“Behave yourself, Ram,” Meredith scolded; the pink hue on her cheeks was a slightly darker shade than that on the cheeks of his bride-to-be. “If I was Patience, your vulgar speech would have me dashing out the front door again.” His sister turned to address her friend. “Despite my brother’s boldness, he did not share his intentions with me. The depth of his feelings was there for me to see when he learned that you had left us. He was so determined to bring you home and keep you, I half-expected him to carry you off to Gretna Green.”
If his sister harbored any resentment toward the match, she was concealing it amazingly well. Not that her disapproval would matter to him. He intended to marry his lady. However, Patience was skittish, and she was not above using Meredith as another reason that they should not marry.
“I thought I would never hear the end of it, if we had excluded you,” he said dryly as Meredith stepped into his embrace. He kissed her on the cheek. “Since the duchess did an excellent job launching you into polite society, I recommend that we petition Her Grace for her assistance once again.”
Patience paled at his suggestion. “I would not want to intrude.”
“Nonsense!” he said, surprised that she was intimidated by the dowager. “For the duchess, attending a merry celebration is second only to being in on the planning of one. When Solitea and his new wife eloped, Her Grace had them marry again in her gardens. She will know what is required for us to marry quickly, while I secure us a special license.”
“Perhaps we should go over the details again, before we involve others, Ramscar,” Patience said, sending him a meaningful look.
He was about to dismiss her suggestion when he sensed that they were not alone. Turning his head, Ramscar froze when he noticed Lord Halthorn standing near the stairs.
“Good morning, Lord Ramscar. Miss Winlow. When Lady Meredith did not return, I feared she had received troubling news,” the young gentleman nervously explained.
“Troubling” seemed a strangely apt description for this astonishing development.
Suddenly the subtle change Ramscar had noted in his sister became quite clear. “Meredith, you did not tell me that you had a visitor.”
“Ram will call him out. Oh, this is entirely my fault,” Meredith said, staring at the closed door as if her fate were being decided within the library.
Actually, it was, but Patience did not have the heart to call attention to that fact.
“Credit your brother with some discipline. He is not likely to pull down one of his treasured weapons from the wall and slay Lord Halthorn where he stands,” she said, wishing she believed her assurances. “Forgive me for prying, Meredith. Did His Lordship seduce you?”
Ramscar might have a liberal view of a lady’s virginity; however, Patience suspected he was downright traditional when the lady was his beloved sister. Oh God, Meredith was correct. Ramscar would likely kill Lord Halthorn for touching Meredith.
“Seduce me?” Her friend wrinkled her nose at Patience’s erroneous conclusion. “Heavens, no. Halthorn is too honorable to besmirch a lady’s reputation.”
“Good,” she said, visibly relieved. “The man might survive his private meeting with the earl, after all.”
“I was forced to seduce him.”
Patience was certain she had misunderstood her friend. “I beg your pardon?”
Meredith covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. “Oh, dear heavens, I have shocked you. If you could only see the look on your face!”
It was not her expression that troubled her. Patience was more concerned about what Ramscar would do to the young lord when he learned that his sister had taken on the role of a seductress.
“I have ruined your sister.”
Ramscar seized Halthorn by the front of his frock coat and threw him toward a plum-colored lacquer coffer. The viscount bounced rather nicely against the side, but Ram was not finished. He picked the man off his feet and slammed his backside onto the flat surface of the chest.
“Give me a reason why I should not end your life, Halthorn,” he said, wishing the man would at least fight back. Ram wanted an excuse to pummel the gentleman senseless.
Halthorn clearly thought he deserved whatever punishment Ramscar deemed appropriate. Panting slightly, Halthorn clutched Ram’s wrists. “I was weak. I should have resisted touching her—”
Wrong answer.
Ram drove his fist solidly into the viscount’s belly.
Apparently, Ram really did not need an excuse for violence, after all!
