Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  “You would marry me were I living in a mud hut with only a few pennies to my name,” he said. “Simply because you can’t live without me, my sweet Miss Allender.”

  “Percy Price had an ego the size of a melon. It was said by his uncle Ned that if the boy did not learn humility, there dawned a life that was long and lonely.”

  “That didn’t rhyme.”

  “I had to think fast,” Patience said. “And said and Ned rhymed.”

  It happened so quickly, she had no time to brace herself. One minute they were strolling down a path laughing, and the next, she was pressed against a tree with a tall, handsome nobleman kissing her. She didn’t resist; instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on.

  “You, Patience Allender, are a mouthy wench,” Mathew said after he’d thoroughly kissed her.

  “Me?” Patience batted her lashes. “It is you who continually teases me into retaliation.”

  They both heard the sound behind him, but it was Mathew who turned.

  “Down!”

  Seconds after his roar, she was face down on the ground with a mouthful of leaves and her fiancé’s heavy body pressed down on her.

  “Don’t move. Someone just fired an arrow at us.”

  “Get behind that tree and stay there,” Mathew hissed as he regained his feel. He started running through the trees, away from the path they had just left.

  His heart was thumping, his head filled with a red mist of anger as he moved. Someone had tried to kill them—the arrow had lodged just inches above his head. Patience could have been hurt, and he would not allow that, could not allow it.

  Seconds later he burst out of the trees and looked around. This was one of the paths that was not as frequently populated as some of the others. He walked left, scanning the area, then right, doing the same, but saw nothing suspicious. What was he looking for? Was it Winton’s half-brother who had fired that arrow, or had it been an accident? But how could it be an accident when they had been hidden in the trees? No, someone had fired at him deliberately, and he felt frustrated that he had no idea what the man who had been trying to kill them looked like.

  “Did you see anyone?”

  He turned to see Patience standing at the edge of the trees. His chest hurt as he looked at her. Her green dress was dirtied, her hair had come free from the bonnet, and the need inside him to protect her was so strong it nearly choked him.

  “I told you to stay behind that tree.”

  “Yes, but I’ve never been very good at following orders.”

  There was absolutely no reason why he should laugh, yet he did, a great bark of laughter that he could not halt.

  “Perhaps in situations such as this, you could try to in the future,” he said after it had passed.

  She titled her head to one side, then the other. “I am not promising anything.”

  He went to her then and held her close. Her arms wrapped around his back and held him tight, and he could feel the fear she was fighting to hide.

  “Do you think it could be Brantley’s half-brother who fired that arrow at us?”

  “I should imagine that is as good a guess as any. But it is hard to say. Could it have been an accident? Unlikely,” Mathew said. “We were out of sight, so whoever fired that arrow had to have followed us.”

  She was quiet for a while, then said, “I don’t want to be scared anymore, Mathew.”

  “I know, love, and I don’t want to be scared for you anymore.”

  “But that arrow would have hit you, not me. And if it was him, my other cousin, why is he bothering to go after you and I, when surely it is Charlie he wants?”

  He had known she would leap to that conclusion sooner rather than later. “Because with you out of the way, your brother has only Lucy protecting him.”

  “They would murder that many people to get to Charlie?”

  “Murdering one person or two—I doubt it matters to him. We need to get back to the carriage, but before we do I want to retrieve that arrow.”

  She held his hand tight, and he hated the fear that he felt in her grip.

  The arrow was lodged in the bark; he pulled it free, then they silently made their way back to the carriage, where he lifted her into the seat and then joined her. He then directed the horses out of the park.

  “Will you move back in with me now?”

  “No, because we are going in a few days to your estate, and I don’t want to move my family twice. Perhaps we can have the three men back to watch over us until then?”

  “They’ve been watching you since the Lindhurst ball, Patience.”

  “I hadn’t realized. Thank you.”

  It was testament to her fear that she didn’t take him to task for putting his men there without her knowledge.

  He pulled up outside her house minutes later, and after handing the reins to a servant he jumped down and went to her side. When he raised his arms, she lowered herself into them.

  “You mean a great deal to me, Patience. I want nothing to happen to you.” Mathew held her against him. “I want us to live to an old age, and create plenty of hideous poetry with which to torment our children. I will keep both you and your family safe, my love. Never fear.”

  He kissed her, then escorted her inside. Once he was in his curricle again, he headed for Mr. Whitty’s. He needed to have a chat with the man regarding exactly what he knew, then he would assist Mr. Whitty in hiring more people to help him investigate, because no one was taking Patience from him…no one.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Mathew watched the love of his life walk into the breakfast parlor at Cloverlea the morning after they had arrived. The families had journeyed down together and to everyone’s relief they had arrived without incident.

  He’d gone to her room while everyone was sleeping last night and carried her back to his. After he removed the nightdress from her beautiful body, they had then proceeded to make sweet, passionate love, with her teasing him, and him caressing her, until neither could take any more. Then he had sunk deep inside her wet heat. It had been slow and gentle, and had touched his soul. They had then slept in each other’s arms, as they would every day from now on, for the rest of their lives, Mathew vowed.

