by Wendy Vella
“Still playing the high and mighty with me, Cousin?” Dundrill sneered. “You always believed I was beneath you, but now we shall see who has the upper hand.” He came forward to stand beside his half-brother. Mathew was unable to see any similarities between them—or perhaps there was one, in the sneer that both men were wearing.
“Surely a man of your breeding could never claim the upper hand over a woman birthed on the correct side of the sheets.”
Patience was showing no fear; instead, she was taunting her cousins and Mathew had never been prouder of her courage.
“I am well bred!” Dundrill shrieked, turning red in the face.
Patience laughed loudly. “Surely you jest.”
Mathew looked around for an escape route, but the lake was their only avenue.
“The water,” he whispered, leaning in to her as if to offer comfort.
If she’d been tense a second ago, she was now positively rigid. The thought of once again plunging into water clearly terrified her, but she had done it before, and in far worse circumstances. He hoped she would be able to do it again.
“You, who have only just returned to society, dare to question me?” Dundrill raged at Patience.
“Brother, she is taunting you. There is no need to react. It is we who have the upper hand, remember?” Brantley said to Dundrill.
“Why have you approached us, when it is Charlie that you want?” Mathew asked the two men.
“Because we have decided that removing you will make it easier to get at Charles,” Brantley said.
“How the hell did you escape?” Mathew asked him.
“I paid several of the ship’s crew, Lord Belmont. They lowered me over the side in a rowboat when we had just left the coast of England, along with a sailor. He rowed me to shore. It was quite simple, really.”
Patience hissed, “You should have shot him when you had the chance, Mathew.”
“I realize that now,” he told her. “Thank you.”
“Now, now, Cousin, you don’t mean that. In fact, it’s my belief that you’ve always been enamored with me, and my brother here has no doubt that you are quite taken with him also,” Brantley said, still sneering. “So once I’ve shot your betrothed, we will take you somewhere quiet and you can show us just how much you appreciate us before we kill you.”
Mathew took a step forward as rage gripped him.
“Words, Mathew. They are only words.” Patience held his arm with both hands. “You will not let these wastrels taunt you into retaliating.”
He glared at Brantley for a moment, then transferred his gaze to Dundrill. He was not the first to pull away.
“I will finish both of you,” he vowed.
Patience shivered as she heard the deadly intent in Mathew’s words. As she pulled him back toward her she felt him take a step closer to the railing.
Dear Christ, they were going into the water once again.
She inhaled deeply to try to stay calm. This was not the great jump she had taken from that window, yet still the thought terrified her, especially as today she was hampered by all her clothes and her shoes.
She could still not quite believe that Dundrill was her cousin. That sniveling rodent she had tolerated because in some small part of her mind she felt sorry for him, when all he had been doing was trying to get close to her to get at Charlie.
“We shall dispose of you, Lord Belmont, then you can feed the fish for a while until your dear family stumble across your body,” Dundrill said, looking far too happy with himself.
“Who is your tailor?” she asked, trying to distract him as Mathew moved his hands to her waist. “I must know so that I can steer every man I meet away from him in the future.”
She could feel Mathew’s muscles clench as he tightened his grip on her.
“Bitch!” Dundrill hissed. “I’ll have you know I am frequently complemented on my clothing. Many try to emulate me.”
“For pity’s sake, no one cares about your tailor.” Brantley was getting irritated now. “We have more pressing issues at hand, like disposing of Lord Belmont before his staff come to his rescue.”
“As soon as you fire a shot, they will be here, Winston,” Mathew said.
Dundrill persisted, “I’ll have you know that the Duke of Clemins has indicated a direct interest in my rose and lemon striped waistcoat.”
“The Duke of Clemins is color blind,” Patience said as Mathew gripped her waist harder, his fingers digging into her flesh.
“I’ll kill her!” Dundrill flung himself toward Patience as Brantley tried to hold him back. That was the chance Patience and Mathew needed.
She sailed through the air and prayed Mathew was close behind. Taking a deep breath, she hit the water and went down. Panic stripped her mind of sense and she could find no air in her lungs. Flaying her arms and legs got her nowhere; she was hampered by skirts and shoes.
She felt Mathew at her side seconds later. He was reaching for her, propelling her toward the platform they had just jumped from. Lungs screaming, she tried to rise, but he wouldn’t let her; he was pushing her relentlessly toward the shadow above them. Once there, he brought her to the surface.
“They’re under the platform!”
She could hear her cousins scrambling above her and knew that with one well-placed bullet she and Mathew could be shot. Dragging in a deep breath as quietly as she could, she looked at Mathew, who was holding a finger to his lips.
“Don’t shoot until we have a clear shot!”
He pulled her into his arms, and she clung to his waist as he pushed them backward into the side of the bank. His fingers worked on the buttons of her dress, forcing them through the holes until the back sagged and he was able to push the dress down her body. Oh, the bliss of being freed of that weight.
