August gave a taut nod, but Patience knew it was nothing but a temporary reprieve. He would face Stephen St John, unless she could think of a way to stop it happening. A shiver of fear ran down her spine as she remembered the man. He was taller than August, and heavier of build, but whether he was skilled with a sword or a pistol, she had simply no idea. All she could do was cling to her husband and pray to God she could keep him clear of danger.
“I-I do have some good news,” Caro offered as Patience let August go with reluctance and turned back to her. She held out her hand again, but this time to show a pretty little ring. “Percy gave it to me,” she said, smiling for real this time. “We’re to be married, Patience.”
“Oh!” Patience ran to her sister, as Caro got up and was hugged fiercely and Cilly started sobbing all over again, though with less distress this time.
“Well done, Percy,” August said with feeling, smiling at Caro and moving forward to take her hand and kiss it. “He’s a lucky fellow, and I wish you both very happy.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Caro said, giving a shy smile, though her eyes were twinkling. “Actually, I have you to thank for it all,” she added, laughing as August looked surprised. “Don’t you remember?” she asked, shaking her head. “The night you ran off with Patience … You told him to stop dithering and hurry up and ask me to marry you. Oh, and to stop interfering with your romantic adventure.” Caro laughed harder as Patience stared at her and August cleared his throat.
“So I did,” he muttered, smiling now. “Well, I’m glad to have been of service, though I think perhaps you might both call me August. We are family now, after all.” He paused then and gave a smile. “Percy will be my brother-in-law,” he said, sounding rather pleased at the idea.
Caro nodded and then reached out, touching August’s sleeve. “Percy doesn’t know about … about Mr St John,” she said, covering her wrists in a self-conscious gesture. “He’d gone to London to tell his mother we were engaged, and then we left to come here, so … Please don’t tell him.”
August nodded, though there was a darkness in his eyes that Patience didn’t like. “You have my word, Caro.”
***
They passed the rest of the day as best they could, though August’s simmering anger was obvious enough that no one could relax entirely. Patience left him inside, brooding, after having extracted another promise that he not rush off and do something idiotic without speaking to her. The fear in her heart was growing, though. As far as August was concerned, it was a matter of honour now, and he had a debt to settle with St John that could only be met with violence.
“I’m so sorry, Patience,” Cilly said, as the three of them strolled arm in arm around the lovely gardens of Finchfield Manor. “I didn’t want to bring you such news, but … well, I thought perhaps you should know. Better to hear it from me than perhaps to meet the man somewhere and …” She trailed off and Patience suppressed a shudder at the idea.
“It’s alright, Cilly. I’m glad you told me. Though heaven alone knows what I’m to do with August now. He wants the man’s blood.”
“I should think so, too,” Cilly replied with a smile, though Patience knew she didn’t really mean it. Neither of them approved of violence. “Are you happy, though, darling?” she asked, stopping in her tracks and turning to Patience now.
“Oh, Mama,” Caro said, laughing and shaking her head. “How can you even ask? Did you not see the way they look at each other - and not coming down before midday…” she added with a tut of disapproval. “Patience, how shocking,” she teased as Patience snorted with amusement.
“I’ll have you know, I’d been up for hours,” she said with a dignified sniff.
“Oh?” Caro replied, one eyebrow raised. “You mean you went back to bed, that’s even worse!”
“Oh pooh!” Patience said, flapping a hand at Caro and waving her away like an annoying blue-bottle. “But to answer your question, yes, Cilly. I’m very happy indeed. Though …” She hesitated and then lowered her voice as the two women gathered closer to her, concern in their expressions. “I have the mother-in-law from hell,” she whispered as they returned sympathetic glances.
“Oh dear,” Cilly said, taking her arm again. “That does complicate matters. How bad is she?”
“Think of the meanest-spirited, most cold-hearted woman you can imagine, and then double it, and you still won’t be close to describing Lady Marchmain,” Patience said, feeling some relief at being able to discuss this with her family, at least. “I just hope you manage to avoid her as much as possible, especially as you’ve already faced Mr St John,” she added, guilt making her heart heavy as she imagined how upset and frightened Cilly and Caro must have been.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Caro said, remarkably blithe about the whole affair. “We’re just so relieved that August acted when he did. When we think how we were all taken in by the man, and we all believed poor August was the wicked one. It just goes to show, you never can tell from appearances what’s in a man’s heart.”
“Oh, I think Percy’s heart has been easy enough to read,” Patience said, smiling now as Caro beamed. “The poor man has been wearing it on his sleeve since the moment he laid eyes on you.”
“Yes,” Caro nodded, looking a little smug but very happy. “He has, hasn’t he?”
Patience paused as she heard a sound behind her, wondering if August had decided to join them after all.
“What?” Caro asked, frowning as Patience scanned the garden behind them.
“Nothing,” Patience replied, turning back. “I thought I heard something, that’s all. Now come and let me show you the rose garden. Lady Marchmain may be a tyrant, but she does know a thing or two about roses.”
