After handing the reins to the attendant, Milford jumped down and helped Prudence from the groom’s seat. Not content to wait for him, Patience opened her door and climbed down. “This way, Lady Waverly,” he said sharply. “No unescorted female will be permitted inside.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she grumbled.
“Indeed,” he said coldly. “If it were up to me, women would not be permitted in Tattersall’s at all!”
“If that is how you feel, why did you bring us here?” Patience asked.
Milford made no answer. With his lips pressed tightly together, he led them swiftly into the main room, where sunlight streamed in through the glass roof. Patience bought a sale book from one of the pages hawking them in the sawdust enclosure.
Pru could not be bothered to look in a book. “I like that one!” she cried, pointing.
“That is a saddle horse,” his lordship told her knowledgeably. “Do you ride, Miss Waverly?”
“No, my lord,” she admitted. “But I have always wanted to learn.”
“Nonsense,” said Patience, turning the pages of the sale book impatiently. “The only time you ever sat on a horse, you nearly died of fright.”
“I was only ten,” Pru said angrily. “You didn’t much like it either!”
“No,” Patience admitted. “I prefer driving.”
“And she has the calluses to prove it,” Pru sneered. “May we look at the saddle horses, my lord?”
“Of course,” he said amiably.
“Oh, I wish I had brought some sugar lumps,” Pru murmured.
Patience, her nose in the sale book as she walked after them, inadvertently stepped on a young man’s foot. “Excuse me, sir!” she said, red faced with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
The young man touched the brim of his hat. “Not at all,” he said, at almost the same time. “I saw my chance and I took it.”
She blinked at him. “Sir?”
“I saw that you weren’t looking where you were going, and I deliberately placed my foot where you were sure to step on it,” he explained.
“Why would you do that?” she asked, bewildered.
“To make you look, of course,” he replied. “How else could I hope to make your acquaintance?”
He was rather handsome, with a boyish face and angelic blue eyes, but, unfortunately for him, she had always preferred the rugged type. He was just a bit too beautiful for her. “I seem to have become separated from my companions,” she murmured.
Instantly, he offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you to them,” he said.
Patience hesitated. “But I don’t even know you,” she protested.
His blue eyes twinkled. “But I know you,” he said. “You are Miss Prudence Waverly.”
Patience frowned. “I am Patience Waverly, sir,” she corrected him coldly. “How is it you know my sister, sir?”
He gave a start of surprise. “You are Lady Waverly?” he repeated incredulously. “I could have sworn you were Miss Prudence Waverly.”
“You did not answer my question, sir. How do you know my sister?”
“I don’t really,” he conceded. “I have seen her but once, and then only from a considerable distance. Perhaps,” he went on tentatively, “Your Ladyship would permit me to introduce myself?”
“I insist that you do!”
“I am Broome. Mr. Frederick Broome, your landlord.”
“Oh!” said Patience. “How do you do, Mr. Broome?”
To his surprise, she stuck out her hand, and, to her surprise, he shook it.
“I have written you two letters, sir,” she went on rapidly. “As yet, I have received no reply from you.”
Freddie lifted his well-groomed brows. “No? How very odd. I instructed my man of business to write to Your Ladyship without delay. In any case, allow me to answer you now. There is no question of Your Ladyship’s being responsible for any damage caused by the dastardly Mr. Purefoy.”
Patience beamed at him. “At last! Someone who understands that he is dastardly. Everyone else is awed by his wealth and rank. His uncle’s wealth and rank, I should say. You are not afraid of him, Mr. Broome?”
“Certainly not. Believe me, I have had words with the man. I shall have more words with him, too, after meeting you. Why, the things he said about you! I am tempted to call him out!”
“He is by no means worth it,” she said. “I do not care in the least what he says about me.”
“He told me you were the most unattractive female he ever saw in his life.”
Patience’s face slowly turned crimson. “It is of no consequence,” she choked. “I didn’t like him either!”
