Jo Goodman (14 page)

Stricken, Mercedes felt as though she couldn't draw a breath. No matter how she willed her feet to move she remained exactly where she was.

Severn's examination became more thorough. His eyes fixed on the bruised jaw that her light application of powder failed to cover. "What happened?" he asked.

Had Lord Severn not been holding Mercedes's arms, she would have raised one hand to her face. It wouldn't have been a gesture of self-conscious acknowledgment, but one of protection. Severn's question had the appropriate nuance of concern for everyone in the room to hear. Only Mercedes could see the edge of excitement that had darkened his eyes.

She drew back, forcing him to let her go unless a struggle was to be obvious. "It's nothing," she said.

"That's not what I asked."

In the doorway, Mercedes saw that Colin Thorne had abandoned the pretense of his relaxed posture. A thread of tension seemed to vibrate through him though he hadn't moved in the least. His very stillness, his predatory calm, was the threat now.

Britton left his post beside his brother and went to Mercedes's side. "I caught her on the chin with my noggin," he said, patting himself on his head. He even winced as he tapped the pretend injury. Blithely ignoring Severn's dark, impatient look, he carried on. "Brendan and I were having a bit of a spat, you see, and Mercedes took it on herself to separate us. That's when we collided. She knows I'm sorry. Don't you, Mercedes? You were ever the good sport about it."

Severn looked back to Mercedes, his mouth thinning impatiently. "What is this child doing here?" he asked tersely.

Britton looked as if he was going to take exception to being named a child and by association, Brendan appeared to be taking it as a slight as well. "Sylvia. Chloe. Take the twins back to their rooms and keep them there. I'll be up directly with an explanation as soon as I get one. Mrs. Hennepin, you may close the doors. I will see these gentlemen privately." Mercedes noticed that no one was happy with her. Sylvia and Chloe did not want to be relegated to the position of nursemaids. The boys disliked being dismissed out of hand. Mrs. Hennepin's curiosity remained unsatisfied, and Severn and Thorne had each wanted a private audience. "Now," she said sternly, eyeing the girls.

The parlor was cleared quickly. Lingering protests could be heard in the hallway but eventually there was quiet. Mercedes had enough time to collect her thoughts. She moved beyond Severn's easy reach and stood with her back to the fireplace.

"Mrs. Hennepin tells me you've come to see my uncle," she said without inflection.

Colin Thorne marveled at her recovered composure. Mercedes Leyden had the reserved, regal bearing of a queen holding court. There was no evidence that she had ever been caught off guard by the presence of either himself or Severn. His eyes darted briefly around the room, taking in dark paneled walls, elaborately framed landscapes, jade and ivory figurines on the massive mantelpiece, and finally the vases on every polished table filled with freshly cut flowers. When his gaze alighted on her again he saw her differently than before, recognizing how much of her poise was derived from her surroundings. This parlor, with its heavy draperies and polished floors, was a far cry from any room at the Passing Fancy Inn.

Just as a diamond might sparkle more brilliantly against black velvet, Mercedes Leyden was shown to her best advantage in this setting.

Colin knew the difference went deeper than her physical appearance. The change was more subtle than the obvious alterations in her clothing and hair. In truth, her plain gray day dress was less attractive and fashionable than the emerald gown she'd worn the previous evening. Her hair had known more freedom confined in the thick plait of last night than it did now swept back and coiled at her nape.

Still, there was a difference in her demeanor that was quite remarkable yet tantalizingly indefinable.

Aware that Colin Thorne was studying her again, Mercedes addressed Lord Severn. "I can't think why you've come to the house. My uncle left here more than an hour ago to meet you at the meadow."

Severn's mouth flattened. "I'd think it would be obvious that we haven't seen him."

Mercedes's brows raised a fraction. "Oh?" she said, affecting credible calm. "I don't see how that could happen. Are you certain you were at the correct location? Weybourne Park is quite large, as you well know. Perhaps you—"

"I'm very certain," Severn said, watching her closely. "Did he say anything to you before he left?"

