Jo Goodman (17 page)

He was not offended. "I've learned to be."

"Why didn't you tell Severn what I did last night?"

"I've also learned not to rush my fences."

She frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I can wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Just wait," he said. "Everything happens in its own time. I'll know when it's time to give up our secret."

Mercedes felt her heartbeat quicken. He'd said
when,
not
if.
He made it sound as if he had every intention of telling. All the more reason to encourage him to leave Weybourne Park. "You haven't asked about my uncle," she said.

Colin picked up a letter opener and turned it over in his palm. The silver handle was inscribed: Winston, my love. Elizabeth. "Aubrey and I could see a lot of the activity from our crow's nest," he said. "We never saw anything that looked like Weybourne's return." He held up the opener. "I thought the earl's name was Wallace."

"It is. That was my father's."

"Elizabeth?"

"My mother. She was his countess." She saw Colin's skeptical look. "I wasn't always the poor relation, Captain Thorne. Before my father and mother died this was truly my home. I was born here. That turret where you say you were imprisoned was once my very special room. That's where I kept my dolls and books and childish treasures, and I passed many more hours in a single day there than you did or are ever likely to."

Colin was taken aback by this information though his expression remained unchanged. He looked around the room but the vision in his mind was the rest of Weybourne manor, the bedchambers that needed airing, the threadbare carpets, the water-stained walls and ceilings. When his dark eyes alighted on Mercedes again he simply asked, "Then how?"

She understood. "The how of it is rather simple," she said. "Do you know what it means when an estate is entailed?"

"The inheritance is passed from father to son."

"If there is a son. If not, it goes to the closest male relation. That's how my uncle became the earl. He was my father's brother and my father had no sons."

Colin put down the letter opener. He ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. Her desire to see that her uncle wasn't killed in the duel didn't make any sense to him. One of the twins would have inherited the title at least. As far as Colin was concerned, he was now the rightful owner of Weybourne Park. He said as much to her.

Mercedes shook her head. "You don't understand at all. Severn believes you murdered the earl before the duel was to take place. That means you wouldn't get the property."

"Then the older of the twins would inherit. That must be to your liking."

"My uncle has never recognized them as his sons. He's always believed Lady Georgia, my aunt, had an affair."

"Then who would claim Weybourne Park?"

"Haven't I made that clear?" she asked. "No, I suppose I haven't. It's Viscount Fielding, of course. Marcus Severn is our closest male relative."

Chapter 5

She thought she might get a reaction. When Colin continued to look thoughtful, Mercedes had good reason to wonder if she'd been heard. "Severn," she repeated more loudly. "Our closest male relative is Severn."

This time one of Colin's brows came up. "There's no need to play the parrot," he said. "I heard you the first time."

Embarrassed, she glared at him accusingly. "Then you might at least make some response."

"Miss Leyden," Colin said, sighing. "If I jumped each time you surprised me, I'd have exhausted myself by now."

"Then you
were
surprised? You didn't already know about Severn?"

"Perhaps I should speak up. I thought I just said that." Colin gave her full marks for not shrinking back in her chair at his withering tone. She blinked once, shuttering whatever hurt he had inflicted, then faced him squarely. "You may tell me how he's related," he said. "I don't know that either."

She had never felt such an overpowering urge to throttle someone. In her lap, Mercedes's hands folded primly. "It would be more correct to say it is Severn's father who stands to inherit. The Earl of Rosefield and my grandfather were cousins."

"So you and Severn are third cousins."

"Something like that."

"Kissing cousins."

Mercedes reacted with her entire body. Her head whipped up and her shoulders stiffened. The hair on the back of her neck stood erect and beneath her gown she could feel the prickle of gooseflesh. She was unable to help herself, and a shudder actually rolled through her. "That's a vulgar expression," she said tightly.

Fascinated, Colin's head was cocked to one side watching her. "You've never heard it before."

It pained her to admit it. "No."

"It merely means the blood relation is far enough removed that there's no incestuous impediment to marriage."

"I surmised its meaning," she said coldly. "I'm not without some intelligence. It's still a vulgar expression."

Colin's tone was one of complete indifference. "Perhaps you're confusing the expression with the act."

"I hardly think that—"

"Kissing cousins," Colin said under his breath, mulling the words over. "No, it doesn't have any vulgar connotation in my mind. I admit though, when I saw Severn lay his mouth against your cheek, not once, but twice, I wondered that you were able to stand your ground." He almost smiled as she came out of her chair as predictably as a jack-in-the-box.

Mercedes rounded on him. "My duties as hostess don't extend to allowing you to amuse yourself at my expense. I asked you here to warn you of the danger you're in. If you cannot be sensible to that, then I'll excuse myself." She waited several heartbeats, trying to read his inscrutable expression. His eyes were like polished obsidian, darkly reflective and damnably unrevealing. "Very well," she said when he gave no response. "Good day, Captain Thorne." Mercedes made a graceful turn, her full skirt sweeping the air in an arc. She was permitted one step in the direction of the door before she was brought up short.

