The Viscount's Wicked Ways

by Anne Mallory

  “Stop. Patience, you’re safe.”

  A warm hand caressed her cheek, and she struggled to open her eyes. The room was a blur, and her eyes slowly focused on the dark form sitting next to her bed. Bed? She looked down. What she had thought were bindings were covers tucked tightly around her.

  “What happened?” she croaked.

  A strong, gentle arm lifted her, and cool water slid blissfully down her throat.

  Thomas swam into focus, and she sobbed her relief.

  “I was hoping you could tell me.” He continued to caress her face and hair.

  “Overheard…conversation…found piece of horseshoe…stablehand…drugged…”

  The first time she had been drugged, it hadn’t been so difficult to talk. Her terror resurfaced at the condition being permanent.

  “Shh. Relax. More than likely you were given multiple doses of the drug, tomorrow you will be fine.”

  “Yes?” she croaked again.

  “Promise.” His voice was soothing, but his eyes were dark and dangerous, just like the first night they had met. “You’re certain it was the stablehand, Henry, who did this to you?”

  She nodded, and his mouth thinned.

  “Spy…poor French…woman…”

  “I’ll take care of him. Just go to sleep. I’ve posted a guard at the door, and Tilly will stay with you. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  He pressed a light kiss to her forehead. As if his words carried some magic spell, her eyes closed, and she fell asleep, secure in the knowledge she’d be safe.

  Soft light flickered in the room as the candle stub fought for life. Patience felt a weight on her midsection, and looked down to see an arm across her waist and a warm body pressed against her side. Thomas’s features were warm and relaxed. He was on top of the covers, as if he had dozed off while keeping watch.

  A clock softly chimed half past the hour. What hour, she didn’t know.

  She ran a hand down his face. The touch was light, but his eyes still opened and blinked at her.

  “You’re awake.”

  She nodded.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.”

  “Your throat, too?”

  “Yes,” she whispered as she continued to run a hand down his cheek.

  “Good.” He captured her hand and rubbed each finger with his thumb.

  “What happened to Henry?”

  His features darkened. “He’s been taken into custody by men from London. They are going to question him.”

  “And then?”

  “Depending on what they find, he will either go to jail or be tried for treason. Even if they can’t connect him to spying, his actions against you sealed his fate.”

  “So, he was responsible for all of the accidents in the past few weeks?”

  Thomas frowned. “Partially. There is still something that feels wrong.”

  “The woman?”

  “Maybe.”

  She closed her eyes as his ministrations soothed her. “How did you find me?”

  He shook his head. “Someone sent a note. Perhaps his partner was apprehensive.”

  “The woman was upset. Could have been.” Patience shied away from discussing the woman. Upon awakening, she had remembered exactly who the woman was.

  “I don’t know. Something just feels wrong. Henry was hired just before you arrived. We hired quite a few new people because we are planning to expand our facilities and need more staff. But we had a few problems before that.”

  Patience entangled her fingers with his. “The woman was being wooed by Henry. I’ll bet anything that he was the one leading her. Seducing her for information.”

  Thomas shifted. “Hmmm. Could be.”

  “As you did with me.”

  He looked at her through lowered lashes. “That wasn’t the whole reason.”

  “You thought I was easily seduced, and you were lonely?”

  He frowned. “I’m not lonely. And your being easy or hard to seduce didn’t factor into it.” He shifted again.

  “Did too.”

  “I seduced you because I wanted to.” He turned on his back, but the fingers on the hand nearest to her continued to massage hers.

  She decided to listen to his actions, rather than his words, and let the conversation drop for the moment.

  “Any thoughts as to the identity of the woman?” he asked.

  She somehow stopped her body from stiffening. “Perhaps tomorrow I can sort through my impressions.”

  He sighed. “I was hoping you could shed light on her.”

  “Perhaps tomorrow.”

  “Your cousin was quite concerned for you. I had to sneak back in here after he retired.”

  Patience smiled. “John is a good sort.”

  “Oh, and I should mention, Mrs. Tecking created a bit of a scene when she saw me enter your room while everyone was still awake. Didn’t say anything directly to me, of course, but she wasn’t trying to hide her outrage.”

  “That’s nothing new. This whole trip will provide the gossips with endless tidbits. At least some of which will be true this time.”

  He kissed her head. “Ah, the misery of living among the ton.”

  “There is plenty of misery if your name is Patience Harrington.”

  “Why do you let them bother you?”

  She sat up and glared at him. “Bother me? I don’t think you understand.”

  “Explain it to me then.”

  “They take everything I say and twist it. And sometimes because of my errant tongue, they don’t even have to twist it! I provide it in a neat little package for them.”

  “You just need to learn to relax in social situations.”

  “I’ve tried. I really have.” She was nearly pleading, more with herself than anything else. “I just always end up saying something horribly awful or embarrassing.”

  He tugged her back against him. “It’s because you aren’t relaxed. It’s because you allow yourself to feel uncomfortable. You see an empty space in the conversation and strive to help by filling it. Better just to leave it there. Let the other person feel uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to feel uncomfortable.”

  “Well, in society people thrive on it. You earn points for causing discomfort to someone else.”