Mercedes had no difficulty remembering exactly what the earl had said—and done—before leaving the manor. She also had no intention of relating any of it to Lord Severn. Beneath the high collar of her day dress the welt from the earl's quirt was a snakelike brand. She resisted placing a hand there and drawing attention to her discomfort. Instead she looked at Colin and said in mannered accents, "I'm sorry, but I don't believe that Mrs. Hennepin gave me your name."

Colin's narrow smile returned as if to remind her she was playing a dangerous game. He had only not to join in and she would be exposed. "I don't think I told her," he said.

Mercedes waited, pretending a patience she didn't feel. Her clear gray eyes darted to Viscount Fielding for an introduction.

Severn did not hide his displeasure. "He is not your concern, Mercedes," he said. He glanced over his shoulder. "Get out, Thorne, so I can talk to Weybourne's niece alone. You can see for yourself that she's not going to tell me anything in front of you."

Colin didn't move. Ignoring Severn, he spoke to Mercedes. "I believe you got half my name," he said. "Thorne being the last, Colin's the first."

Mercedes feigned surprise. "Then you're the one my uncle's supposed to meet," she said, as though realization was just dawning. "The accent... I should have known..."

Colin considered applauding her performance. He simply saluted her with a brief nod instead, then added, "And you're the poor relation."

"For God's sake, Thorne," Severn snapped.

"It's all right," Mercedes said, not sparing his lordship a glance. Her eyes were leveled on Colin. "I find it more to my liking to be insulted to my face than behind my back."

Severn frowned. "What does that mean?"

It was Colin who answered. "It means the lady is willing to make allowances for ill-mannered Yankees." To Mercedes he said, "My apologies, Miss Leyden."

She nodded once, coolly, accepting it. With seeming indifference, Mercedes walked to one of the tall windows, parted the drapes, and looked out. "I don't know what I can tell you," she said. "I didn't see my uncle actually leave the house but I know that was his intention when we last spoke. I can only imagine that there has been some miscommunication regarding the site—or that there's been an accident." Mercedes let the drapes fall back, eliminating the sliver of light that had lain across her face. She turned to her guests. "Do you think we should organize a search?"

"Of the house?" Colin asked.

"I was thinking of the grounds," she said. "My uncle's not a coward. You won't find him here. He would never hide from you."

Severn nodded, satisfied with her defense of the earl. "That's what I've been telling him."

"Then you agree with a search of the grounds?" she asked.

"I do."

"Very well," Mercedes said. "If you'll excuse me, I'll speak to Mr. Hennepin about organizing it." She hesitated, affecting uncertainty as she looked back at Severn. "I'm not sure he'll know how to go about it. I wonder, my lord, if you'd be willing to speak to him."

"Of course." Severn reached the doors before Mercedes and opened them. He stepped back to allow Mercedes to precede him, only to realize she wasn't following. She was standing at Colin Thorne's side, a rather tight smile on her face.

"Go on," she said. "Mrs. Hennepin will direct you to her husband. I'll only be a moment."

Marcus Severn drew himself up as if preparing to issue a challenge. His austere features were set in cold disapproval. He looked from Mercedes to Colin and back again. "A moment," he said tersely.

Mercedes waited until Severn was out of earshot. "Let go of my dress," she said stiffly, a brief angry pause between each word.

Instead Colin pulled her closer, gathering up handfuls of material in his fist until she was against him. He held her just that way, ignoring her attempts to free herself, until he shut the parlor doors. Once privacy was assured, he let her go.

Mercedes spun away from him. She ran her palms over the folds of her gown, trying to smooth it and erase the evidence of Colin's grasp. "Are you quite mad?" she demanded. "Severn might have called you out for touching me that way."

