Chapter Two
Alex pulled out the worn chess set he’d played on since he’d been a boy, and set up the pieces while he waited for Patience in the family drawing room. Thrilled to discover his guest was an avid chess player, they’d faced each other over the board at every opportunity over the last couple of days. The night before she had trounced him, certainly giving his pride a beating.
Today was his opportunity to redeem himself, and he intended to do just that, instead of studying her face the entire time they played, as he’d done last night. He looked up and grinned as Patience entered the room. Her eyes drifted to the chess board. “Ah, I see you are ready for me.”
“I am always ready for you, my lady.” He made an elegant bow from the waist and pulled out her chair. Indeed, he was always ready for her. Ever since her arrival, nothing else held his interest. When she was out of sight, he wondered what she was doing and how soon he would see her.
Yesterday afternoon, they’d sat under his favorite tree, eating apples and reading to each other from a book of sonnets—which he made fun of while she laughed hysterically at his antics.
As she settled herself, Alex took the seat across from her. “Where did you learn to play chess so well? I thought young ladies spent their time embroidering and talking about hair ribbons.” Despite losing to her the night before, this young woman—who, unlike her peers, could do so much more than worry about the next ball—fascinated him.
“Our butler taught me.” She’d laughed at his startled expression. “Wickham was a voracious player. And no matter that I was a mere ten years when he taught me, he still never let me win.”
She bent over the board and made her first move. Alex studied the pieces and moved his rook. “Did you ever get to the point where you beat him?”
She waved her hand. “Don’t try to distract me, Lord Alex.”
He enjoyed her competitive streak, another odd trait in a girl fresh out of the schoolroom. From then on, silence reigned, the only sound the slight swish of the chess pieces as they slid over the board.
The next morning, Alex and Night Storm sprinted over the lawns of Woburn Abbey, racing ahead of Patience riding on Melody, one of the stable’s mares. Patience had surprised him when she joined him for their ride dressed in a riding habit split down the center, the sides sewn so she could ride astride. He’d never seen a woman ride in that fashion. She told him she’d had it specially made, with her mother’s permission.
“Mother fell from a horse when she was close to my age and never rode again. She didn’t want the same thing to happen to me. But we have to hide it from Father.”
“Your father would disapprove?”
She wrinkled her cute little nose, and a flicker of wariness entered her eyes. “My father disapproves of most everything.”
When he had tried to question her further, she’d quickly changed the subject, and they had headed for their horses.
Now he was enjoying the fresh air, and the lovely young lady beside him. And she was young, he kept reminding himself. After their kiss in the gallery a few days ago, he promised himself he would keep his hands off her. He tried very hard to make sure they were never alone, but it had grown harder each time they were together. In fact, their parents didn’t know they were out riding, just the two of them. Something he had been trying to avoid.
Alex was beginning to feel as though he’d found his mate. Dangerous territory, that.
He slowed Night Storm and shouted to Patience. “Let’s stop over there and give the horses a rest.” He pointed to a domed canopy of ash trees forming a natural alcove. They slowed the animals to a walk, the only sound the blowing of the horses and the soft padding of their hooves on the grass. Once Alex dropped from Night Storm, he reached up and clasped his hands around Patience’s slim waist. He lifted and then slowly lowered her, staring in her eyes, knowing this close contact was going to mean trouble.
She slid down his body, the feel of her soft curves wreaking havoc with his blood supply, which immediately raced from his brain to his cock. Once on her feet, she remained in his arms, her tempting mouth only inches from his. His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes.
He fought the noble battle, and lost.
Carefully, so as not to alarm her, he lowered his head, and despite what his body craved, he took her mouth gently, soothingly. To his surprise, she moved her lips under his and edged closer until their bodies melded into one. The kiss turned into something urgent and exploratory. He nudged her lips with his tongue and she opened to him.
He delved in, tasting honey, mint, and Patience. Remembering himself, with a groan, he jerked his head back, his breath coming in gasps. Patience slowly opened her eyes, and the invitation there almost had him easing her to the ground and removing her clothes.
“We cannot do this. You are much too young.”
