The Pleasure of Bedding a Baroness

by Tamara Lejeune

  “It certainly does,” said Pru. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?” she went on rudely. “I thought you were in London to study medicine, not rampage about attacking your betters!”

  “My betters are in the ground at Bound Brook and Baylor,” he said hotly. “Not in the drawing rooms of Mayfair!”

  “Sir,” Patience said gently, her hand on Molyneux’s arm, “perhaps you had better go.”

  “I’ll go when the lordling is gone,” Molyneux answered belligerently.

  “I am going,” said Lord Milford. “I will not stay another minute and be insulted by this impudent wretch.”

  “I’m sure I don’t blame you,” said Pru. “Anyway, you broke his nose, by the look of it. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Taking his arm over her shoulder, she conducted him safely from the room. Outside, his groom helped him into his curricle.

  Patience turned to Molyneux, wincing with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I won’t pretend I’m not glad you were here to rescue me, but I am sorry for the insults. And my sister—I will explain to her what you did for me.”

  “No matter,” he said quickly. “Nothing I do will ever be good enough for her, I know. I just came to return your handkerchief, Miss Patience.”

  Taking it from his pocket, he smoothed it out and handed it to her. “Freshly laundered and lightly starched, just how you like it.”

  Patience smiled at him. “Thank you, sir. You need not have gone to so much trouble.”

  Anxious to prevent a second meeting between Molyneux and Lord Milford outside, she tried to think of some excuse to keep the young man for a moment or two longer. “Your address! May I have your address in London, sir? Who knows? You may have another evening free. I’d be very glad if you would dine with us.”

  “I don’t think your sister wants to dine with me,” he said. “She’d rather dine with an English lord, I daresay, or even the nephew of an English lord.”

  Patience shook her head. “I can’t understand it. Ever since we got here, she’s had nothing in her head but titles and royalty! She was not like this in Philadelphia.”

  “You are nothing like your sister,” he said warmly. “I don’t have any of those fancy cards,” he went on, “but if you ever want to find me, I’m at Twenty-one St. Saviour’s Churchyard.”

  “Twenty-one St. Saviour’s Churchyard,” Pru said mockingly, coming back into the room. “Sounds about right for the son of a poor country parson!”

  “It’s convenient to Guy’s Hospital,” he replied curtly. “Where I’m due for a lecture in about twenty minutes,” he added, after a glance at the clock. “Good-bye, Miss Patience!”

  “Well!” said Pru, when he was gone. “What a rude young man! He didn’t even say good-bye to me!”

  “After the way you treated him,” Patience said angrily, “are you surprised?”

  “I am not surprised at all,” Pru answered. “Given that he is an uncouth American bumpkin, one could not expect anything like manners from him.”

  Patience was almost bewildered by Pru’s attitude. “I thought you would like him.”

  “Oh, no!” said Pru, her eyes narrowed. “You will not fob him off on me! I am going to marry Max! I am going to be a duchess! I am not going to be the wife of a poor country doctor from Pennsauken, New Jersey! If you like him so much, Patience, you marry him.”

  Patience began to argue. “I’m not trying to—”

  “How does he know Mr. Purefoy?” Pru asked. “Did you see him last night?”

  Patience paled a little. This, she felt instinctively, was not the right time to tell Pru the truth. If only Pru would take an interest in another young man! A royal duke, perhaps, or a foreign prince. Patience made a mental note to ask Max to find such a person. Once infatuated with someone else, Pru would not care if Max married her sister.

  “I may have mentioned Mr. Purefoy last night while I was dancing with Mr. Molyneux,” Patience answered vaguely.

  Liar! Pru wanted to scream, but didn’t.

  “Don’t forget to send your letter to Mr. Bracegirdle,” she said sweetly instead. “You left it on your desk upstairs.”

  “Did I?” Patience hurried back to the drawing room.

  “I would have sent it for you,” said Pru, following her, “but I didn’t know Mr. Bracegirdle’s direction.”

  To Patience’s immense relief, her letter was on her desk, exactly where and how she had left it. As Pru sat down on the sofa and took up one of her novels, Patience hurriedly directed her note and gave it to Briggs.

  “You should send it by hand,” Pru advised her, “for it looks quite urgent.”

  “Why do you say that?” Patience asked uneasily.

