Mistress of Merrivale Page 4

  Ella scuttled away, leaving Jocelyn frowning after her thoughtfully. When the maid disappeared Jocelyn continued to the end of the passage. Aware of passing time, she opened the door and came to an abrupt halt.

  The woman sitting by the window was stunning, the late afternoon sun falling on her face and highlighting her dark, exotic beauty. Her deep brown eyes were almond in shape and fringed with long lashes, and they widened fractionally at Jocelyn’s arrival. A pale face with an olive cast held a wide, sensual mouth. Her faint smile lifted the corners of her lips in mockery and more. This was a smile of smugness.

  She set aside her needlework and stood, revealing her crimson overskirt with matching red and white petticoats, spread wide with side hoops. A white tucker protected her modesty, yet did nothing to detract from her buxom curves. She was a woman who would attract men, and her manner hinted she’d already made the comparisons between the two of them and found Jocelyn lacking. “Did you want something?”

  Jocelyn roused from her stupor, a flash of heat storming her cheeks. “I came to see my stepdaughter.”

  “She isn’t well. I’m afraid I can’t permit you to wake her.” Confidence filled the woman’s voice, digging at Jocelyn’s composure.

  “Are you Cassandra’s nursemaid?” For once, Jocelyn struggled with poise. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled before stepping into the room. A taunting smirk drew her up short.

  “Yes, I’m Arabella, Cassandra’s nurse and a distant cousin of Leo’s.”

  Nonplussed by the disclosure, Jocelyn reached for the polite society manners drummed into her by her mother from a young age. She ignored the sly insolence and quietly exerted her authority. “I’ll peek in on Cassandra. Is she through here?”

  The stack of wooden blocks and a discarded doll told Jocelyn this part of the nursery suite was where Cassandra played. A doll’s house sat in a place of prominence, the design appearing much like Merrivale Manor. Jocelyn noted a doorway and noiselessly opened it. A small mound in the middle of the narrow bed drew her attention. She stepped nearer, ignoring the disapproving presence at her back.

  Warm blankets swathed the child, and only the top of her blonde head showed above the covers. Each of her breaths whistled between parted lips, and every now and then, a cute snore erupted. Her cheeks appeared flushed, but when Jocelyn touched her fingers to the child’s forehead, she found it warm rather than hot. Sleep would aid her recovery. She was a very pretty child, taking after her mother, or at least Jocelyn assumed her mother bore the same coloring as the siblings she’d met a few hours earlier. After smoothing the covers, Jocelyn retreated to the outer room.

  Arabella confronted her, a scowl marring her dark beauty. “You have no right to barge in here. Leo has given me full authority.”

  The way the woman used Leo’s name gave Jocelyn pause. Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face because triumph glittered in the woman’s brown eyes. Arabella let her gaze travel over Jocelyn. Jocelyn forced herself to remain at ease while inside every one of the hurtful remarks from the past emerged. It was true she couldn’t lay claim to beauty but surely Mr. Sherbourne…no, he’d hardly install a mistress as a nurse for his daughter.

  “I’ll let you get back to your needlework,” Jocelyn said in a stiff voice.

  She left the nursery in a dignified retreat, unpalatable thoughts keeping her company while she walked down the passage. Hardly knowing how she got there, she entered her chamber and blinked.

  The pinkness of the room didn’t improve on second viewing. Furniture and knickknacks cluttered the space, making it appear small in comparison to Leo’s chamber. The wallpaper coordinated with the furnishings, a deep blush pink that was almost red.

  Jocelyn spun in a slow circle, barely suppressing her wince. Her gaze settled. Right, the first things to go would be those grinning cherubs. The plump statues bore salacious expressions, entirely too knowing for her liking.

  Just like Arabella. She forced the notion away, determined to ignore the doubts the other woman had placed in her mind. She’d start clearing some of the clutter. When Mr. Sherbourne came to her room, and he would despite Arabella’s silent insinuations, Jocelyn didn’t want anyone or anything competing for his attention.

  She plucked a plaster cherub off a table and placed it on the floor. Soon she had large pile of rejected items.