“No.”
He ran his finger down her soft cheek. “Yes, sweeting. You are very young. We cannot continue this.”
Tears flooded her eyes, and she turned her face, staring at the open expanse of ground before them. She drew in a deep breath. “Let us run away together. Today. Now.”
Alex closed his eyes and sighed. If only. If only they could do this thing. But good sense prevailed. “No, we cannot run away.”
She looked at him with trembling lips. “Why not?”
Tugging her close, this time more in comfort than lust, he said, “I am the second son. I have no living. I need to make my way in the world. At present, I live on my allowance and cannot provide for you the way you deserve.”
Shaking her head furiously, she said, “I don’t care. We can work together to build our life.”
Visions of waking up each morning with her by his side, and making love to her each night almost brought him to his knees.
If only.
“Nay. When the time is right, we will be together, but not yet.”
“When?”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close, walking them toward the horses. He needed to get away from this too private spot or he would do something that could very well ruin both their lives.
Despite the short duration of their acquaintance, what he felt for Patience was strong, solid. He knew he would never again find someone to whom he felt this connected. Even though he’d not had a great deal of experience with women, somehow, he realized she was the right one for him. The only one.
“I have decided to leave university and find a way to make money. To set myself up for the future. Only then can I take a wife and think about a family.”
“How long?”
He turned her toward him and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Give me three years. You will be nine and ten years, and I will have enough to support us.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Will you wait for me?”
“Forever.”
Once more he pulled her against him and ravaged her mouth. She responded—a fast learner—and this time nudged his lips.
“Well, well. Isn’t this a lovely sight? The young lovers caught.” Cyrus stared at them from atop his horse, the well-known smirk on his lips.
Patience and Alex sprang apart. He immediately took Patience’s hand in his. “Mind your own business, Cyrus.”
“Ah. Perhaps I am.”
“Bugger off.” Alex led Patience to her horse and lifted her into the saddle. His lips tightened when he saw her red face and obvious embarrassment. If it wouldn’t upset her further, he would pull Cyrus off his horse and give him the beating he deserved. Since his brother spent most of his time drinking and swiving, he was certainly in no shape to defend himself.
Instead, he swallowed his anger, hopped onto Night Storm then grabbed the reins, and turned toward the Abbey. Both horses moved at a sedate pace until they reached the clearing when Alex and Patience gave the horses their head.
They arrived back at the stable breathless. Alex helped Patience down and studied her face. “Please don’t let my brother upset you. We did nothing wrong, and my promise still stands. Give me three years.”
Patience nodded, and after a bit, gave him a slight smile.
…
Once they were in the house, Patience hurried to her bedchamber. She slipped into the room and closed the door, leaning against it. She had never been so embarrassed in her life. Yet, she would not change a thing. Alex’s kisses convinced her that they were meant for each other.
The only reason she’d enjoyed this visit at all was the time spent with Alex. They’d laughed, talked, played chess, and took long walks. They’d argued over the merit of one book opposed to another. The time spent together was idyllic, and she longed for it to last forever.
Another benefit was it kept her away from Cyrus, who frightened her. Something about the way he looked at her, with possession in his eyes, bothered her.
Her mother had told her she should not be spending so much time with Lord Alex, but Patience had ignored her. Mother looked anxious when she spoke to her regarding it, but she was always fussing about one thing or another.
Patience pulled the bell cord to have her maid assist her in changing from her riding clothes. The time grew near for tea, and she wanted to look her best. For Alex.
A slight scratch on the door drew her attention. “Come.”
Instead of her maid, Polly, her mother entered the room. “Good afternoon, daughter.”
“Mother.” Patience nodded, wondering what brought her mother to her room. Rarely did her mother come to her. Most times when she wished to speak with her, she would send word for her to join her in her morning room. Since they were not at home, and her morning room not available, that might explain this divergence from her normal routine.
“I need to speak with you before we all go down to tea.” The look on her mother’s face made Patience curious. She looked grave, and not at all pleased.
Mother waved to the chaise longue in front of the windows. “Perhaps we should sit.”