“It is clear that you were more than inconvenienced by the man,” Freddie said sympathetically. “In light of your suffering, I am quite prepared to refund the full amount of your rent. I really must speak to my man. You should already be in possession of the funds.”
Patience was taken aback. “That is very generous, Mr. Broome,” she stammered. “But I’m afraid I cannot accept! We cannot stay in your house rent free.”
“I insist,” he said. “After your ordeal, I could not possibly charge you rent.”
“Could we not split the difference?” said Patience.
His brows rose. “By all means, let us split the difference,” he said gamely. “If Your Ladyship would be good enough to tell me how?”
Patience laughed. “I have just agreed to pay half the rent, sir.”
“Shall we say a third?”
“Deal,” said Patience, sticking out her hand again.
Before the bargain could be sealed, however, Prudence, with Lord Milford in tow, came bounding up to them. “Patience!” she scolded her. “We thought we’d lost you.”
Patience quickly introduced their landlord.
“Good heavens!” said Freddie. “There are two of you! Why are there two of you?”
“We are twins, Mr. Broome,” Patience told him. Milford greeted Freddie with stiff civility, returning the latter’s bow with a slight nod.
“Come, Lady Waverly,” he said. “Mr. Broome is nothing more than the younger son of a baron. He should know better than to put himself forward in this shocking manner.”
Patience’s eyes flashed with anger. “You forget, sir, that my father was the younger son of a baron! Sir,” she went on, turning her back on the earl, “I understand that a lady must have an escort in this place. Would you be good enough to lend me your arm?”
“I’d be delighted to give it to you outright,” he replied.
Milford, acutely aware that his rejection was being observed by dozens of interested acquaintances, bowed stiffly. “I am obliged to you, Broome,” he said angrily.
“Your servant, Milford,” Freddie replied carelessly. With a cheery wave, he led Patience away. “And, so, my lady! What can I show you? A hunter, perhaps? I know just the one.”
“You’re very kind, sir,” she murmured. “I hope I’m not taking you away from your own business.”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “I was just waiting for my cousin. But he is very late, and not half as pretty as you are. I am completely at your disposal. I have a friend selling a lady’s hunter. If you had worn your habit, we could mount you.”
“Oh, I’m no rider,” she told him quickly. “I want something to drive, Mr. Broome.”
He looked down at her in surprise. “What?” he said. “With those soft little hands?”
“I am stronger than I look, sir,” Patience told him. “I drove a gig in Philadelphia, and I never met with an accident.”
“Oh, you don’t want a gig,” he said instantly. “A pony phaeton would be better.”
“My sister suggested a high-perch phaeton,” Patience said doubtfully.
He shook his head. “Let me give you the verbum sap, Lady Waverly. A high-perch phaeton is good for two things: breaking your neck, and breaking your horse’s neck.”
“Oh!” said Patience. “I
wish to do neither, Mr. Broome.”
“I have a friend selling a pony phaeton.” Taking her sale book from her, he flipped through the pages. “Here. Lot twenty-seven. Shall we go and have a look?”
“It seems a good place to start,” Patience agreed, allowing him to guide her.
As they walked, Freddie began to extol the virtues of his friend’s pony phaeton, but broke off suddenly. “There is my cousin now. Would you mind awfully ... ? I particularly want to introduce him to you.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” said Patience, as they changed course. “But why should you particularly want me to meet him?”
Freddie had no time to reply, however, for a gentleman came striding up to them at that moment. Without so much as a glance at Patience’s face, he said, “I think, sir, that you have kept me waiting long enough!”
Patience stared at him, hardly able to believe her ears. He sounded, but did not look at all English. His hair was very black and curly. His skin was very brown, in sharp contrast to his light gray eyes. His mouth was wide and his nose was hooked. He was remarkably tall, with wide shoulders and very long legs encased in fawn-colored riding breeches.