  “That’s awful.”

  He shrugged. “So, first you relax. Get in the habit of taking a sip of tea before you speak. Allow a thoughtful pause. Don’t rush in.”

  Patience nodded. She could see where those ploys would be useful.

  “And don’t say anything about antiquities, politics, work…or most anything that you speak of, come to think of it.”

  She was aghast. “But, I don’t want to be someone I’m not.”

  Thomas shot her a look. “You aren’t being someone you’re not, Patience. I don’t think you ever could be. It’s just a form of restraint. Think of it as testing the players before revealing your hand.”

  She must have looked unconvinced, because he continued. “Do you enjoy social intrigue?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Are you interested in the type of people that play at social intrigue?”

  “They are not at the top of my list usually.”

  “Then what is the problem with just putting forth a social facade for the times when you have to face them and letting it all go as soon as you are away?”

  “It just feels…I don’t know, dishonest. Like they aren’t getting to know the real me.”

  Thomas threw his hands up. “They are stupid people. They don’t deserve the real you.”

  Patience blushed.

  He continued on as if he hadn’t just paid her a very real compliment. “After watching, you will be able to identify those people that you might like to befriend. Then you take things slowly. Comment on the weather. Comment on the crush of a party or the wine or the hall. Inane, stupid things.”

  She reluctantly smiled. “See! You are calling it inane.”


  He gave her “that” look again. “Of course I am. It’s like a dance. First you watch the other person move, you make small moves together, watching so that you don’t step on each other’s feet, then, if things are going well, you start whirling around. After a bit of that, maybe you pull the person in closer than you normally would, just to see how she reacts. If that goes well, well, there you are.”

  He flicked a thread from the bed. She stared at him, speechless. “That’s it? That’s your advice?”

  “Silence first. Get a feel for the other person or people. Small pleasantries. Then maybe a bit of real dancing if they pass muster. Perfect advice. I should hire myself out.”

  “Wonderful,” she grumbled.

  “Well, now that I have solved all problems in your social life, is there anything that distinguishes our mystery woman?”

  “She spoke French,” she said reluctantly. “Not fluently as a native speaker, but well enough. I assume you’ve narrowed your lists down to those who speak French?”

  He nodded. “We can go over them in the morning. I’ll show you the note, too.”

  She burrowed back into his side. Lifting the covers, she said, “Get under.”

  He gave her an unreadable glance. “You are ill.”

  “And you are warm. Now get under. You can leave before daybreak.”

  He smirked. “Don’t want your maid to find me in your bed?”

  “No, Tilly would probably curse you black-and-blue. In more than one language.”

  He gave her an odd look. “Your maid speaks other languages?”

  “Yes. Tilly was my mother’s maid.”

  He was alert. “So, she speaks French?”

  “She is French.” She caught his look. “Oh, no, no, you don’t. Tilly is not a spy.”

  “But the woman we are searching for isn’t necessarily a spy, she’s a woman who has been taken in by a man who has seduced more than half the females in this house.”

  Patience was aghast. “Tilly is ready to retire. She’s forty years his senior. She’s not interested in romance.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Just because she is older? Do you think that makes a difference in someone wanting love?”

  “Well, no, and with anyone else I wouldn’t have said that. But Tilly? My Tilly? No.” She shook her head, dispelling the image. “No.”

  “Just because she is your maid—”

  “She was my nurse!”

  He looked amused. “She’s a woman, Patience.”

  She grumbled. “Fine. But it’s not Tilly. I’d recognize her voice anywhere. And she’s French, Thomas. French was definitely not this woman’s first language.”

  His brow furrowed. “Her name is Tilly, and she’s French?”

  She colored. “Er, no, but I couldn’t pronounce her name as a child, and that stuck.”

  “I won’t ask.”

  “Excellent. Now get under the covers.”

  He gave her a searching look, scooted under the covers, and pulled her into his arms.

  “And make sure you are gone in the morning. I’m not having you shock my maid, French or not.”

  He pressed his face into her hair. “Promise.”

  Light crept through her eyelids as she slowly awakened. She had slept better than she could remember. She was just about to open her eyes and stretch when someone no more than three feet from her screamed bloody murder.

  Chapter 20

  Patience bolted from bed and fell to the floor. Tilly was standing near her and pointing at the bed.

  Guiltily, she turned her head, expecting to see Thomas, but the bed was empty. Trying to discern the cause of her maid’s distress, she looked over the counterpane but couldn’t see anything.

  “Tilly?”

  “Hairy, huge!”

  Patience looked over once again. She wouldn’t call Thomas hairy, but perhaps Tilly was overly scandalized and he was hiding under the bed?

  Then she saw it. A large spider was hanging from the ceiling, suspended as if it, too, was wondering what all the fuss was about.

  Patience rolled her eyes and swiped the spider’s thread before depositing him on the sill. “Honestly, Tilly, it’s a spider.”

  “So sorry, ma petite. It dropped right in front of my face, caused me a fright.”

  On the whole, it was a less-than-pleasant way to start the day. Both pleased and disappointed that Thomas hadn’t stayed, Patience wondered when he had left. She was pleased that Tilly’s bloodcurdling scream hadn’t been due to his presence, yet disappointed not to wake next to him.

