Chapter Twenty
Patience stumbled her way from the ugliness of the docks to the carriage and climbed in. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked.
Once the vehicle began to roll away, Lord Hawkins cleared his throat. “Your Grace. There is something you need to understand.”
Patience held up her hand. “Stop. If you are planning on offering an excuse for what my husband just did, please don’t. I am still angry that he thought me so stupid that I could not know there was an evil man who intended to kidnap me. Don’t you think as a full-grown adult I had the right to know?”
Hawk blew out a breath and leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. Twice he looked over at her as if he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Patience continued to wipe the tears from her eyes.
He turned his head to the side to view her in the darkness. “Give Bedford a chance to speak with you, to explain. What you witnessed tonight was not for a lady’s eyes. It is unfortunate that you were there. But there are many things you do not understand.”
Patience waved her hand at him. “Yes. I see. I am only a woman. I cannot understand anything unless a man explains it to me.” Her tears turned into anger as she leaned forward. “When will men begin to understand we are not all balls of fluff who faint at the first sign of unpleasantness?
“Women bear children, nurse sick family members, and stay home to pace the floors waiting for husbands who go off to war. We are not weak, sniveling ninnyhammers.”
She took in a deep breath, almost—but not quite—embarrassed at having subjected Hawk to her tirade. “Please, my lord. I beg you not to continue. I do not wish to hear anymore nonsense, and furthermore, I have the beginnings of a megrim and just want to get home as quickly as possible.”
“As you wish.” He dipped his head and stared out the window.
Patience began to feel the soreness in her face where Loverly had struck her. She huddled in the corner of the carriage, her head resting on the padded leather. Luckily, a sense of numbness washed over her, blocking out everything that had happened. She could not think, did not want to think.
She was moaning softly with the pain as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the townhouse. A footman descended the steps and opened the door for her. She took his hand and stepped out. “Please see that Lord Hawkins is returned to wherever he wishes to go.”
Without saying anything more, she hurried up the stairs. “Please have Polly attend me,” she said to the man at the door—someone she didn’t recognize—as she entered the house.
She had to get away. That was the only thought running through her mind as she climbed the stairs. She could not face Alex tonight. Or probably ever. The man who shot Loverly in cold blood while he begged for his life was not the man she’d fallen in love with.
Love. She snorted.
War had changed him into someone she could not live with. Besides his actions tonight, she had no intention of living with a man who did not respect her. After what she’d witnessed in her parents’ marriage, she wanted a husband who treated her as a marriage partner, not some missish little chit who needed to be taken care of.
She was not stupid enough to think she didn’t need protection from someone like Lord Loverly, but had she known about him, she certainly would not have fallen into his hands so easily. Alex had treated her like a fool, and she was done with it.
Polly arrived and sucked in a deep breath at Patience’s appearance. “Your Grace! I am so happy to see you returned.” She walked closer and examined her face, touching her gently with her fingertips. “I will get something for your bruise and order a hot bath.”
“No.” Patience turned from her and headed to her wardrobe. “I am leaving tonight. I want you to pack enough for a day or two. I will send for the rest of my things later.”
“Leaving? Now? It is the middle of the night.”
“I don’t care. Please have a footman send word to my cousin Miss Suzanna Blake. She is residing with her cousins, Lord and Lady Montfort. They are in Mayfair. I believe she left the direction with John Coachman when he returned her to London after the wedding. Tell her I will be arriving within the hour.”
Polly stood staring, her mouth agape.
“Polly, please hurry. I want to leave as quickly as possible.” She snapped her fingers. “Also tell John to ready the carriage for our trip to Mayfair.” She had no idea how long it would take Alex to “clean things up” and did not want to be here when he returned. Her feelings so raw, she didn’t want to talk to him.
The maid left and Patience began pulling things from her wardrobe and dresser drawers. After her shaky fingers dropped several things on the floor, she stopped and took in a deep breath. She had to calm down, she was much too anxious to concentrate on anything. Before she could change her mind, she crossed the room and entered Alex’s bedchamber, heading right to the sideboard where he kept a bottle of brandy.
After pouring herself more than she probably should have, she swallowed it in two gulps and then stood coughing and wiping tears from her eyes. The burning in her chest hurt almost as much as the bruise on her face.
Once she stopped coughing, she returned to her room to find Polly packing items into a satchel. She glanced down at her gown and realized her attire would certainly scare poor Suzanna to death. She had no time for a bath, so she took a quick wash at the bowl on the dresser.
She pulled out an old gown, interrupting Polly to unfasten and then fasten her gowns. Not wishing to take the maid away from her packing, Patience brushed her hair back and fastened it at her nape with a ribbon. Examining herself in the mirror, she decided she would wear one of her hats with a veil to cover her bruised face.
The brandy had begun to do its work, and suddenly, Patience was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. She paced the room, trying to distract herself, stopping at the window several times to make sure Alex was not yet returned.
“I believe we are ready.” Polly fastened the strap on the satchel. “Shall I have the footman carry the bag down?”
“Yes. Please.”