“You’re the one who was late, cuz,” said Freddie, not in the least cowed by the larger man. “Did you think you were the only one interested in my grays, sir? I’ve half sold them already to Sir Charles Stanhope.”
“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t, Mr. Broome!” Patience said impulsively. “They’re much too good for him.”
At the sound of her voice, the dark gentleman’s eyes swung to her face. Patience caught her breath. He was too harsh-featured to be considered handsome, but there was an intensity to him that she found enormously attractive. Her pulse quickened instinctively, and, for all his good looks and charm, Freddie Broome was instantly eclipsed. She was hardly aware of his existence.
The gentleman stared back at her incredulously. “You!” he spat, his gray eyes glittering with inexplicable rage and loathing. “How dare you come here? Is there no place on earth where I am safe from you? Would you hound me to my very grave? Damn you! Damn you to hell!”
Chapter 8
Patience stared at him in shock, for a moment quite unable to speak.
“I say, cuz!” Freddie protested. “I think you owe the lady an apology. In fact, I’m quite sure of it.”
Max Purefoy shot his cousin a look of furious contempt. “Did you bring her here, Freddie? I am obliged to you, sir.”
“This is nothing but the silliest, male prejudice,” Patience said, finding her voice. “Why should women not be allowed to look at horses? What are you afraid of? What do you think we’re going to do to you? I have as much right to be here as you, sir!”
His eyes narrowed. “Oh, I doubt that very much,” he said quietly. “I am a member of the Jockey Club.”
“And I am a guest of a member,” she told him curtly. “Who is this gentleman, Mr. Broome?” she demanded, giving the word “gentleman” a scathing emphasis.
Freddie’s brows rose. “You have met him already, surely!”
“I have never seen him before in my life,” Patience declared.
“But I thought everyone knew him,” Freddie murmured, mischief glinting in his angelic eyes. “He’s positively ubiquitous.”
“I have not been in London very long,” said Patience. “I have not had a chance to see all its fixtures. But I’m sure I would have remembered meeting such a rude, disagreeable man.”
“I’m afraid the offensive fellow is my cousin.”
“Well, your cousin is very rude, Mr. Broome!”
Freddie’s mouth quivered with unspent laughter. “He is, isn’t he? Cousin, I really must insist that you apologize to Lady Waverly. Her ladyship has done nothing to deserve such treatment.”
“Her ladyship!” Max repeated in astonishment, looking again at Patience. “No, it cannot be,” he added under his breath, even though he had already noted a few slight differences between this lady and her sister. Patience was thinner, she wore her hair differently, and her purple habit was quite plain, lacking those garish embellishments that all too often marked Prudence’s style.
“I don’t wonder at your astonishment, cuz,” Freddie chirped on. “Anyone who heard that devil, Max Purefoy, describe this delightful lady could not help but be astonished to meet her in the flesh! Why, she is nothing like the Medusa!”
“No, indeed,” Max said faintly. His embarrassment was excruciating, much to Freddie’s amusement. Abruptly, he offered Patience a bow. “I do beg your pardon, my lady, most humbly.”
Patience’s cheeks were flushed. “You do not think that women should be permitted in Tattersall’s at all, do you? Not even in the company of a member?”
He managed a weak smile. “I am happy to make an exception in your case, my lady.”
“I see. In that case, I accept your apology, Mr... ? Mr. Broome, is it? Like your cousin?”
“A fine name, is it not?” Freddie said, beaming.
“I see very little family resemblance between you,” Patience said curiously.
“How extraordinary,” Freddie remarked. “Most people see none. He’s a bit of a black sheep, I’m sorry to say.”
Max frowned at his cousin. “Freddie, if you should suddenly feel the need to be elsewhere, no one will miss you, I’m sure.”
“Lady Waverly will miss me,” Freddie protested. “I have promised to help her find a horse.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” said Max. “The last lady you mounted broke her neck.”
“That is a lie! It was only a bad sprain. Anyway, her ladyship don’t ride. She wants a pony phaeton.”