“Come out now and I will not shoot.”
Mathew rolled his eyes at Patience. She managed a tight smile in reply to Brantley’s words.
“Then I shall just storm your house and retrieve Charles.”
Patience knew they would not get far, as the Toots brothers were always be close to Charles, but she also knew they could hurt someone in the process of trying to reach her brother.
“Can you swim, Mathew?” Patience whispered.
“Yes.”
“You swim around the bank and then out to the middle where they can’t get you and draw them away from here. While they are focused on you, I will run to the house and alert the others.”
“No.” His wet hair brushed her cheek. “I won’t risk them seeing you.”
“Yet I am willing to risk them shooting at you?” she hissed back. “There is no other option. They will go to the house and hurt someone if we do not take action now.”
She could see in his eyes his reluctance to let her go, his fear that she would be hurt.
“I will be careful, I promise. I plan to spend the rest of my life tormenting you.”
His kiss, even with cold, wet lips, seared into her soul.
“I love you,” they whispered together.
“I am out of patience, Cousin. I will start shooting if you do not show yourself at once!”
Ignoring Brantley, and aware that he could get off only one shot before he had to reload, she moved with Mathew to the edge of the platform. He touched her cheek before he inhaled and sank below the surface; seconds later he was gone.
Patience dug into the bank behind her and found a lump of rock. She then threw it as hard as she could in the direction opposite the one Mathew had taken. Seconds later she was rewarded with the scuffle of feet. She listened and waited until suddenly a small rowboat appeared.
“There! They are in the boat! Quickly—we will run this way as it heads across the lake, and intercept them on the other side!”
As the shouts diminished, Patience eased out of the water and moved along the edge of the bank until she reached the small steps someone had carved into the soil. She remembered seeing them as a child and was pleased to see they were still
here. She pulled herself out onto the bank, then started running, ignoring the squelch her boots made as she headed for the trees.
“It seems sharing blood makes me think like you, Cousin.”
Brantley’s words came from behind her, so Patience screamed out the word, “Help!” then ducked off the path into the trees.
“Bitch!” Brantley snarled. “You’ve always given me trouble, and I have had quite enough. It seems your life will end alongside your betrothed this day!”
He was crashing through the undergrowth behind her. Patience tracked left and right, but he was close. Looking around for an escape, she saw a long, sturdy branch and armed herself with it. Then she stepped quietly behind a tree and waited for her cousin to arrive.
“I’m going to take great delight in shooting you!”
His anger was making him rash. As he ran past where she was hiding, she swung the branch hard into his back, but as if he’d sensed her there he turned and the wood glanced off his shoulder. However, the blow did dislodge his gun and Patience watched it sail through the air as Brantley stumbled forward, only just managing to keep his feet. When he turned toward her his face was mottled with rage as he pulled a sword from his belt.
“I’m going to slice you apart!”
“I should have swung harder.” Patience gripped the branch and moved out from behind the tree to face him. “But it will be far more enjoyable knocking your ugly, empty head from your shoulders.”
Her body shook, but she wouldn’t let him see her fear. She needed to stay alive until help came.
Hurry up, Mathew.
“My brother is, as we speak, putting a bullet into your fiancé, dear cousin.”
Brantley swished his blade from side to side as he attempted to control his rage by taunting her. But Patience knew Mathew was alive; he would never let that fool Dundrill harm him.
“Come now, Brantley. We both know that idiot could never outwit my fiancé. The man wears puce, for pity’s sake.”
He lunged at her but Patience batted his advance aside with her stick.
“You’ll have to be quicker than that,” she taunted, eyes on the razor-sharp blade that could easily end her life with a single stroke. Could she keep him away from her long enough for help to arrive?
Stumbling backwards as he charged, she blocked his thrust again.
Mathew crept up behind Dundrill and pushed a stick into his spine. “Drop the gun,” he growled.
Of course Dundrill did, with so much speed that the gun flipped into the water. Mathew then swung his foot into the man’s ass and made him follow. He ran for the trees to the sound of Dundrill screaming that he could not swim.
Had she reached the house, or had Winston intercepted her? He’d watched the man head for the trees just behind Patience.
Running along the path, he heard her voice. Following the sound he slowed, keeping his steps light until he saw her. He watched as she swung the branch at her cousin’s head, but he pushed it aside and lunged at her. It made Mathew’s blood run cold, but she was quick, and leapt nimbly to one side.
He wanted to call out to her that he was here, but to distract her was dangerous. Dressed in a damp chemise, her hair wet and loose, she looked like a woodland nymph. An angry woodland nymph, he corrected as she swung at her cousin’s head with her stick once more.
Mathew circled around and came out behind Winston with a stick of his own in one hand.
“Game over, Winston,” he said, which made the man spin on his heel to face him. As he did, Patience brought the branch down on his head. Her cousin’s knees buckled, and an instant later he was face down at her feet.
