By the time Mercy had convinced Edwin that the day was too warm for a picnic, her nerves were in tatters. Leopold issued orders to the servants as she settled Edwin beside her in the carriage, fussing with his clothing because she had to do something with her hands or she’d scream.
When Leopold joined them inside, he dropped the blinds completely over the windows. “We need to change positions now,” he said quietly as the carriage lurched forward.
It was a little awkward to do while the carriage was in motion, but they swapped sides so she and Edwin sat in the rear facing seats. She met Leopold’s gaze across the dim compartment and a shiver of fear raced up her spine. Leopold’s firearm remained out of Edwin’s sight and for that Mercy was extremely grateful. But he offered her no reassurance. His smiles were all gone. He appeared furious, both with the situation, and with her for involving him in her problems.
The short drive back to the abbey was conducted in tense silence. Leopold did not speak. Even Edwin seemed to realize that all was not right with his world. His gaze darted between them and then he set his hand in Mercy’s and gripped her tightly.
Leopold shifted the blind to peer out. “Almost there. I will step out first. Hold the boy and do not let him escape you until I give you leave. Understood?”
Mercy blinked. After years as a duchess, she was quite unused to being ordered about. However, given the circumstances, she would not make a fuss. She needed someone who knew what to do in this situation. She was completely out of her depth. Mercy draped her arm about her son’s shoulders and held him against her side.
The carriage rolled to a stop and Wilcox hurried to open the door. Mercy sucked in a deep, calming breath as Leopold stepped out first, hand hidden beneath his coat to conceal the pistol. He stood in the doorway a long moment then turned and held out his hand for Edwin. “No jumping this time, Your Grace. Your mother has many things to do today.”
Although his words were spoken calmly—for Edwin’s benefit—his graze flittered restlessly about the surrounding gardens. He held onto Edwin’s arm until Mercy joined them and then released her son to her care.
Mercy stumbled up the stairs as pinpricks of discomfort raced along her limbs. She struggled not to clutch her son to her and run for the safety of the main door. Leopold followed along, slightly behind them, until they passed over the threshold of Romsey Abbey.
When the front door closed, Leopold curled his hand around her upper arm in a tight grip. “To the study. Bring the boy.”
Mercy stumbled down the hall pulling Edwin with her as fast as his legs would carry him. Once ensconced in the chamber, Leopold checked the locks on the windows, drew the drapes, and even checked under his desk before he was satisfied that they were alone. “Take a seat.”
Mercy’s knees thanked her for sitting down. Her legs had become jelly in the face of
Leopold’s tension. He moved about the chamber, following Edwin as he clambered up on the desk chair and peeked into a drawer. Leopold moved his papers aside, placed a blank sheet of paper on the surface, and left Edwin to draw.
“Now,” Leopold began as he approached. “I think you had better explain to me your understanding of that note.”
Judging by his harsh, uncompromising expression no evasions would be forgiven. “We’ve been receiving letters, infrequently, from a man I’ve come to fear. He speaks as if we are well acquainted, but I cannot imagine whom he might be. I cannot tell where the letters come from, and he never signs them with a name.”
Mercy clutched her hands tightly together as Leopold sat on the cushion beside her.
“He speaks as if you are intimate acquaintances, Mercy. How long has this been going on?”
Mercy rubbed her hands along her thighs, startled by how long she’d lived under this cloud. “It’s been a year since I read the first, but I have found older ones hidden in this room. My husband and father-in-law must have known about them, I think. But since my husband’s death, the letters have become more frequent. The last was just two nights ago. The night before you agreed to move into the abbey.”
Leopold’s lips twisted as if he had tasted bitter fruit. “You invited me to live in the abbey only because of the threats against you and the boy, didn’t you?”
Mercy caught his hand. “No. That is simply not true.” She had invited him here because she had wanted to get to know him far better than she did. If he had stayed at the Vulture they would never have made love last night. Even without the threats hanging over her life, she would have wanted him here.
He worked his hand free; his expression, when he turned his head, was bleak. Did he not believe her?
“I’ll need to see the other letters if you still have them, Your Grace. Are they in this room?”
Mercy swallowed, hurt that he would speak formally with her again after they had been so close just last night. “No, I keep them upstairs in my bedchamber under lock and key. I didn’t want the servants to stumble over them.”
He nodded and then tugged the bell to summon her butler. Mercy cast a quick glance at Edwin. Her son’s dark head was bent over the page; oblivious to what happened around him for now. Leopold had chosen well to give him paper. The boy loved nothing better than to sketch whatever came to hand.
Mercy jumped as a knock sounded on the door.
“Come,” Leopold called, withdrawing his weapon and tucking it against his thigh, out of sight but at the ready.
The door creaked ominously as Wilcox entered. “I’ll have that seen to immediately, Your Grace. You called?”
“I called for you,” Leopold corrected. “Don’t fix the door, just close it behind you. The creak may come in handy later. Come in.”
Wilcox hurried forward, but stopped when he noticed the weapon in Leopold’s hand. His expression grew grim. “What has happened?”
Leopold put the pistol away slowly, eyeing the butler with suspicion. “You don’t seem surprised to see me armed in the duke’s presence and you tried to warn me this morning by asking if I traveled with a weapon. I take it you are aware of Her Grace’s admirer.”