He heard the library door open with a bang. Scrimm must have given his sister the key. Damn the man for his interference. Ram just wanted a few more minutes alone with his sister’s vile seducer.
“Ram! Dear God, do not hurt him!” Meredith cried out, both she and Patience rushing toward them. “He is an honorable gentleman and has done nothing that you yourself have not done.”
It was the wrong thing to say to him, considering all the things he had done to Patience since he had discovered her at the inn. He thumped the back of Halthorn’s head against the hard surface of the coffer. “Name your seconds,” Ram hissed, enraged that he had not protected his sister from the bounder.
“For a man who abhors dueling, you have been rather busy issuing challenges these days,” Patience said wryly. She did not make the mistake of stepping between them.
“There is no call for violence,” Halthorn said, staring over Ram’s shoulder at Meredith. “I will marry your sister. Most willingly!”
Meredith placed her hand on his arm. “Halthorn awaited your return so he could formally ask for my hand. I think an autumn wedding would be lovely.”
Halthorn’s sappy expression might have been comical if the man had not confessed to ruining Meredith.
“Might I suggest a late September wedding?” the viscount said, momentarily forgetting his perilous position. He blinked and focused on the man he needed to convince. “That is, if we have your brother’s blessing.”
Ramscar glowered at the prone man. They were opposites in many ways. An intellectual, Halthorn preferred lofty books of antiquities and frequented literary circles and science lectures. Good God, the man did not even gamble or drink. There had to be something wrong with him. No gentleman could be so utterly wholesome. Ugh, the man was a damn puppy! Ram wanted to hit the man again on principle.
Then again, Halthorn had also claimed to have fallen in love with Meredith. A gentleman who was so blinded by Ramscar’s sister’s gentle inner radiance that he did not notice her facial scars was a man he could learn to like.
“He thinks I am beautiful, Ram,” his sister disclosed solemnly. The joy twinkling in her eyes when she gazed at her beloved was her brother’s undoing.
Disgusted his younger sibling could mollify him so effortlessly, Ramscar lowered his head in defeat. He held out his hand to the viscount and pulled him into a sitting position.
“Halthorn, I recommend that the next time you have news to share with me, you lead with the good. The judicious measure will spare you from getting your jaw broken,” he said, shaking his head at the way his sister was fussing over Halthorn’s wrinkled coat.
“Omnia vincit amor,” Patience said, coming forward until she stood next to Ramscar.
Love conquers all.
Virgil. While she preferred to pretend she was not born of Ramscar’s world, she made use of her education. “Aut vincere aut mori,” he murmured for her ears alone.
Either conquer or die.
For once, Patience did not have a witty retort.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Patience awoke trembling and confused. She pressed her fist to her damp forehead. It was a dream. Still, she could not shake the unease that someone had watched her while she had slept.
Ramscar?
Instead of enjoying the fete that was being held in honor of her and Ramscar’s upcoming nuptials, Patience had slipped away from the well-wishers and had gone upstairs to her bedchamber. Exhausted, she had fallen into a rest
less sleep filled with unpleasant images of Julian Phoenix and her disapproving mother.
When Ramscar realized Patience had disappeared, he would likely gather a hunting party for his errant lady. Covering her indelicate yawn with the back of her hand, she stretched out the other arm. Her fingers connected with a blanket draped over her legs. Well, this proved someone had come into the room, she thought as she sat up. She had not covered herself with a blanket.
Smiling at the sweetness of the gesture, Patience lifted the corner of the blanket and tossed it aside. She nearly fainted. Underneath was a small fortune in jewelry! She tentatively picked up an elegant citrine, diamond, and pearl necklace that she recognized as Lady Dewberry’s. It was a truly exquisite piece. The young countess was still upset about her loss. Another trinket glinted up at Patience from her lap. The sapphire and diamond bracelet belonged to Lady Dewberry’s friend Lady Perinot. There were several unfamiliar pieces that Patience had never seen before, but she recalled Lady Oliff wearing this gaudy diamond and emerald choker.
