Only this time, it had not been her old nemesis who seduced her so thoroughly in her dreams. It had been Lord Ramscar. She had willingly gotten down on her knees and had allowed him to mount her like a wild animal. If she had not awakened, he would have taken her again and again.
The writhing, aroused female in her dreams desired him. She would not have denied him. It was a chilling revelation.
It was only a dream.
Patience held on to the thought as if it was her personal talisman.
“Scrimm tells me that you took your breakfast with the other servants,” Ramscar said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. He had expected Miss Winlow to join him and Meredith at the table this morning. Miss Winlow’s absence and his reaction had not improved his disposition.
“Yes, my lord. We did not get around to discussing my duties last evening. However, I assumed I would be taking all my meals with the other servants.”
“You shared dinner with us.”
She kept her gaze demurely lowered. “And it was generous of you to invite me. Still, it would have been presumptuous of me to assume that I would continue to join the family.”
Ram heard two servants talking on the upper landing. There were too many people in this house for him to speak openly. “Walk with me.” He did not wait for her consent. The air was crisp as they stepped outside. Before he had sought her out in the servants’ hall, he had dressed for riding. Miss Winlow had swiftly donned a faded blue spencer over her dress and a bonnet so the temperature would not be intolerable.
In silence, they strolled down the long gravel drive. “Have I done something wrong, my lord?”
She had yet to meet his gaze directly, which he thought odd, considering her forthright nature. It was possible she had sensed his interest the previous evening and did not know how to respond. Was she embarrassed or intrigued? Ram would have paid her a small ransom for the truth.
“Only insulted me,” he said teasingly. Her startled expression had him elaborating. “I must insist that you indulge me. The circumstances that have brought you to Swancott are unique. This trip to London is unsettling to my sister. I have added to her discomfort by bringing a stranger into our home.”
“I understand, my lord,” she said, staring out at the horizon.
The corners of his mouth lifted indulgently. “I believe I asked you to call me Ramscar or Ram. The familiarity will comfort my sister.”
Patience halted and glanced at him, suspecting that he was teasing her. Satisfied with his innocent expression, she resumed walking. “Ramscar, you are master of an unusual household.”
“You will become accustomed to the routines, Patience,” he assured her. Politely, he placed his hand on her arm and guided her away from the gravel lane to a smaller path that disappeared into the woods. “And the master of Swancott.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Patience could barely look at his face without blushing.
Thank goodness, Lord Ramscar was oblivious to her discomfort. She would rather throw herself in front of a coach on one of London’s busy streets before revealing her dark, intimate secret. Patience was struggling to understand why that scoundrel Phoenix appeared in her dreams. Now she had to contend with him. At least Julian Phoenix was dead. According to Lord Ramscar, she would be seeing him daily. How was she going to bear it?
“Is something troubling you?” he politely inquired.
“N-no,” she stuttered, hating herself for babbling like a dimwit. “I was just—this position, it is so different than anything I have ever done. I pray you will not regret your decision.” She hugged herself, silently chastising her lack of composure around this man.
“Life is too precious to waste it on regret, Patience,” he said, after a lengthy pause. “How can anyone experience true happiness without taking risks?” His hazel green eyes swept over her. “Forgive me. You are cold.”
“I am fine. I—”
Patience frowned as he removed his coat. Ignoring her protests, he slipped her arms into the oversized sleeves and tugged the front together.
“Better?”
She mutely nodded. Still warm from his body, the coat warmed her in ways she dared not contemplate. It smelled of smoke and the heady scent of its owner. “Thank you. I should have chosen something warmer to wear this morning.”
From what she had seen, Swancott was a lovely estate. The wooded path widened, revealing a small pond. It looked natural, but a gardener had tamed nature by outlining the embankment with white stones. A wooden bench fashioned from a split log was positioned off to the right. Patience wondered how often Lady Meredith sat at the edge of the water, lost in her melancholy thoughts.
“Speaking of your attire … I do not mean to offend you by mentioning this; however, Scrimm commented that you arrived with one small bag. Should I have one of the footmen collect the rest of your possessions at the inn?”
Patience clutched the edges of his coat and strode over to the bench. For the first time in a long while, something akin to shame was crawling around in her insides, and she did not like it. The dresses she had packed were clean and presentable. Sadly, none would be considered by the ton as fashionable. She bit her lip, pondering this newest tangle.
“There are other dresses at the inn, but they belong to the troupe,” she admitted reluctantly. “It did not seem right to take them, when Deidra will need—”
Lord Ramscar walked over to her and crouched down beside the bench. “Say not another word on the subject. My sister will need new dresses for London. We will order some for you as well.”
A flicker of excitement flared to life at the thought of wearing something that was not a castoff, but she brutally extinguished it. There was a name for ladies who accepted intimate gifts from a gentleman, and it was not a kind one.
She rubbed her nose. “Oh, I could not. Perhaps, if I spoke to Deidra and the men—”
The earl took her hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. She saw a touch of amusement intermixed with sincerity in his hazel green eyes. “Let them keep the dresses. When I offered you the position, I had every intention of purchasing new wardrobes for both you and my sister. I hesitated telling you, because I did not want to offend you.”
