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 i
s 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.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Alex strode through the main room at White’s and joined Cam, Templeton, and Hawk, who were gathered in the corner with empty coffee cups and opened newspapers scattered about the table and chairs. He had no idea how he would have survived the past two weeks of Patience’s stubborn resistance to his attempted visits without them.
The house was so empty. The servants tiptoed around him, and for the most part, the place felt like a mausoleum. There was no smiling face across the breakfast table, no smirk over the chess board, and no warm, soft body to cuddle with in bed.
And for the first time in weeks, his nightmares had returned nightly.
“Bloody hell, Bedford, if you don’t lose that tense look about you, I will have to drag you to Gentlemen Jackson’s for a few rounds.” Hawk lowered the newspaper he’d been reading and studied Alex.
Alex threw himself into an empty chair. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve been to Montfort’s townhouse every day for two weeks. Always the same answer, ‘Her Grace is not receiving.’ And the arse that I am, I’ve sat for hours waiting for her to come down the stairs. Twice.”
“I would say your method is not working,” Templeton observed.
“Thank you for enlightening me. Perhaps you have a brilliant idea to share with the group?”
Templeton leaned forward. “In fact, I do.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“I am escorting Miss Blake to the theater tonight. She tells me Her Grace is attending with us. The injury to her face is apparently healed and she now feels as though she can be seen in public.”
Alex’s heart sped up. “I will wait outside Montfort’s place and sweep her away in my carriage.”
“No!” all three men answered at once.
Cam ran his fingers through his hair “Whatever is wrong with you, Bedford? This entire fiasco has turned you into an addlepated fool.” He shook his head.
“What?” He thought the plan a fine one. Pick her up in his arms and carry her to his carriage where she would remain until he had his say. He saw nothing wrong with that.
Hawk pointed at him. “The last time I saw Her Grace she was calling you a monster and a bully. Do you really think forcing her into your carriage and taking her prisoner would change her mind? Think about it, man.”
Alex slumped back into the chair. “You’re right.”
Templeton counted off on his fingers. “First, you will present yourself at the theater tonight and go to Montfort’s box. Make sure it is after the show starts. Second, I will see that there is an empty seat next to Her Grace of which you can make use. She is well mannered enough that she will not leave the box. Third, if you make a scene and embarrass Her Grace, or Miss Blake, I will personally drag you out of the theater and pummel you.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “I will not embarrass anyone.” He paused. “Why is it you will be attending the theater with Miss Blake?”
Templeton waved him off, a slight flush to his face. “I invited her, and she suggested we use her cousin’s box.”
“You and Miss Blake? Patience told me her cousin was holding out for a title.”
He glared at him. “We are discussing your relationship and how you have managed to muddle it up, and how we—your friends—are trying to salvage the mess you have made.”
“Nicely done, Templeton. A good deflection,” Cam murmured from behind his newspaper.
Hawk snorted.
“Is there something going on with you and Patience’s cousin of which I am unaware?”
Templeton sighed. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Yes.”
“Then do as I say. If this doesn’t work, I am afraid all is lost. From what Miss Blake has confided in me—” He raised his finger at Alex. “Do not venture off into that avenue. Her Grace is still adamant that you are the worst of the worst.”
That’s what he was afraid of. Two weeks of separation and he felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. This time it was even worse than when she’d been swept away from him by their fathers. This time she was his wife.
Truly his love.
Alex stood in the lobby of the theater and carried on an inane conversation with Lady Talbot about her dogs. To his credit, he hadn’t thrown his hands up in frustration and stalked off at the woman’s meandering, since he was only wasting time until the play began.
He’d only been in the theater a few minutes when Templeton, Miss Blake, and Patience arrived. He thought for a minute she’d seen him, but she bent her head toward Miss Blake to say something to her, and he turned his back, hoping she would not storm across the lobby and chastise him, or worse, call for her carriage.
When he glanced over his shoulder the group was gone, and he let out a deep breath. He continued to nod at Lady Talbot, wondering what the devil she was blathering on about now. Something about Lady Clarendon, the Earl of Clarendon’s countess, performing surgery on animals. He shook his head. Poor Lady Talbot was obviously delusional and in dire need of a guardian of some sort.
