Page 10 of Mercedes (The Shackleford Legacies #2)

Mercedes was awake long before dawn. Indeed, she’d spent the majority of the night tossing and turning, her mind going over and over the events of the day before, starting with their ridiculous wager.

Nate had bet that her father wouldn’t arrive until after ten in the morning, while she declared categorically that he’d be here before eight. And just like that, they’d gone from being complete strangers to … she wasn’t sure what exactly.

Though he’d said no more about who he’d bought the ring for, she learned that he’d received his scar during the Battle of Waterloo and that the man who inflicted it had been trying to remove his head at the time.

‘I was one of the Duke’s aides-de-camp and on my way to give him a message. Fortunately, his grace saw me fall and had me taken to his own surgeon. The man saved my life.’

‘Were you riding Duchess?’ Mercy asked, shuddering at the thought of what the battle must have been like for both horse and rider.

He nodded. ‘She took a wound to her side. The only reason she wasn’t destroyed on the spot was because I refused to leave her. Neither of us fought again after that day.’

‘Where did you go?’

For a moment, Mercedes thought he wouldn’t answer, then he sighed. ‘I was recuperating for months – couldn’t even get to Brussels. And when I was finally well enough…’ He shrugged. ‘I had nothing to come home for.’ He gave a dark chuckle and waved his hand around the room. ‘My triumphant return to the ancestral pile only took place once my father was dead and buried.’

She wanted to ask him why he’d lived like a hermit from that day. Clearly, the scars he carried were not solely physical. Instead, he firmly steered the conversation back to her and she found herself telling him all about her family.

When he went to check on Duchess, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to go with him, and standing in the stable, feeding the mare a wizened carrot while Nate looked at her hoof, she felt a surprising sense of peace.

Dinner, Nate informed her was courtesy of Ruby who on this particular occasion had been quicker than the rabbit she’d been chasing. It didn’t happen often apparently.

And the oddest thing? She was in a house in the middle of nowhere, completely alone with a man she’d met only hours ago, but at no time did she feel even the remotest fear. It was the strangest day Mercy had ever spent, but truly, she hadn’t wanted it to end.

As soon as the light started to fail, he’d bidden her a courteous good night and she’d retired to her bedchamber to find a bowl of washing water, a small sliver of soap and a freshly washed chamber pot…

And now, lying in the sagging, worn bed, she finally acknowledged to herself that she didn’t want to leave Carlingford or Nathaniel Harding. She squeezed her eyes shut, allowing the bewildering feelings and emotions to have their way with her. She realised it was madness. She hardly knew him – and from the small amount she’d discovered, it was abundantly clear he was a man with many demons. But, for the first time in her life, she wanted to learn more.

Would her father allow him to visit her at Cottesmore? Would he even want to? And to what end?

Her thoughts continued to gallop through her head, one after another as the crack between the moth-eaten curtains gradually became lighter and lighter. Dawn couldn’t be far off. She guessed Nate would already be up and about. How long would they have before her father arrived?

Her musings were abruptly interrupted by the sudden cacophony of barking outside. Ruby, clearly. Climbing out of bed, she hurried to the window and peered through the curtains, just in time to see a carriage coming up the drive.

The answer to her last question was no time at all.

***

Nate ordered Ruby to sit as he watched the carriage make its stately way towards him. His stomach churned. Whatever ridiculous dreams he’d harboured through the night finally withered entirely. He would be lucky to survive the next hour.

Despite his sudden urge to make himself scarce, Nate forced himself to step forward when the carriage finally drew to a stop. As the door opened, to his shock, a small bundle of fur came hurtling out and headed straight for him. It was the little dog who’d been with them at the inn. She capered around his ankles, and as he bent down to fuss her, the sense of doom hanging over him began to dissipate. When she turned her attention to an excited Ruby, he straightened and watched as Mercedes’ step-grandfather climbed down.

‘I hope for your sake you’ve kept her safe, Harding,’ the Reverend grunted as he turned to look back at the carriage. Before Nate had a chance to answer, the last occupant appeared at the door, and he got his first look at Mercedes’ father. Despite his inner turmoil, Nate’s face was impassive as he watched the Earl jump agilely down the steps.

‘Do you have anywhere the horses can rest and get some water?’ the Earl enquired politely.

‘There’s a stable towards the back of the house.’ Nate pointed out the direction to the coach driver. ‘My horse is in there but there should be plenty of room for another four. There’s fresh water in the trough and a sack of oats.’

While Joseph unhitched the horses with the help of two footmen, the Earl turned back to Nate and regarded him coolly.

‘Your daughter is safe and unharmed, my lord,’ Nate offered guardedly after a second.

‘Then I am in your debt, Mr. Harding.’ Despite the courteous words, Nate didn’t miss the Earl’s undertone of relief.