Dropping the stick, she ran to Mathew, and leaped the last foot into his arms. He caught her and held her close.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said into her damp hair. “Such a brave, strong girl,” he whispered as she clung to him, the last of her energy spent.
“Lord Belmont!”
Three of his men arrived, along with one of the Toots brothers. Mathew directed two of them to the lake to fish out Dundrill and the others to tie up Brantley, who was just regaining consciousness, and take him to the stables.
“It’s really over this time,” he said, smoothing back her hair.
“I’m sorry my love has caused you so much trouble.” She lifted her head to look up at him. Her blue eyes were big in her pale face and he decided he would make it his life’s work to ensure they never had that look in them again.
“Your love has healed me, Patience. Never believe otherwise,” he vowed.
They walked back to the house then, and found their families waiting for them. Tears of relief were shed, and hot baths ordered, and when later that night the house was once again quiet as he slipped out of his room and walked the halls only to find Patience coming the other way. He did not speak, simply swung her into his arms and carried her back to his room.
They made love slowly, exploring each other, tormenting and teasing until they could take no more. Only then did she take him inside her and the world exploded around them.
“I love you, Lord Belmont,” she whispered, on the edge of sleep. “For my life and beyond.”
“And I you, Miss Allender, forever and always.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The small church, which lay in the village on the edge of the Belmont lands, was festooned with ribbons and flowers. Guests were crammed into every available pew, all having left London to attend the wedding.
The Duke of Stratton, who had arrived the previous day, chatted quietly with Simon beside Mathew at the altar as they awaited the arrival of Patience.
“You should be smiling, not scowling, Mathew. There can surely be no doubt about Patience’s feeling towards you at this stage?” Simon hissed in his ear.
“I do not doubt her,” Mathew whispered back.
“Then pray inform us why you look like a thunder cloud on what should be the happiest day of your life.”
“I love her,” Mathew replied, his eyes darting to the still empty doorway.
“Excellent. Well, perhaps you could show that love on your face, for if your beloved sees that scowl, it’s likely she will turn and flee.”
Mathew hadn’t realized he was scowling, but knew that until she was inside the church and at his side he could not relax. Yes, her cousins were secure and in the hands of the magistrate, but he still had an unreasonable fear that something would happen to her.
“Does the worry stop?”
His friends did not pretend to misunderstand.
“Not completely, but it eases,” Daniel said slowly. “You become accustomed to it over time, and once she is a part of your everyday life you will cope better.”
Silence suddenly swept the church and Mathew felt some of the tension ease from his body as Patience entered. She was finally here. He watched as she clutched her brother’s arm. In the other hand she held a small bouquet of flowers, which seemed in grave danger as a flurry of petals fell to the floor. It seemed his beautiful soon-to-be wife was as nervous as he. A veil covered her face so he was unable to read her expression. Ivory satin was draped around her lush body and fell in soft folds to the floor. Behind her, Lucy was holding the hand of the Duke and Duchess of Stratton’s little girl, Georgia, both of them looking pretty in pale pink. Patience reached his side seconds later and he heard the deep breath she drew.
“It’s all right now, my love.” He took her hand in his as the Reverend began the service.
“Henry,” Mathew whispered into her ear when she missed one of his names.
“Henry,” she parroted.
“Uncle and Daddy!” The entire church laughed as Georgia escaped Lucy and ran for her Daniel and Simon. Her father picked her up, but it was Simon’s necktie she rearranged during the remainder of the service.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Reverend Withers announced, a benevolent smile on his round face.
Lifting her veil, Mathew smiled into his wife’s f
ace. “Hello, Lady Belmont.” He kissed her then, sinking into her soft, sweet lips.
“Ewww!” Georgia cried, causing more laughter.
They left the church arm in arm, walking out into the sunshine where their family and friends waited to congratulate them, and Mathew looked skyward, certain in the knowledge that he and his brother could both now be at peace.
THE END
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Thanks so much for reading Tempting Miss Allender – book #3 in the Regency Rakes Series.
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LORD GALLANT – available now
"So you have returned."
Grace had been shaking out her skirts, but her hands stilled as she looked to the top of the stairs, where her husband stood glowering down at her.
"Good afternoon, my Lord." She curtseyed.
"I wish to speak with you, now, Grace. Please come to my study at once."
He did not wait for her reply, just walked away.
"I-I, um, is there a problem?" Grace looked at Vidal, who was giving her a sympathetic look.
"I believe Lord Attwood was unaware you were leaving the house this morning, my Lady," Vidal said.
"Oh dear." Would he stop her from leaving the house now? She should have spoken to him this morning and told him she was to go and see Harry, and would do so most days.
"Sh-should I change first, Vidal?" Grace said, looking down at her damp muddy hem.
"I would not advise it, my Lady," Vidal said gently. "I shall bring a tea tray to the earl's study shortly. It is situated up the stairs and three doors along on the right hand side."