Chapter Thirteen

Mercy was silent while her father wrote the note to Nathaniel Harding. Her thoughts were going round and round in her head – a ceaseless cacophony of questions she had no answers to. She'd had no idea how she would end her fictitious engagement and couldn't make her mind up as to whether she would even want to. And then there was the guilt about using a man who had already gone through so much in his life. She had never been so confused about anything in her entire life. And on top of all that was the fear that Reinhardt might succeed in his bid to force her into wedlock.

So far, her father had spoken very little about the American's reason for wishing to abduct her. He claimed Reinhardt was a gambler and a fortune hunter – and while she believed him to a point, Mercy was almost certain there was something he wasn't telling her. Something to do with her mother. Whether he was protecting her sensibilities or trying to lessen her fear, she wasn't sure, but for the moment she was content to let sleeping dogs lie. First things first – would the Viscount agree to help them.

To help her .

Mercy knew the request for aid from a stranger didn't sit well with her father, and she also knew he was sending two more letters – to the Duke of Blackmore and the Earl of Ravenstone. Both had become close friends over the years, and Mercedes was well aware that asking for aid from Nicholas and Adam was much more to her father's liking. That said, neither man was in a position to provide what was needed to draw Reinhardt out of hiding. And unfortunately, Mercy didn't have a surfeit of potential suitors prepared to put their lives at risk to protect her.

She told herself that Nathaniel Harding's lot would be hugely improved by their association. He would be able to complete the repairs to his house, and if he wished, take his place in society – even putting aside her confused emotions about the whole matter.

As her father handed the three missives to the messengers, she couldn't help wondering what Jennifer and Victoria would say if they knew what was happening. In truth, none of her other seasons had started quite so eventfully…

***

Nate stared down in consternation at the letter in his hand. Why the devil would the Earl of Cottesmore invite him to visit? Thrusting aside his sudden fierce elation at the thought of seeing Mercy again, he read through the missive a second time. Though couched in flowery language, Nate recognised it wasn't simply a social invitation. The Earl wanted something from him.

Laying the note on his lap, he absently stroked Ruby's head. To turn down the invitation would be unforgivably ill-mannered, and though the knowledge irked him, the fact of the matter was, he needed the Earl's favour. Especially after learning that the essential repairs to Carlingford were significantly more urgent than he'd previously believed.

The messenger hadn't waited for a response. Clearly, Christian Stanhope did not expect him to refuse the invitation. Nate looked down at the letter again. He was to present himself the day after tomorrow in time for dinner. Even riding Duchess, it would take the best part of a day to reach Cottesmore, so he'd have to leave at dawn. The Earl hadn't patronised him by offering to send a carriage.

Closing his eyes, Nate leaned his head back and wondered if he actually possessed any clothes suitable for dinner at an Earl's country estate. He presumed the invitation would extend to an overnight stay, so not only would he need evening attire, but a change of clothes for the following morning.

Hopefully, he'd be able to unearth something that was relatively clean, or at the very least stain free. He shook his head. The events of the last week had provided the most excitement he'd had for more than a decade, and sitting alone in his sitting room, Nate discovered something interesting about himself.

The Earl's invitation definitely had him intrigued, so perhaps that meant he hadn't entirely lost all enthusiasm for life. With a soft chuckle, Nate climbed to his feet and went searching for something to wear…

***

Reverend Shackleford frowned as he read Percy's letter. Was the curate actually suggesting he should bring Finn with him to London? Thunder an' turf, that would be a disaster. How the devil would he and Percy find the time to look into the whereabouts of Reinhardt if they were spending all their deuced time babysitting?

The Reverend had written to Prudence and Jamie to tell them he and Percy were going to be in London though he hadn't told them why, except to say they would be staying at Christian and Chastity's townhouse. Naturally, the clergyman had been hoping that if Harding agreed to pretend an attachment to Mercy, he and Percy would be free to do a little more snooping. There wouldn't be much chance of that if the curate was bacon brained enough to bring his son along.

Reverend Shackleford sighed. Investigating such smoky business was all very well – after all, aside from his God-bothering duties as Dougal Galbraith referred to them, it was what he did best – but the Earl was right. He wasn't getting any younger. And as much as he was loath to admit it, the journey from Scotland had taken a lot out of him.

The Reverend was just about to pen a letter telling Percy that under no circumstances was he to allow Finn to accompany him to London, when the clergyman suddenly had another thought.

Finn was light-footed and quick. And whenever he stopped talking long enough to actually think, the lad had a sensible head on his shoulders. He was also small for his age and might well come in useful if they needed him to squeeze into a tight space for a spot of eavesdropping. At the end of the day, bringing the boy along might not be such a bad idea after all.

Naturally, they wouldn't actually put him in danger – there would be no sticking him up any chimneys for example – Lizzy would string them both up if they did, but there was no denying, having another pair of eyes that didn't need deuced eyeglasses to see beyond the end of their nose would be very useful indeed.

Augustus Shackleford nodded to himself in thoughtful satisfaction. It was all about thinking creatively, and if there was one thing the Almighty had gifted him with, it was an ability to come up with ideas that lesser men might consider a trifle bird witted.

Things were coming together nicely. Providing Harding agreed to play the loved-up suitor, he, Percy and Finn would be free to find Reinhardt and hopefully have him shipped him back to the Americas before he managed to cause any more deuced trouble…

***

Mercedes stared at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to see herself from every angle. This wasn't usual for her at all - any more than giving consideration to the colour of her dress, or how low the neckline should be. Usually, her tendency was to give whatever she was wearing a quick glance and, providing she was showing nothing untoward, she was content.

