Not trusting his unruly emotions, Ramscar abruptly nodded. With her cheek resting on his strong shoulder, he carried her out of the theater.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ram carried her into the town house. Although Everod had good-naturedly teased Ram for his budding romantic inclinations, Patience had not protested. Perhaps, like him, she had been so shaken by what had almost happened that she loathed to be parted from him.
Scrimm greeted the trio at the door. “I see you recovered your lady, my lord. I trust you will not be so neglectful next time.”
At his butler’s harmless ribbing Ram winced. He was partly to blame for what had occurred. If he had not been distracted by his friends, she would not have been able to slip out of the house unnoticed.
Patience stirred in his arms, prepared to offer him a defense.
“Do not bother,” he murmured into her ear as they crossed the foyer to the stairs. “It won’t help.”
The fete had ended the moment Lady Dewberry, Lady Perinot, and Miss Nottige sought him out with an outrageous tale about Patience strolling about with a small fortune in stolen jewelry cradled against her bosom. He had stared at the glittering evidence in their hands and refused to believe their lies.
“Ram! Patience!” Meredith took the stairs at a quick pace. Lord Halthorn followed in her wake.
She gave both Ram and Patience an unwieldy embrace. “I am so pleased my brother found you before Mr. Phoenix could have harmed you. If another minute had passed, I vow I would have collapsed into a fit of vapors!” Belatedly, Meredith took a closer look at her friend’s bruised face. “Oh dear, Patience … your face … does it hurt much?”
“Hardly at all,” she lied bravely for Ram’s sister’s benefit.
On the journey back to the house, Patience had told him and Everod what had transpired between her and Julian Phoenix. They had arrived at the town house before Ram had had the opportunity to explain how he had learned her whereabouts in such a timely fashion. It was simple to deduce by her slight frown that Patience was baffled by his sister’s knowledge of Julian Phoenix. They still had much to discuss.
A soft feminine cry had everyone glancing up to the next landing. With tears in her eyes, the Dowager Duchess of Solitea applauded the earl. “Hurry, my darlings,” she called out to the others in the drawing room. “Ramscar has returned!”
Solitea appeared next to his mother, holding his sleeping daughter in his arms. His duchess peeked from behind her husband and grinned. “Well done, my lord.”
“Where is Cadd?” Everod asked, continuing to climb the stairs.
Lord Halthorn responded to the viscount’s query. “He has yet to return from his errand.” Halthorn glanced meaningfully at Patience.
The lady in Ram’s arms was a trifle overwhelmed by her homecoming. Unwilling to let the others see her tears, she pressed her face into his neck. A lady who had long believed that she was alone in the world, whether she wanted a family or not, she had been adopted by the odd characters that made up his family.
“Ram, the poor girl is simply done in,” the dowager duchess said. Patience’s battered and rumpled appearance had roused her motherly instincts. “What she needs is some fortifying tea.”
“And something to eat,” Meredith added as she reached out and smoothed her friend’s tangled blond tresses. “Are you hungry, Patience? Or would you rather just rest?”
“Oh, Ram,” Patience whispered despairingly against his neck.
He appreciated everyone’s concern, but Patience needed some privacy if she was to regain her composure. “Duchess, tea sounds heavenly. I will leave the refreshments in your competent hands. We will join you later in the drawing room, after Patience has had a chance to change into a clean dress.”
Solitea nodded approvingly. “Do not hurry on our account. See to your lady. Now that Everod has returned, he can regale everyone with his most recent exploits.” The duke disappeared in the direction of the drawing room. Ram could hear the dowager making faint cooing noises at the sleeping infant.
His friend’s petite duchess eagerly pounced on the salacious topic of the viscount’s love life. “Everod, you wicked man, are the rumors true?”
“Is what true?” Everod tersely replied.
Not offended by his insolent tone, she looped her arm through his and led him away. Over her shoulder, she winked at Ramscar. “Oh, someone told me that you have been included in the memoirs of a particular lady. The gossips go on to say …”
Her Grace’s voice faded as the distance between them increased. A minute later, Everod’s booming laughter echoed throughout the halls.
