Chapter Ten
“My lady, I must say that gown looks lovely on you. The color flatters your complexion so well,” Polly chattered on, as she put the finishing touches on Patience’s hair by stringing pearls through the mass of curls she’d spent the last half hour fixing.
“Thank you, Polly.” She turned from the mirror. “I think I will wear that new India shawl with the gold thread tonight.”
“Yes, my lady.” Polly moved to the chest at the foot of Patience’s bed and withdrew the garment. “I will give this a fast pressing.” She hurried from the room, leaving Patience alone with her thoughts.
After hearing her mother’s story, she had been forced to look at this entire situation in a different way. Poor Mother. She had suffered so much over the years. Losing her true love, then the child created in that love.
She would have had a brother or sister had the babe survived.
When she’d asked her mother what she would do if she were given the chance to do it all again, she answered with no hesitation that she would have accepted the duke’s suggestion and run away together before his betrothal was announced.
Mother seemed so certain that would have been the right thing to do, she didn’t mention if she’d done so, Patience would never have been born. Or, she would have been Alex’s sister. Or, not, since the duke had two sons, and no daughters. The confusion finally gave her a headache that caused her to lie down with a lavender cloth on her head.
Would she allow history to repeat itself and refuse Alex’s proposal, trouncing on the young love they’d once shared? Perhaps it could be restored, if he was willing to actually woo her and not assume she would agree to marriage to save him trouble.
Once Polly returned with her shawl, she headed downstairs to meet her parents. Father had informed her earlier in the day that they were meeting Alex and his mother at the theater, and she would attend, with no excuses.
She felt ready to face Alex, and ascertain if his attempt to see her the day before, with the bouquet of flowers, had been his way of apology. If so, she would put her anger aside, but at the same time, not allow any more bullying.
Her father spent the entire carriage ride glaring at her, and the aroma wafting from him gave testimony to the fact that he’d spent time with the brandy bottle before they’d left. She sighed and studied her hands resting in her lap.
The coach came to a rolling stop and the door opened. Father stepped out and turned to assist Mother, and then her. They made their way into the theater just as Alex and the duchess alighted from their carriage.
As they approached, Alex turned toward her and gave her a slight—if hesitant—smile. For one instant he was Alex, her first—and only—love. His eyes bore into hers and that crooked smile she loved so much grew into an all-out grin. She smiled back, and for a moment her world righted itself.
He extended his arm toward her, his eyebrows raised in question. She took his arm and they climbed the steps to the lobby. Unfortunately, it was to be her last moment of peace for the evening. Immediately, a bevy of women surrounded Alex, everyone from matrons smiling seductively, to marriage-minded mamas, and their anxious, eyelid-batting, blushing daughters, practically fell at his feet. He was polite to everyone, but she was sure he was not pleased by all the attention.
They made their way to the Bedford box and were joined by Alex’s three friends, Lord Campbell, Lord Hawkins, and Mr. Templeton. He introduced the men to her, and the rest of the family.
“Had I known Bedford was hiding such a beauty, I would have demanded an introduction.” Lord Campbell, who Alex said was called “Cam,” bent over her hand. “Why are you hiding her, Bedford?”
Alex took her hand from Cam’s and tucked it into his arm, his eyes snapping. “I am not hiding her. Lady Patience is right here, is she not?”
All three men burst out laughing. “Be careful, Your Grace. We all appreciate beauty, and we may very well steal her right out from under you.” Lord Hawkins—or as Alex called him, “Hawk” slapped Alex on the back.
“Now that we have seen this lovely woman, we may decide to call upon her.” Mr. Templeton gave her a slight bow. “Would you be so kind as to receive us, my lady?”
She smiled and offered a curtsy. “Of course, Mr. Templeton.”
Patience studied the four men as they joked with each other. All were tall, broad shouldered, and handsome, each in his own way. While Hawk had raven-black hair and a devilish smile, Cam sported blond locks and a brilliant smile she was sure brought the vapors to many a young lady. Mr. Templeton’s straight light brown hair fell on his forehead that he brushed back to no avail. She could imagine the commotion and near swooning whenever the four of them entered a ballroom together.
