Damnable savage! Why did all men believe violence satisfied all offenses?
She should have suspected something was wrong the night he had left them to visit one of his clubs. He and his friends had been quietly taking care of the preparations for a duel. The next night he had deliberately sought an assignation with her. He had made wild passionate love to her on the stairs and then had carried her up to his bedchamber, where he spent the night devoting himself to the task of proving to her that his indifference in public was a flimsy attempt to dissuade anyone from accusing him that he lacked impartiality about Patience’s connection to the jewelry thefts. In truth, he privately confessed to her, he had lost all objectivity where she was concerned.
He should have expected that he would not be able to keep Patience and his sister from hearing about the duel. Ramscar rarely felt the need to defend his honor on the grassy commons, so the news of his challenge and the reasons for it were hotly debated within the ton.
Ramscar refused to discuss the details of the duel with either Meredith or Patience. Tearfully, she had yelled at him that she did not care what anyone said behind her back. Her pleas for him to withdraw the challenge were ignored. Before he had retired for the evening, Ramscar had arrogantly ordered both ladies to leave the house the next day. They were supposed to conduct themselves in public as they would any other day.
Only this was not a typical afternoon. According to Scrimm, Ramscar had left the house before dawn and they had not received a single note from him. Patience was worried. If he had been hurt, she would never forgive herself.
Opening her lilac-and-white-striped parasol, she idly twisted the long handle against her shoulder. “I do not understand why we are here at the park. What if your brother returns while we are out?”
Instead of going to the park, Patience and Meredith should have called on his friends Lord Everod and Lord Byrchmore. They likely stood as his seconds, so they would know Ramscar’s fate. Perhaps they had carried him unconscious to one of their residences while a surgeon had been summoned. Patience’s heart wrenched at the horrible thought. Needless to say, she did not share her depressing thoughts with her companion.
“I must confess I am not enjoying this walk any more than you,” Meredith said, reaching up to adjust her bonnet as a couple passed them, so they did not notice her facial scars. The gesture was habitual rather than deliberate. “However, my brother has done so much for me and he demands little in return. If he felt us being seen together on a public outing was important, then I feel we must abide by his request. Even if it does seem absurd.”
Patience thought that she understood what had prompted Ramscar into making the odd request. It had nothing to do with keeping up appearances, as Meredith believed. The earl did not want his sister to be at home if his seconds returned with his corpse. Their mother had been driven to madness by the sight of her dead husband. Ramscar did not want his sister to suffer needlessly. As usual, he thought only of protecting his family, not of himself.
Her thoughts tumultuous, Patience did not immediately recognize the couple approaching them. When the lady and her male companion held Patience’s gaze and smiled, she realized she should have trusted her instincts and left London.
“Patience. My God, is that truly you?” Sir Russell said, crossing in front of Meredith and forcing her and Patience to halt.
The surprise and pain she saw in his expression made her yearn to embrace him. The vivid memory of his harsh rejection and her years of pretending to be anyone other that Patience Farnaly prevented her from moving forward.
Impulsively he reached out and touched her on the arm as if he was uncertain she was real. “When your mother told me that you were here in London, Daughter, I thought she was mistaken.”
Meredith’s wary gaze flickered from the older couple to her friend. “Patience?” Her friend obviously was recalling the afternoon when Patience had told the dowager duchess that her parents were dead.
“I fear, my lord, that your lady is gravely mistaken,” Patience said, fighting to keep her expression perfectly blank. “I am not your daughter. Come, Lady Meredith.”
Sir Russell was visibly staggered by Patience’s rejection. “What’s this? You deny knowing us?” Unshed tears gleamed in his eyes.
“Enough of this nonsense, Daughter,” Lady Farnaly said crisply. “I do not fully comprehend the games you have been playing, but you will cease your mischief straightaway.”
Playing games.
Was that how her mother had explained away her elder daughter’s absence?
