Chapter Seven
The next morning, Alex entered the breakfast room with a decision made. Although he was still feeling his way around his title, he felt the need to present himself when Parliament opened. It was just one more duty as a duke.
This morning he would advise all those in residence that he intended to return to London. Possibly as soon as two days hence. Mother would most likely accompany him since she loved London, and all the events that would be starting shortly. Although in mourning, he was sure she would find a way to attend a few of the more sedate affairs.
One thing was certain. Based on what he’d witnessed the night before, he had no intention of letting Patience return with her family to their country estate. Whatever would become of him and Patience, and their future, together or not, did not factor into his decision to oversee her welfare. He had to be assured that she was safe from her father’s bullying while he was still finding his feet regarding so many other issues.
That settled in his mind, he turned his attention to the newspaper sitting alongside his breakfast plate. He read but a few articles when one jumped out at him.
The War Department has confirmed Napoleonic War spy, The Right Honble. Earl of Loverly, recently returned from the United States, has escaped his prison hold. It is believed he is in the Bath area.
Alex studied the words and read them one more time with growing anger. He could not believe they hadn’t been able to hang onto the man. What the devil was wrong at the War Department that they couldn’t secure the traitor for more than a few weeks?
Loverly was a nasty individual…and dangerous. Hopefully, the authorities would recapture him before he could disappear once again.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” Wilton entered the room, bloodshot eyes and shaky hands told the story of how the man had spent the prior evening. Alex was growing more and more disgusted with the man and weary of his presence.
Since he did not want the distraction of the lovely Patience in his home, he would insist Wilton open his own townhouse so Alex could keep an eye on the family to ensure Patience, and her mother, were treated respectfully.
“Good morning.” After that curt greeting, Alex returned to his newspaper.
After filling his plate at the sideboard, Wilton sat and then cleared his throat. “Your Grace, have you considered my suggestion that my lovely daughter would make an excellent duchess?”
Alex looked up from his newspaper. “Is that, perchance, the lovely daughter you mistreated yesterday?”
Wilton flushed, and it was obvious that he did not like the turn of the conversation, but since he so badly wanted something from Alex, he kept his mouth closed. Which brought up another point. Since Wilton obviously had no great love for his daughter, why was he so anxious for her to make this match?
“That was a terrible mistake on my part. I did not mean to cause her any harm. I am most fond of my daughter.”
Although he did not believe a word out of the man’s mouth, he let the comment stand. “As I told you before, I have a great many issues on my mind at present. When, and if, I decide to select a bride, you can be assured the lady, whomever she is, will know before you do.”
If Wilton’s face grew any redder, surely the man would explode. Apparently, being thwarted and holding his tongue was not a practice he was familiar with. With his knowledge of bullies, Alex needed to make sure the earl did not take his frustration with him out on his wife. He wouldn’t dare touch Patience.
The woman of his thoughts entered the room, her bright sunny smile touching something warm in his middle. Something that had not seen the light of day for a long time. “Good morning, Your Grace, Father.”
It was times like this that he felt like the young man who’d fallen so deeply in love with her after only a week’s time. But years of assuming she was completely out of his reach, and the internal scars from war, had dimmed that love. But had it been smothered completely?
Time. Only time would tell. Perhaps she no longer felt the same way. And if she did, would she continue to, when she learned what a changed man he was?
How would she feel if she came to know the horrible things he had witnessed, and because of his time at war, the equally repulsive things he had been forced to do to save himself and his men? Although saving his men had not worked every time. That memory was best left alone, even though it prodded at him on a regular basis. Would she view him as a monster no better than her father?
Things had all happened too swiftly for his liking. One minute in charge of a traitor prisoner, content to make the military his life, then whisked away to his estate where he was presented with all the duties and responsibilities of a duke, and confronted by the woman he’d spent four years trying to forget.
How did she consider him? How did he regard her? In so many ways he felt choked, as if his cravat was tied too tight and he could not get enough air.
If anything were to come to pass with him and Patience, they needed time together to recapture those early feelings. If that were possible.
He shook his head in confusion. It would be best if he stood by his convictions, and while protecting Patience from her father, still hold her at arm’s length. He continued to think in terms of the military. Each problem must be examined from every angle to make sure no mistakes were made. Mistakes caused serious problems, and in some cases, even death.
He snorted. Somber musings so early in the morning.
…
Patience took an egg, pickled trout, and a roll from the array of food on the sideboard, then joined the men at the table. She glanced quickly at her father and looked away, concentrating on her food. She thanked the footman who placed a fresh pot of tea at her place.
Father had not spoken to her since their altercation in the drawing room. Dinner had been a quiet affair, with him mostly drinking rather than eating. Mother had been visibly nervous, which made her wonder if she and her father had had words while they’d dressed for dinner. At least Mother did not show the marks of any type of violence.
Although, with Alex’s warning, she doubted if Father would attempt anything while in residence here.
Alex wiped his mouth with his serviette and turned his attention to Father. “Wilton, I will be off to London in a day or so. I suggest you open your townhouse so your family can enjoy a bit of the Season, at least attending some of the more moderate events.”