Max raised his brows. “Do you want a pony phaeton?” he asked, looking at Patience.
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted. “I drove a gig in Philadelphia. I am from Philadelphia,” she added a little awkwardly.
“Oh, I love the mountains,” said Freddie, but the others did not seem to hear him.
“My sister likes the idea of a high-perch phaeton,” Patience went on, “but your cousin has advised me against it. Lord Milford drives a curricle.”
“If you call that driving!” Freddie snorted, and this time he was rewarded with a quick smile from the lady.
“It was his curricle I admired,” said Patience.
“Why don’t I take you for a drive in mine?” Freddie suggested. “I’m selling my team, as it happens. They’re in the Monday sale. But I can have them put in the traces in a flash. We’ll be sailing through Hyde Park before you know it.”
“I would like that,” said Patience.
“I do hate it when people take me out and try to sell me things,” Max said lightly. “He will do nothing but talk up his horses, all the while hiding their flaws. I’ll take the lady.”
“Flaws?” said Freddie. “As I recall, they had no flaws when you lost them to me.”
“Yes, but you have been driving them these three months,” Max replied. “I was going to take them out myself, anyway, to make sure you had not ruined them. Lady Waverly may as well come along.”
“Oh,” said Patience. “Are you thinking of buying your cousin’s horses?”
“He won’t pay me what I want,” said Freddie.
“What do you want for them?” Patience asked.
“Only a thousand guineas,” he answered. “But my cousin swears he will not give more than five hundred.”
“A thousand guineas!” cried Patience. “That puts me out of the running, I’m afraid.”
“Come for a drive anyway,” said Max. “I’d like a woman’s opinion on how they handle.”
He offered her his arm, and, without hesitation, she took it. Freddie trailed behind them, feeling and looking quite superfluous. Max half turned his head, saying, “Why don’t you go ahead and make the arrangements, Freddie?”
Muttering under his breath, Freddie lengthened his stride, disappearing into the crowd.
“Do you always do that?” Patience asked.
�
��Do what?” he said, glancing down at her.
“Your cousin,” she said. “It wasn’t very nice of you to cut him out like that. After all, he saw me first. It’s not fair play. It’s not—what is it you English say? It’s not grasshoppers?”
“Cricket,” he corrected her, chuckling. “It’s not cricket. But, you know I could not have cut him out if you hadn’t liked me better.”
Quite discomfited, Patience quickly turned her head so that when he looked at her he would see only the crown of her bonnet. Pleased with himself, Max led her swiftly through the room to the outdoors. Patience had the impression that the crowd parted around her companion, but, perhaps, that was just her imagination.
“Are those your cousin’s horses?” she asked presently, as she caught sight of Freddie ahead of them in the cobbled yard. He was talking to a groom holding a tall, splendid set of grays.
Max noted the lack of enthusiasm in her tone. “You don’t like them?” he said, surprised.
“I know it is the fashion,” she said, “but I wish they would not force their heads up like that! I’m sure it must be painful.”
“Look again, please. There’s no need to force their heads into position. They do it quite naturally. Do you see?”
Patience looked again, and as they drew nearer, she could see that the grays had been blessed with naturally high, arched necks. “Yes, I do see,” she said, feeling a little foolish.
“It is necessary only with inferior stock to ratchet up their heads,” he went on. “I don’t approve of it, but one cannot stop people from trying to achieve the look. Not everyone can afford the very best, after all.”
“Is that why your cousin wants so much money for them?” Patience said incredulously. “Because of the way they hold their heads?”
“It is certainly one of the reasons,” he replied.
“A handsome pair, are they not?” Freddie hailed them.
“They’re beautiful,” Patience told him. “I wonder you can bear to sell them.”
“My cousin has been appointed to a diplomatic post,” Max explained. “He leaves England next Tuesday for the frozen steppes of Russia.”
The Pleasure of Bedding a Baroness Page 11