Four years had passed, and her mother had changed very little. So she had learned Meredith’s name and her connection to the Earl of Ramscar. Patience was not fooled. Her mother was not eager to reacquaint herself with her long-lost daughter. Lady Farnaly desired an introduction to the Knowdens.
“I play no games, my lady. I am dead earnest in my denial,” Patience said chillingly.
“Madam, your name if you please,” Meredith spoke up before Patience could draw her away. “I am Lady Meredith. My brother is the Earl of Ramscar.”
Patience closed her eyes, unwilling to watch the life and friendships she had come to treasure shatter into useless wreckage.
“Forgive our rudeness, Lady Meredith,” Patience’s father said swiftly. “It was the shock of seeing our daughter again. So many years have passed without word from her that we feared her to be dead.”
“I beg you to forgive my husband and our neglectful daughter. We are the Farnalys,” Patience’s mother interjected, since Sir Russell was still flustered by his daughter’s presence. “This is my husband, Sir Russell. I am Lady Farnaly. And you clearly are acquainted with our daughter.”
“A pleasure to meet you both.” Meredith turned to Patience and whispered, “I do not understand. I thought your family was dead?”
“They are,” Patience said grimly. She raised her chin and addressed her parents. “I am sorry for your loss, Sir Russell and Lady Farnaly. However, I am not your daughter. My last name is Winlow. I am an actress by profession. Of late, I am Lady Meredith’s hired companion.”
“Patience!” exclaimed her friend for deviating from the tale they had told the ton.
What tale they told no longer mattered. Patience’s parents had ruined everything!
“I am no one of consequence,” Patience said pointedly to her mother.
Taking Meredith firmly by the arm, Patience walked away from her parents.
“Ram!”
Meredith ran toward him, hugging him fiercely when they collided. “I was so worried about you! Patience and I followed your orders. We strolled for what seemed like hours at the park. However, when we returned to the house and there was no message from you …” She pressed the side of her head to his chest and listened to his beating heart. “I was beginning to think something tragic had occurred.”
He stroked her hair, relishing his sister’s unexpected show of affection. “Oh, sweetie, I told you not to worry. As I had guessed, Lord Bently was a coward. The gentleman hastily offered his apologies as soon as I demonstrated my abilities with a pistol. I was never in any danger,” he lied, feeling she needed reassurance rather than the truth.
Ram had never questioned his skills. He was exceedingly competent with a sword or pistol. However, a nervous opponent was a dangerous one. There was always the risk Bently might have cheated or discharged his pistol by accident.
“Where is Patience?” Ram asked, carefully disentangling himself from Meredith’s clinging embrace. He had thought of Patience often during the early morning hours. Her drawn, pale face and tormented blue eyes had haunted him. He could still hear her tearful voice pleading with him to withdraw his challenge.
“I beg of you. Please do not face him. I would rather face a dozen scandals than have your blood on my hands.”
“Upstairs. When we returned from our walk, she asked not to be disturbed. This day was trying for both of us.” Meredith moved away from him and glanced upstair
s to confirm that they were not being overheard.
He scowled at her actions. “What is it?”
His sister returned to his side. “Something odd happened when we were at the park,” she whispered. “A couple approached us. They introduced themselves as Sir Russell and Lady Farnaly.”
“Their names are unfamiliar to me. Did they insult you or Patience?”
“No.” Meredith paused, uncertain how to break the staggering news to him. “Ram, they claimed to be Patience’s parents.”
“Ridiculous. Patience told me that she had been on her own since she was fourteen. A gently reared lady does not abandon her family for the uncertain life of the stage. No father would permit it.” On the other hand, Patience had fit into Ram’s and Meredith’s lives with such ease that it had been impossible for him to think of her as anything less than his equal. “How did Patience react?”
“Naturally, she denied knowing them. Even so, she was visibly upset by the encounter. She could offer no excuse for their outrageous claims, except that she must bear some resemblance to their dead daughter. When we arrived at the house, she pleaded a megrim and I suggested that a nap might restore her spirits. I promised to wake her on your return. She was very upset with you, and the chance meeting with the Farnalys added to her distress.”