  “Forgive me,” Pru said innocently. “I couldn’t help noticing all the blots. Nothing wrong, I hope?”

  “No,” Patience said quickly. “But it is fairly urgent. By hand, Briggs, if you please.”

  The Duke of Sunderland and his nephew were still at breakfast when Lady Waverly’s page boy arrived. Max glanced over the lady’s note impassively, ruffled the boy’s hair, and said, “No reply.”

  “Very good, sir,” said the boy, catching the coin Max tossed to him as he ran out of the room. “Half a crown, sir! Thank you, sir!”

  The duke pushed his bowl of thin watery gruel away. “I’d give you half a crown for a steak and kidney pie,” he muttered plaintively.

  “You cannot have steak and kidney pie, sir,” Max replied. Walking over to the fire, he fed Patience’s note to it, and stood watching it burn. He had not been inclined to stay away from Clarges Street, as she requested, until he saw the postscript.

  “I must see you, my love—I will come to you today as soon as I can steal away—Burn this—”

  Blot after blot after blot, he thought, smiling. She must have been in quite a frenzy of emotion when she wrote. The thought of cool, collected Patience in a frenzy sent a warm glow through his limbs.

  Notwithstanding his swollen face, Lord Milford returned home to his sister in good spirits. “What happened to you?” Isabella cried, alarmed. “Did you fight Mr. Purefoy?”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said. “Purefoy is an English gentleman. Izzy, the most wonderful thing has happened.”

  “Did you see Lady Waverly?”

  “See her? I proposed!”

  Isabella gasped in delight. “And she accepted you? Oh, Ivor, that’s marvelous! All that money, and the land, too! Then she was not with Purefoy last night? It was the other one.”

  “No, it was she,” Milford replied. “In the flesh, so to speak.”

  “What do you mean, ‘so to speak’?” Isabella said impatiently. “Was it Lady Waverly or not?”

  “Oh, it was her all right! She even had the same crimson dress on.”

  Isabella wrinkled her nose. “Red velvet in the morning? How déclassé!”

  “Quite,” he agreed.

  “When you are married you must talk to her about her clothes,” said Isabella.

  “I ain’t going to marry her,” Milford said impatiently. “After that disgusting display on the street? She is not fit to marry anyone. She is in love, if you please, with Purefoy. Even after I told her about his wager, she would not be shaken. Love is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and wobbles not. She’ll bear it out till the edge of doom, poor girl.”

  “Then why do you look so happy?” Isabella snapped. “How does this help me?”

  “Well, it doesn’t,” he admitted. “It don’t exactly help me either.”

  “Then why do you look so happy?” she howled.

  “I’ll tell you. You see my face? Well, I wasn’t born this way. I was beaten! Beaten by a big, ugly American brute. He struck me with his fist.”

  “And this made you happy?”

  “No, of course not. It bothered me considerably. But then who should come into the room but Miss Prudence! See? This is her handkerchief, with my blood on it!”

  “Who was the American who beat
you?”

  “Nobody!” Milford sneered. “They’re all nobodies, aren’t they? Actually, now that I think of it, he was not alone. There were several of them together, traveling in a pack like the cowards they are. They fell on me from behind and hit me with clubs. I fought them to a draw, though I was outnumbered. They ran away.”

  “So I should think,” Isabella said dryly.

  “But, suddenly, there was Miss Prudence helping me to my feet. Like a tiger she defended me! Izzy, she is an angel!”

  “Tiger! Angel! How does this help me?”

  “It may not help you, but it helps me,” he said. “Miss Prudence may not be my first choice, but she is just as rich as her elder sister. I’ll marry her instead. With her money, I can cover all my bets, with a good deal left over. I might even provide you with a dowry, Isabella. You’ll need it when Purefoy marries his baroness.”

  Isabella was not so sanguine. “You know what they say, Ivor, about chickens and eggs.”

  “No. What?”

  “Don’t count them before they’re hatched!”

  Milford laughed haughtily. “To which I say, strengthily, cock-a-doodle-do!”

  Shortly after three o’clock that afternoon, Mr. Purefoy’s flowers arrived in Clarges Street. Pru took the card and read it silently. “He isn’t coming,” she said. “He blames his uncle’s poor health. I suppose the old man was quite done in by the ball. He says he is sorry he can’t come, after having danced with me last night and all, but it couldn’t be helped.”