  She attempted to smother a yawn as she smiled to the room at large. Wearing a simple apple blossom day dress with her hair secured by a matching ribbon, she looked beautiful and sweet, and she was his.

  “Good morning.” She acknowledged the butler, and Mathew was sure the man blushed.

  He’d awakened Patience before dawn and managed to wrestle her back into her nightdress—with little help from her, as she was a sound sleeper—then carried her back to her room. But returning to the bed he had slept in alone for years had not settled him, and he’d lain awake thinking of her and how he could keep her and her brother safe.

  “Good morning, my love,” Mathew said now, regaining his feet as she reached the table. Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

  “Good morning.” She sat in the chair he held out for her, to the right of his own.

  “You look ravished—oops, of course I mean ravishing this morning, sweetheart.”

  “Stop that,” she hissed, her gaze shooting down the table to see if anyone had overheard his words.

  “What?” he questioned, all innocence.

  “Tea, Miss Allender?”

  Patience nodded to the maid. “Yes, please.”

  “I hope your sleep was undisturbed, my sweet. For my part I did not get a restful night. It seems something crept beneath my sheets.” Mathew loved teasing her, especially since she usually made him pay.

  “Mathew, cease now!” Her cheeks were flushed.

  “Imagine my surprise this morning when my nephew joined me and found…”

  Mortified, Patience closed her eyes.

  “Lilly, Mother’s cat, beneath my sheets.”

  “I…will…kill…you,” she said slowly, trying to hide the smile that made her eyes sparkle.


  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you too,” she snapped before presenting him with her back as she started conversing with Claire.

  All that fire was his. Every day he would wake with her in his arms, and he could not wait.

  The day was spent organizing things, as tomorrow their guests would start to arrive for the wedding and Cloverlea would be full. He saw Patience only briefly. His mother had her doing and seeing many things, as she would be mistress here soon.

  Late afternoon found him outside searching for his betrothed, who he was told had decided she needed some fresh air. Cloverlea was at its best with the afternoon sun resting on it, burnishing it in a soft, golden glow. The gardens were exquisite, filled with colorful beds of flowers and mature, leafy trees, the rolling lawns leading down to endless green pastures.

  He found her walking toward the lake and lengthened his stride to catch her. She was wearing no bonnet or gloves and was plucking leaves as she walked, crushing them in her hand, releasing their fresh scent into the air.

  “I would much rather that if you were to leave the house, you did so with an escort, Patience.”

  She heaved a deep sigh before facing him. “I was in no danger. The house was always in my sight, and furthermore, if you care to look right you will see two gardeners weeding that bed.”

  He didn’t follow the direction her finger indicated. His gaze remained on her face. “I will take no more risks, love. I need you to understand that.”

  Patience reached up and stroked the length of his jaw. “Of course I understand.”

  Why do I not believe her? Mathew thought as he lowered his head, unable to resist the lure of her lips.

  “You, woman, were obviously placed on God’s earth to torment me.”

  “And you, my lord, are far too used to having your own way.”

  “Something tells me that reign is over. Now come. I have something I want to show you.”

  He led her down a hill away from the house, through the trees and out onto the small raised platform he’d had built out over the lake in memory of his brother. Here they were hidden from everyone, just the two of them, alone for the first time that day.

  “I had this built the year following Anthony’s death.” Mathew leaned on the railing, looking at the cool, clear water. He felt closest to Anthony here. The pain inside him had eased to a warm memory now, but that memory was stronger here than anywhere else. Behind him, Patience explored the platform as he stared out over the water. “My brother loved this lake. He would row for hours on it, or just lie in the bottom of the boat, letting it drift aimlessly while he stared at the sky,” he said slowly as he allowed the memories he had shut away for so long resurface. “‘This is where I belong,’ he once told me, and I envied him that.”

  “Why did you envy him that when you belonged here too?” She came to stand beside him, her arm slipping through the one he had braced on the railing.

  “Because I didn’t really feel tethered to anything until now.” She didn’t speak, just laid her head on his shoulder as he went on, “I loved it here, but Claire and Mother had each other after Anthony passed and I felt as if I did not belong. It was no one’s fault but my own, but I felt it nonetheless.”

  “And now?”

  The wind rippled the surface of Anthony’s lake. “And now that I have you, I finally feel like I am complete, and that no matter where I go, that feeling will stay as long as you are near.”

  “Will you stop doing that, please?” Patience sniffed loudly.

  Turning, he rested his back on the railing and held her against him. “Doing what?”

  “Saying things like that to turn me into one of those women who weeps all over the place.”

  He smiled, then simply held her for a while as they cherished their closeness here in his brother’s special place.

  “I can feel him here,” Patience said. “He approves of your choice of wife.”

  “Imagine my relief,” Mathew drawled. However, he knew his brother would indeed approve, as Anthony had loved Patience too.

  “A sight to warm the coldest heart.”

  Mathew stood upright, taking Patience with him as he looked into the cold face of Brantley Winston, who had walked from the trees to stand at the edge of the platform. In one hand he held a pistol.

  “It takes a brave or foolish man to enter this property alone, Winston,” Mathew said. “I have men everywhere who will run at a shout from me.”