Patience’s heart began to pound. Something was wrong, and her mother was having a hard time addressing whatever it was that had her uneasy.
“What is it, Mother? You are frightening me.”
“No, dear. Nothing to be frightened about. In fact, it is rather good news.”
Why did she feel as though Mother’s news was not good news? She didn’t look happy, or excited. In fact, she looked downright somber. She took Patience’s hands in hers and turned toward her.
“My dear, we have good news.”
“So you say, but I get the feeling ’tis not good news at all.” Patience had the most horrible desire to put her hands to her ears and block whatever words her mother was about to say.
“The reason we had been invited to spend these days with the Duke and Duchess of Bedford was for your benefit.”
Patience reared back, surprised. “My benefit?”
“Yes.” Mother hopped up and paced. “Your father and I were concerned for your future welfare.”
She should tell her mother that her future welfare had already been established, and she and Alex needed only three years for it to come to fruition. Somehow, she didn’t think it wise to reveal that just yet.
Patience drew herself up. “Go on.”
“While we were here, your father and the duke have worked out a betrothal.”
For one second Patience’s heart soared. Perhaps if the duke agreed with their union, he would offer a living to Alex, and they would not have to wait three years. She could have her come-out in two years and marry by the end of the Season.
“Why do you not seem happy, Mother?”
Once again she took her seat next to Patience. “Patience, they have worked out a betrothal between you and the marquess.”
“The marquess?”
“Yes, the Marquess of Tavistock.”
Patience continued to look at her, her brows furrowed. “Who?”
Her mother sighed. “The duke’s oldest son. Cyrus.”
She sucked in a deep breath and shook he head. “No. No. No. Never. No.” She jumped up and backed away from her mother, her shaky hand covering her mouth. “No. I will not do it.”
Her mother stood and walked toward her. Patience continued to back up, holding her hand out. “No.” Her mind was in a whirl. The Marquess of Tavistock? He was an unpleasant man who looked at her as if he could see her without her clothes.
Since they’d arrived, he’d been curt, and in some cases, downright rude. And he’d caught her and Alex kissing. And had laughed at them. She could not marry that man, but more to the point, he wasn’t Alex. Her Alex. They had just promised themselves to each other.
She swallowed, her throat dry as a desert. “I am sorry, Mother, but I cannot marry the marquess.”
Patience was stunned to see tears in her mother’s eyes. “I know you have probably developed a tendre for his brother, but, I’m sorry, daughter, that is not to be.”
“I will speak with Father.” She made to leave the room, but her mother grabbed her hand.
“No. Do not attempt to speak with your father about this. Trust me, Patience, he has worked hard for this betrothal and will not be sympathetic to your request. It will only turn out difficult for you. Believe me.”
Patience remembered covering her ears at the sound of her father striking her mother, the sounds of her begging him to stop. Surely, he would not do the same to her?
Almost as if she read her thoughts, her mother said, “Yes, daughter. It will not turn out well.” She held out her hand. “Come, let me help you change. I told Polly I would assist you. It is time for tea.”
“I do not want tea.”
Mother studied her for a minute, then sighed. “Very well. I will make your excuses, but keep in mind you must appear for dinner. That is when the announcement will be made.” She reached out and touched her cheek, then left the room.
…
Alex entered the drawing room in anticipation of seeing Patience, but was disappointed when all the members gathering for dinner were there, except Patience. He had to admit to some concern. He hadn’t seen her since their ride earlier in the day. She hadn’t appeared for tea, her mother telling them she was resting in her room with a megrim.
He couldn’t help but think she was avoiding everyone—especially Cyrus—because of being caught kissing. His brother hadn’t appeared for tea, either, but Alex found him a little while later, with a glass of brandy, playing billiards with the Duke and Lord Wilton. The look his brother cast him brought back his earlier anger.
Yes, it would be best if he planned soon to move to London and see what he could do to build a future for him and Patience. He had some contacts there from school, who had once offered to set him up with investors who might advise him on how to increase the small inheritance from his grandparents. His three closest friends, Lord Hawkins, Mr. Giles Templeton, and Lord Campbell, would be in London, as well.