She placed the hat on her head, lowered the veil, and threw a wrap around her shoulders. Without looking back, she left the room, fully intent to never see it again. Once they had settled things, he could set her up at one of his many estates. She hated London, anyway.
The ride to Suzanna’s house did not take much time. As they pulled up, she was pleased to see candles burning through the window on the lower floor. Patience exited the carriage with her head held high. As her foot touched the first step, the door opened.
Montfort’s butler bowed as she entered. “Miss Blake is awaiting you in the drawing room, Your Grace.”
“Thank you. Please direct my lady’s maid, Polly, as to where she can bring my things. She is right behind me.”
He nodded and walked Patience down the corridor, where he stopped in front of a door and knocked. He opened and said, “Her Grace, The Duchess of Bedford has arrived.” He pushed the door open and Patience stepped through.
“Oh my goodness, Patience. Whatever happened to you?” Suzanna stared at her, her eyes wide.
…
The sun was slowly making its way over the horizon when Alex rode into the mews and slid from his horse. He handed Night Storm over to the stable hand and trudged to the house. He was weary to his very bones.
It had taken hours to arrange for Loverly’s body to be removed and sent to the authorities. Then all the necessary reports took up even more time. Besides his exhaustion, he was worried about Patience. She had been in a terrible state when he’d last seen her, but hopefully, by now with some sleep and treatment for her bruises, she might be more herself.
He still hadn’t dealt with the anger the entire episode had caused. It was bad enough Patience had been kidnapped, hurt, and then held with a knife to her throat. But watching him shoot and kill Loverly was probably worse. Such events were never to be witnessed by a lady.
When he’d stood with the gun aimed at the man, he had not decided if he would kill him or turn him over to the War Department and let them do the deed, if that was what they wished. But once Loverly had reached into his pocket, there’d been no choice.
After Hawk had left with a sobbing Patience, Alex had confirmed that Loverly had a pistol in his pocket, which would have been the end of his life if he hadn’t acted. Nevertheless, seeing a man killed before your eyes was appalling. The first time it had happened to him, he’d tossed up his accounts and had taken a great deal of ribbing from the other officers.
Soon he’d become numb to it, which almost bothered him more than his initial reaction. No one should be forced to deaden his senses to death. Yet, in the military, it was necessary for survival.
Everything was quiet when he entered the house. He rubbed his hands over his face and decided to have a brandy before facing Patience. It had been a long night—and he needed food and rest—but first a drink, then his wife, and then food and sleep.
He swirled the brown liquid in the glass and stared out at the peaceful morning. He’d decided somewhere between leaving the War Department and arriving home that he would return to the Abbey as soon as Patience was up to traveling. Parliament would be in session for months yet, but he would eschew his duty to the Crown in that regard for the rest of this Season.
His duty to the Crown for this year was done.
Now that Loverly was dead, and he no longer had to worry about Patience’s safety, he wanted desperately to leave London. Once things were in order at the Abbey, he would take his wife on an extended trip to each of his holdings. They needed time together without the threat of danger.
He swallowed the last of the brandy and headed upstairs. The only sound in the corridor was his footsteps and the maids already starting their day. He nodded at a young girl as they passed each other.
After entering his room, he stripped off his clothes and pulled on a banyan. The silence from the other side of the adjoining door told him Patience was still asleep. He would postpone their conversation until she awoke. He rang for Thomas who arrived still sleepy, but nevertheless dressed to perfection. “Your Grace?”
“I would like a bath, and have Cook send up breakfast.”
Thomas nodded and left the room. He eyed the bed and as tempted as he was to climb into it and sleep for hours, he had to speak with Patience first, and get things straightened out before it became an issue between them.
Two footmen brought in the large bathing tub, followed by men hauling buckets of water. As they slowly filled the tub, Alex decided that once they returned to the Abbey, he would see about putting in a bathing room with running water. He’d heard about it while in America, and then learned houses in England were starting to add them, as well.
Once they left, he removed his banyan and climbed into the delicious warmth. His muscles relaxed and he closed his eyes. The brandy had lessened his tension, but he did not want to fall asleep. He had things to do that were important to his life and his marriage.
Seeing Patience with the knife at her throat—bruised and helpless in Loverly’s arms—had almost brought him to his knees. At that moment, he knew he’d loved her and did not want to live one day without her. She was his, had always been his, since they were youths. Had she and Cyrus been married, he would have broken the law and married her anyway. Propriety be damned.
Thomas entered with his breakfast, which had his stomach growling. He climbed from the tub and accepted the drying cloth from Thomas. After rubbing his skin and hair dry, he slipped into his banyan. Feeling refreshed, he sat at the table and eagerly eyed the breakfast of bacon, sausages, eggs, toast, trout in cream sauce, warm rolls, and coffee.
Thomas moved around the room, straightening things up, and preparing shaving equipment and clothing for his employer.
“Don’t fuss too much, Thomas. Once I have spoken with Her Grace, I plan to sleep for a few hours. Also, we will be returning to the Abbey in a couple of days. After Her Grace recovers from her injuries.”
“I was concerned for her. I did not want to question you, but I assume she returned while I slept last night. Cook had no information, either.”