Damn it all, what new mischief had Everod gotten himself into?
Lord Halthorn placed a possessive arm on his future wife. “Come, Meredith. I find myself curious to hear the rumors circulating about Everod, too.”
When everyone had departed, Patience lifted her face from Ram’s neck and met his steady gaze.
“We have unfinished business between us, Miss Winlow.”
Dressed only in her chemise, Patience sat demurely on her bed while she watched Ramscar twist a sodden cloth over a washbowl. Since he had carried her out of the abandoned theater, he had been gentle and understanding. She knew him well enough to know the chaos of emotions simmering just below the surface.
She was prepared for his anger.
Ramscar returned to her and sat beside her on the bed. “Tilt your chin up.” She complied and he pressed the cool cloth against the colorful bruise along her jaw where Phoenix had slapped her.
“You promised you would not run from me again, Patience,” Ram said, grimacing when she hissed as he touched an extremely tender area. “Imagine my surprise when Lady Dewberry and her friends came to me with a crazy tale about you being the thief Bow Street has been searching for and you, my sweet bride-to-be, had conveniently vanished to add credibility to their story.”
While she had expected and deserved his anger, she was not braced for the hurt she had caused him. “Lady Dewberry and Lady Perinot despise me. Miss Nottige is their loyal sycophant. I knew they would gleefully run straight to you with a—”
“Damn it, Patience, why didn’t you run to me?” He pulled away from her and returned to the washstand. She listened to the musical sounds of water droplets as they struck the surface of the water in the bowl. “If you had come to me and told me what had happened, you would have never walked into the trap Phoenix had set for you.” Just thinking about the perilous position Patience had placed herself in was enough to ignite his fury again.
“I was so frightened when I awoke and recognized the jewelry. Honestly, my first thought was to find you. I went into the informal parlor to see if I could signal you from a window, but I encountered Lady Dewberry and her cronies—” Patience forgot all about her explanation as his statement penetrated her practiced defense. “What do you mean, a trap?”
“I am referring to your good friend Miss McNiell. You introduced me to the lady at Lord Powning’s house, if you recall,” Ramscar said snidely. Despite his harsh tone, when he sat back down and continued his ministrations, his touch was gentle. “Scrimm prides himself on personally knowing his staff. When he noticed an unfamiliar maid slipping into one of the rooms, he was suspicious. With the help of several footmen, he detained the maid so I might question her.”
Phoenix had mentioned that he and Deidra had been slipping in and out of residences all season as either servants or guests. Patience closed her eyes, unwilling to meet Ramscar’s gaze. As usual, Phoenix’s plan had been flawless. He had sent Deidra into the Knowdens’ residence. When Patience had retired to her room for a short nap, the young woman had seized the opportunity. While Patience had slept, Deidra had placed the stolen jewelry on the bed and covered the evidence with a blanket. Just as the couple had anticipated, Patience had panicked when she saw the jewelry. Had Deidra observed her from a discreet distance and gloated? Her stumbling upon Lady Dewberry and her snobbish companions must have seemed like
providence to her former friend, because it was the impetus that sent Patience blindly fleeing the house and into Julian Phoenix’s malevolent embrace.
“For two years, I have lived with the guilt that I was partially to blame for Julian Phoenix’s death,” she said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “It was an accident—”
“So you said the night at the inn. Fortunately, Miss McNiell provided me with the unsavory details that you had carefully omitted from your story. I know that Phoenix had planned to sell you to a Lord Grattan and there had been a fight. You impaled him with a hay fork and ran off, believing he was dead.”
She gasped at Ramscar’s accusation. “I did not impale him. If you must know, he impaled himself on the hay fork when we were struggling.” She abruptly ceased her defense. “Oh, what does it matter? Now I am responsible for his death.”
Patience could not deny that she had intentionally pushed Phoenix off the balcony. Ramscar and Everod knew the truth and viewed her actions as a last desperate attempt to save herself. Perhaps they were right. Phoenix would have taken both himself and Patience over the edge, rather than surrender to the authorities.
