Engaging the Enemy (35 page)

A knock sounded on the door and Leopold bid them enter. Two footmen set a copper tub before the fire and two more carried pails of steaming water to fill it. Tobias shook his head. He’d not had a servant for more than a decade. This would undoubtedly take some getting used to.

Another servant crossed the threshold and when their eyes connected Tobias scowled. Eamon Murphy. They’d never gotten along when they were young and the look in Murphy’s eyes hinted he hadn’t entirely forgotten the pranks Tobias had played on him when he was a boy. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Murphy’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I really didn’t miss you.”

“The feeling is completely mutual.”

“Your valet sent these for Tobias, Mr. Randall.” Murphy laid a clean shirt and trousers on the bed. “Your brother has engaged me as his assistant. He runs the estate, I do his leg work. Just like old times. My first duty is to see that you are fit to be seen.”

Tobias scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Try it and you might loose your teeth.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Leopold spluttered. “Have you two not outgrown this childish competition. Tobias, you will be made presentable and Murphy will assist.”

Murphy shrugged. “Very well.”

“Fine,” Tobias groaned. “Can’t have Murphy under the lash on his first dangerous assignment. As much as I would like to continue in this vein, how about we renew hostilities tomorrow? Do we have an accord?”

Murphy nodded. “We do.”

Tobias smiled, glanced at his brother, and then began to laugh. “God I missed this. Good to see some things haven’t changed, brother. All right. All right. I give in willingly. I’ll behave.”

“See that you do,” Leopold warned.

Tobias shrugged off his coat and waistcoat, ignoring how Murphy picked them up with two fingers and set them aside. He loosened his neck cloth and ripped the shirt over his head.

Behind him, Leopold gasped and he remembered others might not care for the state of his back. He kept the view from Murphy as he kicked off his footwear, only to remember there were more scars circling his ankles.

“Murphy, leave us,” Leopold murmured quietly. Murphy snatched up the clothing and fled, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake. “What happened, Toby?”

Tobias glanced up at the intricately molded ceilings and sighed. It had been too much to hope for that Leopold would not ask. “I was unhappy. Dissenters are punished.”

Leopold took a step forward and touched the scars on his back. “My God have you even seen this?”

Tobias shrugged. “No. I have not had much opportunity to gaze at myself in mirrors. There’s nothing you can do about it. Put it from your mind.”

Leopold pushed him across the room until he stood between a set of mirrors. He could see himself from all angles. Every pain he’d suffered was before his eyes. White scars crisscrossed his back, flexing under his muscles in a way that even he found repulsive. He turned from the view. “As expected.”

“This is not what I expected,” Leopold growled. “The duke said you were well cared for.”

“The duke lied, or else has a different definition of care than most people.”

“How can you not be furious?”

“The Duke of Romsey is dead. Cousin Edwin is dead, and the young duke doesn’t look a bit like either of them. He’s your son, right down to the perfect sweep of hair across his ears. He has our mothers’ dimples. There is no one left to be angry with.”

Leopold raked his hands through his hair. “Damn him. No wonder you wrote what you did.”

“I didn’t know our cousin was dead until I returned to England or considered that the duchess might read my letters. Please believe me, I never meant to do her any harm.”

Leopold embraced him. “You’re my brother. My mischievous, troublesome brother. Of course, I believe you.”

When the embrace turned into a battle of wills, as they had often done when he was a boy, Tobias quickly escaped. “Too slow old man.”

Leopold laughed; a sound Tobias would never grow tired of hearing. “It was easier when you were shorter.”

“And considerably weaker. That is no longer the case.”

A grin crossed Leopold’s face. “I’ll keep that in mind should I need to bring you back into line.”

Tobias spied a crystal decanter across the room and poured himself and Leopold a drink, but his mind returned to the woman locked up next door. Her image flashed before his mind. Prim figure, tightly bound dark hair, pale green eyes wide with fright. “What will happen to Lady Venables now?”

Leopold perched on the edge of the large bed. “I don’t know. You scared Blythe quite badly but, according to Mercy, she hasn’t been herself for a long time. Losing her husband and son at almost the same time took a toll. Let us hope the damage isn’t permanent and that she will recover.”

Tobias swirled his whiskey around in the glass. He knew what they did when a ship—a grand lady of the sea—was destroyed beyond repair by battle, no matter how lovely her lines. They were scuttled and left to rot in some out of the way port where no one cared. A mad countess would fare little better. “If she doesn’t recover?”

“We will cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Tobias crossed to the window and flung them wide. Night had fallen over Romsey Abbey and the grounds were bathed in moonlight. He swung the windows wide, feeling the bite of cool night air whip across his chest. He had a pretty vantage point from his chamber. He could see for miles.

In the distance, he spotted the rooftops of his old family home, Harrowdale, just visible through the woods. A pang of longing shot through him. The old house was boarded up, kept exactly as his parents had left it before their deaths, and likely belonged to Leopold now. He’d stayed there since his return, and if Leopold allowed, he thought he’d like to live there. “You never went home.”

“No. I couldn’t face the empty house.”

“It wasn’t empty. I was haunting the place.”

Leopold slapped his hand on his back. “How did you learn to climb so well?”

Tobias glanced at the grounds below. He was exactly the height from the mizzen mast to the deck of the Enid Wren, the American slaver he’d been traded to by the
Williamstown’s
despicable captain. Back then, he’d scaled the heights willingly to escape the stench of those being transported. Leopold didn’t need to know he’d served aboard a slaver. “Just a skill I picked up during my time at sea.”

Leopold bumped against him. “I’d like to hear more.”