Her hand holding a fork stopped halfway to her mouth. Why would he want them to join him in London? Of course, she would much rather go to London than return to her family’s estate in the country. There was no telling what her father would do if they all went their separate ways and she had failed to secure a betrothal.
“Your Grace, I am flattered that you wish us to follow you to London, but I am afraid at present, I am unable to open my London townhouse.”
Alex studied Father for a few moments, then said, “I will see you in my study when you are through.” With a brief glance in Patience’s direction, Alex stood.
Her jaw dropped as he winked at her before leaving the room. Winked? What did that mean?
Lord’s sake, she was second-guessing everything Alex did. Hopefully, leaving for London would remove some of the strain among them all. Due to the timing and circumstances of her betrothed’s death, she would not feel comfortable attending balls and such. However, she could at least find things to occupy her time besides embroidery and dodging her father.
Once the door to the breakfast room closed, her father leaned forward. “Make the most of this London visit, daughter. I expect to hear of a betrothal shortly.”
Rather than start anything up again, she merely nodded. Father shoved his chair back and followed Alex from the room.
…
A short time before dawn two days later, Patience stifled a yawn as Alex handed her into a well-sprung carriage with the Duke of Bedford crest on the doors, and followed her inside. His mother was already settled in the coach, while Patience’s parents would travel to London in their own carriage. Truth be told, she was grateful to be riding with Alex and his mother. She was afraid of the continuous harangue she would have had to endure had she traveled in the Wilton carriage.
Despite Father’s complaints about his lack of money, he did consent to opening the London townhouse after speaking with Alex. She wondered if Alex had offered to fund the necessary expenses. But since the men surrounding her felt it was never necessary to take her into their confidence, guessing was about all she could do.
“There are pillows and blankets under the seat, if you wish to sleep.” Alex directed his comments to her.
“No, thank you. I merely need a little time to wake up. I’m afraid I am not too lively in the morning. Usually, once I have a cup of tea, I become almost human again.” Certainly, being able to stare across the carriage at Alex had her heart pumping, so she would wake up much faster. He, on the other hand, looked as wide awake as if it were two o’clock in the afternoon.
“How is it you look so alert?”
Alex smirked. “You forget I spent four years in service to the Crown. One does not get to lollygag in bed when confronted by one’s superior officers.”
“I will never understand why you had your grandfather purchase colors for you, other than to provoke your father.” The duchess sniffed and raised her chin. “One thinks you would have had more consideration for his wishes.”
Alex’s relaxed demeanor abruptly changed. “I had as much regard for the duke’s wishes as he had for mine. But, then again, he had no aspirations where I was concerned. However, madam, since this will be a lengthy trip with us all bundled together, I prefer to not spend the time examining my motives in what I have chosen to do thus far in my life.”
The duchess’s lips tightened, but she offered no rejoinder. Fluffing the pillow behind her head, she turned slightly and closed her eyes. Patience breathed a sigh of relief. Listening to mother and son bicker in the close confines of the coach would have made for a very unpleasant ride.
Patience studied Alex as he tapped his finger on his thigh and stared out the window at the gloomy morning. Now that the sun had risen, daylight revealed a cloudy sky with light drizzle, somewhat diminishing her initial enjoyment at heading to London. She took the pillow lying alongside her and placed it behind her head. Maybe a bit more sleep would be just the thing after all.
…
With both women attempting sleep, Alex’s thoughts turned to what he’d pushed from his mind. He’d captured the spy, Lord Loverly, in the United States and returned him to the War Department. As far as he’d known, given his scant contact with the War Department since his return, Loverly had been in custody awaiting a trial in the House of Lords once Parliament convened in April. Now it appeared he had escaped.
It was not unknown for a man charged with treason to commit suicide, rather than face a well-publicized trial and eventual beheading. Since Loverly had only one daughter, who rumor had it, had disappeared, a scandalous trial or a suicide would only hurt himself. Perhaps, the newspapers would report finding his body sometime soon.
Next, he turned his attention to the matter of Lady Patience. His insistence on Wilton opening his townhouse, the expense of which Alex had assumed, made it a bit easier to keep his eye on Wilton’s treatment of Patience. At the same time, having her in a separate house would help his confusion about their future, as he wrestled with his feelings about marriage in general, and to Patience in particular.
He wanted her. Oh yes, how he wanted her. Her body drew him like metal to a magnet. There was no telling what might happen between them if they continued to sleep under the same roof. He didn’t need that complication. Now, it was best to concentrate on his new duties, have Patience nearby to keep an eye on her father, and put all thoughts of her in the capacity of his duchess from his mind.
Most of all, his wisest stratagem going forward was to keep his hands to himself.
…
They had been back in London for two days when the duchess knocked on the study door and requested time to speak with Alex. He gladly pushed aside the correspondence he’d been working on. Until he saw the determined set of her jaw.