Colin grabbed a handful of her skirt and drew her inexorably closer. Repositioning himself on the edge of the earl's desk, Colin drew Mercedes directly between his splayed legs. He did not mistake her lack of struggle with compliance. She was merely trying to save her gown from being torn. When she was close enough for him to control in other ways, he turned her around and laid his palms on either side of her waist.

Mercedes said nothing. She stared at him mutinously as though she could shame him into releasing her.

"That look's wasted on me," he told her. "You'd best find another."

Her clear gray eyes narrowed.

"Better," he said, unruffled by her anger.

"You're intolerable."

"So I've been told."

He was completely maddening. Mercedes looked over her shoulder toward the door.

In anticipation of her next move Colin said, "I locked the door when I came in. You shouldn't leave keys dangling in the keyholes if you don't mean for them to be used."

Mercedes noticed the key was no longer there.

"In my pocket," he said when Mercedes faced him again. "I suppose you were too preoccupied with tea and cakes to notice." His eyes fell to her mouth as her lips parted. Colin couldn't be sure if she was preparing to scream or simply gaping at him. He was not taking any chances. "If you attempt to shout for help, I'll kiss you." Her mouth clamped shut so quickly that Colin wondered if he shouldn't be insulted. A narrow smile played on his lips as he continued to study her. It was clear she was uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny but she seemed unwilling or unable to look away. Perhaps it was a bit of both, he thought. What was it she was expecting him to do?

Colin's hands dropped away from her waist but his thighs tightened fractionally. Even though his grasp on her was more intimate, he noticed she wasn't moved to blush. Her eyes remained steady on him, but Colin sensed that she was now looking through him rather than at him. It was a subtle withdrawal on her part as was her very stillness. It was as though she were willing herself to be invisible, yet none of the effort of this wish showed on her face. In her own way, Mercedes Leyden could be inscrutable.

"Tell me about this danger I'm supposed to be in," Colin said.

He was close enough that Mercedes could feel the rush of his breath as he spoke. It was not unpleasant. Like an echo, his words came to her consciousness a second later. She blinked slowly. At her sides her arms hung uselessly, her hands trapped between herself and his thighs. She felt very exposed, horribly vulnerable. Mercedes only hoped that Colin could not guess at the depth of her distress. She didn't want to give him that much power over her.

"Lord Severn believes you and your friend have murdered my uncle," she said quietly.

"You've already mentioned something to that effect," Colin reminded her.

"He's going to have the authorities question you in the morning."

"Really?"

She thought he didn't sound disturbed by the news, only interested. "You or Mr. Jones must have made mention of the Passing Fancy. He plans to seek you out there."

Colin didn't comment on this. He was more curious about her motives. "Why are you telling me?"

"I thought that was obvious."

Little about Mercedes was obvious. He almost said as much, then thought better of it. She didn't deserve to know how successful she'd been at keeping him intrigued. "Tell me anyway," he said.

"It occurred to me you might appreciate the opportunity to get away."

"I do."

"I can't imagine that you want to answer questions."

"I don't."

"Well then?"

Colin shook his head. He was amused by her now, and the glimmer of a smile returned. "You might convince someone else that you have my best interests at heart, but I'm the man you tried to murder last evening. This noble gesture of yours strains the boundaries of logic."

"Your logic perhaps," she said tartly. "It makes perfect sense to me."

No surprise there, Colin thought. "It occurs to me that the turret room in the north wing may be a small family asylum," he said. "I'm moved to wonder if you aren't a lunatic." He felt her fingers twitch against his thighs. He had no difficulty guessing at the reason for the movement. She itched to slap him. "Did the earl let you out specifically to wreak havoc on my head or did you escape and make more a success of doing him in?"

Mercedes's jaw went slack. She gaped at him.

Colin bent his head and laid his mouth across hers. Her lips were warm, her breath sweet. Tea and cakes. He moved to deepen the kiss, drawing his tongue along the edge of her upper lip, pressing against her teeth.

Mercedes's head snapped back. She tore her hands free and pushed at his thighs. Colin was immovable and Mercedes remained trapped between the vise-like grip of his legs. She raised her hands to push at his chest but the look in his eyes made her think better of it. Her arms lowered slowly. Now there was nowhere for her hands to comfortably settle. They lay uneasily against his thighs. "Why did you do that?" she asked. Her voice was not as accusing as she would have wished. To her own ears it sounded rather soft and tremulous. Her heart sank as she considered what he might make of that.

"I told you if you tried to shout I'd kiss you."

"But I wasn't going to shout."

"Oh." Colin shrugged. "My mistake."

Mercedes's mouth flattened. He knew very well she hadn't been about to call for help. "You did that deliberately," she said.

"I thought that was obvious."

Although no laughter accompanied this statement, Mercedes knew she was being laughed at. To her horror she felt an ache in her eyes and throat that was the precursor to tears. She drew in a shallow breath and steadied herself. It was not her way to cry even when she was alone—she would be damned if she'd cry in front of Colin Thorne. "You should leave," she said after a moment. "If my uncle still hasn't appeared in the morning, you stand to be accused of murder by Severn. You and Mr. Jones will want to be on your clipper ship as soon as possible and away from England."