  A brief tap announced the arrival of a maid. “Mrs. Sherbourne, my name is Susan. Mrs. Green said I’m to help you tonight, and if you like me, I’ll become your maid on a permanent basis. I unpacked for you earlier.” Breathless from her rushed words, Susan glanced at her feet.

  She was on the plump side, wisps of frizzy dark hair escaping confinement beneath her white cap. However, her blue eyes shone with earnestness, making Jocelyn want to give her a chance.

  “That sounds most satisfactory.” Jocelyn approved of Mrs. Green’s efficiency.

  Susan burst into action, lighting several candles. The flicker of flames dispelled the gloom creeping into the corners now that the large trees around the manor hid the sun. The light brought a plaster angel into focus, one bearing a sly smirk. A vision of Arabella intruded, and Jocelyn scowled. Bother the woman.

  “Which gown would you like to wear tonight?” A note of nervousness bled from Susan’s voice, betraying her desperate desire to please.

  “The green, I think.” Jocelyn unbuttoned her gloves and peeled them off before starting to unfasten her current gown. Susan disappeared to retrieve the requested dress. It was one of Jocelyn’s favorites and never failed to boost her confidence. She and Mr. Sherbourne would dine in private tonight, and her stomach churned with both disquiet and hope. But now she clenched her jaw, determination heaping on top of nerves. She’d made a commitment and wanted to do a good job in all ways. She mightn’t be a virgin, but tonight, the bedding part of marriage brought more trepidation than her first time.

  Jocelyn freshened up with water Susan poured from an urn into a china bowl. A tremor slipped down her spine. The cold water had nothing to do with her burst of unease. It was the dread of losing her new husband to a beautiful mistress. No! She couldn’t afford to let Arabella distract her from the important things—the chance of a new, reputable life.

  Her mind in turmoil, Jocelyn reached for her scarlet stockings. She rolling them up her calves and securing them with garters just above her knees.

  Once Jocelyn donned a clean chemise, Susan helped her with her stays, petticoats and gown. Her maid pulled the fabric up her arms and secured several buttons and tapes. She fussed with the skirts and twitched them into submission. With one final flick of her wrist, she nodded approval.

  “How would you like your hair, Mrs. Sherbourne?”

  “Something simple please. I think tidying my current style will suffice.”

  Susan bustled around the room, her initial tremors subsiding into quiet competence.

  “Thank you, Susan. I won’t need you again tonight, but tell Mrs. Green I’d like you to continue as my maid.”

  Susan’s cheeks pinked with pleasure. “Will you require refreshments in the morning?”

  “A dish of tea please.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Susan dropped a brief curtsey and left her alone.

  A knock sounded on the connecting door of her chamber, and seconds later, Mr. Sherbourne stepped inside.

  “Are you ready to go down?”

  “I’m afraid I’m running a little late. My mother and I explored the gardens this afternoon, and when I came upstairs, I was pondering how to change this room to something more my taste. Time ran away with me.” She stood and slipped her feet into shoes. Why hadn’t she mentioned meeting Arabella?

  “I have something for you—a wedding gift.” Mr. Sherbourne pulled a sparkling necklace from his pocket. Emeralds and diamonds caught the flickering light from the candles.

  “You didn’t need to get me a gift, but thank you,” Jocelyn said with pleasure. “I adore emeralds. Could you fasten it for me?
I’ll wear it tonight.”

  “This necklace belonged to my mother.” Her husband closed the distance between them and placed the necklace around her neck. “She brought it with her from Spain.”

  “Your mother came from Spain?”

  “Yes, my father met her during his travels on the continent and brought her home as his bride.”

  “Oh. I met Arabella earlier. Is she from Spain too?”

  Mr. Sherbourne shrugged. “A distant cousin.”

  How distant? The stones chilled her skin. Had his first wife worn this necklace? And did Arabella have designs on the necklace and her husband too? A frisson of alarm set her mind awhirl, but the warmth of his calloused hands at her neck countered some of her trepidation. A tremor of an entirely different kind swept her, heating every inch of her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she breathed in his bay rum scent, her pulse racing with anticipation. The urge to reach for him, to slide her palms over his cheeks and draw his face down for a kiss teased at her. Aware she needed to act like a wife instead of reminding Mr. Sherbourne of her seductive mistress days, she curled her fingers into her palms until the inclination faded.