No doubt all that power, wealth, and handsomeness would command the room and set many hearts to fluttering. However, the only one who had her heart fluttering kept stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb as they spoke, distracting her from the conversation.
With the ease they exchanged insults and jokes, it was apparent the four men were good friends. It pleased her to know Alex had these friends. With his military service keeping him away from England for so long, she was unaware he had maintained such camaraderie.
They all settled into their seats just as the curtain on the stage rose. Cam sat next to her and leaned in to speak into her ear. Before he could say a word, Alex glowered at him and gestured toward the stage. “Behave yourself.”
Patience found it hard not to grin. She enjoyed seeing this side of Alex, the man who had a comfortable relationship with other gentlemen. Her spirits rose at his comments to his friends. Alex was acting like a jealous lover.
If only…
…
What the devil was wrong with him that he’d acted so asinine? Now his friends would think he was some sort of besotted fool. However, he was not besotted, but merely determined. He wanted Patience for his wife.
He wanted her naked, underneath him, writhing with passion, calling his name as she found her pleasure. He wanted to see her beautiful green eyes deepen in color, to hear her panting and moaning.
Just those thoughts had him shifting in his seat, trying to get comfortable with his erection plaguing him. She looked stunning tonight in a pale peach gown that hugged her pert breasts perfectly. The soft muslin fabric moved as she walked, outlining her legs and the feminine sway of her hips.
The familiar scent of lavender surrounded her, drawing him like a bee to a spring flower. Her warm smile and light laughter had already captivated his friends. He was sure they weren’t joking about calling on her. That he would never allow.
The play was interesting, but Patience kept him occupied as he watched her laugh, smile, and frown while the story unfolded. His problem now was in convincing her he wanted to marry her, not for expediency, but because he believed she would be the perfect wife for him.
Once the carriage had dropped Patience and her parents at their townhouse, and the duchess at Bedford House, Alex continued to White’s where he was to meet Hawk, Cam, and Templeton.
The three friends were gathered around the betting book when he arrived. The man at the door took his overcoat, hat, gloves, and walking stick. He joined the group around the book. “What devious wagers are you drumming up tonight?”
“What’s the matter, Bedford, are you afraid we might bet on the charming Lady Patience?”
His muscles tightened and his blood surged to his head, until he felt as though he would explode. “Do not even think about writing her name in that book.”
Hawk regarded him from across the famous book, his humor gone. “You have it bad, my friend.”
“I have nothing, bad or otherwise. I came to relax and have a drink. Who’s joining me?” He turned and stalked away.
The three followed him while the rest of the gentlemen continued calling out bets. They settled in chairs near one of the large windows, now covered with heavy drapes. A footman brought their drinks, which they all sipped in silence.
“I hear Loverly is still roaming the streets of London.” Hawk leaned back in his chair, resting his foot on his knee.
“The last I heard he was in Bath,” Alex said.
Cam shook his head. “More recent reports put him in London.”
“To my way of thinking, the man should hop on the first ship headed anywhere and really disappear this time.” Hopefully, that was what Loverly would do. He didn’t like the idea that the traitor was free. He had threatened Alex more than once on their trip back. Not that he felt he could not defend himself, but if Loverly ever got wind of Patience, he might come after her.
Cam leaned forward “However did you rout him out the first time?”
“It took me a full year. We had some tips that he’d gone to America, so the War Department sent me there, where they said Loverly had a contact. We had no name, just a tiny bit of information on him. The reason it took a year was our information was slightly wrong. His contact was not a ‘he’ but a ‘she.’ Once I established that, I had him in a matter of weeks.”
“I still find it hard to believe a member of the House of Lords would turn on his country,” Hawk chimed in.
Alex had also found it hard to believe when he was first given the assignment. He knew Loverly from Eton, and although they had never been friends, they’d had a passing acquaintance. Once he’d discovered him, his motivation had become clear. “Money and a woman.”
