“Because friends remember things about each other, Patience. I may have treated you badly, and done many wrongs that I cannot right, but I remember that ‘The Kiss’ was your favorite poem, by your favorite poet.”
“We cannot be friends,” Patience whispered, “and I have just explained why.”
“But I don’t agree.”
He didn’t touch her, just lowered his head and placed his lips gently on hers. It was warm and soft, and when he lifted his head she wanted to reach out and pull him back.
Instead, she walked around him and out the door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Looking up at the grey stone façade, Patience wondered if the man she sought inside could help her find something incriminating about her cousin. She had thought long and hard about having him uncover any information he could about Mr. Stanhope also, but realized that if Lucy found out, there was every possibility Lucy would never forgive her, so she had vowed to ask someone she knew about him. Of course that someone would more than likely have to be a Belmont or a Kelkirk, as she did not know anyone else well enough to ask them, which meant she would have to talk with them again—but if she did so at a social event, then at least she could get it over with quickly.
For two days she had heard Mathew’s words inside her head. “Because friends remember things about each other, Patience. I may have treated you badly, and done many wrongs which I can no longer right, but I remember that ‘The Kiss’ was your favorite poem, by your favorite poet.”
“Bloody infuriating man,” she muttered as she climbed the steps, the heels of her boots making small clipping noises on each one. At the top, she opened the heavy wooden door, then slipped inside.
A spectacled man sat scribbling away behind a paper-laden desk. Noticing her arrival, he laid down his quill and indicated for her to approach.
“I wish to employ the services of Mr. Whitty,” Patience said.
The young clerk peered at her over his desk. “Mr. Whitty is with another client at the present, Miss…?”
“Allender,” Patience supplied.
“If you would care to wait, Miss Allender, Mr. Whitty will see you as soon as he is able.”
Patience moved to the chair the young man had indicated and sat to wait. She had come to the realization on her return from the cowkeeper’s shop that she needed to find a way to remove the threat of their cousin permanently. She knew that he would never stop trying to kill Charlie until either he succeeded or he passed away. It was a terrifying thought, one she had continually pushed to one side, but now she knew that she must take steps to stop him. They could not stop him by conventional means—her approach to the magistrate had shown that—so she had to find another way.
Charlie would marry one day, and would hopefully provide her with nieces and nephews. Patience did not want any of them living in fear like their father had done.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the opening of the only other door in the room. Then a lady wearing a heavy veil rushed past her and out the front door. Behind her came a small, stout man with a fierce scowl on his face. Mr. Whitty, Patience presumed. He did not seem a very friendly sort, but did he have to be to offer investigative services?
“Miss Allender?”
“How do you do, sir?” Patience held out her hand as she approached the man, and after his initial surprise he shook it.
“How do you do, Miss Allender? Please come through to my office. I will have Wallace bring us some tea.”
Patience followed the little man through the narrow doorway. Closing her mouth quickly after it had fallen open in surprise, she sat in the nearest vacant chair. Good Lord, every available inch seemed to be crammed full of books and pieces of paper. How on earth did the man ever find anything?
Mr. Whitty sank onto the chair behind his large desk and peered at her over the tops of the piles. His spectacles were perched on the end of his nose and small tufts of grey hair stood up on his head, making him look like a flustered owl.
“Firstly, Miss Allender, I must insist on complete honesty from my clients, or I am afraid I can be of no use to you.”
The words were spoken gently, with no malice intended, and Patience nodded. “Of course. I understand the necessity for honesty, Mr. Whitty.”
“Excellent,” he said, rummaging around for something, which she saw was a sheet of paper and something to write with. “Now, tell me: what is the problem you wish for me to help solve?”
“My brother is eleven, and the heir to my father’s title. Since the death of my parents, my cousin, who is next in line, has attempted to kill him twice.” Mr. Whitty began to scratch on his paper as she talked, not appearing overly surprised by her disclosure. “He is now here in London, and I have reason to believe that a few days ago he tried to kill my brother once more. My siblings and I have come to the realization that my cousin will stop at nothing to achieve his goal.”
“Can you not go to the authorities, Miss Allender?”
“I have tried that, but my cousin is a popular man. All who know him, like him, and no one would believe me were I to challenge him. He would simply dismiss my words, as I do not have the popularity he does. The magistrate I approached was scathing, as he too had heard of Brantley’s reputation as a good, kind man. I had no evidence or witnesses to back up my claim, and since I am a woman, I can never hope to win. I want you to find out everything you possibly can about him, Mr. Whitty. I am hoping that that knowledge will give me the hold I need to make him stop. I want to know what he does, any debts he might have, whom he associates with, anything that I could use against him. I also want to know where he is lodging here in London. I will then approach him with any information that could give me leverage and see if we can come to some kind of understanding in order to stop him pursuing my brother and any future heirs he may have.”