His head pounded and his eyes burned from fatigue. He’d awoken halfway through the night in a sweat, his heart racing, and his stomach roiling. Images of battered dead soldiers, their twisted bodies blankly staring at the sky, had still held him in their grip when he’d jumped from his bed as if possessed by snakes. He was in no mood for her antics.
Once his mother sat, he settled back in his seat and regarded her. They’d had only a few conversations since his return. Not that they’d ever had a great deal to say to each other. “What can I assist you with, madam?”
The duchess shifted in her seat and stiffened her back. “You needn’t look so fierce. I am, after all, your mother.”
“Yes. One tends to forget that.”
“You act as though I am your enemy.” She glowered at him, a much more familiar countenance than her manner toward him since he’d returned. “I don’t understand your attitude, Your Grace.”
“Mother. Please. I’ve been Alexander to you all my life. Why has my name changed?”
She looked genuinely confused, which saddened him. “Your name has changed. You are now Bedford.”
“That is the problem. It seems to me you believe all the men in your family are interchangeable. Whoever holds the blasted title—or is heir to it—is worthy of your attention.”
Mother narrowed her eyes. “It is not appropriate for a duke to swear.”
Shaking his head, he stood and walked to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “One thing confuses me.”
“And what is that?”
Alex turned and leaned against the window frame, crossing his arms. “I understand you never had much use for your second son. Merely the ‘spare.’ What I don’t understand is your lack of grief at the loss of Cyrus.”
“It is not good manners to grieve in public,” she quickly answered. “Are you suggesting I held no love for my son?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I have no idea what I am suggesting. I have failed to understand you most of my life.”
Whatever she had intended to speak with him on must have been important since she passed commenting on his words. “What I wish to address is the necessity for you to secure an heir as quickly as possible.”
Alex’s eyebrows rose as he returned to his seat. “Indeed?” Now it appeared he was to be pushed from both sides of the aisle. “Anyone in particular you had in mind?” He refused to play her game.
“As a matter of fact, I do. Lady Patience is a lovely woman, and we all thought she would make a perfect duchess—”
“For my brother.”
His mother hesitated. One did not interrupt the duchess. “Yes. Well, he was to be the duke, but now that duty falls to you. You must move forward and make sure the dukedom is secure for the future.”
He tapped the ledger on his desk with his pen. “I intend to secure the future of the dukedom. In my own time. With my own choice for a wife.”
She leaned forward. “Do not be stubborn, Your Grace. We all know you had a tendre for Lady Patience. I imagine what I am suggesting meets with great approval on your part.”
“Mother, that was four years ago. I was a young man and Lady Patience just out of the schoolroom. You, Father, and her parents decided she would make an excellent bride for my brother. As you noted many times in my life, I am not my brother.”
“But you are the duke!” Mother’s face flushed and she almost lost her well-honed restraint. Something Alex had never witnessed.
“I apologize to you for that, but I had no control over the circumstances that thrust me into the role. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.” He pulled the pile of correspondence toward him in a rather rude dismissal. He would not continue this conversation when it was a question he wrestled with himself.
Once the door closed behind his mother, he pushed back from the desk and strode to the window, restlessness he was not used to swamping him. He stared out as the pale sun highlighted small buds of flowers trying desperately to announce spring.
There was certainly no denying the attraction that still raged between him and Patience when they were together. He wanted her, more than any woman he’d ever known. He’d been half aroused since he first laid eyes on her after learning she was not his brother’s widow. But did he want her for a wife?
Or, better yet, would she want him for a husband, once she realized what a changed man he was? The young Alex who had foolishly dreamed of things beyond his reach was now an embittered former soldier with blood on his hands, wrestling with demons.
In his frustration, he mused whether it would be better to be done with it all, grab Patience, and head for Gretna Green. He could think of one very good reason not to dash off to find her now and propose. Her father and his mother, two people he had no use for, were on a campaign to force his hand. What no one had taken into consideration, as far as he knew, was what Patience had to say about it. Perhaps he should discuss it with her, not their parents.
Unable to concentrate any longer on the correspondence on his desk, he moved to the desk, stacked the pile of letters and invitations into some semblance of order, and left his study. He strode from the house and walked the two blocks to Wilton’s townhouse. The door opened the minute his foot hit the bottom stair. He took the steps two at a time and burst into the entrance hall.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” The man at the door gave a perfect bow.
“Is Lady Patience at home?”
The man looked genuinely sorry. “Unfortunately, Your Grace, Lady Patience and Lady Wilton are making afternoon calls.”
Alex hesitated. “Is Lady Patience’s lady’s maid about?”
If the butler thought anything unusual about a duke asking for a lady’s maid, nothing showed in his demeanor. “If you will follow me to the drawing room, I will send Polly to you.”
Alex studied the man for a moment. “Are you Wickham?”
“I am, Your Grace.” A slight surprise caused the man’s brows to rise.
Alex grinned. “I hear you are an exceptional chess player.”
A slight blush rose to the man’s cheeks. “I try, Your Grace.”
After a short consultation with Polly, Alex set off to the mews behind his townhouse to have his Landau readied.