‘I believe she is still abed. Would you care for refreshments while you wait for her to rise?’

Christian nodded. ‘That would be most welcome, thank you.’

‘Lead on, Harding,’ the Reverend interjected loudly, waving towards the front door. ‘I hope you’ve got a half decent bottle of brandy stashed away in this pile somewhere.’

Somewhere , Nate thought, resisting the sudden unwelcome urge to laugh. He had no idea where he’d left the bottle he’d been determinedly working his way through – was it only four nights ago? He led the way to the front door, hoping he didn’t have to shove too hard to get the damn thing open. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to keep the fire burning in the sitting room, so despite the tomblike coldness of the rest of the house, the small room at least would be cosy and cheerful.

Nate winced as the two men followed him into the hall. He knew the Earl would be taking everything in, despite his aloof exterior. Mercy’s grandfather wasn’t quite so polite, muttering, ‘Thunder an’ turf, lad, I think you need to do a spot of redecorating. I can see daylight through that deuced crack.’ Fighting the urge to tell the blunt clergyman to mind his own bloody business, Nate gritted his teeth and opened the sitting room door.

‘If you’d like to make yourself comfortable, my lord, I’ll bring you both a glass of brandy. Would you like some tea with it?’ The Earl nodded with a rueful glance towards his father-in-law who was already making himself comfortable in one of the armchairs.

Directing his parting comment to the elderly cleric, Nate endeavoured to keep his voice civil. ‘Whilst you are perfectly correct in your assessment that the house needs some work, you’ll be relieved to know that I don’t believe any part of it is likely to fall on your head during the short time you’re in it.’ With that, he stepped through the door and shut it firmly behind him, only to see Mercy standing at the bottom of the stairs.

They stared at each other silently for a second. ‘Your father’s arrived,’ Nate said needlessly at length. She was hardly likely to have missed his arrival since the carriage had stopped right under her bedchamber window. ‘I trust you slept well,’ he added when she continued to stare at him mutely.

As she nodded finally and took a step forward, Nate felt a sudden insane urge to walk over, pull her into his arms and cover her mouth with his. The shocking intensity of the desire nearly brought him to his knees. Dear God, how long had it been since he’d kissed a woman? ‘Would you like some tea?’ he said huskily instead, wondering if he’d lost his mind.

‘That would be lovely,’ she answered, her voice soft and uncertain. Had she picked up on his desperate need? His cock was straining against his breeches, a fact she couldn’t have failed to notice had she dropped her eyes from his face.

Feeling like some kind of depraved madman, Nate swallowed, willing the evidence of his desire to go down. ‘Your father and grandfather are in the sitting room,’ he said gruffly, when he could stand it no longer. ‘I’ll fetch some tea.’ Then he turned and fled.

***

‘As you can see, I’m perfectly well, Papa. Mr. Harding has been kindness itself.’ The Earl stepped back from their embrace and looked down at his daughter. An unexpected lump formed in his throat at the thought of what could have happened to her.

‘He didn’t … take advantage of you in any way?’ Christian probed, staring down at her searchingly.

Mercy gave an emphatic shake of her head. ‘Without his help, I could very well have been in this Reinhardt’s clutches by now. I trust you will see him recompensed, Father?’ Christian didn’t miss her switch from her childish Papa to a more formal address, and he sighed, realising she truly was no longer his little girl. He nodded.

‘Naturally.’ He paused and looked round the room before adding a rueful, ‘God knows, he could do with it.’

‘Who is this man who thought to abduct me, Father? I mean, I know his name, if that’s his real one, but why me?’ Christian winced. ‘He’d hoped this conversation would wait until they were back at Cottesmore. He watched Mercy seat herself in the other chair, gathering his thoughts.

‘As for who he is – all I can tell you is that he’s an inveterate gambler hailing originally from Boston…’ he paused choosing his next words carefully. ‘I believe he knew your mother.’

Mercy had been turned towards the fire, holding her hands out for warmth. At his words, her head shot up. ‘They were friends?’

The Earl shook his head. ‘I don’t believe there was ever a friendship between them...’ Another pause. How the devil could he tell his daughter that her mother was a courtesan and Reinhardt had likely been one of her clients?

To his relief, he was saved from answering as the door was pushed open, to reveal Nate, balancing a large tray with one hand. Moving over to help, Christian was glad to see Harding had unearthed a bottle of passable brandy. He didn’t usually imbibe so early in the day, but he couldn’t deny that after the pressures of the last few hours, a tot would be very welcome.

As the only two seats in the room were already taken, Christian and Nate stood awkwardly in front of the fire. For a few seconds, silence reined as they sipped their tea until the Earl finally placed his dish on the mantlepiece and picked up the brandy.