They walked all the way around the gardens, catching up on gossip and discussing plans for Caro’s wedding. Patience floated the idea that perhaps Caro wouldn’t want her and August there, after the scandal that they’d brought down on the family, but Caro was infuriated by the suggestion. She said that Patience and August had better be there or both her and Percy would never speak to either of them again. Patience could only smile and agree, touched that her sister would be so adamant to have her there. They walked down to the lake, which Patience had decided was one of her favourite places on the estate, and then back to the stables, where Caro spent some time cooing over a new-born foal.
“We’d best be getting back, I suppose,” Patience said with a little regret. “It will be time to change for dinner soon.” Turning, she frowned as the pretty Palomino mare she’d ridden strolled out over the cobbled courtyard. There didn’t seem to be any of the grooms about to apprehend her. “Now, where did you come from?” she asked, catching hold of the mare’s halter and rubbing her silky nose. “You go back to the house,” she said to Caro and Cilly. “I’ll catch you up once this little escape artist is back where she belongs.”
Caro and Cilly waved and began to walk away, arm in arm, and Patience sighed, pleased to have her family about her. What she was going to do about August and Stephen, however, was a problem she just couldn’t seem to solve. Men and their blasted honour. What was the point in honour being served if Patience lost the man she loved? It was a question that made all the heat leach from her blood, leaving a chill in her heart. Somehow, she had to stop him from doing something rash.
Once the mare had been safely returned to her stall, Patience went to turn back to the house, but paused in the middle of the yard. It was too quiet. Normally, the place was bustling. Then she realised the men had probably gone to have their dinner, as it was getting late after all. A clatter behind her made her swing around, but there was no one about. A shiver of unease ran up her spine, some premonition of something that wasn’t quite right. The certainty that she wasn’t as alone as she’d believed was sudden and frightening.
As quietly and calmly as she could manage, she turned away again and began to walk, picking up speed as she went.
“Hello, Patience.”
Patience screamed as the dark figure stepped out from behind the corner of the tack room. With the sun going down behind him, the man was cast into shadows, but the angry glint in his eyes was clear enough as he loomed over her.
“S-Stephen,” she said, every sense on alert as her heart thundered. “You startled me.” She tried to talk as though everything was normal, hoping that she had misread the glittering look in his eyes that suggested that he was not only beyond furious, but that he was not perfectly sane. Patience backed up as Stephen advanced on her. “I didn’t expect to see you,” she carried on, hoping that someone would miss her when she didn’t return to the house.
“So I imagine,” he replied, the words hard and cold. “But we don’t always get what we expect, do we, Patience? I mean, here I was, believing I was engaged to marry an innocent, and all the time you were panting after that damned rakehell.”
Patience gasped and tried to turn and run, but Stephen was too fast, reaching out and grabbing her arm, tugging her so hard she stumbled and fell to her knees. He yanked her arm up, his fingers cruel as they dug into her tender flesh with malice, and Patience cried out.
“I think you owe me an apology, you little slut,” he said, twisting her arm as Patience tried in vain to pull away. “Don’t you?”
Chapter 24
“Wherein things take an unexpected turn for the worse.”
“Where’s Patience?” August said, as Cilly and Caro hurried down the stairs. They were a little flushed and flustered and had clearly dressed in a rush. Probably terrified of offending his bloody mother by being late, he thought with chagrin.
“One of the horses had gotten out of its stall somehow,” Caro said, frowning at him. “She was just going to put it back and follow us. She should have been back by now.”
“It’s getting dark,” Cilly added, a worried look in her eyes. Not that it was far between the house and the stables, but walking in the dark, without a lantern, was a recipe for a turned ankle.
August headed for the front door. “I’ll go and find her,” he said, a uneasy feeling in his gut as he headed outside. In fact, it wasn’t that dark yet, and a bright half-moon lingered low in the sky. August quickened his step, wondering why Patience hadn’t returned to the house. He’d wanted to speak to her before dinner. Though he knew she didn’t want to hear it, St John would have to be dealt with. The man was nothing more than a vile bully, preferring to terrorise women than to face anyone who could actually do him some harm. August knew the type well enough. Personally, he abhorred violence and would do his best to avoid a fight or a confrontation if it were possible, but that did not mean he was a coward. He might not relish the idea of facing the man, but someone had to, and he’d just given August a reason.
When he reached the stables, the place seemed deserted and August entered the head groom’s office, thinking to ask him if he’d seen Patience. A groan from the floor had August running around the desk, where he found the figure of Horace Grant, clutching at his head.
“Hoary,” August exclaimed, getting to his knees. “Whatever happened?”
“Damned if I know, my lord,” the fellow said, as August helped him to his feet. “Someone clobbered me good, though.” The fellow collapsed into his chair with a moan. August stared at him with growing apprehension as he wondered where Patience was.
“Have you seen my wife?” he demanded, as a sick feeling began to curl in his stomach. “Hoary?” he shouted, shaking the man now as he looked like he was about to pass out.
“No, my lord,” the fellow said, before collapsing on the desk with his head in his hands.
August raced outside, his heart thudding in his chest as terror swept over him. He forced himself to stand still, listening, though he wanted to tear the damn place apart, and was rewarded with a muffled thud from the far side of the stable block. He took to his heels, fear an icy weight in his heart that chilled his blood as he heard a woman scream.
