Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

Mercy stared. “How could he not have told me of his suspicions?”

“I don’t know, but I think you should not be alone with him when you ask.” If he had withheld information, Wilcox’s tenure as butler of Romsey Abbey was going to be very short lived unless he had a believable explanation. She’d never cared for Wilcox or his influence on Mercy. She wouldn’t mind seeing him gone.

“I’ll be sure to have Leopold with me.” Mercy tapped her arm. “I hear you’ve engaged a new lady’s maid.”

“A companion. Mrs. Turner has just arrived in fact.”

“Excellent. I’ve been meaning to take another look at the woman.”

A small kernel of uncertainty gripped Blythe. “Oh. Why is that?”

“You’ll think me foolish, but for a short time I suspected Mrs. Turner of having been Leopold’s lover. I wasted a good deal of my temper over the matter.”

Blythe’s anxiety grew. “I was led to believe she’s an old family friend. Was I misinformed?”

“No, no. She is a very good friend given what Leopold has done for her. But you know me. I have a possessive temper and I’ve discovered it is somewhat worse when it comes to Leopold. I did not like to think there might be another woman to tempt him away from me.”

She stared at Mercy in surprise. “That’s utterly ridiculous.”

Mercy shrugged. “When one is in love, and uncertain whether that love is returned in full measure, one does tend to imagine the worst. You were lucky with Raphael. He never looked at another woman but you. Come, I must meet the woman myself to see if she will be suitable for you. It will also be good to have another ally between us and the servants.”

Mercy assigned Leopold’s valet, Colby, to stay with Edwin and then they hurried upstairs. Mrs. Turner was just being shown about by the housekeeper. They stopped in the hallway outside Blythe’s bedchamber and Mercy waved the older woman away with a request for a tea tray to be sent up. “Mrs. Turner, so nice to finally meet you.”

Beth Turner sank into a deep, perfect curtsey. “Your Grace, Lady Venables.”

Mercy smiled. Mrs. Turner smiled. And then both looked at Blythe next. She smiled too and tried not to laugh. “Have you been shown the house and to your quarters?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good. And your son is settled and occupied for the afternoon?”

“He is, thank you. Mr. Randall suggested he might spend some time in the stables. I believe the coachman has boys a little older than my George and they will show him about the grounds and tell him where he might venture.”

“Good. Good. Well, if you’ll follow me I can show you your duties.”

Mrs. Turner followed Blythe about as she showed her where her things were kept. Unfortunately, when she opened her wardrobe doors she revealed the colored gowns.

“Blythe? Is there something you forgot to tell me?” Mercy asked.

“No.” Blythe shut the doors quickly. She’d changed her mind about coming out of mourning. She wouldn’t need the gowns. Perhaps Mrs. Turner would appreciate them.

Mercy smiled. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about, Blythe. If you’re finally ready to cast off your mourning everyone will understand. In fact, I can assure you that I know of several gentlemen who will be very pleased.”

“I’m not interested in other men.” Blythe bit her tongue. That sounded very bad, even to her own ears. She couldn’t help it if she thought of Tobias’ torments more often than she should. She hoped Mercy would miss her slip and assume she referred to Raphael.

Mercy stepped around her and opened the wardrobe doors. “Were you going to wear one of these tonight?”

Blythe sighed. “I hadn’t decided, but I don’t think I will now. I brought them with me to see if I liked them still.”

Her sister pulled out the blue silk, the one Blythe had quickly tried on last night. “I had a note from Miss Trimble that she and her cousins cannot come today as arranged so that gives me ample time to convince you to discard your somber tones and wear this instead. I’ve always admired you in blue.”

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come,” Blythe called.

The housekeeper swept through the door, tea tray poised in one hand. “Here we are, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Callinan. Just set it over there.”