‘I think this will likely be more beneficial at the moment,’ he murmured drily. After staring down into its amber depths for a moment, he gave a sigh and turned to Mercy’s rescuer. ‘I owe you a debt I can never repay, Harding, but I trust you will allow me to go some small way to repaying it by having the essential repairs done to your house.’ He watched Nate colour up, and for a second, he thought pride would make him refuse the boon.

But after a moment, the man grimaced and shrugged. ‘I would be a fool to turn down such an offer. Thank you, my lord. As you’re clearly aware, the repairs are long overdue.’

‘Bit of an understatement, I’d say lad. The deuced place’ll be falling down around your ears by the end of next winter.’ As usual the Reverend didn’t mince his words. ‘Are you in Dun territory, or just purse-pinched?’

‘None of your damn business,’ Nate growled before he could stop himself.

Reverend Shackleford didn’t take the least offence. ‘So, it’s purse-pinched then. I take it you were left the property but no blunt to upkeep it.’ He shook his head sadly.

‘Mr. Harding has a title,’ Mercy interrupted – erroneously in truth, since the title clearly hadn’t put food on the table or filled the holes in a leaking roof. Nevertheless, both her father and grandfather looked surprised.

Nate winced, then bent his head with a sigh. ‘Viscount Carlingford at your service, my lord,’ he offered wryly.

The Earl frowned. ‘I thought the name Carlingford sounded familiar. You’re Gerald Harding’s son? I’d thought him lost at sea.’

Nate gritted his teeth. He really didn’t need this conversation right now. ‘You’re correct, my lord. My esteemed older brother did indeed end up in a watery grave. I am the second son.’

Christian raised his eyebrows. ‘Forgive me, I wasn’t aware that Harding had had any more children. I was under the impression the title had lapsed.’

Nate spread his hands and shrugged. ‘As you can see, my lord, it didn’t.’ He gave a humourless laugh before adding drily, ‘What can I say, I was always more my mother’s son – literally.’

Christian stared at him for a second, then nodded his head in understanding. So, it wasn’t simply grief that had led Gerald Harding to drink himself to death. The knowledge that his title would pass to another man’s bastard must have been galling to say the least.

‘Have you not thought about taking your place in society?’ he quizzed, thinking it best to change the subject.

Nate stared at him impassively for a second. ‘Aside from the fact that I haven’t got sixpence to scratch with, as the good Reverend described so succinctly, my face is not exactly my fortune.’

‘It’s none of my business,’ Christian countered evenly, ‘but there are many who would pay handsomely to obtain for a title for their daughter. A pretty face is not mandatory.’

There was a small silence until at length, Nate responded flatly, ‘As you say, my lord, it is no one’s business but my own.’

Christian sighed, knowing he’d pushed the man too far. ‘I think we have presumed upon your hospitality for long enough,’ he said brusquely, finishing his brandy. ‘My man will call on you over the next few days to assess which repairs are the most urgent. I trust I do not have to tell you that what happened here must not go beyond these four walls?’

Nate bowed his head. ‘You have my word. If…’ There was a pause as the Earl looked at him enquiringly. The Viscount glanced over at Mercy who was looking at him, her face inscrutable. He took a deep breath. ‘I do not believe you have seen the last of this Reinhardt, my lord. Should you require my assistance in safeguarding Lady Mercedes at any time in the future, I offer it gladly.’

It was on the tip of Christian’s tongue to declare that he took care of his own, but given the events of the last three days, he swallowed the blunt reply and instead, inclined his head in return before adding a brisk, ‘Duly noted,’ before turning towards Mercedes. ‘I think it’s time we went home, love.’

‘Thank you for the brandy, Harding,’ the Reverend commented, climbing laboriously to his feet. ‘It was more than passable, and your house might be a draughty old pile, with more holes than roof, but I confess, I’ve seldom sat in a more comfortable chair. Had I stayed there much longer, you’d have had to carry me out.’ He looked down at Flossy, curled up next to her new friend. ‘Come along, Floss, time to go.’

Mercy’s heart was already thudding unsteadily as she got to her feet. Nathanial Harding’s comment about helping to keep her safe had given her the beginnings of an idea, but she knew it needed much more thought before she brought it out into the open. As her father and grandfather made their way to the door, she faced the man who had taken her into his protection and likely saved her life.

‘I cannot thank you enough for your generosity, my lord,’ she murmured, keeping her eyes on his chest as her face unaccountably coloured up. ‘Without your intervention, I don’t know what would have happened.’ She gave a small curtsy, before finally lifting her eyes to his where she fought a gasp at the brief flare of emotion in their depths. She had time to realise that his eyes were beautiful, the colour of warm dark honey, before the shutters came down.

‘The honour was mine,’ he answered huskily, bowing his head in return.

For a fleeting second, they stared at each other, then Nate deliberately took a step back and waved his hand towards the door, murmuring a hoarse, ‘After you, my lady…?’