I am in trouble.
Patience dropped the jewelry as if the glittering gems had burned her.
“No,” she whispered, terrified of the erroneous conclusion everyone would come to when they saw the stolen jewelry in her possession. “I am still asleep. This is just a horrible nightmare. I did not steal from those ladies.”
The magnificent pile of jewelry made a silent mockery of her fervent denial.
Coming to a decision, she began gathering up the stolen jewelry. “I did not do this,” she muttered, her stomach roiling and twisting until she feared that she would be sick. “Ramscar will believe me. He will know what to do.”
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble so she might be blamed for the thefts.
With the jewelry clutched to her breasts, she slid off the bed and rushed to the door. Her only frantic thought was to find Ramscar. She ran down the hallway and down the stairs. Everyone was outdoors, enjoying the festivities. If she could just find Ramscar and signal him to join her, no one would ever have to know that the stolen pieces had briefly been in her possession. He could give the jewelry to the Bow Street Runner he had hired after Meredith’s ball. The thefts had mystified the police, and the Runner Ramscar had hired had not turned up any suspects. Patience glanced down at the jewelry. Maybe if the stolen items were returned to their owners that would be the end of things.
It was a futile wish.
Someone had deliberately slipped into Patience’s bedchamber. That person had taken the time to arrange the jewelry on her skirts and concealed their mischief with a blanket so it was Patience who first discovered the stolen pieces.
A warning?
Possibly. It appeared her upcoming marriage to the earl had displeased someone.
Clutching the jewelry in one hand, Patience opened the door to the back parlor. The room should be empty. With a little luck, she hoped to spot Ramscar from one of the windows facing the gardens. The door opened and Patience came face-to-face with Lady Perinot, Miss Nottige, and Lady Dewberry. The trio seemed equally startled by Patience’s unexpected presence.
Patience jerked the door partially closed, using it to hide her precious burden.
Lady Dewberry, the boldest of the three, looked arrogantly down her narrow nose at Patience. “My dear, Ramscar has been searching for you. Naturally, he was concerned by your absence.”
Patience belatedly realized that she had not combed her hair or changed her rumbled dress. With her face flushed with excitement, she had the look of a lady who had just come from a passionate tryst.
“I clearly have I interrupted a private meeting. Since Lord Ramscar is searching for me, I shall seek him out immediately,” Patience said, edging backward out of the room with the jewelry clasped in one hand and the door in the other.
Miss Nottige raised her hand to halt Patience’s awkward departure. “Miss Winlow,” she said, giving her companions sideways glances as if needing their support. “There have been some rather interesting rumors of late regarding your parentage. I have heard conflicting stories. One of the more shocking accusations claimed that you were the daughter of an illiterate butcher and a French prostitute.” There was a calculating, malicious gleam in the lady’s eye that was troubling.
All three ladies closed in on Patience.
Patience turned slightly, attempting to conceal her costly burden from her companions. She backed up a step. The opening in the doorway was narrowed by an inch. “Miss Nottige, you should know better than to believe the gossips.”
Lady Perinot hastily added, “Another made the outrageous boast that you were the missing child of Sir Russell and Lady Farnaly. Their daughter had reportedly been kidnapped by smugglers.”
Of all the ridiculous suggestions …
The three ladies tittered. Apparently, if they had to choose between the two tales, they considered the rumor about her being a baronet’s daughter the more absurd one.
Lady Dewberry frowned at her. “Is there someone with you?”
Patience paled at her assumption. “Of course not!” she said crossly. “Now if you will excuse me, ladies, I must find Ramscar—”
“What are you hiding from us?” Lady Perinot demanded. Without warning, she tugged the door from Patience’s fingers.
All three stared at her with varying degrees of mute amazement on their faces.
“Well, well, you are full of surprises, Miss Winlow. Where did you get that jewelry?” Lady Dewberry said, being the first to recover. “Did you steal all of it?”
