Jo Goodman (15 page)

It was then that Colin understood that his approach had been all wrong. Mercedes Leyden was quite capable of dismissing him and his questions as long as she was the one being threatened. Now he remembered how quickly she had acted to remove Weybourne's children from the parlor when one of the boys had caught the edge of Severn's temper. It seemed she would take on anything to protect the others.

Colin Thorne studied Mercedes a moment. Anger was the overriding emotion she turned on him but he didn't think he was wrong to believe that fear had provoked it. None of his own satisfaction at this discovery showed on his features. This was not the moment to reveal he had found her Achilles' heel.

Colin stepped past Mercedes and over the shards of the broken pitcher. "You look as if you have it—" He dodged another missile, this time as Chloe threw the washbasin. "Well, perhaps you don't have it under control after all." Chloe's screech actually hurt his ears as he took a step in her direction. She looked around frantically for something to throw. Britton and Brendan scrambled off the bed and ran headlong at Colin's legs, stopping him much more successfully than they had their other target.

"Everybody stop!" Mercedes hardly recognized her own voice, but she noticed no one else seemed to have any difficulty. Not so far off she could hear Severn and several others nearing the top of the stairs. Whatever search had been organized was now on its way to the north wing. "Now they're all coming," she said sharply. "Chloe, put down that book. Brit and Brendan, let go of Captain Thorne right now. And you—" She pointed to Aubrey. "Put Sylvia down. She's not an acrobat and this, whatever you've been given cause to think, is not a circus ring."

Her directives were no sooner complied with than Lord Severn reached the door. "What is going on?" he asked. "Thorne. What's your second doing in this part of the house?"

Colin shrugged. "Ask him yourself."

Aubrey brushed himself off, straightening the shirt that was twisted around his waist. When Sylvia stepped away he casually touched her wrist and brought her to stand in front of him. "The doctor wasn't good company. And I didn't think much of joining your search. Thought I'd have a look around and see if I couldn't scare up the earl myself."

Mercedes spoke before Severn could respond. "It's all right, my lord. No harm's been done."

Severn was not appeased. "Then what was all the screaming about?"

This time Sylvia spoke up. "Girlish silliness, my lord," she said. Her head was tilted at a coquettish angle. "I saw a mouse and started screaming. People have been coming to my rescue ever since. It's really rather overwhelming. I had no idea I had such a compelling cry."

God bless you, Mercedes thought. She addressed Severn. "You see, it was nothing. High spirits is all."

"High strung is more like it." He surveyed the room again and, seeing that everything was reasonably at peace, he motioned to Mrs. Hennepin, her husband, and the others who were going to be part of the search to back out of the doorway. "Are you coming?" he asked Mercedes.

"Yes," she said. "In a moment. I've decided to permit Captain Thorne and his second to look through the house. It's clear they're not going to be satisfied with less." Ignoring Severn's glowering look and Mrs. Hennepin's hand-wringing, she addressed the twins. "Boys, why don't you take them on a tour? Sylvia and Chloe, you may go along if you wish. Be particular to show them everything. Even the turret rooms."

"North and south?" they asked in unison.

"Of course." She turned back to Severn. "I'm ready," she said.

* * *

A thorough search of the grounds took until midday to complete. In the end there was only one conclusion that Mercedes could reach: The Earl of Weybourne had fled. Severn, she discovered, had come to another one.

She offered him a drink in the earl's library, too tired to wonder at her foolishness in being alone with him. "Are you quite serious?" she asked when he offered his explanation.

Marcus Severn nodded once and raised his glass. "Quite," he said, his voice clipped. "They killed him."

"But there's no evidence."

"That's only because we haven't found the body."

Mercedes began to think she may want a drink herself. She sat down slowly. Even in her confusion she had enough sense to take a chair rather than the narrow divan where Severn might be tempted to join her. "Don't you believe we would have seen something?" she asked. "Some sign of blood, torn clothing from a struggle?"

"We'll keep looking, of course," he said. "Tomorrow I'll bring help from my father's estate to comb Weybourne Park. I'll also alert the authorities. They'll want to speak to the Yanks at length, I'm sure." He sat behind the earl's desk and rolled the tumbler between his palms. "Where are they?" he asked.

"I believe that after they finished with the house they joined Ben Fitch's group at the pond."

"Not surprising. That isn't far from where they were supposed to meet your uncle in the first place. They may have even gone there to make sure their tracks were covered."

"You can't know that," Mercedes said.

"But I can find out." He set his tumbler down firmly and came to his feet in a single motion. Marcus Severn's ice-blue eyes rested thoughtfully on Mercedes. "You know, Mercedes, if Thorne murdered your uncle it raises all kinds of questions about the future of Weybourne Park. It isn't as if Thorne can collect on the wager under those circumstances."

That thought had also occurred to her. "This is all supposition," she said.
"Your
supposition." She was uncomfortably aware that Severn was studying her again, and that his look could not have been more different than the one she experienced from Colin Thorne. There was nothing remotely disinterested in Severn's expression. Mercedes even allowed that some women might have been flattered by his attention; she simply did not count herself among them.

He was not a strikingly handsome man but he wasn't unattractive. His features were refined, with high cheekbones and a narrow jaw. His dark hair was casually styled. He had an athletic build, and Mercedes knew he rode frequently for pleasure and boxed with friends from his club. It was his widely spaced eyes that set her skin crawling, or more precisely, the way he looked out of them. Mercedes could not escape the sense that he removed her clothes each time he met her. His speculative glances had more to do with what she looked like outside of her chemise and petticoats than any question he had about her character.

"I think it would be better if you left," Mercedes said.