“Patience!”
He ran to the tack room, certain that this was where the sound had come from, and found the door locked.
“Patience,” he shouted again, putting his shoulder to the door. He crashed against it, pain jarring up his arm, but the damn thing didn’t budge. Another scream from inside tore at his heart and he kicked the door down, promising to murder whoever was hurting his wife.
“August!” Patience cried as August took in the scene before him with horror.
St John was holding her by her hair as she cowered on her knees at his feet, a knife pressed against her slender throat. St John tugged at her hair, pulling her head back as she yelped, tears sliding down her face. “I was just getting better acquainted with your wife, Marchmain,” he sneered, his eyes alight with something that looked very like madness.
“Let her go, St John,” August said, hardly daring to breath as terror slid down his spine, fury burning in his blood, the likes of which he’d never felt before. He’d tear the man apart. “It’s me you want, it’s me that took her from you. She didn’t want to come with me, I forced her.”
Patience stared up at him, shaking her head in silence as August prayed she’d hold her tongue.
“Oh, but I already know the truth,” St John said, chuckling, though it was the least amusing sound that August had ever heard. “That bitch of a sister told me. I thought perhaps this one was different,” he said staring down at her in disgust. “I thought she’d make a decent wife, once I’d tamed that wretched tongue of hers, at least,” he added, shaking his head in dismay. “But she’s just a little slut, the same as all of them. They’ll spread their legs for you for a few pretty words. Won’t you?” he demanded of Patience and then backhanded her, the slap snapping her head back. St John let go of her as she slumped to the floor, so still that August’s heart stuttered and he let out a howl of rage. He crashed into St John, forcing him to the floor as the knife clattered from his hand.
August hit him, relishing the fury, welcoming it as he wanted to kill this man and do it fast. But St John was not about to go down without a fight. August doubled over, coughing as the man’s powerful fist drove into his stomach. He rolled away, staggering to his feet and trying to catch his breath. Another brutal swing lanced towards him and he ducked out of reach before returning a solid right that caught St John under the chin. The big man staggered back but righted himself before barrelling towards August like a raging bull. The impact was stunning, sending August reeling backwards, out of the doorway, and crashing down on the hard cobbles of the yard. A fist connected with the side of his head, making him see stars, and August reached out and put his hands around the man’s neck squeezing with all of his might. St John punched him in the side, once, twice, three times as August tried to ride out the pain, but his grip loosened and St John got free, rolling away, gasping and choking before returning to swing a massive foot at August’s head. August rolled, the toe of the man’s boot just grazing his chin as he stumbled to his feet. He was bloody and dazed and the man weighed as much as a damned ox, but August was determined, one way or another, St John was a dead man.
***
Patience groaned, her head was thudding, a dull but intense pain that was making her stomach roil. Not daring to open her eyes, she touched careful fingers to her head and found a lump the size of a hen’s egg. Whimpering a little, she withdrew her fingers, forcing her eyes open as she tried to take stock of her surroundings and remember what had happened. Where on earth was she? And then she remembered.
“August!” She said his name, whispered in the darkness as she forced herself to her feet. She was bruised and badly shaken, but she would face Stephen again before she let anything happen to August.
As she stumbled into the yard, her heart froze, suspended in her chest as she saw August and Stephen in the middle of a violent exchange. Stephen drew back his fist and punched August, sending him sprawling to the floor, and then advanced on him as August fought to get up. He was shaking his head, spitting blood to the cobbles as Patience screamed
and ran forward to stop Stephen, to give August time to recover. But another, smaller figure got there first, throwing her arms around Stephen’s neck and pummelling the big man with small, furious fists.
“Leave him alone,” she screamed to no avail as Stephen flung the woman aside with ease. Patience watched in horror as Lady Marchmain was slammed into the cobbles, her head hitting the ground with a sickening crack. Stephen didn’t even glance at her, just turned back to August who had somehow forced himself to stand. He swung out, hitting Stephen square in the face as the man howled in pain, clutching at his nose, which had clearly just been broken. August advanced again, another punch, to his guts this time as Stephen crumbled, falling to his knees. Patience’s hopes rose as August advanced, sensing victory as she did, but Stephen lashed out, pulling August’s feet from under him and sending him to the ground with a crash. Suddenly the tide had turned as Stephen pinned August down, raining down punches with his powerful fists, and Patience had to stop him.
With horror, she looked around, searching for a weapon, and picking up a shovel. Without stopping to think, she ran forward and swung it at Stephen’s head. The impact jarred all the way up her arms to her shoulders, but Stephen dropped like a stone. Patience let the shovel clatter to the ground as August pushed himself free of the man’s weight.
“Patience,” he cried, staggering to his feet and running to her. “My God, Patience, are you hurt, love?” he cried, horror in his eyes as Patience clung to him, more concerned about his injuries, which looked far worse than her own. “Did he hurt you?”
Patience shook her head, too occupied with running her hands over her husband and assuring himself that he was in one piece. “No, a little bruised, is all,” she said, putting her hands to her poor husband’s face. He was badly bruised and covered in blood, his left eye already swollen shut.
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