  Brantley’s smile was a mere twitch of his lips. “I’m not alone, Belmont. I have my brother with me, and I can fire off a shot into your betrothed before anyone reaches us.”

  “Good afternoon, Lord Belmont, my dear Miss Allender.”

  Mathew heard the hiss of Patience’s breath as they turned to look at Dundrill as he walked out of the trees toward them.

  “I see your taste in clothing has not improved, Cousin,” Patience said, sounding calm, although her body was stiff at his side. Seeing Dundrill had shocked her, and Mathew realized her agile mind had leapt to the conclusion he had: that Dundrill was her cousin.

  “Still playing the high and mighty with me, Cousin?” Dundrill sneered. “You always believed I was beneath you, but now we shall see who has the upper hand.” He came forward to stand beside his half-brother. Mathew was unable to see any similarities between them—or perhaps there was one, in the sneer that both men were wearing.

  “Surely a man of your breeding could never claim the upper hand over a woman birthed on the correct side of the sheets.”

  Patience was showing no fear; instead, she was taunting her cousins and Mathew had never been prouder of her courage.

  “I am well bred!” Dundrill shrieked, turning red in the face.

  Patience laughed loudly. “Surely you jest.”

  Mathew looked around for an escape route, but the lake was their only avenue.

  “The water,” he whispered, leaning in to her as if to offer comfort.

  If she’d been tense a second ago, she was now positively rigid. The thought of once again plunging into water clearly terrified her, but she had done it before, and in far worse circumstances. He hoped she would be able to do it again.

  “You, who have only just returned to society, dare to question me?” Dundrill raged at Patience.

  “Brother, she is taunting you. There is no need to react. It is we who have the upper hand, remember?” Brantley said to Dundrill.

  “Why have you approached us, when it is Charlie that you want?” Mathew asked the two men.

  “Because we have decided that removing you will make it easier to get at Charles,” Brantley said.

  “How the hell did you escape?” Mathew asked him.

  “I paid several of the ship’s crew, Lord Belmont. They lowered me over the side in a rowboat when we had just left the coast of England, along with a sailor. He rowed me to shore. It was quite simple, really.”

  Patience hissed, “You should have shot him when you had the chance, Mathew.”

  “I realize that now,” he told her. “Thank you.”

  “Now, now, Cousin, you don’t mean that. In fact, it’s my belief that you’ve always been enamored with me, and my brother here has no doubt that you are quite taken with him also,” Brantley said, still sneering. “So once I’ve shot your betrothed, we will take you somewhere quiet and you can show us just how much you appreciate us before we kill you.”

  Mathew took a step forward as rage gripped him.

  “Words, Mathew. They are only words.” Patience held his arm with both hands. “You will not let these wastrels taunt you into retaliating.”

  He glared at Brantley for a moment, then transferred his gaze to Dundrill. He was not the first to pull away.

  “I will finish both of you,” he vowed.

  Patience shivered as she heard the deadly intent in Mathew’s words. As she pulled him back toward her she felt him take a step closer to the railing.

  Dear Christ, they were going into the water
once again.

  She inhaled deeply to try to stay calm. This was not the great jump she had taken from that window, yet still the thought terrified her, especially as today she was hampered by all her clothes and her shoes.

  She could still not quite believe that Dundrill was her cousin. That sniveling rodent she had tolerated because in some small part of her mind she felt sorry for him, when all he had been doing was trying to get close to her to get at Charlie.

  “We shall dispose of you, Lord Belmont, then you can feed the fish for a while until your dear family stumble across your body,” Dundrill said, looking far too happy with himself.

  “Who is your tailor?” she asked, trying to distract him as Mathew moved his hands to her waist. “I must know so that I can steer every man I meet away from him in the future.”

  She could feel Mathew’s muscles clench as he tightened his grip on her.

  “Bitch!” Dundrill hissed. “I’ll have you know I am frequently complemented on my clothing. Many try to emulate me.”

  “For pity’s sake, no one cares about your tailor.” Brantley was getting irritated now. “We have more pressing issues at hand, like disposing of Lord Belmont before his staff come to his rescue.”

  “As soon as you fire a shot, they will be here, Winston,” Mathew said.

  Dundrill persisted, “I’ll have you know that the Duke of Clemins has indicated a direct interest in my rose and lemon striped waistcoat.”

  “The Duke of Clemins is color blind,” Patience said as Mathew gripped her waist harder, his fingers digging into her flesh.

  “I’ll kill her!” Dundrill flung himself toward Patience as Brantley tried to hold him back. That was the chance Patience and Mathew needed.

  She sailed through the air and prayed Mathew was close behind. Taking a deep breath, she hit the water and went down. Panic stripped her mind of sense and she could find no air in her lungs. Flaying her arms and legs got her nowhere; she was hampered by skirts and shoes.

  She felt Mathew at her side seconds later. He was reaching for her, propelling her toward the platform they had just jumped from. Lungs screaming, she tried to rise, but he wouldn’t let her; he was pushing her relentlessly toward the shadow above them. Once there, he brought her to the surface.