Was it merely mistaken identity or had Patience been keeping a few secrets from him? Ram needed to see Patience.
Immediately.
“Where are you going?” his sister asked, chasing after him as he swiftly climbed the stairs. “You cannot possibly believe that Patience lied to us. For what possible reason would she deny being a gentleman’s daughter?”
“I do not know.” Ram sensibly avoided glancing at the spot where he had shoved up Patience’s skirts and had thoroughly plundered her soft, willing body. “I am certainly interested in hearing the lady explain away the coincidence of the Farnalys’ daughter sharing her looks and her name. Aren’t you?”
Ram pounded his fist against her door. There was no reassuring sound to greet him on the other side. He knocked again. “Patience. Open the door.”
Silence.
Meredith stared solemnly at the closed door. “Ram, she could just be sleeping.”
He was not as optimistic.
Pulling on the latch, he pushed open the door and confirmed his bleak suspicions.
The room was empty.
For an independent lady, Patience was a wretched creature.
Wholly alone, she sat in the middle of the bed she had procured from the innkeeper for the night. Without a servant or protector, she had taken a risk asking for a room. The impertinent stare the innkeeper gave her confirmed that she might have trouble if she trusted only the lock. Bluffing, she told the odious man that her husband had been delayed because of the torrential rainstorm and that she expected His Lordship later. Once she was alone in the room, she had dragged a heavy chair in front of the door. If the innkeeper or anyone else thought she was easy prey, she had a knife in her satchel to convince him otherwise.
Patience sniffed, cursing the storm that had stranded her ten miles outside of London. The pretty clouds that she had observed on her walk with Meredith had overwhelmed the sky and darkened. The rain had started to sprinkle when Patience walked away from the Knowden house. A few miles into her journey, lightning arced across the blackened sky and the wind surged, shaking the cramped compartment of the stagecoach. Before long, the roads had become impassable. Nearly blinded by the sheets of rain falling from the sky, the coachman had whipped the frightened team of horses, urging them forward until the inn appeared on the horizon. Patience knew she should be grateful they had found the inn at all. The alternative was not worth dwelling on.
This was not one of her grander escapes, she thought gloomily.
Oh, slipping out of the Knowden household had been ridiculously easy. Meredith trusted Patience. She even seemed willing to believe Patience’s claims that she did not know the Farnalys. Poor, gullible Meredith. By now, she and Ramscar must be wondering what had happened to their hired companion.
If he returned home at all.
Patience stifled the nagging fear. No, the earl was fine. With all the weapons mounted on the walls of his library, the man must have learned how to use one or two of them. He loved his sister too much to recklessly throw away his life for an unknown actress’s tarnished reputation.
Blast it all, this was her parents’ fault!
That day in the shop, Patience’s mother had been content to forget she had an elder daughter until she recognized her companion as a lady of importance. Suddenly brimming with maternal love, Lady Farnaly was willing to forgive her wayward child? Why? Patience’s lip curled in contempt. Her mother’s change of heart had little to do with forgiveness or love. With a connection to the Earl of Ramscar, she finally discovered something redeemable in Patience.
“Well, not anymore, Mama,” Patience said, ignoring the pain in her breast. “I will not let you ruin what I shared with the Knowdens.”
No, she had wrecked everything just fine without Lady Farnaly’s assistance.
Patience retrieved her handkerchief and blotted her eyes. In the distance she heard the low rumble of thunder. Several seconds later, she saw the flashes of lightning through the thin drapery.
Belatedly, she regretted that she had not left a note for Meredith to find. She might have told the young woman how much her friendship had come to mean to her. Of course, once Ramscar and Meredith realized Patience had lied to them, she doubted either one would think kindly of her. No, it was best that she did not bother with explanations. The wisest course was to disappear and never return to London.
