Chapter Six
If Alex continued to kiss her like this, Patience was certain she would tumble to the floor. She did not remember his kisses as this disquieting. Thank goodness he had a good grip around her waist because she’d lost all sense of time and place, and was sure her knees would never hold her up. He pulled back and scattered kisses over her jaw, her neck, and lower, to her—oh my!
“So sweet. Just as I remembered,” he murmured in her ear, then returned his lips to her mouth, nudging it open, taking command. She wound her arms around his neck, fingering the curls at the back of his head. In some ways, he was the Alex she remembered, but this older Alex was a muscular, determined man. He demanded and he took. He plundered and he seized.
His finger slid into the top of her bodice, gliding along, grazing her nipple that immediately beaded. With one quick movement, he pulled the top of her gown down, releasing one breast to his hungry eyes. Instead of being embarrassed as his hand covered the plump mound, she had the urge to remove all her clothes, and his, so they could be skin to skin.
Her head fell back and she moaned as his mouth covered her nipple and suckled. The spot between her legs dampened, and began to ache, longing for something. She had the urge to push that part of her against something hard. Alex drew her gown down from her shoulder to expose the other breast, which he feasted on.
Patience was having a difficult time gaining enough air. Her clothes felt restrictive, tight, like parts of her body were swelling. What was happening to her?
Just as she was about to yank at her gown to free herself from its constraints, Alex released her nipple with a pop and rested his head against her forehead. “Oh, Patience, I should not have done that.”
Perhaps he had the presence of mind to speak coherently, but she was not even sure at this point what language she spoke. Before she could gather any articulate thoughts, he pulled up the top of her gown. She stood, staring at him, still addled and swaying slightly.
Running his finger down her cheek, he said, “We must return to the drawing room before I make an irrevocable mistake.”
They were already back, settled in the chairs they had left earlier, before Patience’s thoughts cleared.
She was angry. Very, very, angry.
How dare he take inappropriate liberties with her person and then apologize for it. As if what they’d shared had been wrong, or, as he put it, a “mistake.” Perhaps he was concerned that they would be discovered and he would be forced to marry her.
That stung. Once they had promised themselves to each other. Although the attraction was obviously still there, he apparently had no intention of pursuing anything permanent with her.
Well, that was fine. After the years of dodging Cyrus, and her father’s constant complaints about their delayed marriage, she was ready to enjoy spinsterhood. At twenty years, she was almost on the shelf, anyway. Mayhap, as Alex had suggested once before, she would become a notorious bluestocking spinster. She would hold soirees and gatherings to discuss philosophy and important political matters.
Except she cared not a whit for philosophy or politics.
…
The next morning, she checked herself in the mirror before joining Alex for their ride to the village. When it had first been suggested, she’d been thrilled, but after last night, she felt as though she was coercing him to spend time with her. Though he had been happy to ravish her, he otherwise did not seem to want much to do with her.
Chiding herself for the self-pity engulfing her, she tucked a loose curl into her bonnet and left her bedchamber. Alex stood at the entrance hall, conversing with Coombs. Every time she looked at Alex, it was as if she were seeing him for the first time. Well, at least her lungs and heart thought it was the first time. Her heart pounded, and her breathing increased. She must teach her body to behave itself, or she would either embarrass herself to death or give herself a heart attack.
“Ah, Lady Patience. Don’t you look fetching this morning.” Alex’s words and grin raised her spirits. He certainly did not look like a man who was being forced to drive her to the village. She smiled back and took his arm.
For the first time in days, sunshine greeted them as they left the house. A smart curricle stood at the ready, with two dark bay Thoroughbreds stamping and snorting, anxious to be on their way. Despite the conversation yesterday, it appeared he preferred to make the jaunt into the village without her maid, so he’d ordered his open carriage as a nod to propriety.
Alex assisted Patience into the vehicle then strode around to the other side, jumping up and settling next to her. “Ready?”
“Yes. I am so looking forward to this trip. I haven’t been to the village yet.”
Alex’s eyebrows rose. “Did Cyrus not take you there in all the time you were betrothed?”
Cyrus.
How she had loathed the man. Even from the very beginning, when she had been a mere sixteen years, she had disliked him. The few times he had kissed her, his breath reeking of brandy, she had felt the need to wash out her mouth with mint-flavored water when he was done.
