‘Mam gies him a clip roond th’ ear an ‘e misses ‘is lughole,’ Finn piped up helpfully from the floor, his accent rendered even more difficult to understand with his mouth full of wafer.
For the first time, Nate felt truly bereft of words and abruptly his sense of doom returned a hundredfold.
‘I can’t imagine what we might have to speak of that cannot be said in front of the Earl,’ he retorted stiffly.
Reverend Shackleford looked at him as though he’d suddenly sprouted two heads. ‘Well, since your lifetime of happiness might be reduced to mere weeks if Reinhardt gets his way, I thought you’d be interested in helping me and Percy catch the varmint.’
***
‘Do you think your fiancé will prefer this colour or this on you, my lady?’ Mercy looked at the seamstress in confusion for a second. She still hadn’t got used to describing Nathaniel Harding as her husband to be. The whole thing was bizarre, and so far from her comfort level, she sometimes wondered whether some other Mercedes had somehow inhabited her body.
Indeed, whatever romantic notions she’d held for her future most definitely had not included a broken man who had no idea how to love. If she was being entirely honest, they hadn’t really included much in the way of romance at all.
Mercy had always believed that love was the natural long-term outcome of mutual respect and, yes, affection. She chose to ignore the fact that nearly every romantic relationship in her family had been intense, tempestuous and passionate from the onset - generally assuring herself that she was possessed of far more common sense than her more volatile relatives.
But the fact of the matter was, she didn’t feel the expected respect and affection for Nate Harding. In truth, she didn’t really know what she felt. But never in her life had she wanted to kiss a man quite so much. How scandalous was that?
She couldn’t share such tumultuous feelings with her stepmother, and she wouldn’t be seeing either Jenny or Tory again until the house party at Blackmore. She didn’t actually know what to do with such longings. But it wasn’t only that. A hitherto hardly thought about area between her legs throbbed whenever she thought about him touching her. Truly, it was most uncomfortable.
Why she should feel so about a man whose face most people found difficult to look at, she had no idea, but she found herself wanting to trace the scar down his cheek with her fingers and kiss the puckered flesh. Was she addled?
Had it been the same for others in her family? She’d seen firsthand that Jennifer and Brendon couldn’t keep their hands off one another. What about her father and stepmother? Mercy found herself remembering her first meeting with Chastity Shackleford. For a reason lost to the annals of time, both she and the Reverend had been trying to climb into her father’s bedchamber via a tree outside his window. Why the devil had she never asked why?
Mercy found herself chuckling inside. Surely that proved her father’s relationship with his wife was not devoid of passion – and then there was the fevered kisses she’d seen them exchange when they thought no one was looking…
So mayhap she wasn’t quite so different to everyone else in her family after all. For some reason, the notion gave her an unexpected comfort.
She became aware that the seamstress was speaking again and forced her thoughts back to the task at hand. Despite her confusion and uncertainty, she couldn’t deny her relief that this would be the last time she’d need a whole new wardrobedesigned purely to impress a section of the population who for the most part possessed nothing between their ears but fresh air. However, the relief was swiftly followed by the sobering hope that it wouldn’t be because she’d fallen into the clutches of a madman…
Chapter Sixteen
By the time Mercy arrived in London, Viscount Carlingford’s presence, as well as his disfigurement were both common knowledge. The fact that he was apparently betrothed to Lady Mercedes Stanhope however was still causing astir.
For the most part, the gossips fell into three camps: Those who felt wholly sorry for the bride to be, given that she’d have to indulge in …you know what… with someone so disfigured. Those who were envious and spiteful since they considered the Viscount’s bank balance and title to be of much more interest than his lack of a pretty face. And thirdly, those who found the thought of being intimate with someone quite sogothicdeliciously thrilling…
On his arrival in London, Christian had immediately put the Viscount’s name forward for White’s. While Adam would willingly have done so already, it was felt that Mercy’s father being the one doing the proposing would send the right signals to the rest of theton. Thus, on the night of his fiancée’s arrival, Nate found himself attending the exclusive club with two Earls, a Marquess, another viscount and a magistrate. For a man who six weeks earlier had been poaching his dinner, it all felt like a bag of moonshine.
However, he quickly realised that these men who’d won the hearts of the fabled Shackleford Sisters were no society poodles. They clearly had a close bond that they made no effort to hide.
His dinner at the Earl of Ravenstone’s residence had gone surprisingly well. In fact, most of his interrogation had been conducted by the Countess, who’d seemed less interested in what he looked like, and more in how he intended to treat her niece. Naturally, the subject of Reinhardt had also come up, but any in-depth discussion had been put aside until the Earl of Cottesmore’s arrival.
In fairness, his nerves on arrival at the club were much less than he’d previously feared. Most men present had no real interest in his scar, unless it was to pat him on the back for taking one on the chin against old Boney, and for the most part their group was left alone at their customary table in the corner.
‘Have you heard from Nick?’ Gabriel, Viscount Northwood asked when their wine had been poured.
Christian nodded. ‘He assured me that he and Grace will be here by the month’s end.’
‘Is our American friend likely to wait that long before he makes his move?’ The Marquis of Guildford looked sceptical.
Christian grimaced. ‘I really don’t know, Max. I haven’t laid eyes on the bastard since before I left New York. I’d have thought that after his first attempt failed, he’ll want to be very sure of success before he tries again.’
‘I have men watching out for an American matching Reinhardt’s description,’ Jamie Fitzroy, their resident magistrate informed them, ‘but as I see it, our two most pressing problems are that, firstly, we don’t really know what he wants Mercy for, andsecondly whether there is a time constraint on him achieving whatever it is that he wants. If we can discover either, it will help us predict his movements.’
‘I assume we’re working on the theory that the more desperate he is, the more likely he is to make a mistake.’ Nate surprised himself with his comment, though he was even more startled at his lack of deference in the presence of such exulted company – as well as their complete lack of condescension as they considered his comment.
‘Is there any way of finding out just what he’s after?’ Gabriel asked. ‘I mean we know that Mercy’s a beautiful woman and a prime catch, but America’s a bloody long way and I’d have thought there were plenty of wealthy heiresses waiting to be fleeced by an ivory tuner such as Reinhardt.’ Nate realised the Earl must have shared the story of how he’d come to know Reinhardt with all of them.
‘There’s something he wants,’ agreed Christian. ‘I’ve spent hours thinking back to the days leading up to Mercy’s mother’s death, and I’ve come to the conclusion that she had something Reinhardt wanted. At first, I imagined she’d stolen something belonging to him, but why would he need Mercy?’ He shook his head.