Severn's smile did not reach his eyes. "Have a care, Sadie," he said. "I might believe you're eager to be rid of me."

Mercedes schooled her features and did not take issue with the use of his pet name for her. "I'm exhausted. Surely you can appreciate that. I've been up since dawn along with every other member of this household. The search has achieved nothing except to confirm that my uncle has disappeared. And now you've given me something else to consider. My plate is full, m'lord."

"Marcus," he said. "I've given you leave often enough to use my Christian name."

Mercedes regretted her slip because it extended their conversation that much longer. "Very well," she said. "Marcus." It was a measure of how much she wanted him gone that she deigned to use the familiar address with him. She came to her feet to avoid him coming around to her chair and towering over her.

"I should like to talk to Thorne and the other fellow before I leave," he said.

She sighed. Marcus Severn was well aware of the other fellow's name. It was typical of him not to use it when he considered the man of so little consequence. "Please. Tomorrow will be soon enough. It's not as if we're even certain where they are right now."

"All the more reason to find them and warn them not to leave until they've fully accounted for themselves."

"You're not suggesting they remain here, are you? I'd really rather have you and the sheriff speak to them away from Weybourne Park."

"Of course," he said. "One of the local inns will do as well. I believe Thorne's second mentioned the Passing Fancy." He rounded the desk and approached Mercedes. As was his habit, he reached for her, this time taking her wrists in a light clasp. "Don't worry, Sadie. This will be settled quickly. I'll see to the matter myself." He bent his head and kissed her on the cheek.

Mercedes did not think it was her revulsion that made his lips seem to linger longer than usual. She shut her eyes and prayed he would withdraw quickly, not understanding the invitation she appeared to be offering with her closed lids and patient expression. She almost cried out when his mouth touched hers.

Except for falling back in the chair, there was nowhere for her to go. His clasp on her wrists became noticeably tighter. Mercedes found she simply couldn't breathe.

When Severn raised his head it was to discover Mercedes staring at him. "That's an accusing expression," he said calmly, letting her wrists go. "One might think you found my touch not to your liking."

Mercedes drew in a shallow breath. "I did not give you leave," she said.

He smiled lightly as he picked up his gloves. "That's something else you'll have to consider about your future, won't you? If you want to keep Weybourne Park there will have to be some allowances made." Severn watched her flinch. It was accomplished with a mere blink but he understood it for what it was. He was satisfied Mercedes knew what he was saying. He could always change her mind about liking it. "Good day, Sadie."

* * *

"They took us in, didn't they?" Aubrey said.

"So you've noted." It was not the first time Thorne had heard the observation. By his recollection, since being locked in the north turret room, Aubrey Jones had pointed it out five times. Colin was considering engraving it in the plaster. For all the good it was doing them, he still had his knife. "Why don't you sit down, Aubrey? You must have already memorized the view from each of the windows."

The turret's six windows offered a panoramic view of Weybourne Park. From this vantage point Colin and Aubrey had been able to watch most of the search. It was their initial interest in the view that had made it so easy for the twins and their sisters to lock them in.

Aubrey leaned against the wall and inched his way down until he was sitting on the hardwood floor. "The southern turret was furnished," he said. "You'd think they'd have had the decency to make a prison out of that one."

Colin pointed to the waterstained ceiling and the stain on the bare floor. There was also what looked like a permanent shadow on the cream plaster caused by water damage. Colin had already spent a considerable amount of time looking for shapes and figures in the odd marking. "The room's in need of some repairs."

"Did they have to remove
all
the furniture?" Aubrey grumbled.

Colin gave Aubrey a critical glance. Even folded as he was, his legs crossed in front of him like a tailor, Aubrey took up a fair amount of space. "You'd have broken that delicate stuff by now anyway. From what we've been allowed to see, I'd say they couldn't afford to replace it."

"Is that why you wouldn't let me break one of these windows?"

"It may still come to that," Colin said. "I may throw you through one. Be glad I'm more interested in discovering what she has planned than in making an escape."

Aubrey snorted. "That's because you haven't been trying to ignore one of nature's calls. I had a quick drink with the doctor before I started my search. I have certain needs."

Colin grinned at that. "It shouldn't be much longer," he said. "You saw yourself that the search parties are coming back to the house. She'll be here directly."

"You're confident she doesn't intend to starve us, then," Aubrey said dryly. As if on cue his stomach growled. "I swear I may just gobble her up." He patted his stomach to settle. "Though, truth be known, I fancy one of the younger ones."

One of Colin's brows kicked up. "Really? Britton or Brendan?"

Aubrey shot his captain a sour look. It was too bad there was no furniture, he thought. He might have been moved to throw something. "Sylvia," he said, stretching out his long legs. "She was pleasing to my eyes."

"As I recall she doesn't look so different from her sister," Colin said. "Your interest in her wouldn't be because the other one told us several times that there are plans for her to marry a vicar?"

"She looks nothing like Chloe," Aubrey said. "Her eyes are more blue than green, for one thing. And she must be a full inch taller. There's only a suggestion of a dimple in her chin while Chloe's looks like a thumbprint. You must have noticed that—"

"That you could go on and on," Colin interrupted. "I take your point. I'm convinced you don't mean to have them both."

Aubrey scowled. "They're nothing like the wenches last night," he said. "You'd do well to remember that."

Both of Colin's brows lifted as he considered Aubrey's statement. "I thought you liked Molly and her sister."

"I did. I do. And I mean no offense to them by pulling you up short, but they'd be the first to tell you that there's a world of difference between them and the earl's daughters."

Colin was unconvinced. He shrugged. "Only in the breeding, Aubrey. Not in the bedding. They're more similar than different."