When she’d denied him the right to ravish her, he’d groped her breasts, causing pain, rather than the wonderful sensations Alex’s hands and mouth had wrought. The best year of her betrothal had been when he’d taken off to the Continent. God forgive her, but she’d prayed he’d never return.
“No. I was rarely at the Abbey during our betrothal. I spent most of my time at my family’s London home and country estate.”
Alex shook his head and snapped the reins to start up the curricle. No other words were spoken until they arrived at the village.
…
Alex rolled the curricle to a stop in front of the small village bookstore, The Book Stop. As a young man, he’d spent a lot of time with Mr. Wilbur, who owned the shop. Since so much time had passed after his last visit, Mr. Wilbur might not even be there.
The tinkle of a bell hanging over the door announced their entrance. Alex inhaled deeply, memories washing over him. So many lonely afternoons had been spent here, going through the bookshelves. Even though the duke had an extensive library, a young Alex had found very little in the way of interest there.
Here in the bookstore he so loved, he had spent his time examining each book, turning the pages and reading a few words. Normally, he would begin his visit by asking Mr. Wilbur what new books had arrived since his last visit. Mr. Wilbur had always set aside a tome or two he knew Alex would enjoy.
As their eyes grew used to the dimness, an older man shuffled his way from the back of the store. “Is that you, little Lord Alexander?” He moved closer and peered over the rims of his spectacles. “I hear you’re an important man now. Fought at Waterloo and took over your brother’s title.”
A wide grin split Alex’s face. “I don’t believe it. It is you, Mr. Wilbur! I wasn’t sure if you would still be here. It’s been a few years.”
The man nodded. “Most certainly, Lord Alexander. I’ve kept up with you, though. Read about your exploits in Belgium when we defeated Boney for the last time. Heard you routed out that spy who had escaped to the colonies, too. Lord Loverly. Wasn’t that his name?”
“Yes, that was him. A nasty fellow. Glad he’s behind bars.”
“I was sorry to hear about your father and brother, although I never met them. They weren’t as fond of my bookstore as you were.” Mr. Wilbur laughed a dry laugh and shuffled forward. “I am sorry, I should be calling you ‘Your Grace.’ Now, what can I do for you today? And who is this lovely lady? Your wife, the new duchess?”
Alex laughed at the old man who had factored so much in his youth. Damnation, it was good to see him again. “Let’s start with ‘Your Grace.’ Please don’t call me that as I am having a difficult time adjusting to it all without an old friend reminding me. Lord Alexander is fine.” He tugged Patience forward. “This lovely lady is Lady Patience Browning. She and her parents are visiting the Abbey.”
Wilbur bowed and gave her a worn-tooth smile. “It is my great pleasure to meet you, Lady Patience Browning. I had hoped this rascal here had finally settled down enough to take a wife and begin to fill his nursery.” He wagged his finger in Alex’s direction. “You are not getting any younger, you know.”
Only from his old friend, Mr. Wilbur, would Alex have taken the warning with such good nature. “You sound much like my mother.”
Alex glanced around the familiar room. “As for what you can do for us, I am here to show Lady Patience the bookstore I was so fond of throughout my youth. We will just take our time and browse for a while.”
“Very good. If you need help, let me know. I am afraid these old bones don’t do well holding up this worn body anymore, so I will be resting in a chair right there by the front window.” He waved in the direction of the large plate glass window where several books were displayed.
Alex waved toward the bookshelves. “My lady.”
Patience grinned at him and made her way to one of the shelves. The only thing better than seeing old Mr. Wilbur again, and spending time in this bookstore, was watching Patience as she browsed the shelves, sliding a book out, flipping through the pages, and returning it to choose another. Apparently, her love of books mirrored his.
They spent more than an hour showing each other books and discussing the merits of which to buy, and which to consider for another time. At last, they each put two books on the front counter—loudly, for Mr. Wilbur had fallen asleep in his chair.
“Ach, so you are ready? I was just resting my eyes for a bit.” He groaned as he stood and made slow progress to the counter. He checked the books and gave them an amount. Alex reached into his pocket and withdrew coins and placed them on the counter.
“I will pay you for the books when we return to the Abbey,” Patience said as they gathered their purchases and left the store.
