Chapter 17
After Meriel had gone, Richard dressed quickly, quietly, in case she decided to eavesdrop.
He went through the silent house in the dark, knowing his way since childhood to the servants’ wing.
He slipped into Mrs. Theobald’s sitting room unannounced, but knocked quietly on her bedroom door.
She opened it after a few minutes and stared up at him in surprise.
“Your Grace, is something wrong?” she asked, tying the sash of her dressing gown.
“Meriel knows who I am.”
“Oh, dear,” the housekeeper said, walking past him to take a seat on the sofa in her sitting room. “Is she going to the police?”
“I don’t think so,” he said, sitting down opposite her. “After all, what proof does she have? But she doesn’t trust my reasons, and of course I don’t blame her, because I didn’t tell her everything. That’s why I’m here. I know she’ll come to you for confirmation in the morning.”
“Then tell me what you said, young sir. I’ll be very convincing.”
He smiled with relief. “I know you will. The only excuse I gave her was that Cecil didn’t want people to know how ill he is. I didn’t tell her anything about Charles. I’m worried that if she sensed a threat to the boy, she’d go out of her way alone to investigate Charles.”
“She obviously considers herself a detective of sorts,” Mrs. Theobald said thoughtfully, “since she was able to discover your identity, and she a newcomer to the household.”
“Exactly.” He rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “I’m antagonizing her with this flirting, but I told her I couldn’t stop.”
Mrs. Theobald raised an eyebrow.
He quickly said, “Because I need to look like Cecil. You know that.”
“Of course, sir.”
Richard felt foolish and transparent. Mrs. Theobald must see how easy it was for him to pursue Meriel. He rose to his feet. “I’m going to tell Hargraves what I’ve told you. But I’m certain she’ll come to you first.”
Mrs. Theobald saw him to the door. “Have no fear, Your Grace. I can handle myself with the intelligent Miss Shelby.”
After having a talk with the butler, Richard finally climbed into bed, feeling so exhausted he thought he’d fall immediately to sleep.
Instead he stared at the ceiling—and wondered where Meriel’s bed was above him. He tossed and turned, haunted by her wild mane of golden curls that had hung to her waist. Without her corset and petticoats, she was smaller, more delicate, but still rounded with femininity.
And she was a threat, a danger to his—and Cecil’s—plans. He had to remember that, to treat her with caution so that she didn’t believe she could solve all their problems. He wondered who had lied to her, to make her so wary of his motives.
~oOo~
On her morning break, Meriel visited Mrs. Theobald in her sitting room and was not surprised when the woman confirmed Mr. O’Neill’s story.
Meriel gritted her teeth and walked away from the housekeeper to stare blankly out the window. “And you have no problem with this deception, Mrs. Theobald?”
The housekeeper came to her side. “Of course I do. But I was not consulted. Mr. Hargraves and myself discovered it on our own, as you did. What would you have me do? Mr. O’Neill is doing a favor for his brother the duke. Am I supposed to go against that?”
“Are you certain that’s what he’s doing?” Meriel demanded, facing the housekeeper.
Mrs. Theobald met her stare calmly. “Above all of the family, Mr. O’Neill is the one I would trust the most. He had the worst situation here as a child, and he handled it with more equanimity than most adults could have.
He was kind to the servants, even respectful to the duchess, who went out of her way to make him out in a poor light, so the duke would throw him out.
Mr. O’Neill never responded to her behavior. ”
“Maybe not then, but don’t you think a childhood like that can eat away at a person? Maybe his bitterness built and built, and now he has an opportunity for some kind of…redemption, a way to prove that he was the one who deserved the title most of all.”
Mrs. Theobald put her hand on Meriel’s arm. “I understand why you could think that, but you wouldn’t if you knew him. He’s made a success of himself—isn’t that the best revenge?”
Meriel sighed and closed her eyes. “But Mrs. Theobald, Stephen will be so hurt! Even if he never discovers the lie, the duke will return and ignore him once again. He’ll think it’s all his fault!”
“I trust the duke and his brother to make things right with the boy.”
But Mrs. Theobald couldn’t meet her eyes as she defended them.
Meriel had gone to the housekeeper hoping to feel relieved, and left feeling more disturbed than before. For some reason, she knew that a part of the puzzle still eluded her. Someone wasn’t being truthful. She had no one to trust, including herself.
