She drew in a shuddering breath. No matter how gentle her stranger had been, he had used her, too. If it were true, she would not forgive Leopold for keeping his part in that night secret. He must have known when they met. How could she trust him now?

“Mama?”

As was his habit, Edwin sat up straight away and threw himself sideways over Leopold.

Leopold started up suddenly, too, eyes wide on the small boy draped across his stomach. Edwin yawned sleepily and smiled up at him. Leopold stared at her child a long time, but then he must have registered her absence from the bed as his gaze searched for her quickly.

When their eyes met, Mercy couldn’t force a smile to her lips. She didn’t know what to say to him yet. If her fears were true, she had been utterly duped by a man she thought she could trust from first sight. She had misjudged him very badly if that were the case.

Leopold scrambled out from under Edwin, dropping her son to the bed in the process. Her son’s widened eyes and hurt expression moved Mercy toward the bed to comfort him. She gathered Edwin in her arms, whispering a good morning against his ear. But she kept track of Leopold as he bent to replace his shoes and draw on his coat.

Her lover, the man who may very well have lied to her every moment since they had met, cleared his throat. “We can return to the family wing whenever you are ready.”

“Of course.” Although he was almost too big to manage, Mercy carried Edwin with her as she crossed the room to slide her feet into her slippers. One of them, of course, proved troublesome but she didn’t want to release Edwin. She was afraid that if she did she would blurt out her accusation at Leopold and, if he didn’t deny it immediately, she’d start an argument while Edwin was near. Her fears could be groundless, after all. Mercy hated to be in the wrong.

Leopold crossed the room, bent to capture her ankle, and set her foot within the shoe properly. His hand stroked over her skin, another decadent, hungry touch that reminded Mercy all too painfully of what she’d allowed this man to do. She had pursued him and seduced him and begged him to make love to her again and again.

When he rose, she couldn’t meet his gaze directly. She stared at the roughly tied cravat and did her best not to want to fix it. “We are ready.”

He nodded, crossed to the door, pistol already in his hand, and eased the door open a crack. After a few minutes, he widened it further and stepped out into the hall. Mercy waited, pulse pounding when he disappeared from sight and returned again.

It may have been only a moment but that was all it took for Mercy to bury her anger, at least for the present. They had other problems to face. The madman was still due to call.

“Can I help you by carrying him?” he asked.

Mercy pressed Edwin’s head to her shoulder as he shifted subtly toward Leopold. “I can manage.”

There must have been a touch of anger in her words because one of Leopold’s eyebrows rose. She hurried forward, along the hall toward the family wing, ignoring the man following in her wake. It would take a while to be easy with him if her suspicions were true, but until that time she would behave as a duchess should. She would keep Leopold Randall at arms length and out of her bed.

She quickened her steps along the hall and slipped into her son’s bedchamber. Then, because she was still very angry, she set Edwin on his feet and slammed the door in Leopold’s face.

Chapter Eighteen

As the door shut with a loud crash, Leopold blinked in surprise. He’d thought Mercy had woken out of sorts this morning, but he hadn’t realized her dissatisfaction lay with him. What he had done between last night and this morning, he couldn’t imagine. But her coldness today did remind him that he knew very little about the woman. Maybe she’d had enough of him. Maybe her actions were designed to put him firmly back in his place as her inferior.

Leopold retreated to the chamber across the hall, leaving the door ajar in case he was needed. Mercy had his thoughts spinning, none of them good, none of them satisfactory, and every one determined to drive him wild.

He grabbed a chair and straddled it, resting his arms across the back as he faced the door she had disappeared through. How had he come to be in this situation? How had he forgotten completely what he was here for? It seemed that the moment he’d learned of the threat to Mercy and the child his whole world had changed direction. And all because he couldn’t silence the doubts.

Was that truly his cousin’s son?

Or was Edwin his?

A child’s parentage mattered to society. Edwin was the legal heir, born within the marriage and had inherited the title of duke, the estate, and every responsibility when his father had passed away. But the boy reminded him of his two brothers when they were younger. Similarities he strove to ignore. For the devil’s sake, he’d almost embraced the child this morning, and yesterday when he’d carried the boy through the abbey he’d thought his heart might burst with joy.

If Edwin was his offspring, he’d never be able to tell a sole but neither could he turn his back on the boy if he were in any form of danger.

And the danger was coming to Romsey Abbey. He just didn’t know from where. Frustrated, he stood, checked the hall, and then prowled about the room. There was no telling where the danger might lie. In the open, or already within the abbey walls. How could someone bring a live animal into a building, slaughter it, and no one notice? Wilcox had questioned every servant personally, but none had offered up any clues. Were some in league with this monster, a lover of words and grim offerings?

He didn’t know who to trust in this place.

He stopped at the window and looked out. He trusted Wilcox and his valet, Colby. Two people in a house full of dozens. And what about Allen and his boys? He claimed to want to live quietly o

ut in the stables without Mercy knowing of his connection to the duke. But he’d have the means of entering the abbey and leaving the grim gifts about the place. Hardly anyone would wonder what he did. He could very well be the source of the threat. Was he as cold blooded as the old duke?

Leopold raked his fingers through his hair. Everyone had to be held in suspicion until he got to know them better. Even Mercy herself. He set his hand to his chest as the memories of her in his arms, against his body, roused his desire. He couldn’t even trust those moments with her to be anything more than mutual lust.

He did desire her. She gifted her body without hesitation. But her mind, motives, and her heart were a complete mystery to him. That she loved her son was in no doubt. But would she be happy if her son turned out to be his?

Tags: Heather Boyd The Wild Randalls Romance
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