“Nonsense, why can’t I buy you a book or two?”
“’Tis not proper.”
He leaned down, close to her ear. “I will tell no one if you don’t.” He nodded back toward the store. “I don’t think Mr. Wilbur will be visiting London anytime soon to spread the word of my dastardly deed.”
Lord, it felt good to tease Patience, walk in the sunshine, and hold new books. For a while, he’d forgotten all about his newly acquired duties and everything that encompassed. For a while, he was merely Lord Alexander Pemberton, seeking an escape from the Abbey.
He had yet to come to grips with the kiss they’d shared the night before. Did he still feel the same about Patience? There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted her. Certainly, in his bed, but as a lifetime partner? He’d changed so much, while she’d stayed close to home. He also had not questioned her regarding her comment about Cyrus’s death.
“I’ve been wondering about your remark on Cyrus’s death being the happiest day of your life.” He hesitated, wanting to ask the question, but afraid to hear the answer, lest he feel the need to visit his brother’s grave and spit on it. “Did he abuse you in any way?”
She avoided his eyes, studying her shoes as they walked. “No.”
Alex examined her face, wondering how far to push her. “Why do I think you’re not being completely honest?”
“Can we not discuss him?” She smiled, and hurried their steps. “I prefer to concentrate on the idea of a glass of Mr. Gates’s wonderful apple cider. I’ve heard so much about it, and I am anxious to try it.”
Allowing the subject to drop, he escorted her to the famous inn. He held her close to his body as they entered the dimness of The Cock and Tail so she wouldn’t stumble. With his uncanny ability to see in the dark—which had been quite handy when he was in the military—he was able to lead them to a seat in a darkened corner of the room with ease.
“My goodness. It is certainly dark in here. And this table seems to be in the darkest corner of the room,” she whispered as he took the seat next to her, almost as if the darkness required silence.
He leaned in, close to her ear. “Do you see that as a problem?” The scent of her, along with the dimness, cast everything into a mysterious ambience, wreaking havoc with his blood supply.
Her breath hitched. “No. As long as I am not in any danger.”
It was impossible to hold back a grin. “Oh, my lady, you are definitely in danger.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “But maybe you enjoy taking risks?”
“It depends on who is creating the threat.” Her voice cracked, but she regarded him with one raised eyebrow.
He rubbed her knuckles over his lips. “Or perhaps the type of danger?”
“I would guess after your war experience, you are more familiar with danger than I am.” She gave him a saucy look, but all the joy in their exchange disappeared as visions of bloody battlefields swamped his mind.
“Yes.” He dropped her hand.
Not picking up on his change in mood, she said, “What was it like, fighting a war?”
He closed his eyes, the muscles in his middle tightening. “Awful. And nothing a lady’s ears need to hear.”
He realized how abrupt he sounded when her smile faded and she drew back. Just then, Mr. Gates approached their table. “Good morning, Your Grace. Apple cider for ye and yer lady?”
What the devil was he about, starting a flirtatious conversation with her? There was too much between them. Four years. They hadn’t really had time to know each other that well four years ago, and now they had come together from entirely different places. She had remained in England, the protected and cherished daughter of an earl. He’d been thrown into chaos and the madness of life-threatening jeopardy.
Time. That was all it would take. Time to get to know each other again and see if their young feelings had survived separation and war. Also, to see if he could ever reconcile his former life with this new one, and find the peace he sought.
“Yes, my good man. Two glasses of your finest.” He attempted to recapture their former mood, leaning back in his chair, taking in Patience’s flushed face and confused expression. He would be wise to keep his hands to himself and avoid being alone with Patience. Had he taken it as far as he wanted to last night, they would be planning a wedding this morning. An event he truly did not want to consider now.
…
“Daughter, I would see you in the drawing room.” Patience’s father stood at the doorway to the duchess’s sitting room where Patience, her mother, and the duchess worked on their embroidery and chatted.
Her mother looked uneasy as Patience stood, put aside her work, and followed her father out of the room, down the stairs, and into the drawing room. He closed the door and her mouth dried up. She’d seen that look on his face before, and it had never boded well for her.
“Have you convinced your lover to do his gentlemanly duty and marry you?”