~oOo~
Early in the afternoon, Stephen went off to play with his nurse, leaving Meriel to plan out the next day’s lessons. She was having a hard time concentrating, when her mind was still sorting through all the evidence about Mr. O’Neill that she’d uncovered.
And then she heard a pounding down the corridor, and Stephen came running in, his face wet with tears. Nurse Weston was right behind him, looking resigned.
“Miss Shelby,” Stephen said, “do you know where my father is?”
She tensed, suddenly uncertain about whom the boy actually meant. Before she could even think up an appropriate response, Stephen hurried on.
“We were supposed to have a boxing lesson, and he never came!”
Nurse Weston shook her head. “I tried to explain to his little lordship that sometimes the duke is too busy to make time for him.”
Meriel took the boy’s hands. “My lord—”
He pulled away. “No, you’re wrong! He promised me, and he hasn’t broken a promise since he returned.”
It dawned on Meriel that Stephen was right. Mr. O’Neill seemed to have devoted himself to spending time with his nephew, and for him to not even send word of a change of plans seemed unusual.
Meriel stood up. “My lord, I’ll go find him for you. Someone in the house will know where he is. He can make another appointment to be with you, and this time I know he won’t forget.”
Stephen stomped his foot. “We already did that! He’s not in the house, and he’s not anywhere in the park. We talked to Mr. Tearle the steward, and Hargraves and Mrs. Theobald. No one knows where he is. What if he’s hurt?”
Nurse Weston scoffed at that, saying, “My lord, he simply forgot. People make mistakes and you must learn to accept it and forgive. I’m certain he’ll have a good excuse when he returns. Now let’s go wash your face. And then perhaps a nap for the afternoon. You don’t mind, do you, Miss Shelby?”
“Of course not. Lord Ramsgate, I’ll see you when you wake up.”
Stephen ran down the hall.
Nurse Weston lowered her voice. “I didn’t have the heart to tell the poor lad that his father is probably in the arms of a woman as we speak.”
Meriel tried not to blush. “So he’s chosen his new mistress.”
“I didn’t think so, but maybe that’s what he’s doing right now. Of course, we all thought it was going to be you,” she added with a shrug. Then she raised her voice. “Here I come, my lord.”
Meriel had a bad feeling, a feeling she was learning not to ignore. She did not believe that Mr. O’Neill would sneak off with a woman and tell no one where he was. Especially when he’d seemed so convincing about choosing no one but Meriel.
But could everything he’d said have been a lie? Did Mrs. Theobald really know him after all these years?
Meriel tried to go back to her lessons, but she couldn’t do it. She found herself wandering the house, until she finally had to admit to herself that she was looking for Mr. O’Neill.
Whenever anyone questioned her, she said she needed to discuss his son with him, but some people still looked at her with embarrassed sympathy. Everyone must think he’d abandoned his seduction of her.
Why did she almost want to defend herself?
Finally, she found someone who’d seen him that morning.
One of the gardener’s staff, a boy who usually pulled weeds all day, said he’d seen the duke walking into the woods.
He pointed into the distance, past the orchard, where Meriel could see the beginning of a wooded copse she’d never explored before.
She considered and abandoned the thought of asking for help. What could she say that wouldn’t sound ridiculous?
And what if Mr. O’Neill truly had gone off on an assignation with a servant?
Meriel needed to know if nothing he said could be trusted.
So she set off through the park, past the orchard, and down the gravel lane that slowly gave way to bare dirt.
The gray sky overhead released a light shower, and she quickened her pace to enter the woods.
At first she walked briskly, for the trees were spaced far enough apart to let in the light.
But soon everything grew closer together, and she began to wonder if perhaps this wasn’t a wise decision.
The path hardly looked well traveled, so she couldn’t imagine it being a profitable place for a thief to work.
She was just about to turn around and head back in defeat, when she thought she heard something. She froze and looked about her, but all she saw were endless trees and the occasional bird flittering from branch to branch.
Her skin suddenly crawled with gooseflesh, as worry coalesced into fear for her own safety.
And then she heard a muffled groan.
“Hello?” she called tentatively.
She cocked her head to her right, where she thought the sound had come from. She heard twigs breaking, dead leaves scattering.
“Is someone there?” she demanded.
There was another groan, louder this time, and she took several steps off the path and peered around a large ash tree. Richard O’Neill was crumpled in a heap facedown on the ground.
She gasped and dropped to her knees beside him. “Your Grace? Your Grace? Can you hear me?”