“Oh,” Patience replied, a hollow feeling in her chest. She’d been nervous enough about meeting his mother, but now …
“Not because we’re in difficulties,” he added, squeezing her fingers and obviously believing it was his finances that was making the colour leach from her cheeks. “The stud is doing very well, Mother sees to that,” he added, an unmistakable touch of bitterness behind the words. “She just wanted me to stop being a burden to the estate, that’s all.” A dark look flickered in his eyes. “It was the least I could do, apparently.”
“She said that?” Patience asked, wondering what kind of woman she was going to meet, and exactly what she was facing. Forewarned was forearmed, after all.
August shrugged again. “I can’t exactly blame her, I guess.” He gave Patience a crooked smile that did something peculiar to her heart. “You know what my life has been, Patience. It’s not exactly anything to take a pride in.”
Patience frowned at him, wondering at the enigma that was her husband. She believed that he was a good man, a sincere and honest one. Yet he’d truly led that dissolute lifestyle. He’d really been at the centre of all those scandals and plastered over the gossip rags. But why, when it clearly hadn’t made him happy?
“Tell me about your father?” she asked, realising August had never mentioned him.
August smiled, affection lighting his eyes. “He was a wonderful man,” he said, the anxiety leaving his eyes as he remembered. “A funny one, too,” he added, shifting to turn his body towards hers. “He would have liked you a great deal, I think.” There was such warmth in his eyes that Patience swallowed.
“He would?”
“Oh, yes. He liked a woman with a mind of her own,” he said, and then gave a rueful laugh. “You’ll understand that when you meet Mother.” The amusement fell from his eyes, his expression serious. “I had a wonderful childhood, you see, because of him. He taught me to ride himself, taught me everything he could about horses. He truly was a genius. Everyone would go to him for an opinion and it didn’t matter if they were a duke or the farmer next door, if you’d bought a miserable rip, he’d tell them straight that they’d made a cake of themselves.” He laughed then, shaking his head as he remembered. “Horses were his passion, his life. He took me everywhere with him, to every horse he looked at, asking my opinion like it really mattered. I felt about ten foot tall when I was with him.” He stopped talking and Patience could see the tension growing in him. The set of his jaw.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the jostle and sway of the carriage as it rolled them closer to his home.
He was silent for a while, and she wondered if he would refuse to tell her, but he sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “It was just after my seventh birthday. We’d gone to see a horse. A fine, beautiful stallion. He had the devil of a temper, but he was a glorious creature. Father was thinking of adding him to the blood stock, but he was hesitant because the beast really was vicious, kicking out and biting anyone who didn’t move fast enough.” He paused, his eyes taking on a faraway look and so full of sorrow that Patience knew this wasn’t the kind of story that would have a happy ending. “I was enraptured, though. I’d never seen a more beautiful horse in all my days, and then I saw how the creature looked at the fellow who was trying to lead him around the ring. He was terrified, rolling his eyes and sweating.” His voice grew lower, strained now, and Patience moved closer to catch his words. “I convinced Father that it wasn’t bad temper but that the horse had been ill-treated. They called him Diablo,” he said, and she watched his throat working with emotion as he fought down the emotions overwhelming him. “That should have been a clue, perhaps,” he said, the bitterness of the words so harsh that Patience knew what was coming now. “But I was adamant and so Father bought him. Two days later, he was dead. He’d tried to ride him and got thrown and then kicked in the head.” The words were stark, raw with guilt and misery, and Patience could do nothing but cling to his hand, raising it to her lips.
“It was an accident, August. Not your fault.”
August shook his head. “If I hadn’t been such a spoilt brat …”
“No.” The word was hard and angry and Patience shook her head as August turned to look at her, the desire to believe her all too vivid in his eyes. “August, you were a little boy. Your father was an adult. You said yourself he was a genius with horses. If he’d had any real doubts himself, the word of a seven-year-old would not have truly swayed him. From what you’ve told me of him, I think he’d have sat you down and explained the reasons why it was a bad idea to buy him. Wouldn’t he?” she demanded.
August stared at her, his mouth a little open before he turned his head away, frowning.
“August,” she said, reaching out and turning his head back towards her. “August, look at me and tell me the truth.”
He hesitated, a stubborn look in his eyes. “I persuaded him, though …”
“No. You didn’t. Your father would have bought that horse whether you were there or not. He was as dazzled by it as you were and I’ve no doubt that he agreed with you. Do you think he wouldn’t have noticed the horse was afraid? Would a man with an eye like that have missed such a thing?” Her words were hard and rather angry and August looked a little startled, but after a moment he shook his head.
“No,” he said. “No, he wouldn’t have missed that.”
Patience sighed and smiled at him, though her heart was breaking for the sadness in his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, darling.”
August lowered his head to her shoulder and she held him close, hoping that she had eased his heart, at least a little.