“No. I found the pieces upstairs on the bed,” Patience cradled the jewelry protectively to her chest, not wanting the other ladies to peer too closely at the stolen treasures. “I need to speak with Lord Ramscar. Where is he?”
Lady Perinot pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Lady Dewberry, is that not your citrine and pearl necklace?”
“It is!” the countess cried, snatching the necklace from Patience. She made a crooning sound as she examined her property for damage. “I was so heartbroken when I realized it was gone. I never thought I would see it again.”
“Lady Perinot, I believe that is your bracelet,” Miss Nottige said, ever the helpful twit.
As Lady Dewberry lifted her gaze up from her necklace, her expression was blatantly hostile when she stared at Patience. “Well, it appears we have succeeded where Bow Street has not, ladies. We have found our thief.”
“Give me back my bracelet,” Lady Perinot whined.
“Lady Dewberry … Lady Perinot … you must believe me, I am not the thief. I just found the jewelry on my bed,” Patience tried to explain, knowing it was futile. None of these ladies were particularly friendly toward her when she was merely Lady Meredith’s companion. She had literally handed them a reason to vilify her.
“An improbable tale.” Miss Nottige sniffed with disdain. “Why would anyone leave a fortune in jewelry on your bed?”
Why indeed.
Patience could feel the panic rising from her chest to her throat. The muscles constricted painfully when she swallowed. “I can offer you no explanation for the thief’s actions. All I can tell you is that I did not steal your blasted jewelry!”
“Thief,” Lady Dewberry sneered. “Poor Ramscar. Beguiled by a pretty face. I am certain he had no notion that he was harboring a criminal in his household.”
The other ladies made concurring wordless sounds.
Patience’s entire body was trembling. “Please, you must listen to me,” she begged.
“Thief!” Lady Perinot echoed her friend, and pried the bracelet from Patience’s numb fingers. “You will hang from the gallows, Miss Winlow. I will personally insist that you are punished for your crimes.”
“Someone should summon the authorities,” Miss Nottige suggested, and Patience was ready to strangle the young woman for her encouragement. “And one of the earl’s weapons. There is no telling what her sort will do when cornered.”
Fearful they were facing a desperate criminal,
all three ladies screamed.
“Help!” Lady Dewberry cried out. “Please do not hurt us!”
Patience was too overwrought to worry about calming them. Besides, they were not likely to believe her anyway. Afraid that the ladies’ cries would draw more unwanted attention, Patience pushed the jewelry into the flabbergasted countess’s hands.
“Here. Take it all. I do not want it. Nor am I your thief,” Patience said, her voice catching slightly as she sobbed.
She turned and ran. No one saw her as she flung open the front door and dashed into the street. Patience whirled around. The street was congested with the carriages belonging to Ramscar’s guests. Which direction should she go? Where should she go? Ramscar could no longer help her. There was enough evidence in his house that she would likely hang for her supposed crimes. Lady Dewberry and her friends were likely telling everyone that they had caught the future Countess of Ramscar with the stolen jewelry.
There would be a terrible scandal.
Everyone would begin to speculate that she had been the clever thief all along. It was her upcoming marriage to Ramscar that had convinced her to give up her criminal ways, or worse, she had been caught by Lady Dewberry and her companions before she could hand over the booty to an unknown cohort.
I am going to hang for something I did not do!
With her thoughts racing to a dire conclusion, Patience picked a direction and ran. She wanted to get as far from Ramscar’s house as swiftly as her legs would carry her. Once he heard the accusations he would understand why she had left him and wonder if she had lied to him. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest at the notion he might come to believe the accusations.
A man stepped out from between a carriage and an enclosed coach. Espying him too late, she collided into him. The man staggered backward, but he kept them both from falling onto the filthy street.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” she panted, so winded that she could barely speak. “I—”
Patience glanced up and froze in the stranger’s arms.
No. It could not be …
Barbara Pierce Page 19