“It is a long story. One I will tell you another time. Just know she has returned to safety, Loverly is dead, and life will soon return to normal.”
“Excellent.” The valet continued with his duties while Alex finished his meal.
He rose and studied the door between their bedchambers. It was still quiet on the other side, but he could wait no longer. He had to see her and assure himself all was well. Taking a deep breath, he strode across the room, and opened the door.
…
Patience rolled over in bed and frowned, unsure where she was. She touched her throbbing cheek, and it all came back to her. Loverly. Alex keeping her in the dark about the danger, like a child. The kidnapping. Alex saving her, and then destroying everything she ever felt for him by shooting a man who had begged for his life.
She shuddered and ran her palms up and down her arms. She turned at the sound of a knock and the door opening. Suzanna stuck her head in. “I see you’re awake.”
Patience shifted to sit up, groaning at the pain radiating throughout her body. Her shoulders ached from her hands being tied behind her back, her face throbbed, and her knees and hip hurt from when Loverly had pushed her into the carriage and then struck her.
“Oh, don’t move, let me help you.” Suzanna was across the room in a flash.
Between the two of them, they got her up and leaning against the pillows. Suzanna sat alongside her on the bed and took her hand. “I allowed you to remain silent last night since you were obviously overwrought, but now I must ask this. Did His Grace strike you?” Her cousin’s eyes were wide and her face an expression of horror.
“No. It is a long story.”
Obviously relieved, Suzanna moved so she was also leaning against the pillows behind Patience’s head. “I am glad for that. I always liked His Grace and did not want to think he would do such a thing. However, in the condition you arrived in last night, you did mumble something about Alex being horrible, and a monster, and you never wanted to see him again.”
Patience thought she’d been all cried out, but apparently not, when her eyes filled with tears and a few dribbled down her cheek. “Oh, I am in such a mess, Suzanna.”
“Let me send for some chocolate and we can talk.” She swung her feet over the bed and stood.
“I want to thank you again for taking me in, and most of all, to your cousins for allowing me to stay.”
After pulling the bell cord, Suzanna walked back to Patience. “It was no trouble, I assure you. Lady Montfort—my cousin Eunice—is a most agreeable sort, as is her husband. They’ve been married for several years, with no children, so she showers all her motherly attention on me.” She studied Patience’s face. “I think you need a cold cloth or perhaps a bit of ice for your cheek. It looks rather painful.”
“Yes. It is.”
The young maid arrived and Suzanna instructed her to fetch chocolate and rolls as well as ice and a cloth for Patience’s face. Suzanna helped Patience out of bed and wrapped her in a warm robe. “It seems to me you have picked up some of your cousin’s motherly instincts,” Patience said with a smile as they walked to the gathering of chairs and a low-slung table in the corner of the bedchamber.
Once they were settled, Suzanna smoothed out her skirts. “All right. What is going on, cousin?”
Over food, Patience poured out the entire story. She started back when she and Alex had met years before, right up until the time she arrived in the middle of the night at the Montfort townhouse with her baggage and lady’s maid. When she finished, the pot of chocolate was empty, the rolls were reduced to crumbs, and Patience was exhausted.
“That is an amazing story.” Suzanna shook her head. “I never knew the two of you had known each other before you became betrothed to the marquess.”
“Oh, we knew each other, all right. We had promised ourselves to wait until we were older and ready to commit to marriage. The announcement by my father of my betrothal to Cyrus devastated me.”
“I don’t imagine it did too much for your husband, either.”
Patience merely shook her head. For months, she had dreamed of Alex climbing into her bedroom window and making off with her. When that hadn’t happened and she’d realized it was a stupid young girl’s dream, she had pushed any memories that hurt too much to the back of her mind.
Her cousin picked off invisible lint from her gown, apparently not wanting to make much of her question. “What will you do now?”
Patience sighed. “I know eventually I will have to speak with Alex. Divorce is completely out of the question. I hope to arrange some type of an amenable separation. He has many properties. We could spend the rest of our lives not ever seeing each other.”
Suzanna tapped one slim finger against her tightened lips. “I am afraid, cousin mine, you forget one very important thing.”
“An heir,” they both said at the same time.
“I haven’t forgotten. I am hoping my courses don’t appear and that will be taken care of.”
“And if the child—if indeed there is one—is a female?”
Unable to sit still with all the grief and sadness strangling her, Patience eased her aching body out of the bed and slowly wandered around the room. “I refuse to think that far. First, I need to see if there is a child on the way, and then whether I am off the hook by presenting Alex with a son, or not.” She turned to her cousin, her chin up. “I will face that situation if, and when, I need to.”
A slight scratch at the door drew their attention. Polly entered, carrying a freshly ironed gown over her arm. “Your Grace, are you ready to prepare for the day?”
“Yes, Polly. Thank you.”
“There is one more thing.” Polly hesitated, a slight flush rising to her face.
“What is it?” Both women studied the young girl.
“His Grace is in the drawing room…where the butler put him a short while ago…after he told him you were not receiving. His Grace has announced to all and sundry that he has no intention of leaving until you speak with him.”