They passed the next hour so in companionable silence, but after a stop to rest the horses and stretch their legs, Patience felt she wanted to return to the subject. There was much about her new husband she didn’t know or understand, but the death of his father at such an impressionable age must have hit him hard. She cast around for a way to bring the subject back up without distressing him further, but when she finally decided to begin by talking about something totally different, she found his green eyes looking at her with amusement.
“For heaven’s sake, ask,” he said, his mouth curving into a smile and making her heart feel like it was giving erratic little flutters in her chest. Good Lord, how long would he be able to do that for before she grew used to it? “Whatever it is,” he added, a rather wary look in his eyes. “I want no secrets between us, Patience. So whatever you want to ask me, please get it over with now. I swear I’ll be honest.” He paused, looking awkward. “Though you might not thank me for it.”
Patience snorted, shaking her head. “I wasn’t going to ask you anything of that nature, I assure you,” she retorted. Good grief, what an idea. She knew more than she wished about his sordid adventures, as it was. But his past was his past and it could stay there, it was the future she was concerned with. “How did you know, anyway?” she demanded, suddenly curious.
“You were biting your lip,” he replied, amused. “You always do that before you say something outrageous, or if you’re worried you’ll offend me.”
“I do not.” Patience stared at him, torn between enjoying a little indignation at his comment, and melting at the idea he knew something like that about her, that he’d noticed.
August slipped an arm around her waist, giving her a sideways look. “Just as you say, love,” he murmured, still looking smug. Patience huffed. “Well, out with it anyway, whatever it was.”
“I just …” Patience sighed and leaned into him. “I just want to know more about your life, that’s all. I wanted to ask what happened after your father died, but … I don’t want to upset you or make you unhappy.”
August leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You could never do that,” he said, smiling as he linked their fingers together. “I’ll tell you. Not that there is much to tell, except that I was never really happy again.”
“Oh, August,” Patience said,
her heart breaking for him as she’d heard the truth in his words, the acceptance of a bleak time in his life.
August pulled her closer. “Not until now,” he added, leaning down to kiss her. Patience had the distinct impression that kiss could have taken them down an entirely different route, but she wanted to hear more now. Pushing him away, she raised one hand to his face.
“Tell me, please.”
He gave a little huff of impatience and glowered a little, but sat back again. “It had always been Father’s plan to educate me at home. He’d wanted me to be a part of the business, to learn every aspect of it, and he said I had no need of learning Latin and Greek and whatever else.” He gave a laugh and there was a wry look in his eyes as he turned back to her. “In truth, I think he was well aware his son was no academic and was trying to save me the humiliation.”
Patience frowned at him. “I’m sure that’s not true.” She was further unsettled by the look in his eyes as he shook his head.
“Don’t fool yourself, Patience. I hope I’m not so shallow as you first believed, but I’m no Percy. I was a complete failure at school. The only thing I ever excelled at was sport and getting into trouble. I lost count of the number of times I was sent down. The only wonder is that they kept taking me back,” he added, turning to stare out of the window now. “Though that would be Mother’s doing. She’d have done just about anything to keep me from home.”
“But why?” Patience demanded, one hand on his arm to bring his attention back to her.
“Because she can’t stand the bloody sight of me, that’s why,” he snapped, and then looked appalled by his outburst. “Forgive me,” he said, leaning his head against hers. “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”
“But, August,” Patience said, not giving a damn about him raising his voice. It clearly wasn’t her that his anger was directed at. “Why would you think that?”
He returned an incredulous look, and then sucked in a breath. “Well, let me see,” he began, a dark tone to his voice that she could not like as he began ticking off the reasons on his fingers. “She sent me away to school within days of my father’s death, despite knowing it wasn’t what he wanted. She rarely allowed me home, even during the holidays, so I had to stay in the bloody school, often by myself. If I did come home, she ignored me as much as possible. She refused to let me have anything to do with the horses, though she knew I loved them and wanted to carry on Father’s work as he’d wanted me to.” His jaw was rigid now, his shoulders stiff with tension. “She cut me out, Patience. Out of her life, out of my home, my inheritance, and I’ve never been brave enough or strong enough to fight her.” The words were laden with anger and frustration and no little self-loathing, and Patience quailed a little as she considered what kind of reception awaited them.
Her anxiety, however, was quickly smothered by a rush of anger. Anger for a callous woman who should have kept her son close while he grieved the loss of a beloved father. Fury for a woman who had rejected her son and made him feel worthless and stupid. For she didn’t doubt that all of August’s troublemaking was born from a desperate desire to go home. He must have felt so cut adrift and alone. The idea made her heart ache for him and she wrapped her arms around him now, holding him tight. No wonder he’d become the man he had, what chance had he been given to be anything else? Pain radiated through her jaw, she was clenching it so hard, and it took a conscious effort of will to stop herself. She had the sudden urgent desire to see Lady Marchmain, and put a few things straight.
“August,” she said, trying hard to moderate her voice when all she wanted was to shout and rage on his behalf. “When we get back, you will explain to your mother that you’re a married man now, and that you will taking control of your father’s affairs, as they are yours, not hers.”