A sound drifted to him on the wind and he looked left and right, but couldn’t discover the source. He thought he heard a woman sobbing. “Perhaps later. There is no rush is there?”

“None at all. We have the rest of our lives to catch up on what we’ve missed.”

When Leopold moved away, Tobias leaned further out the window, peering at the windows closest to his bedchamber. Light flickered in the one containing Lady Venables, and the window was open a touch. Was she conscious at long last?

Leopold laughed. “Get cleaned up and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tobias spun about. “Until then.”

The door closed with a solid thump and then a key turned in the lock. Tobias stared at the door in shock. Damn Leopold. He thought to make Tobias a prisoner, too.

Chapter Two

A woman was defined by her reputation. A lady, by the degree of respect others afforded her. She gained approval or censure by the way she conducted herself when in the public eye, by her charity to good works, by the strength of her family connections and the character of her circle of friends. Blythe Walden, Lady Venables of Walden Hall, struggled to muffle her sobs so no one could hear her crying.

She was far beyond humiliation.

Her heart had been shattered by the events of today.

She wiped at her eyes furiously, attempting to pull herself together. The footman and the maid who had lingered at her door were only two of the many that whispered, loudly, that she was evil incarnate. She could never slaughter small animals and leave them on her sister’s bed. But that was exactly what everyone, including her sister the Duchess of Romsey, assumed she’d done. She didn’t know how they could imagine her so cold and ruthless. Blythe couldn’t even look at more than a drop of blood without feeling faint.

She had once thought she was wise in the ways of the world. She had thought she could navigate society’s dangerous waters and remain untouched by scandal. Today she had been proven a fool. Everything she had believed to be an incontrovertible truth was flawed.

She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, squared her shoulders and turned around. There had to be a way to prove her innocence and restore her reputation. But right now she couldn’t decide how.

She lifted her gaze and cried out in alarm. Tobias Randall, the pirate who had terrorized Romsey Abbey for the past weeks, lounging on her bed.

“Quiet, luv,” he said softly. “No need to bring the whole household running to gawk at you.”

He may have attempted to improve his appearance with a bath, but his hair was still wet and he had several days’ growth of beard on his chin. He wore only a loose unbuttoned shirt and breeches. If anyone discovered Tobias Randall in her bedchamber in this state her remaining reputation would vanish. “Get out of my bed this instant you pirate,” Blythe whispered urgently.

A slow smile twisted his lips. “Merely keeping it warm for you. You could always come back to bed and join me.”

Blythe gasped. “Don’t be absurd.”

He laughed softly and stood beside the bed. It was like watching a great cat stalking prey; one ready to pounce if provoked. “Perhaps another time,” he said.

Blythe rubbed her arms as goose flesh rose over her skin as he drew near. He was a tall man, wide shouldered and he made her feel decidedly uncertain. “How did you get in here?”

He pointed behind her with one long arm. “The window.”

Her gaze caught on the bandage wrapped around his hand, hiding the injury that must have caused her to faint earlier in the day. She shuddered, spun around, and lifted the window pane high. “Then you can go out the same way you came in, you pirate. I have nothing to say to your kind.”

“My kind?” He crossed his arms over his chest as if he didn’t intend to move until she answered. Insufferable brute. Perhaps he lacked the wits to know he shouldn’t be here. His brow rose. “You didn’t complain when you were snug in my arms. I think I’ll stay a while.”

When he had burst through the window of a room twenty feet from the ground, he had shocked her sensibilities completely. He had been intent on reaching her nephew and she’d tried to prevent him. Blood had dripped from his hand and she shuddered. “I don’t remember any of that.”

His face grew dark. “Why did you keep the boy from his mother?”

Blythe shuddered as she recalled the terror that had gripped her. “I had my reasons.”

“Me?”

She stared at him. Right now, he seemed an ordinary man. But that afternoon he had appeared completely murderous. She couldn’t explain in ways he would understand. She barely understood herself. She pressed her lips together. She had no need to explain to him.

“I could never hurt the boy. He
is
family.”

The news that Leopold Randall was her nephew’s father still didn’t sit well with her. The young duke of Romsey was Mr. Leopold Randall’s offspring—the late duke’s own cousin—and a product of blackmail rather than love. No matter that Mercy and Leopold Randall loved each other now and would marry as soon as it could be arranged. Such a situation would bring shame on the family should the shocking details be discovered. “So I’ve learned.”

He leaned against the bedpost. “You’re understandably upset. But from what I hear, your sister and my brother had little say in the decision.”

“I know that,” she snapped. Really, she did not need to receive a lecture from a man who burst into ladies bedchambers without invitation.

“Then why do you punish her with this ruse. You are scaring her.”

Blythe clenched her hands together, fighting to control her temper. “Do you not think I have the right to feel overwhelmed at this moment? My sister has lied to me for years about Edwin. She has behaved without thought to her reputation and you . . . you have taunted us all with your vulgar behavior. I love my nephew and want to protect him as I could not protect my own son. You were about to harm my sister. You could have killed Leopold. Can you not understand that a lady’s delicate feelings may be provoked to do an irrational thing?”

He stared at her a long time. “Yes. I believe I do understand you. But you need to tell your sister this when you see her.”

“I cannot. She thinks I’m mad.”

His eyes widened. “You were awake long before now? You’ve heard the speculation.”

“I heard it all,” she said bitterly. “It had always been my intention to wake up, but some fool called the physician. Another fool posted a guard on my door.” To hide her mortification, Blythe had kept her eyes closed, her body still. A trick that she’d learned in childhood when she needed time to think.

Mr. Randall winced. “Leopold locked me in as well. I’m a prisoner, too.”