She retreated until the back of her knees touched the settee, then she sat. “I told you before, Father, Alex and I are not lovers.”
“You little fool. Don’t you know that is the way to bring him up to scratch? Do you think you would be the first chit to do that? Drag him to your bed, if you must. It’s done all the time.”
Patience put her hands over her ears. “Father, please. I find this conversation most inappropriate.”
He took a deep breath and backed up. He poured a drink of brandy from the sideboard and turned to her. “You will see that this marriage takes place.”
Patience raised her chin. “I do not understand what the rush is. His Grace has only just taken up his title. He has many pressing matters on his mind. I am sure the last thing he wants to consider right now is taking a wife.”
“What do you know of important matters? You are an ignorant woman, like all the others. Sneaky and stupid, the whole lot of you.” He gulped his drink down and refilled his glass, then walked toward her. His unsteady steps told her he’d been drinking quite heavily. And it was only near dinnertime.
He leaned down and rested his hand on the back of the chair where she sat. “Where do you think all those lovely gowns you wear come from? What about all the ribbons, hats, pelisses, riding habits, dance slippers, and everything else you load your wardrobe with? And what do you suppose it takes to run an estate as well as a townhouse? Money. Lots of money.”
She leaned back as far as she could go, but it wasn’t far enough. The brandy Father had been consuming had turned his breath into something that stung her eyes. She moved her head aside. He grasped her chin and turned her head toward him. “Don’t look away from me when I’m talking to you.”
“Father, you’re hurting me.”
To her amazement, he released her and stood up straight. He slumped in the chair across from her, the glass dangling from his fingers. “I need money. I have debts and bills you cannot imagine. The only reason I’ve been extended credit for the last few years is because of your connection to the Duke of Bedford. Everyone knew the duke would not allow his father-in-law to be thrown into debtors’ prison.”
“Oh, Father.”
“Good. I am glad you understand. I need this marriage to take place quickly. The creditors are hounding me since they’ve heard about the duke’s death. I told them you would be marrying the brother, to just give me a few weeks, since the family is in mourning.”
“Father, you should not have done that. His Grace has only returned from the military a few weeks. Furthermore, he has given me no indication that his interest in me remains.”
Her father sat up abruptly, his demeanor again changing to something frightening. He slammed the glass down on the table and stood. “You will make sure his interest in you remains.” Reaching out, he grabbed her by the arms and hauled her up, shaking her, his face no more than an inch from hers. “Do you understand me, daughter? I have no intention of going to debtors’ prison. Is that clear?”
Tears welled up into her eyes. “Father, that hurts.”
“What is going on in here?” Alex stood in the doorway, his fisted hands clenching and unclenching, his face a picture of fury. He walked slowly into the room, his eyes never leaving where her father clutched her arms. “Release her,” he growled.
Father let her go with such abruptness that she collapsed onto the seat. Alex brushed him aside and knelt at Patience’s feet. “Are you all right?”
She bit her lip to keep from crying out and nodded. Alex continued to study her, then touched her arm where red fingerprints would turn into bruise marks by morning. She would have to find a long-sleeved gown to wear for a few days. His lips tightened. “Stay here.”
He rose and faced her father. “Lord Wilton, if I ever again witness you placing your hands on your daughter with anything but affection, I shall personally thrash you. Do you understand?”
Father tugged on the cuffs of his jacket. “It was merely a misunderstanding, Your Grace. I am sure she is not injured.”
“Based on what I’ve seen, I fail to agree. In my household we protect women, we do not mistreat them. Be advised as long as you are under my roof, you will do the same.” He took what appeared to be a deep, calming breath and added, “I would ask you now to please leave us so I may speak with Lady Patience.”
Her father nodded and turned on his heel—a bit unsteadily—then left the room, closing the door.
Alex went down on one knee again and took her cold hands into his warm ones. “Patience, has he harmed you before now?”
Nothing would come of him knowing of her father’s temper, or the times he’d taken out his frustration and anger on her mother. Or the times he had given her a few hard slaps and locked her in her room. “No.”
He stared at her, looking for the truth, but she lowered her eyelids, unable to continue to stare at him, knowing she was lying. “Very well.” He stood and held his hand out. She took it and stood. He ran his finger down her cheek. “I will see you to your bedchamber. It is time to dress for dinner.”