot of time together over the next few days. Can the duke’s sanctuary be reopened from the inside if the door is closed completely?”

Leopold nodded.

“Good, as an added precaution, I’d like Mercy to refrain from using the drawing room as often as possible so we can pull that room apart without worrying about someone snooping into things best kept within the family.”

His brother stood, too. “I think Mercy will agree with that.”

“Excellent. I’ll go there directly and begin.” He leaned close to Leopold. “Consider this: every time a visitor comes to Romsey the servant hall would be scrambling around to provide tea and such. Someone could easily slip upstairs and lay out another grim offering without being seen. Rather clever timing really.”

Leopold shook his head. “You are complimenting a villain, Tobias.”