She said nothing for a few minutes, allowing Ramscar’s admission to sink in. He knew everything. There were no more secrets between them. It was a liberating sensation.
Finally, she said, “For someone who had been caught trespassing, Deidra was awfully chatty.”
“Miss McNiell was impressed with my considerable charm,” he said dryly. Ramscar dabbed the cloth against the slight swelling on Patience’s lower lip.
His not-so-subtle evasion only heightened her curiosity. Deidra was immune to a gentleman’s charm, unless he had the proper coin to entice her. Patience wondered what threats Ramscar had used to gain Deidra’s cooperation. She highly doubted the young woman had regretted sending Patience off to her death.
Another thought occurred to her. “By the by, where is my dear former friend?”
“Explaining her part in Phoenix’s schemes to the magistrate,” Ramscar replied, not particularly concerned about the lady’s fate.
Patience gave him a shy, hesitant glance. “I suppose you are angry with me for running off.”
“It would have spared you the colorful bruises you have on your face,” he said, tossing aside the damp cloth.
A disheartened Patience felt her lower lip become more pronounced.
He tipped her chin up so she met his level stare. “No. That is not quite true. You believed the man had died from his wounds. Even if you had told me the circumstances surrounding Phoenix’s death, neither one of us would have considered a dead man was behind the thefts. Nor would the truth have stopped Miss McNiell from baiting the trap with the stolen jewelry.”
Patience leaned against him, savoring his warmth. His calm acceptance of what she considered one of the biggest debacles of her life was a balm for her soul.
Ramscar waited several beats before adding, “That said, I am slightly annoyed with you for not having faith in me. I would have taken your secrets to the grave.”
Patience sighed. His calm acceptance was inordinately brief.
“I know it now. I cannot say that I did yesterday. You have to understand something about me, Ramscar,” she said, holding his hand. “I have been looking after myself for so long I do not—”
“Want a man fussing and coddling you. My protective nature threatens your independence,” he said bitterly.
“Wrong!” Patience turned to him. Very tenderly she framed his beautiful face with her hands. “I crave it. I just did not trust myself. If I became dependent on you, and then you cast me aside, I was not certain I could manage on my own again.”
Or survive losing his love.
She let her arms drop at her sides. Her eyes filled at the thought that her fears might push Ramscar away for good if she did not learn to manage them.
“Cast you aside? I want to marry you, lady!” he roared at her.
Patience had the strange urge to giggle. She was an odd creature to find comfort in his bellowing.
“Hear me well, Miss Patience Rose Farnaly Winlow. I see you clearly, flaws and all, and I still want to marry you. I love you.”
Her nose itched and burned from her welling tears. “I love you, too.”
Ramscar nodded arrogantly. “I have waited an eternity for you to say those words and mean them. Will you marry me?”
She smiled and then groaned at the pain. “Yes. I would be honored to marry you tomorrow.”
“Today.”
Patience was appalled by his suggestion. She looked hideous. “I beg your pardon?”
He grinned down at her, reminding her of a hungry wolf. “You heard me. I don’t want to wait.”
Patience thought of his friends and family waiting for them in the drawing room. As she grew suspicious, her eyes narrowed. “You planned this all along?”
Ramscar looked sheepishly at her. “Not exactly. The idea struck me earlier while I was out in the gardens. I was waiting for you to appear and, I realized, was impatient to start my life with you. I’ve already procured the special license, so I asked Cadd to find a clergyman willing to perform the marriage ceremony this afternoon.” He grimaced and rubbed his jaw. “Of course, I had not anticipated that my bride would run off and have her life threatened by an old enemy. Nor could I have guessed that Cadd would have to ride to Cornwall to find a willing clergyman! It was a simple request. Only Cadd could turn it into an afternoon quest.”
Oh, how she loved this man. She was certain he would disagree, but he had his flaws, too. His highhandedness about the wedding was a perfect example. Nevertheless, she felt no inclination to change him. “I am certain your friend has a reasonable explanation for his delay.”
“He usually does,” Ramscar said gruffly, tenderly kissing her on the lips.