  “There you go.” He stepped away from her, seemingly unaffected by their proximity.

  “Thank you.” Jocelyn surveyed the necklace in her looking glass. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I thought the necklace would suit you.” Satisfaction glowed in his stern features, telling her she’d pleased him. “There are earrings to match. I’ll give them to you later. Shall we?” He offered his arm to escort her to dinner.

  The cook excelled herself with a delicious meal of oyster soup, roast venison, lamb stuffed with flour and raisins, and salmon. Jocelyn tried a little of everything, including the vegetables of chopped spinach and asparagus. Over their food and several glasses of red wine, they talked about the manor and Mr. Sherbourne’s normal routine. They ended their meal with a fruit pie served with custard.

  “Tell me about the village,” Jocelyn said.

  “It’s small, but adequate for our needs. There’s a baker, a blacksmith, a draper, a chandler and a coaching inn.”

  “And a parish church?”

  His grin dazzled her. “Yes, we have one of those. We go to Tavistock on market day for some of our supplies, but I try to support those in the village.”

  “I look forward to a visit. I hear Tavistock is a decent size town.” Her needs were few, but her mother would enjoy purchasing fabrics and sewing supplies. “What about neighbors?”

  “You’ve met Hannah and Peregrine,” Mr. Sherbourne said. “I grew up with them. Viscount Hartscombe, their father, operates several copper mines and owns much of the land around here, although he and the viscountess are often traveling due to their interest in ancient civilizations. You’ll probably meet Vicar Allenby and his wife, Mrs. Allenby, very soon. There’s a retired army man called Captain Cartwright. He’s the elected parish constable. Then there’s Duxton, the home of Sir James Harvey. When I was a child, my parents used to attend social gatherings in Tavistock. I haven’t participated as much as my parents did when they were alive.”

  Something in his clipped tone suggested he was thinking about more, but Jocelyn bit her tongue to still her questions. Patience. The last thing she wanted was to start off their marriage with a disagreement.

  “I can’t wait to explore your estate and the village.”

  “Always tell someone where you’re going.” A clipped demand to obey. “Take one of the footmen with you. They will make sure you don’t get lost or wander off the path should a mist drift onto the moor.”

  Jocelyn’s brows rose at his abrupt order. “Yes, of course.” Some of her surprise must have shown.

  “The moor is a hazardous place and the weather can change on a whim.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “There are hidden bogs. It’s easy to wander off the path if a fog descends without warning. People have disappeared and never been seen again. A child wandered off only three months ago. Despite our search, no one has seen him since.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Jocelyn suppressed a shiver with difficulty. Why wasn’t he mentioning the murder? Perhaps the servants had exaggerated. “I’ll make sure Mother and Tilly take an escort if they go in search of wild herbs.”

  “They can take the carriage to the village if they wish to make a visit.”

  “I’ll let them know.” She glanced up from her fruit pie to find Mr. Sherbourne studying her mouth. His eyes rose, darkening with desire when their gazes met, and she fought an impulse to lick her lips.

  “Would you like to take a turn around the garden? We could wander along the banks of the stream. The path is smooth and the moon is almost full. We won’t require a lantern.”

  “I’d like that very much.” Jocelyn pushed aside her plate, indicating readiness even though disappointment followed his suggestion. She’d thought he might whisk her off to his chamber. Masking her emotions with the ease of long practice, she smiled at her husband. It was odd interacting with him. She was acutely aware of him physically, yet he was essentially a stranger.

  He stood and helped her rise, attentive and gentlemanly. He was like his cousin in that respect, although she’d never experienced this level of longing with Melburn. Mr. Sherbourne led her from the dining room. They exited the manor via the double doors that opened out onto a terrace.

  Full darkness had fallen while they dined and, despite the moonlight, shadows loomed in parts of the garden. To their right, a loud rustling commenced, and Jocelyn jumped, moving closer to her husband in a silent request for reassurance.

  “It’s only a night creature—a hedgehog or similar.”