“Go get your daughter,” Lord Wilton barked at his wife.
Lady Wilton scurried from the room, leaving Alex to wonder if Lord Wilton was one of those husbands who used force to gain obedience. From what he’d seen in the week they’d been visiting, he had certainly seemed the type. Hopefully, Patience would not be the recipient of her father’s manner of persuasion before he could come for her and make her his own.
Alex paced the room, unable to sit still, or join the men for a drink. Something was wrong, and he had a feeling it involved Patience. Was she ill?
“Care for a drink, little brother?” Cyrus wandered over to him, his smile annoying enough that Alex wanted to smack it off him.
“No, thank you.”
“Ah, that’s right. You are the pure son. Never drink, never gamble. Do you even fuck?” He snapped his fingers. “Sorry. I forgot about little Lady Patience. How was it? Was she any good?”
Before he even thought about the consequences, Alex pulled his arm back and slammed his fist into his brother’s nose. The marquess went flying backward, his glass soaring through the air, landing with a thump on the carpet, rolling into the fireplace.
He sat there, dazed, shaking his head. Lord Wilton and his father both turned at the ruckus. “What the devil is going on here?” The duke hurried over and grabbed Alex by the arm. “What is wrong with you, boy? Can’t you behave yourself?”
Alex wrenched himself from the duke’s grasp and straightened his jacket. “No, I guess I cannot.”
Cyrus took Lord Wilton’s hand and stood, swaying a bit. Whether from the punch he took or too much brandy, Alex couldn’t tell. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his nose, glowering in Alex’s direction.
If he hadn’t been so anxious to see Patience and make sure everything was all right with her, he would have packed his belongings and left the house immediately.
About ten minutes after the altercation, Lady Wilton and Patience appeared at the door to the drawing room.
Patience looked terrible.
As terrible as a beautiful young girl could look. It was obvious to anyone who looked close enough that she had been crying. A great deal. Her face was pale and puffy, and she appeared as though she was about to toss up her accounts. She stared straight ahead as she followed Lady Wilton into the room, never glancing in his direction.
What is wrong?
Before he could approach her, Lady Wilton took her arm and moved her across the room to stand with the duke, the earl, and his brother.
Bloody hell.
He was to be persona non grata throughout dinner then. Fine. If he could speak to Patience before he left, get her direction so he could correspond with her, he could play the part of the prodigal son.
It was not a new role.
Within minutes the butler announced dinner. Cyrus attempted to take Patience’s arm, but she ignored him and walked by herself to the dining room. She still had not looked, even once, at Alex.
He was beginning to get nervous. Something wasn’t right.
They all took their seats and service began. Alex continued to watch Patience, but she never ate a bite. She pushed her food around her plate and returned full portions back to the footman as he cleared away each course.
Meanwhile, Cyrus kept his glass full, and spent a great deal of time whispering in Patience’s ear, smirking in his direction every time he did. Patience leaned away, obviously not enjoying his attention. Or his breath from the brandy, most likely.
With his appetite also gone, Alex bided his time, waiting for dinner to be over so he could have a few words with Patience and then retire to his room to pack his belongings. He would leave this very night.
Once the last of the cheese and fruit had been served, and it was time for the ladies to leave the men to their port, the duke stood. “Before the charming ladies leave us, it is time for an important announcement.”
Every muscle in Alex’s body tensed as he stared at his father.
The duke signaled the footmen to pour champagne.
Alex tensed further as bottles were popped and glasses filled.
Holding his glass up high, the duke said, “It is with great pleasure that I announce to you the betrothal of my heir, the Marquess of Tavistock, to the lovely Lady Patience Browning.”
With a great deal of flourish, he toasted the group and gulped the champagne. The others followed suit.
Except Alex and Patience.
Alex’s mouth went dry and he turned to look at Patience. She held her glass, her fingers white where she clutched the stem. Her eyes were lowered to the table and she remained as still as a statue.
Cyrus stood and looked in Alex’s direction. “A most splendid day, to be sure.” He drank the little bit of champagne left in his glass and offered a smirk. “Isn’t that so, little brother?”