“Aren’t they usually at the bottom of most crimes?” Cam said as he placed his empty glass on the table in front of them, then waved the footman away.
“Speaking of women—” Templeton began.
Alex stood. “I am not speaking of Lady Patience. In fact, I have an early appointment in the morning, so I will be leaving your esteemed presence to return home.”
“Coward.” Hawk smirked and saluted him with his glass.
“Never.” Alex left the room and had the driver take a slow ride home, so he could gather his thoughts. He had to find a way to convince Patience that marrying him was the best thing for them both.
…
The screech of a horse resonated in his ears as a cannon ball hit its chest, causing the animal to stumble to the ground, crushing the rider underneath. Another cannon roared behind him, alerting his men that the enemy grew closer. He withdrew his bayonet from the enemy and charged forward, leading his men to clash with the French. He looked into the deep brown eyes of a soldier, no more than a boy, as he shoved his bayonet into his stomach. The youth grabbed his middle and screamed, collapsing to the ground.
Alex wiped his brow and turned as one of his men took a bullet to the face. Blood splattered everywhere, covering him, soaking his uniform. They were surrounded by shrieks, shouts, and smoke from the battle.
His stomach roiled and he gagged. He had to get away. He had to leave this hell and return to sanity. He had to leave…
Alex sat up abruptly, taking deep gulps of air, his body covered with sweat as it shook uncontrollably. He dropped his head into his hands and attempted to calm himself. It was a dream, just a dream. The war had ended, Boney had been defeated, Alex was home, and what he’d done had been for the greater good. It was kill or be killed.
He repeated the mantra over and over. Why did that thought never appease him?
Knowing any attempt to return to sleep was impossible, he rose and pulled on his banyan. He sat in the chair next to the window and laid his head back, staring at the ceiling.
Another sleepless night.
The next afternoon, Alex presented himself once again at Patience’s townhouse. This time he was directed to the drawing room and tea was sent for. As he paced the room, waiting for Patience, his attention was drawn to loud voices coming from the next room, which was probably the library. Wilton’s voice was particularly strident, and given his fondness for brandy, he was certainly drunk. He waited a few minutes and then heard Patience’s retort, followed by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
In two strides, he was out of the drawing room. He flung the door to the library open with such force it slammed against the wall. Wilton gripped Patience’s arm and a definite red mark was visible on her cheek. Alex leaped at the man, who thrust his daughter away, causing her to stumble to the floor.
With one solid punch, Wilton landed on his arse and stared up at Alex, a perplexed look in his eyes. Alex helped Patience up and pulled her to his side. “What the devil is wrong with you, man?”
“I told her she was to marry Lord Skeffington. She is my daughter and I can command her.” Wilton gripped the chair alongside him and climbed to his feet.
“The old earl? Are you out of your mind? He must be three score, if he is a day.”
“It is no matter. I promised her to him and she will obey my command.”
Alex’s fingers itched to beat the obnoxious man to a pulp, but he refused to have Patience witness such a display. It was bad enough she’d seen him knock her father to the ground. He took a deep breath to calm himself and said, “You cannot promise her to Skeffington because she has accepted my proposal and will marry me.”
…
Patience moved away from Alex’s side and stared at him. She had done no such thing. In fact, she was still not completely past her pique with him over the pathetic proposal he had offered. At this point, she was tired of men manipulating her and telling her what she would do. First marry this duke, then marry that duke, now wed the ancient earl. She would rather spend the rest of her days a spinster, governess, or companion, rather than be forced to marry the earl, who made her skin crawl every time he looked at her. Entering a convent appealed.
Drawing herself up, she said, “I will leave you both. I do not wish to be a piece of meat over which two starving dogs fight.”
With as much dignity as she could muster, she swept past them and left the room. The side of her face still ached from where Father had slapped her. She should be grateful Alex had stepped in when he had and announced they would marry, but she bristled at his heavy-handed and overbearing attitude.