“But—”
“No arguments,” he said with mock sternness. “You represent the Earl of Ramscar, and you will be fashionably dressed. A seamstress is arriving this afternoon to take measurements and begin the arduous task of getting you and Lady Meredith ready for the season. What cannot be accomplished here can be procured in London.”
Agitated, Patience hopped off the bench. “It seems a lot of fuss and expense for a mere lady’s companion,” she protested halfheartedly. “Perhaps you can deduct the cost of the dresses from my wages.”
Ramscar braced his hand on his knee and stood. He shook his head ruefully. “A few pretty dresses will not ruin me, Patience.”
As he placed his hands on her shoulders, she could not help recalling her dream of him. He had been standing behind her when he grabbed her thusly. In spite of the warm coat, she shivered.
“You cannot deny it,” he teased.
Deny what?
Was her reaction to his proximity so apparent? She was so aware of him, her breasts tightened in response. “I cannot?” she replied breathlessly. It was important that she remember that he was not the lover in her dreams. That man did not exist.
Ramscar inched closer. “Come now, Patience. Why fight it? Every young lady desires owning new dresses with matching slippers and gloves. Even you.”
She really wished he had not used the word “desires.” “I suppose a new dress or two would be nice,” she said, looking away with feigned reluctance. “Thank you.”
Lord Ramscar laughed at her obvious mischief. “That’s the spirit!”
Impulsively, he picked her up and spun them both around. Even she was laughing when he lowered her back onto her feet. Panting slightly, Patience gazed up into his handsome face. The earl was unlike most ge
ntlemen she had encountered over the years. He was confident, a tad arrogant, but there was a sweetness within him that people normally did not find in their superiors. True, Patience’s connection to the Farnalys balanced the scales. Still, it was a fact he would never know. Never had she admired a man before for his ignorance.
Ramscar reacted to the subtle softening of her expression. In wonderment, he gently cupped her face. She felt herself weakening, and like the true predators most men were, he sensed it. Without breaking eye contact, he lowered his head until their lips lightly collided. Like the kiss, his hold on her was just as delicate. Patience could easily step away.
Step away.
She closed her eyes. Only in her dreams had she experienced such tenderness. It was only a simple kiss. Why should she walk away?
Ramscar nibbled her lower lip. Patience parted her lips and tilted her head upward, liking the sensation of his lips moving against hers. He responded by gliding the tip of his tongue over the sharp edges of her teeth. Emboldened, she tentatively tasted him. He growled his approval.
“Put your hands on me,” he ordered gruffly before seizing her by the wrists and placing them on his shoulders. “Again.”
There was no confusion in his intent. She had very little experience with kissing. Julian Phoenix had stolen a few kisses when he had been trying to coax her into running off with him. Once he had taken her away from the Farnalys, he had lost interest in such flirtations.
Without asking permission, Ramscar plunged his tongue into her mouth. Instinctively, she curled hers around his. Using his tongue, he retreated, drawing her tongue into his mouth and deepening the kiss. Patience moaned against his mouth. The earl tasted like coffee and wickedness. Her arms circled around his neck of their own volition. The hands poised on her waist moved to her back and then down the curve of her buttocks.
Cupping both cheeks, Ramscar pulled her tightly against him. It was as if he could not get close enough. It was a heady combination: that sinful mouth devouring her, while he created a delicious ache in her nether regions. How many ladies of the ton had surrendered their precious virtue just for a taste of his naughty play?
The question doused her ardor.
“No,” she panted against his cheek. She placed her palms on his chest and shoved him away. The earl abruptly released her, causing her to stagger back. “Forgive me.”
She dared not confess more. Her response to his kisses frightened her. She whirled away from him and returned to the wooden bench. If she had continued to allow him to take liberties, she feared he would have had her on her knees while he pumped himself into her willing body.
Just like my dream …
She trembled. What upset her most was that she did not know if she quivered from fear or desire.
Lord Ramscar cursed under his breath. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I should not have kissed you. I hired you for Meredith’s sake, not to warm my bed,” he said harshly.
Patience winced at his honesty. “I am to blame, too. I should have stopped you sooner.” After a night of erotic dreaming, she had been curious to see if the man resembled her dream lover. It would have been better if Lord Ramscar had left her disappointed, instead of sensitive and aching.
“Do not leave me.” Belatedly, realizing how she might misconstrue his words, he hurriedly added, “I need you to help me with Meredith. Without you, it will take a rope and mallet to get her to London.” He smiled encouragingly.
Patience returned the smile, but it lacked sincerity. She was just too shaken to sort out her feelings. “Very well, Lord Ramscar. I will help you coax Lady Meredith to London.”
A man like the earl belonged only in her dreams. In the flesh, he was just too tempting.
The days at Swancott passed swiftly.
Lord Ramscar was anxious to return to London. He had privately revealed to her one evening that he had tarried in the country longer than his previous visits for his sister’s sake. Business obligations and his friends awaited him in town. Ignoring Lady Meredith’s pleas, he had wielded his resources to hasten their preparations and packing. If one seamstress and her apprentices could not complete the dresses needed for both ladies, then he would hire a dozen. The expense did not concern him. For a lady who was used to living a frugal existence, the earl’s blasé reaction bordered on obscene. Patience wondered if time would make her as jaded and extravagant.