Patience then recounted all she could, every detail of the attempts on Charlie’s life, starting with Brantley’s arrival on their doorstep two weeks after their father’s funeral, while Lady Allender was lying in her bed sick with grief. He had hugged his cousins, offered sympathy and support, and she had believed every word he had spoken. Then Charlie had fallen in the pond while fishing with Brantley. Lucy had arrived in time to stop him from drowning while Brantley had stood watching, saying he could not swim.
She had questioned him as to why he had not called for help. He had told her his fear had stopped him from moving, and she had believed him. Then Charlie had fallen down the stairs and had luckily only broken his arm—but he had insisted that only she or Lucy care for him, because he believed Brantley had pushed him. Finally, one night some men had broken into their house and tried to abduct Charlie, and from that moment on, Patience had vowed that their cousin would never get another chance to harm him.
“And you are sure it was your cousin?”
“Implicitly.”
“He then tried to have your brother abducted from your house?”
Patience nodded. “We were all in bed when two men my cousin hired managed to get inside, but as I am a light sleeper and had Charlie moved to the room beside mine, I heard something. I took the pistol I keep under my pillow and found them in my brother’s room.”
“You keep a pistol under your pillow?” His bushy brows rose.
“And one beside the front door, and several others scattered in places around the house. All secured away from sight, but my family and servants know where they are located should they have need of them.” Patience saw Mr. Whitty’s eyebrows rise almost to his hairline. “I leave nothing to chance, sir.”
“And after the abduction, you hired the”—he looked down at his notes—“Toots family. Are you sure they can be trusted?”
“Implicitly,” Patience said once more.
Tea arrived and she cradled the cup between her hands. She needed the warmth, as recounting these facts and the dark days that her family had endured had not been easy.
“This situation must be stressful on both you and your
family, Miss Allender.” Mr. Whitty lifted a hand and in the process knocked a pile of papers to the floor. Patience watched them flutter in all directions. She moved to help re-gather them, but Mr. Whitty waved her aside. “I will have Wallace pick them up later.” He went on, “I will do my best to gather any and all information I can about your cousin and will locate his address here in London, Miss Allender. I will keep you notified of any developments as they come to hand.”
Nodding, Patience regained her feet and once again clasped Mr. Whitty’s hand. “Thank you.”
She made her way back outside to where Lenny was waiting with the carriage. “We shall see what he turns up, Lenny,” she said when he gave her a questioning look.
“It’s my hope he can find something of use, Miss Allender.”
Resting her head on the back of the seat once she was inside, Patience shut her eyes as they started moving and thought about the interview, certain she had left no detail out. Dear Lord, she thought, please let Mr. Whitty come up with something, anything to remove this threat. She was tired of looking over her shoulder, as she was sure her siblings were, especially Charlie.
She had actually thought long and hard about paying someone to get rid of her cousin permanently. How it was done she would not need to know. Removing him had been tempting, but she had never quite had the courage to see to it, which was pathetic considering the threat he posed. Now she would have to rethink that idea, if Mr. Whitty could not help her.
Could she actually have someone disposed of?
“Yes,” she said out loud. To keep her brother safe, she could.
She knew she’d become overprotective, and knew that Charlie chafed at her refusal to let him have more freedom, like other sons of noblemen who were well and truly ensconced in their chosen schools by now and had formed the bonds of friendship that for some would see them through their lives.
Thoughts came and went as the carriage took her home, where she would have to smile and be happy about the upcoming evening at Vauxhall Gardens. Mr. Stanhope’s family had invited Patience, Lucy and her friend Amanda to spend the evening with them, and they were to arrive at the gardens by boat. Patience had told Lucy that perhaps they could take the carriage, as the road could also lead them there, but her sister had insisted on going by boat, as it was far more exciting.
The problem was that Patience was not overly happy around water, and had rarely spent time on or in it, other than bathing. She had fallen into the river on their property once as a child, and her father had pulled her out seconds later with no damage done, but Patience still remembered the feeling of the water closing over her head, even now, many years later, and had vowed to never replicate it.
As Lenny pulled the carriage to a halt before the town house, she forced a smile onto her lips. She could do this, get through the rest of the season. She would do it by avoiding a certain lord and finding a way to remove her cousin from their lives, then she would retire to the country, happy with her animals.
When she made her way inside the house, she found Lucy giggling with excitement at the prospect of their evening out, and demanding Patience’s attention to pick just the right dress of the three she had laid out. Pushing aside her feeling of impending doom about the evening’s entertainment, she went to her sister’s room. She would make sure Lucy had fun tonight, even if she did not.
Mathew arrived at Vauxhall Gardens with his party. The Duke and Duchess of Stratton had invited him to share their evening’s entertainment, and Simon had reluctantly accompanied him, although he said he would much rather be home with his wife and Louis.
“Claire said she wanted to retire early. Eva, do you think that means she is unwell, or just tired?”
The Duchess of Stratton was a beautiful woman both inside and out. Elegant to the tips of her slippers, she had her large, powerful husband wrapped around her finger.
“It means she is tired, Simon. Now you need to relax, or by the time the child finally arrives you will be no help to Claire at all.”