She climbed the stairs, weariness in her every bone. Since she had no resources, or a method to escape the machinations of the men in her life, it appeared she would marry Alex, after all. Very well, she would marry him, but she would not allow him to treat her like a child. She was through with men’s arrogance. Hopefully, she was not going from one wretched situation to an equally miserable one.
…
Her wedding day, and Patience was anything but a glowing bride. She sat in front of her mirror and watched Polly put the finishing touches on her hair. Three weeks had passed since Alex had made his announcement that they would marry. Or his demand. She could no longer fight both him and her father, so here she sat on a day that should have been the happiest day of her life. The day she married the man she loved.
Only she doubted her love for Alex. Or that he loved her. That young starry-eyed couple was long gone. In their place was a man who had seen the horrors of war and was dealing with the assumption of a title he had not been trained for, and a woman embittered by men’s machinations. All she felt was bullied and used and convenient. She stood as her mother entered her bedchamber. The families had retired to The Abbey a few days prior for the wedding in the very church where Cyrus had been laid to rest a mere six weeks before.
There would be no wedding trip due to Alex’s responsibilities, so once the so-called wedding festivities were over, they would return to London. She assumed her father and Alex had worked out an equitable marriage contract because her father was much more cheerful, and had even bought a beautiful ruby and diamond necklace for her mother to wear to the wedding.
Paid for by the sale of their daughter. She knew her grousing was childish, since most marriages in her class were based on alliances of connections, power, and money. Even her poor mother, with her sad tale, had suffered heartbreak.
She looked down at the sapphire and pearl ring Alex had given her for their betrothal and felt nothing. She didn’t want jewelry, gowns, or fancy carriages in which to traipse all over town. She wanted the dreams and plans of the young Alex and Patience before they had been wrenched apart and whisked away from each other.
“You look lovely, Patience. I believe I have never seen a more beautiful bride.” Her mother walked up to her, and holding her by the shoulders, kissed her cheek. “His Grace will be a very happy man soon.”
“Perhaps.”
Her mother frowned. “I don’t understand you, Patience. This is what you have wanted for years. You have been less than an enthusiastic bride. Why the change of heart?”
Patience rubbed her arms as if to ward off the sudden chill in the room. “We are not the same people, Mother. I was foolish to waste those years wishing Alex would return and save me from Cyrus.” She walked to the window and looked out. “Time passes and people change. Alex has been all over the world. He fought in a war, while I remained in London, spending all those years doing meaningless things.”
“I think you are being too hard on yourself, my dear. I don’t believe Alex would want you for a wife if he didn’t think you were well suited, regardless of the past four years. He could have anyone he wanted. He wanted you.”
She snorted. “No, Mother. He wanted to save me from a horrible match with Lord Skeffington and save himself from the bother of dealing with the Marriage Mart. Ever the gentleman.” She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears. “That is no reason for marriage.”
“Don’t be foolish. You are fortunate enough to be marrying someone whom you love.” She raised her hand when Patience began to speak. “You might tell me now you don’t love him, but I don’t believe that. Whatever has turned you against him will change, be sure of that, my daughter.”
She wiped the one tear that had escaped and patted her cheek. “However, if we don’t depart right now, we will be late for your wedding.”
Patience took one final glimpse in the mirror and wished with all her heart she could feel as she had as a little girl when thinking of her wedding day. Well, it was time to stop feeling sorry for herself. She was marrying a duke. A rich, handsome duke. A man who would take care of her and protect her.
So, what if he no longer loved her or she loved him? They were friends, they got on well, and if he restrained his overbearing attitude, they would have a content life.
The countess and Lady Patience made their way down the stairs to where her father waited for them, a huge smile on his face. “Hurry now, ladies, or we will be late to the church.” He extended his arm to his daughter, which she took. A footman escorted her mother to the carriage.
They all settled in and after her father tapped on the ceiling, the driver moved forward. Her father rubbed his hands together. “It is a wonderful day, is it not?”
She glanced out the window. It was nice to know someone was happy.