“Your friends and family are waiting for us to join them.”
“Our friends and family,” he corrected, softening the chastisement by nipping her chin. “You are not alone any longer.”
She understood what he was telling her. Whether he liked it or not, only time would allow her to believe it. “What do you propose we do while we wait for Cadd?”
He licked her ear and she shivered. “I have several scandalous suggestions.”
“Do tell,” she purred. The spark of passion was swiftly doused when he laid her back onto the bed, jarring the nasty bump at the back of her skull.
“Regrettably, you are too bruised for anything energetic.” Rolling her onto her side, Ramscar molded his body against hers. “I have another suggestion.”
“Go on.” His proximity made the dreadful pounding in her head ease slightly.
“Why don’t I just hold you for a while?” he murmured sleepily against her ear.
Patience sighed and snuggled closer. “Sounds heavenly.”
It was a perfect beginning to the wondrous life they would plan and build together.
Et spes inanes et velut somnia quædam vigilantium.
Vain hopes are often like the dreams of those who wake.
—QUINTILIAN DE INSTITUTIONE ORATORIA, BOOK VI, 2, 30
October 1808, Cheshire, England
Patience Rose Farnaly was rebellious, opinionated, and prone to lie.
Ah, her life would have been much simpler if she had been born a male!
Julian Phoenix’s hand connected with the underside of her jaw and sent her sprawling on the dirt floor of the barn. She choked on manure-laced dust as several vexed hens flapped their wings in agitation and scurried away from the violence.
Braced on all four limbs, she turned her face away from him and spat into the hay. Freedom had a price and she was willing to pay for it in blood if need be. Her blue eyes glittered with hatred when she tilted her face upward to meet his cool, steady gaze.
“No honeyed words to gain my obedience, Mr. Phoenix?” she mocked through gritted teeth. Patience rose and slowly sat back on her heels. She gingerly fingered the throbbing flesh on the
left side of her face. The duplicitous snake had not spared his strength when he had slapped her. “You must be desperate.”
With swiftness she had not anticipated, he seized both her arms and dragged her onto her feet before she could dodge his grasp. “Not desperate, my lovely pigeon. I have grown bored indulging your high-and-mighty airs. Your tantrums no longer amuse me.”
Oh, Julian Phoenix was the devil himself. Her life lay in tatters at her feet, and now the scoundrel was demanding her very soul. How she wished she had never set eyes on him!
She shook off his bruising grip. “I was merely a girl when you beguiled me away from my family with false promises. I am six and ten. No longer am I blinded by the misguided notion of love. For some time, I have seen through your flattery and handsome face, sir.” Her upper lip curled in disgust. “A pity my father never discovered beforehand that you intended to run off with his eldest daughter. A single ball into your black, shriveled heart and hundreds would have been spared the misery of your association.”
Phoenix took a step toward her, his face rigid with fury. “Impudent little witch! I’ll—”
Patience agilely ducked, avoiding his hand. If her disobedience was worthy of violence, then an insult to his pride was doubly so. Although she was terrified all the way down to her dainty feet of the man before her, she refused to back down. He had cost her too much. “You are getting clumsy, Phoenix. Have a care or someone is bound to tumble you onto your arrogant backside.” There was a defiant fire in her eyes as she circled him, keeping just out of his clawing reach.
Patience had made a fool of herself over Mr. Julian Phoenix from the first moment she had glimpsed him two years earlier while he spoke earnestly with her father, Sir Russell Farnaly. Mr. Phoenix and his merry band of players had been engaged for several performances by one of their neighbors. It had been a rare treat for the fourteen-year-old Patience. The family’s country house in rural Devon was far from the thrilling stages of London, and rarely were the inhabitants of her parish gifted with true talent. It was apparent to all who encountered him that Julian Phoenix at nineteen possessed talent. Two years ago, Patience had gazed adoringly on his handsome face twisted in feigned agony while he made his small audience weep over the tragedies in his life, and hungered. Mr. Phoenix and his players were experiencing an adventurous life the daughter of a baronet should have not dared to contemplate.
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