She watched as his face closed off, shame and remorse heavy in his expression.
“I’ve tried, love. I swear I have. I’ve tried reasoning with her, I tried so hard to make it so that I didn’t take over all at once and shut her out. I offered to work with her until things were settled. But she just won’t listen to me. Hell, the last time I thought I’d force her. I threatened to throw her out, to tear the bloody house down if I had to,” he added with a snort of disgust.
Patience watched the emotions chase across his face with sorrow, waiting for him to gather himself and carry on.
“The staff there don’t know me, of course,” he said after taking a deep breath. “Only by reputation. They see me as the dissolute son, come to drink away the profits, so they won’t support me in any way. I know she has no right, legally. The estate and the business is mine in law, but I don’t want to cause a huge scandal by taking that route, Father would have hated it, you see. But no matter what I try, she just manages to make me feel like such a bloody fool. I just …” He shrugged, rubbing a weary hand over his face. “Whenever she looks at me, I just feel like such a failure, a disappointment. She blames me for father’s death, I know that, and she thinks that if I touch the business it will all go to hell. She thinks I’d gamble all the money away and get into debt.”
Patience sucked in a breath, knowing she’d believed this of him too, that he could gamble her own money away. As if reading her thoughts he turned to her then, grasping both of her hands and holding tight.
“I would never do that, Patience,” he said, pleading in his eyes for her to believe him. “I would never do anything to risk father’s legacy, it’s all I have of him, let alone risking our future,” he added. The words were raw, full of pain, and Patience blinked back tears. “But every time I’d come home, she’d just make things so intolerable that I would risk doing her harm if I stayed. So she’d pack me off again, saying to stay out of her sight, and give me enough money to keep clear for a while, and I got so tired of fighting her. If I’d tried to stick it out, I really think I might have done something unforgivable. So … I lived down to her expectations as best I could.” He gave her a twisted smile. “There seemed little point in doing anything else.”
“I’m so sorry, August.” The words were inadequate to sooth the hurt and frustration that were so evident in his words. But at least Patience felt now that she had a much better understanding of the man she had married. He was the good and honourable man she’d always wanted to believe he was. He’d been rejected and undermined his whole life, with no one to ever support him, to take his side, but that was about to change.
Chapter 21
“Wherein reality is far worse than Patience imagined, and battle lines are drawn.”
August had apparently meant what he’d said about the journey taking a year. The longer he could delay them reaching his home, the happier he seemed to be. So they travelled at a leisurely pace, taking time to look about them when they stopped and simply enjoying each other’s company. The nights were a delight and Patience could hardly wait to for dinner to be over, wondering in what decadent manner her husband would try and shock her tonight. She was overwhelmed and awed and utterly besotted by the man, and it was all she could do to keep her hands from him in the confines of the carriage. He had turned her into some wanton, lustful creature with little on her mind than when they could be alone together again. Not that he seemed to mind. Patience smiled to herself in the confines of the carriage.
“What is that smile about, wife?” August asked, his tone low and knowing.
Patience glanced at him, one eyebrow raised a little. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she replied, wiping the smile from her face, her voice tart though she was trying hard not to grin and he knew it.
“Oh, I bet I can guess,” he murmured, nuzzling his face against her neck as one hand slid under the neckline of her gown to cup her breast.
“August,” she protested, though the indignation in her voice was a feeble effort at best.
“Yes, love?” he asked, sounding unbearably smug. He withdrew his hand and sat back, smirking at her. “What was it you wanted?”
Patience tutted at him. “Well, don
’t stop now,” she said, having no problem with sounding indignant this time. August laughed, delighted, and tugged at her skirts, one hand slipping under the soft muslin and gliding over her knee, up her thigh.
“As if I’d dare,” he whispered, leaning in and capturing her lips as his fingers teased in a most provocative manner. Patience sighed with pleasure, tugging his shirt free and sliding her hands beneath it. Her husband was undoubtedly the most decadent drug known to mankind, and she never wanted to be free of the addiction.
It was a pleasant way to pass the time and one they returned to often over the long journey, but all too soon it was at an end.
The closer they drew to Newmarket, the more tense and silent August became. Patience tried not to let it unnerve her. After all, it was his mother he wanted to avoid, not her. But he had chosen to meet the woman head on, and Patience could only applaud that, and determined to support him in any way she could. It wasn’t, however, how she had hoped to begin their married life, but seldom was everything in life how one wanted it to be, and she felt fortunate enough to accept that this was part of the price for their happiness.
August sat forward as the carriage rolled towards Finchfield Manor. “Look,” he said, nodding towards acres of lush pasture and meadow, bordered by cool green woodland. “This is Finchfields.” There was pride and longing in his eyes as Patience took in the bucolic scene of horses lazing in the shade of the trees, tails swishing with lazy sweeps as a soft breeze rustled the leaves overhead.
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