Tonight, however, she was wearing a dark apricot dress with large gigot sleeves which had recently become all the rage. Fitted across her bosom with the skirt flaring from her waist, it showed her curves to quite the advantage. Though in fairness, curves might be putting it a little strongly - but at least she had a reasonably small waist.

The warmth of the apricot suited her olive colouring too, and her hair, held back in a simple chignon, appeared almost mahogany in the early evening light, while her eyes had taken on the colour of melted chocolate.

All in all, Mercy was satisfied she looked her best. Forcing down a sudden bout of nerves, she offered her maid a warm smile of thanks and picked up her reticule.

She'd been aware the moment Viscount Carlingford arrived. The noise created by both Flossy and Ruby would have alerted the whole house to the fact, even had a footman not been watching out for him.

Rather than go down to greet him along with her father and stepmother, Mercy had remained in her bedchamber, biting her fingernails, all the while reprimanding herself for her cowardice. But since he'd arrived barely an hour before dinner, she told herself she had a perfectly valid excuse.

Now of course, she'd simply made matters worse. Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath, stepped out of her room and headed towards the stairs.

As she got closer to the small drawing room, she could hear voices and wondered whether her father had already broached the subject of their possible fake engagement or was perhaps waiting for her arrival. Swallowing nervously, she lingered at the door for a moment before abruptly realising that her step grandfather was one of those already in the room. With a sudden fear of what might possibly come out of his mouth if left unchecked, she hurriedly pushed open the door and stepped inside.

All eyes turned towards her, and she faltered, her eyes immediately flying towards the Viscount who swiftly got to his feet. They stared at each other, everyone else in the room disappearing for a few heart-stopping moments. He looked very different from the last time she'd seen him, though his attire certainly looked to be somewhat out of date. As he bowed, she responded with a small curtsy before looking anxiously to her father.

‘Well, you took your time girl,' the Reverend boomed. ‘I was beginning to think we'd have to wait until tomorrow morning. But now you're here, perhaps we can get this whole deuced business settled so I can enjoy my dinner.'

Mercy swallowed a retort rebuking the Reverend for his rudeness, experience telling her it was simply water off a duck's back. Instead, she seated herself next to her stepmother who took her hand encouragingly.

Her father turned to the Viscount as the maid offered Mercy a glass of punch. ‘Though his manners leave a little to be desired,' the Earl offered drily, ‘my father-in-law is nevertheless correct, my lord. I believe we owe you an explanation for requesting your presence at such short notice. May I call you Nate?' At the Viscount's surprised blink, Christian gave a boyish grin. ‘It's a tradition in our family, started I believe by the Duke of Blackmore who has no time for ceremonious poppycock as he refers to it.'

Nate shrugged and nodded his head. ‘Certainly, I've been called much worse over the years.' He gave a tight grin.

‘Well, Nate, perhaps I should start by properly introducing my family. This is my wife, Chastity, her father, Augustus, and of course, you've met our eldest daughter, Mercedes. We have three other children, all of whom you will likely meet at breakfast.'

The Viscount bent his head. ‘Is your lady wife indisposed?' he asked the Reverend politely.

‘Almost permanently,' the clergyman answered with a sigh.

‘Agnes is prone to megrims,' Chastity interjected. ‘Hopefully, you will have the opportunity to meet her before you leave,' She ignored her father's muttered, ‘I wouldn't hold your breath,' and smiled warmly.

Christian picked up his glass of wine and took a sip, clearly thinking how to phrase his next words. ‘I believe your quick-thinking kindness prevented my daughter's abduction from the Black Swan,' he said carefully at length. ‘But what you are not aware of, is that this man was no simple opportunist fortune hunter, but someone I know from my time in America.'

Nate raised his eyebrows but did not speak, allowing Christian to continue. ‘His name is Oliver Reinhardt. He is a gambler and a liar.' The Earl then went on to describe everything he'd told his wife earlier, leaving nothing out. Since much of the tale was new to both Mercy and her grandfather, the room was silent until he'd finished.

‘I don't know exactly what it is that Reinhardt wants of Mercedes,' Christian finished, taking care to address his last words to Mercy. ‘But my gut tells me it's something to do with her mother.'

No one spoke for a few seconds as they digested the Earl's tale. The Reverend was the first to speak. ‘So, you think this blackguard wants Mercy under his control for something more than curtain lectures?'

The Earl nodded, then spread his hands. ‘Unfortunately, I don't know what.'

‘You think she had something he wanted?' Mercy asked, fighting a sudden urge to cry. She could remember very little about her mother, but talking about her like this had turned her into someone real, and it was the first time the Earl had spoken at length about her death. She watched carefully as he nodded.

‘I do. Though I can't imagine what it might be. I made limited enquiries into your mother's background, but other than that she came from Mexico, I unearthed nothing. My suspicion is that Reinhardt had known her for some time – perhaps back when she was in Boston. Mayhap she told him something about her family.'

‘Do you think I still have relatives in Mexico?' Mercy asked in a small voice. Her father shook his head.

‘That I cannot say. If we can apprehend Reinhardt, perhaps we can persuade him to tell us.'

‘All this is very interesting,' the Viscount declared, but forgive me, my lord, I do not see what it has to do with me. Naturally, I am overjoyed that I was able to prevent Lady Mercy's abduction, and if you wish for my continued help, I give it willingly, though I never actually saw this Reinhardt so could not tell you what he looks like.'

‘I sat across the table from the varmint, so once we get to London, we could easily commission a sketch.'

‘London?' The distaste evident in the Viscount's voice spoke volumes, as did his accompanying frown. He looked round at the three expectant faces before adding carefully, ‘I think perhaps now would be a good time to tell me what it is you wish of me.'

There was a short silence, then the Earl took a deep breath and told him…