Mercy captured his hands and pulled him into another embrace. “What I meant is that with you for company I’ll have you to speak with to occupy the quiet hours at night if I cannot sleep.” She drew back and glanced up at him. “How long do you think we’ll need to take precautions in our home? I should not like to hide forever.”
Leopold cupped the side of her face, brushing his thumb along the soft skin of her cheek. “Until the danger has passed. But judging from the tone of those letters, and actions, we’ll not have long to wait. His writing has a pattern of growing zeal. Whoever he is, he’ll work himself up into a frenzy before striking at you direct.”
“You think him mad?”
Leopold nodded. The letters on their
own were disturbing enough without the brutal and callous killing of innocent creatures. Wilcox’s description of the discoveries had chilled him. No sane person behaved in such a way. “You don’t have to worry now. Whoever he is, we’ll be ready.”
When the madman came after Mercy and Edwin, Leopold would be squarely in the way. He stepped back.
Without prompting, she moved silently around the room, digging out a hairbrush and a handkerchief, and wrapped them in a shawl. She placed the bundle beneath her bed, out of sight, and turned to him. “Ready.”
“Good. Now, I want you to behave as normally as possible. Wilcox will have taken the housekeeper’s keys by now and will search and secure the unused parts of the abbey. Although we have interviewed all the staff since my return and approve of them all, only a few will be taken into our confidence about the threats against you and the boy. Tonight, I would like you to dine with Edwin, as I understand you often do, and send his nurse away early. I’ll be listening from down the hall and will come for you both to take you to somewhere safer for the night.”
Mercy advanced on him and ran her hands up his waistcoat. “Why not dine with us? Edwin would like that, I think. Perhaps you could persuade him to use better table manners.”
Leopold couldn’t help the short burst of laughter that escaped him. He’d seen the boy’s careless manners at the picnic and had already guessed he might be a tad messy. “If he is anything like my younger siblings, that feat will take some years to accomplish. Tobias, in particular, showed exceedingly messy tendencies. I cannot join you. I must keep watch.”
Mercy’s sad sigh touched his heart. “Let’s hope Tobias has grown out of those poor habits by the time we bring him home, otherwise it might not be safe to introduce him to my sister. Blythe takes order to extremes and will likely cause friction.”
“Tobias will sink or swim when it comes to your family. I have no idea what kind of life he has been living, but I hope the duke kept his word and Tobias has enough gentlemanly qualities to appease Lady Venables and you.”
“We will rub together well enough, I hope. If not, then Blythe could always offer your brother instruction in the social graces.”
Egad! That sounded like a nightmare. “Few grown men like to be told what to do, Your Grace.”
Mercy cuddled into him, “I was teasing you, Leopold. I’d never inflict my sister’s standards onto any man. But let’s worry about him when the time comes, shall we?”
Mercy was correct; there was more than enough trouble in their lives to worry about now without imagining problems to come in the future. He shifted until he sat in a wing chair and pulled Mercy down onto his lap to simply hold her close. But as he pressed his lips to her brow, his future wavered and shifted, hinting at a future that terrified him utterly.
Chapter Seventeen
If anyone had told him a year ago that he would consider murdering anyone who dared threaten a duke or duchess of Romsey he would have laughed in their faces and told them to go to the devil. But today he had felt such fury that it was clear he’d had an absolute change of heart. The boy was innocent and deserved his protection. Mercy was . . .
He couldn’t decide what she was to him. But the thought of her in danger was torture to his soul. There was no need to feel so possessive about her, yet he was utterly powerless to turn his thoughts away from her for long.
She stirred on the bed, where she’d spent the last hour convincing Edwin to rest, and joined him at the window. “He’s finally asleep,” she whispered.
He had stood apart from them, alert for trouble, pistol loose in his hand. He glanced beyond her to the bed and relaxed marginally. “I thought he might be more difficult for you. This is not a particularly cheerful room.” In fact, this room was quite disgusting. Dusty; unused for perhaps a dozen or more years and smelling strongly of dampness. It was an insult to bring anyone here, but no one would expect the boy in this part of the abbey. No one would expect a duchess to allow her child near such neglect. Yet all Mercy had done was wrinkle her nose at the rising dust, and then focused her attention on the boy to keep him amused.
“I told you he has an agreeable temper,” Mercy said. “When I informed him that we would never leave his side he cheered up. He likes you. And he enjoyed the games you showed him earlier immensely.”
A hollow ache started in Leopold’s chest. Although he shouldn’t, he liked the boy, too. He’d felt a profound connection to the child from the moment they’d met. Hiding how much could prove difficult. He checked his weapon again, wishing heartily that he’d taken the time to collect a second from the duke’s study before night had fallen. But he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to what he was doing as yet. For now, all he had to defend them with was one small pistol and a fury unlike anything he’d ever known.
Mercy rubbed her hands up and down her arms briskly to ward off the chill of the cold room. “What time do you think it is?”
“Nearing midnight.” Or at least that hour was drawing close the last time he had checked his fob watch. That habit had grown far too often for his comfort during the course of the evening, so he had made a promise to himself not to check until dawn lightened the sky.
“Are you always armed, Leopold?”
He met her gaze. “Yes.”
She flinched at his immediate answer and lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed. “You must have had a terrible life to always be so prepared for danger.”
What could he say to that? He’d learned his lessons early in life. There was no safe place for him. He had only himself to rely upon. He lifted the pistol and studied it. “I barely notice that I carry it anymore.”
“You carried it the first day we met, didn’t you? You carried it when you met my son?”