Simon blew out a loud breath, as if releasing pressure. “Yes, I can see you are right, and Claire assures me she is well, but—”
“For pity’s sake, man, you know my sister as well as I do. When has she ever not let everyone know if she is feeling under the weather?” Mathew said. “If she says she is well, she is.”
“I was like that,” the Duke of Stratton said, taking his wife’s arm. “When Eva was carrying Georgia, I was a bundle of nerves the entire time.”
Mathew watched the duke and duchess share a look that spoke so much of the love they felt, it caused a small tug of longing inside him—and after that thought there she was again, inside his head. Patience Allender.
“Excellent.” Simon looked bleak. “I look forward to several miserable months, then.”
As the party started toward the gardens, Mathew took a final look behind him at the boat he had just left. He had enjoyed the trip, the soothing feel of gliding along the Thames. He felt relaxed for the first time in days.
Another boat approached, and he looked at the faces on board. The one in the front caught and held his eyes. Patience had her eyes clenched shut.
“I will follow shortly,” he said to his friends, then turned and made his way back down to where the boat was now nudging against the dock. She didn’t open her eyes as he arrived, or when the boat started to rock as he helped Lucy and her friend out.
“Give me your hand, Patience.”
She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. “I don’t like water.”
“I can see that, and if you give me your hand, I shall get you safely onto solid ground.”
“What if the boat moves and I fall?” She looked at the water before refocusing on him.
“It won’t move. Someone is holding it, and I will not let you fall,” he promised.
“We could both fall,” she said, still gripping the sides of the boat. “Into that.” She looked at the water again.
“Have a little faith in your old friend, Patience.” Mathew leaned over the boat and pried one hand from the edge.
“Acquaintance,” she hissed, gripping his fingers tight. “Promise you won’t drop me, Mathew!”
“I promise.” Mathew pulled her slowly to her feet, then placed both hands around her waist and lifted her gently out and onto the ground beside him. “You can open your eyes now,” he said, still holding her.
“Thank God that is over.” She shuddered.
“Why would you put yourself through that if you are terrified of water?” Mathew reluctantly released her, his eyes running over her. “There is a perfectly adequate bridge you could have crossed to come here by carriage.”
She was wearing ivory satin, he noted, the bodice trimmed in lace, the sleeves small puffs. Around her throat she was wearing a circle of diamonds that sparkled against her creamy skin in the dwindling light.
“Lucy and Amanda wished to come by boat, and I am strong enough to overcome my hatred of water for such a short time.” Her eyes were calmer now the terror had abated.
“Apparently you’re not,” Mathew said.
“You will say nothing to Lucy. I sat in the front specifically so she would not notice my discomfort.” Her eyes snapped up to look at him.
“Yes, it would never do to show weakness, now, would it? Especially not to your family.” For some reason her words angered him, and he wasn’t quite sure why.
“Don’t speak to me about weakness, when the mention of Anthony’s name makes you look ill.”
“I have no wish to discuss my brother.” Mathew knew he sounded haughty, but could do nothing to change that, as the tightness in his chest was suddenly back.
“And I have no wish to discuss my weakness, so we have nothing further to say to each other.”
“How about, ‘Thank you, Mathew’?” His words were clipped.
“Thank you, Lord Belmont,” she said, performing a perfect curtsey. “For coming to my aid.” Her eyes were cool.
Mat
hew then watched as she walked away from him, skirts twitching, shoulders back.
“Hello, Mathew.”
“Good evening, Lucy.” Mathew kissed her cheek. “You look lovely.” Dressed in white, she was young and innocent, and nothing like the virago ahead of them.
“This is my dear friend, Miss Amanda Klipper.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Klipper.” Mathew bowed, then held out his arms for the ladies to take.
“Thank you. We are here to meet the Stanhopes,” Lucy said.
“And are you interested in any particular Stanhope?” he whispered in her ear, which made her sigh.
“I do like Mr. James Stanhope very much, Mathew.”
“I sense a ‘but’.”
“Patience,” she said softly, “thinks every man who comes near me has nefarious intentions, even though she wishes for me to wed.”
“She is protective of you, Lucy. Surely you understand that?” Mathew looked at the rigid back in front of them and wondered why she was the one he wanted, when there were plenty of sweet-natured women in London.
“She trusts no one, and was quite rude to Mr. Stanhope when I introduced them. Luckily he did not take offense, even saying that it was pleasing to see that I was so well protected.”
“What did she say?”
“That he might be pleased to make her acquaintance, but she would reserve judgment… Well, words to that effect, but you understand my meaning.”
Mathew laughed, a loud bark of laughter that had Patience turning to look over her shoulder before turning to face ahead once more.
“Of course she refused to apologize when I questioned her about it, saying she did not trust easily, as if that were an excuse for bad manners.”
Mathew mulled that over for a few seconds. He understood Patience’s fear for her siblings; he’d been the same with both Anthony and Claire. He thought about questioning her further about the incident at the cowkeeper’s shop, and his belief that someone was threatening the Allender family, but now was not the time for that, and he knew that Lucy should not be the person he questioned.
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