Colin was more interested than perturbed. "Really?" he asked, leaning back against the doors. "Then why didn't you tell him? I'd have thought you'd welcome the opportunity for someone to finish off what you started last night."

Mercedes refused to rise to the bait. "Let me pass," she said. "You're blocking my way."

"Quite intentionally, I assure you."

"Severn will come back."

"Are you threatening me with him?" asked Colin. "Perhaps you imagine you can provoke us both into a duel."

"You're ridiculous."

"Am I? I'd wager you'd be relieved if we killed each other. From what I've observed, you don't have much liking for the Right Honorable Viscount, and I already know what you think of me."

Mercedes threw up her hands. "I'm trying to prevent the very thing you seem bent on making happen. Now, let me pass and speak to Mr. Hennepin myself. He's not likely to take orders from Severn no matter how sternly they're issued."

Colin straightened but he did not move away from the doors. "So you're going to make a show of it?"

She was visibly bewildered. "A show of what?"

"The search."

"You're daft."

"It could be because of the blow I took to my head last night, but then you probably wouldn't know anything about that."

"Of course I know about it. I flung the drawer, didn't I?"

"So you admit it."

"I'm not likely to deny what we both know is true."

"At least when there are no witnesses."

Mercedes's smile was as sweet as it was insincere. "Exactly." Her smile vanished. "Now let me pass."

Colin stepped out of her way. "You have a lot to answer for, Miss Leyden."

"Excuse me," she said politely. "I'm interested in finding my uncle, even if you're not."

Colin put out a hand as she would have passed him. "You're a tad too confident for my tastes," he said quietly. "Just because I didn't expose you to Severn, don't think I won't. I believe he'd be very interested in hearing that you've already spent time in my bed."

Mercedes didn't look at Colin. She couldn't. She had no wish for him to see her fear. Drawing in a shallow breath, she waited him out.

Colin studied her three-quarter profile and sensed her withdrawal. He let his hand drop away. "Go," he said. "But know this isn't over."

Without a sideways glance, Mercedes hurried away. She was on the point of reaching the stairs to the kitchen, when a scream from above halted her steps. Running back down the hall, Mercedes raised her skirts and took the main stairs two at a time, heedless of the fact that Colin Thorne was on her heels. Knowing the source of that scream and the ones that followed, Mercedes automatically turned toward the north wing when she reached the first landing.

The door to Sylvia's room was already open. Mercedes was brought up short on the threshold by the melee that confronted her. At the center of the disturbance was a man she didn't recognize, but all the other participants were very well known to her.

The red-headed giant at the eye of the storm easily stood six and a half feet. That Brendan was clambering up the man's back emphasized his height and the breadth of his shoulders. That he did not fling Brendan across the room when the boy began to clobber him about the head and ears spoke to his temperament. He actually dislodged Brendan as if he were no more irritating than a pesky puppy and tossed him on Sylvia's bed. That's when Britton head-butted him in the brisket. The giant took a step back with the blow, not because it staggered him, but because if he had held his ground Britton might have hurt himself. Throwing oneself head first against the man's hard middle was rather like diving into a shallow pond.

Chloe screamed this time as Britton was picked up by his waist, turned upside down, and pitched onto the bed beside his brother. Sylvia charged next, flinging herself at the giant's back much as Brendan had done. Her wrists were grabbed, stilling their blows, and as the man bent at the waist he actually flipped her over his head. Her shout was muffled by the flurry of skirts and petticoats. She landed on her feet directly in front of the giant, this time with him at her back. Sylvia's arms were crossed and locked, secured by his hold on her wrists. It was at that point that Chloe picked up the pitcher on the bed stand and flung it at his head. He ducked easily, making certain Sylvia cleared the missile as well, and let it fall harmlessly at Mercedes's feet.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he demanded.

At first Mercedes thought he was inviting her to join the fray, then she realized his question was directed to someone behind her. It was the first she knew that Colin had followed. She turned on him, her eyes flashing. "Do you know this man?" she asked angrily.