  A series of knocks sounded on the door—staff wanting to make sure everything was well. Kenfield seemed to take an inordinate amount of time making sure her maid was well. Too much time, really, and Thomas’s words about her maid’s seeking romance in the castle, and Tilly’s own girlish blushes forced bad images into Patience’s mind.

  She grumpily got dressed and made her way to the dining room. She would have liked to spend another half hour or so lounging. Stupid spider.

  She dumped the obligatory eggs onto her plate and plopped into a chair. John and Caroline joined her a moment later, and Thomas arrived five minutes after that. The regular pink note was delivered, and she reminded herself to ask him about the memos later. He looked amused at this one. She wondered when they had ceased annoying him.

  The Teckings were the last to arrive. Although Mr. Tecking looked fully recovered, there was a distinct sense of unease between the couple. Mrs. Tecking’s eyes were piercing as they met hers.

  Caroline asked after Patience’s health, and everyone seemed concerned. Even Mrs. Tecking appeared dutifully affected.

  Patience retired as quickly as she could, wanting to work on her last items and also needing to get away from prying eyes. Unfortunately, Mrs. Tecking strode into the room after her. Patience wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with her yet.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Tecking?”

  The woman eyed her shrewdly. “Have you really recovered?”

  “I am quite fine. Thank you for your concern.” She paused a moment. “Really, thank you.”

  Mrs. Tecking hesitated. “I’m glad.”

  Patience couldn’t help it, her jaw dropped. Mrs. Tecking shifted and turned toward the door. Over her shoulder, she said, “I’m not completely evil, Miss Harrington. Good day.”

  “Wait.” Patience’s mind was a whirl. “Not that I’m not grateful, but why did you send the note to T—Lord Blackfield?”

  Mrs. Tecking’s shoulders stiffened. “What note? It is your word against mine.”

  “But I don’t understand.”

  Mrs. Tecking turned, her gaze condescending. “Don’t understand what? Why I saved you, or why I was meeting a man?”

  Patience blinked. “Well, both really.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said viciously. “You with your charmed life, always getting what you want, making your own way in society. You carouse with the gentlemen, an unmarried woman, and still lead your blessed life, your father bowing to your wishes. Doting on you, loving you even as you go against him.”

  Her eyes closed as if she were in pain and she sucked in a deep breath. “One mistake, and my parents nearly disowned me. I had to fight for my reputation, fight to keep it spotless. My Freddie, my dear misguided Freddie.” She opened her eyes, and Patience nearly gasped at the misery in their depths. “I thought we would be happily married. But with his work…he forgot about me after a while.”

  Patience felt a stab of pity for the woman.

  “I didn’t stray. Not really. I never did anything with Henry. But he brought me flowers, and he wrote the nicest poems, and he didn’t seem to want anything in return. He was content to sit for hours listening to me talk about our work and my distress.”

  “Our work?”

  Mrs. Tecking waved a hand, obviously upset at being interrupted. “When the shipments went out, what I recorded and so forth.”

  Of course. So
meone needed to ship information from the castle. What better way than to do it within the museum shipments? At least for a time?

  Mrs. Tecking continued, oblivious to Patience’s epiphany.

  “He made me feel special. Do you know how long it has been since I felt that way?” She barely held back a sob.

  Patience understood all too well and moved to comfort her, but she backed away. Something else occurred to Patience.

  “Mr. Tecking saw you two, didn’t he? That was the reason for his attack?”

  Mrs. Tecking looked guiltily at the ground. “I loved Freddie. I still love Freddie. But I’m bitter, Miss Harrington. A part of me was happy to see Freddie react. React to something that had to do with me. You’ve seen him. You know what he’s like.” Her eyes were listless.

  Patience felt helpless. “I can see your pain. I’m sorry that I never saw it before.”

  “I don’t know what came over Henry when he kidnapped you. We had only been talking—I was breaking things off. There would have been no trouble from Freddie or anyone else.”

  In that moment Patience truly believed Mrs. Tecking really had no idea what was happening at the estate. She laid a hand gently on her wrist. “Perhaps he was just confused.”

  Surprisingly, Mrs. Tecking did not move away, but her gaze again turned shrewd. “I see your confusion as well. You be careful with Lord Blackfield, Miss Harrington. He is just as obsessive about his activities, heavens knows what they are, as Freddie is and what Mr. Ashe was reputed to be. Look at Lady Caroline. Don’t trust in men. They are flowers and chocolates one moment, then they completely forget you exist after they have you.”

  Patience knew she was speaking from her own bitter experience, but still found the conviction in Mrs. Tecking’s voice disquieting. Hadn’t she been saying to herself how obsessive Thomas was?

  “What are you and Mr. Tecking going to do now?”

  Her chin lifted. “That is none of your business. Freddie and I will work things out. Good day, Miss Harrington.”

  And with that she swept from the room like a queen leaving her subjects. Patience shook her head. Even with a tentative understanding, she had to wonder if she and Mrs. Tecking would ever get along. She would settle for nodding acquaintances at this point.