Wise, mayhap, but why did she feel so awful?
Patience fell back and laid her head on the pillow. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut against the painful sting of tears, she rolled onto her side and brought her knees up to her chest. Her breath hitched as she thought about her weeks with the Knowdens. Meredith had slowly warmed to Patience’s presence, and Ramscar, well, he had been wonderful. For a few weeks she had begun to believe that she could remain and be part of their family.
It all had been a frivolous dream.
Sobbing into her hand, Patience surrendered to the grief. What she mourned was never really hers to keep. After all, she was a young lady who liked to play pretend.
She jolted at the deafening clap of thunder. Lightning madly flashed as the walls seemed to vibrate from the storm’s intensity. It sounded like the world was coming to the end. Although she had been annoyed at the coachman for refusing to continue their journey, she was thankful for his astuteness. The notion of enduring the worst of the storm within the small confines of the stagecoach was unacceptable, perhaps even perilous. She jumped as the deafening thunder heralded another vicious assault on the horizon. Simultaneously the door to her room exploded open, shooting out bits of debris and cracking the wooden frame as the door crashed into the small chest of drawers positioned along the wall. Patience screamed. The chair she had used to bar the door skipped across the floor and slammed into the wall. Clasping a pillow to her breasts, she forgot about retrieving the knife in her satchel when she recognized the man who nonchalantly sauntered into the room.
“A hellish night to be traveling, Patience,” Ramscar said as his keen hazel green eyes swept over her. He nodded, satisfied that she was unharmed by her reckless adventure. “I have come for answers, and I won’t leave until you give me the truth. Do you want to tell me why a baronet’s daughter is pretending to be an actress named Miss Winlow?”
Meredith paced in front of the marble chimneypiece, her anxiety growing as the foul weather shrieked and rattled the window panes. It was an awful night for anyone to be outdoors.
Yet, her brother was out there in the night. Ramscar had left the house hours earlier to search for Patience. Meredith was confident her brother would eventually find Patience. Earlier, she had glimpsed Ram’s face as he had quietly given orders to Scrimm. She had expected to se
e the underlying concern and determination on his grim features. What had surprised her was the revelation that her brother was in love with Patience Winlow. It was an intriguing development. Meredith idly wondered if Ram was aware of the depth of his feelings.
The sound of masculine voices approaching the closed door of the drawing room froze Meredith in place. Because of her machinations, Ram was not the only gentleman who had braved the foul weather this evening in search of a lady.
The door seemed to explode open, and Lord Halthorn strode boldly into the room. “Lady Meredith,” he said, the relief that she was clearly unharmed evident on his face. “I received your note.”
A disapproving Scrimm slowly joined them. “My lady, Lord Ramscar was quite specific in his orders this evening. Anyone calling on the family was to be turned away.”
“We will make an exception for Lord Halthorn, Scrimm,” Meredith said, feeling a little lightheaded now that the viscount was standing before her. “After all, I was the one who summoned him.”
The butler squinted at her in disbelief. “Lord Ramscar will not be pleased.”
Meredith silently agreed. However, Ram was not at home, so he could not send Lord Halthorn away, nor was he the only Knowden who had fallen in love. “Thank you, Scrimm. You may retire,” Meredith said, ignoring the flutters in her stomach. “Lord Halthorn will remain with me until my brother’s return.”
Ram was furious.
With fresh tears in her eyes, her shoulders slumped at his accusation. Instead of causing him to feel pity, her defeated expression only fueled his ire. How dare she run from him! If Patience had not looked so miserable, he might have paddled her for scaring ten years off his life.
“How did you find me?” she asked, refusing to look him in the eyes as she began pulling the blankets over her bare legs.
Ram was uncertain how to approach her. She was noticeably frightened, and he was too angry to trust himself not to accidentally hurt her. “It wasn’t difficult. Since you left the house on foot and needed a conveyance to leave town, your choices of escape were limited.”
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