  “Whatever it is, I hope the creature doesn’t decide to scuttle over my feet. The outdoors looks very different at night.” Tree branches stretched out like naked limbs, leaves rustled and other mysterious sounds, scratches and creaks, made Jocelyn doubt she’d want to wander alone after dusk.

  “This way,” Mr. Sherbourne said, leading her confidently down the steps into the night.

  Away from the house, it was easier to see the stars studding the black sky and the moon hanging overhead, huge and bright. The scent of roses and a hint of lavender filled the air, mixing with her husband’s bay rum. Somewhere in front of them, a night bird called a sharp warning. She started and Mr. Sherbourne laughed.

  “Just a bird,” he said.

  “There aren’t any ghosts hanging around the manor?” Despite the lovely evening and his presence, a preternatural nippiness kept her glancing over her shoulder.

  “None that I know of,” he said. “But the servants will tell you of ghosts and spirits wandering the moors. Witches and goblins and even the odd dragon.”

  “Now you’re trying to scare me.”

  A rusty chuckle came from him. “I was aiming for romantic. Don’t most women enjoy a romantic tryst with their husbands?”

  “Yes.” Jocelyn sensed he was trying to put her at ease. He wanted her to feel happy in their marriage. The knowledge soothed her dread, and she pressed closer, her reservations about Arabella fading under his attentions. “I’ve heard it said a kiss adds to the romance.”

  He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. Shadows screened his face, making her guess at his expression. Her pulse beat a little faster. He cupped her face, and lowered his head until his breath warmed her lips.

  “Mr. Sherbourne.” She laced her hands behind his neck and rose on tiptoe to reduce the inches separating them. Their lips met, tentatively, then with decadent warmth. Heat and sensation darted along her veins, and she pressed against his chest, straining to move as close as possible. Her breasts brushed his vest, shooting awareness, yearning through her body. Proof. This area of their marriage wouldn’t prove a problem, despite the contrasting unease fluttering in the pit of her belly.

  “Leo,” he said and trailed a finger down her cheek. Then he tugged lightly on a red curl that lay against her collarbone—a tender gesture that rock
ed her to her toes. “Come, let us walk off our dinner.”

  By common consent, they ambled along the path hand-in-hand, the silence companionable, thoughts of ghosts fading far from her mind.

  “I peeked in on Cassandra earlier. She’s beautiful.”

  “She can be a bit of a handful, at least when she is feeling well.”

  “We’ll get along fine,” Jocelyn said. “You don’t need to worry about your daughter. I will care for her as if she’s my own.”

  “Thank you.” Leo wanted to place his faith in her words but intended to reserve judgment. Time would tell. At least Jocelyn’s presence would stop Hannah’s constant attention. His new wife brought hope to Merrivale Manor, something he hadn’t felt for a long time. He shot her a quick glance. Lust too. The instant he’d stepped into her chamber tonight, he’d wanted to strip off her green gown and explore her luscious body. He’d badly wanted to discover if freckles, like the ones on her face, covered other parts of her torso. Even now, he fought the urge to drag her to a private spot, to ravish her until her beautiful blue eyes darkened with passion.

  The waiting since their nuptials had been difficult, yet he didn’t regret the lost opportunity. She deserved time to become used to him. Her light floral scent teased him, and he sent her a grin. “I’m having trouble keeping my hands off you.”

  “Oh.” She paused, the subdued lighting not hiding her expressive face. Her lips curved upward. “Good.”

  A bark of laughter escaped him, and he hugged her, enjoying the way she relaxed in his embrace. “Not many women would react that way.”

  “Which is why men seek out mistresses, I presume. I’d much rather you wanted me than another woman.”

  “I don’t have a mistress.” Melburn had mentioned her no-nonsense nature. Leo found her practicality intriguing, and when he compared her with Ursula—

  He broke off the thought abruptly, angry at himself for letting his first wife soil what should be a special evening. “I’ve no intention of taking another woman to my bed.”

  “Other men do it.”

  “My first wife took many lovers during the course of our marriage. I didn’t like it and won’t accept disloyalty of that nature in you or myself.” Leo resumed their walk, requiring motion to rid himself of painful memories and betrayal.