Her days were filled with appointments with seamstresses, milliners, shoemakers, a furrier, several drapers, and even a jeweler. Some had journeyed all the way from London. Lady Meredith would meet the ton attired in the latest fashions. Her brother insisted on the highest quality for his sister and her companion. Patience had been so caught up in preparing and soothing her mistress that ten days had slipped by before she realized Perry, Link, and Deidra had likely moved on. She wished them well.
Scrimm caught her daydreaming in front of one of the drawing room windows. “Miss Winlow, there you are. Lady Meredith has requested that you join her upstairs in her private sitting room.”
“Thank you, Scrimm.” She moved to the door but hesitated at the threshold. “Is she dreadfully upset?”
“Nay, miss. Not any more than usual, I suspect,” he said, giving her a wink. “Better for you to answer our lady’s summons before the wind changes, I wager.”
Patience smiled in response and dashed off down the hall and headed for the stairs. The Swancott butler had been initially aloof. She had defied his order to remain in the front hall and had blemished his spotless reputation. It would not do to have the man as an enemy, so after she had been dismissed by Lady Meredith, Patience had spent a few hours in the servants’ hall in an attempt to repair the damage she had inadvertently caused. If she had learned only one skill as an actress, it was to charm even the meanest curmudgeon.
She was slightly out of breath when she entered the sitting room.
“There you are. I have half the house searching for you,” Lady Meredith said petulantly.
“Only half?” Patience teased, smiling at her companion’s exaggeration.
As she realized how foolish she must have sounded, the young woman’s lips twitched. “Just. I thought you might have run off to flee this madhouse.”
“Just your rotten luck I did not, eh?” Patience quipped, never forgetting that Lady Meredith was still searching for an excuse to convince her brother to abandon his notion of taking her to London.
Oh, truthfully, Patience had considered giving up and fleeing the Knowden household a time or two. Lady Meredith could be difficult when she wanted to nettle her new companion. And then there was the kiss Patience had shared with Lord Ramscar near the pond. Her reaction to his kiss had terrified her.
Fortunately, she was made of sterner stuff.
Patience had been wholly prepared to pretend nothing had happened between her and the earl, though generosity was pointless. Lord Ramscar spent his days either locked in his library or outside the house, not to be seen again until dinner. When she did see him, he was unerringly polite. Patience was beginning to wonder if the kiss had been part of her dream after all.
She had not been brought to Swancott to entertain the earl. It was Lady Meredith who needed Patience’s guidance. “Abandon you, my lady? Perish the thought. I promised we would see this through together, and I keep my oaths.”
In a display of affection she reserved only for close friends, Patience put her arm around the young woman’s waist and gave her a brief hug. She ignored the rigidness in Lady Meredith’s stance. “So what troubles you?” Patience nodded politely to the waiting seamstress who was holding out a very pretty dress. “Does the dress displease you?”
Lady Meredith blinked in surprise. “Why, no. It is quite beautiful. However, the dress is not for me, but rather you.”
Awed, Patience walked over and reverently caressed the gossamer sleeves. She had never owned anything so fine. “No, you have made a mistake. This elegant dress was clearly made for you.” Attired in
such a creation, Patience could stand as Lady Meredith’s equal and not her servant.
“No, this particular dress was fashioned for you. My brother insists that all the ladies of the ton will goggle at us with envy and curiosity when they see us in our finery,” she said breezily. For the first time, there was a flicker of excitement in the lady’s demeanor.
Until she noticed the tears in Patience’s unfocused gaze.
Concerned, Lady Meredith awkwardly patted her companion’s back. “Oh no … no, do not cry. If you hate it, Ramscar will order another to replace it.”
Patience retrieved a handkerchief that she had tucked into her sleeve, and sniffed. How could she explain to Lady Meredith that she was simply overwhelmed by the generosity the Knowdens had shown a veritable stranger? Ramscar’s sister had lived a very sheltered existence. She knew little of hunger, cold, or cruelty. New dresses were something even the reclusive young woman took for granted. The pleasure and extravagance of a new dress was an indulgence Patience had almost forgotten existed.
“There is no need for your brother to go to such lengths to please me, Lady Meredith. I am just being maudlin.” Patience pasted a smile on her face to ease the lady’s concerns. “It is a lovely dress. I have never dreamed of owning one as refined.”
The distress in Lady Meredith’s expression waned with understanding. “Well, this is the first of many. If you weep over each one, we will have to procure you another dozen handkerchiefs,” she teased, taking the dress from the seamstress. “I summoned you here because Margaret wanted to assure herself of the fit. However, I have just been inspired by a grand notion. I want you to wear the dress at dinner this evening.”
Dinner as alway had been excellent.
Cook had outdone herself with a succulent course of mutton, capon, and freshly caught eel. Steaming dishes of carrots, mushrooms, and parsnips were served next, and they enjoyed forced strawberries in thick cream for dessert.
Barbara Pierce Page 7