An announcement came from a footman that the play was about to start. Alex offered to escort Lady Talbot to her theater box just when her son showed up, looking a bit in his cups. Thanking his lucky stars at not being the woman’s escort for the evening, he wished them both an enjoyable time, and walked toward the staircase leading to the theater boxes.
He gave himself about fifteen minutes to be assured the play had started. He climbed the stairs, his heart beating so loudly surely the actors on the stage would be drowned out. This was the first time he would see Patience since that gruesome night when his world had shattered. After receiving directions from a footman, he found his way to the Montfort’s box and stopped outside, taking a deep breath.
He stepped inside to see Templeton, Miss Blake alongside him, and Patience next to her. The chair alongside her stood empty, just as Templeton had promised. They were all caught up in the play. He moved quietly to the seat next to Patience, and sat.
“Good evening, my love.”
…
Patience held her breath. He is here. She knew he’d arrived in the box because she smelled the ever-present bergamot. Mere seconds passed before he took the seat next to her, his warm presence flooding her with longing.
She’d seen him in the lobby when they first entered. Her stomach had dropped to her toes and she’d lost her breath. He looked so good. Tears had flooded her eyes at the sight of him dressed in his evening clothes, trying very hard to pretend he was interested in whatever Lady Talbot was rambling on about. Not wanting him to know she’d seen him, she bent close to Suzanna’s ear and mumbled some inane statement that had her cousin looking at her curiously.
The last two weeks had been hell. She’d refused to see him each time he’d arrived at the Montfort door.
She missed him so much her heart literally ached. At first, her righteous anger had sustained her refusal. He had done a vile thing. Then she spent a great deal of time thinking about what had happened that night, and the days leading up to it. Yes, he should have told her about Loverly so she would be on guard. But how could she know what his fears had been? He’d seen things she could never imagine. Was it so wrong for a husband to want to protect his wife?
And Loverly was a traitor, a kidnapper, and given the opportunity, probably a murderer, as well.
She’d concluded that, yes, Alex was no longer the young man she’d fallen in love with four years ago. He was, however, the grown man she’d fallen desperately and completely in love with since his return. Part of that man was what he’d been through while they had been separated. That could
not be undone, nor could their time apart be relived.
And love him she did.
Until she knew how to tell him of her feelings, she’d continued to bar him from her door. She’d spent hours pacing in her room, words flooding her brain, words she never seemed able to put together into something that made sense. Her feelings where Alex were concerned were raw. So very raw.
Many times, she wanted to race down the stairs and fling herself into his arms, but what they needed to say to each other required privacy and time. She had considered ordering a carriage from Montfort’s house and going back home. Had he not appeared at the theater tonight, she might have done it tomorrow.
He reached over and placed his gloved hand on hers. Even through the fabric she felt his heat, and the rapid beating of the pulse at his wrist.
Or was it hers?
Her mouth dried up and her stomach twisted with anxiety. He leaned over and murmured in her ear. “Are you enjoying the play?”
Play? Is there a play?
Unable to form coherent words, she nodded.
Alex leaned back and stared at the stage. Yes, there was a play. She tried to listen to the actors, but all her senses were heightened and focused on the man sitting next to her. He began to stroke the inside of her wrist with his fingertip.
She chewed on her lip and closed her eyes. His stroking turned to circles and she felt the tingles erupt in her nipples and between her legs. She pulled her hand away to keep him from feeling her heart pounding.
Once more he leaned toward her. “This is my favorite play.”
Indeed? She wondered what it was. People were prancing around the stage and spewing lines, but she had no idea what they said. She had known the name of the play before they left the house, but once she’d spotted Alex in the lobby, all thoughts—except for him—had vanished from her mind.
“Um.” Very intelligent answer. She did herself proud.
Again, he reached for her hand, and when she attempted to tug it away from him, he held fast. This time he intertwined their fingers and rested their hands on his thigh.
Denying the Duke (Lords & Ladies in Love) Page 20