  “If he is not coming,” said Patience, “perhaps you would like to go to Mr. Bracegirdle’s office with me, after all? We could go to Gunter’s afterward.”

  “Bracegirdle’s office!” Pru said scornfully. “Do you want me to die of boredom? Gunter’s! Do you want me to get fat? No, thank you.”

  “The circus, perhaps,” said Patience.

  “I’m not a child,” Pru said resentfully. “Besides, Lord Banville has not yet called. Go on to your meeting.”

  “Lady Jemima—” Patience began.

  “Is taking a nap,” said Pru. “I will call her when Lord Banville arrives. Don’t worry! I shan’t be alone with him for an instant. I know how little you trust me.”

  “I trust you completely,” said Patience. “I don’t trust them. Now, if you will need the carriage for anything, I’ll be glad to take a hack.”

  Pru yawned, stretching her legs out on the sofa. “I shan’t need it,” she said quickly. “I will give Lord Banville one more hour, then I shall go to my room and lie down for a while. Don’t forget we’re going to the theater tonight.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” said Patience. Kissing her sister’s cheek, she left.

  Pru instantly ran to the window and did not leave it until her sister’s carriage was completely out of sight. Then she quickly rang for Briggs. When he appeared, she was scrambling for her bonnet and cloak. “Summon a hack for me, Briggs,” she commanded. “No, you need not wake Lady Jemima. I have decided to go to the attorney’s office with my sister after all. I shall return with her.”

  “Very good, Miss Prudence.”

  Less than a quarter of an hour later, she stepped out of the hack and walked up the steps to Sunderland House. Before she could touch the bell, the door opened. Venable said graciously, “Madam is expected. Please follow me.”

  He led her up an obscure flight of stairs to a small book room off the landing. Max was within, unpacking a crate of books. Pru slipped inside and Venable quietly closed the door.

  “My love! I had to see you,” Pru said breathlessly.

  Max slowly rose from his chair. “What are you doing here ... Prudence?”

  “Prudence?” Pru laughed, but she could not quite keep the venom out of her voice. “No, my darling! It is I, Patience!”

  “You should not be here, Miss Prudence,” he said quietly. “Your sister will be worried.”

  Pru abruptly gave up all pretense. “My sister!” she said bitterly. “She wouldn’t care if I jumped off a bridge like our dear, departed uncle!”

  “That is not true,” he said sharply. “Patience loves you very much.”

  “But she loves you more. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” she went on shrilly. “Did you think you could hide it from me forever?”

  Max sighed. “Do not blame your sister. The fault is entirely mine. We did not mean for this to happen, Miss Prudence. We did not do it to hurt you. Patience, poor girl—I think she fought it as long as she could.”

  Pru snorted. “Oh, yes! To my certain knowledge, sir, you have met my sister only twice! Once, the night we arrived. And again, at Tattersall’s. But, of course, you have been meeting secretly—behind my back!”

  “It must seem that way to you,” said Max. “But love cannot be fathomed. It cannot be anticipated. It cannot be defeated. One day, you will understand. The heart chooses, overruling the head. Nothing can stop it.”

  “My love is nothing to you then?” she said, her lower lip trembling. “I am nothing to you?”

  “When I marry Patience, you will be my sister,” he said. “I will be your brother.”

  Pru choked back a sob. “I don’t want to be your sister. I want to be Mrs. Purefoy!”

  “You don’t love me, Prudence,” he said. “You will see that in time. You don’t even know me. You only see what lies on the surface. You do not understand the man underneath.”

  “And she does, I suppose?”

  “We understand each other, yes.”

  Sniffling, Pru groped for a chair. “The only men who seem to like me best are the trifling little fellows nobody cares about. And fortune hunters, of course.”

  “Lord Banville is no fortune hunter. He seemed to like you very well.”

  “All he talked about was Patience!”

  “Never mind him then,” Max said quickly. “Obviously he is not worthy of you. Please don’t be angry.”

  Pru nodded glumly. “I’m not angry anymore,” she said. “I understand that you could not help yourselves. I should not have come here. This was a terrible mistake.”

  He smiled at her. “Actually, I am glad you came. I know Patience has been dreading having to tell you. Now that you know, we can be married without a cloud over us.”

  Pru gave a pained smile.

  “You will get over your disappointment very quickly, I promise you,” he told her. “I have many faults. If you knew me better, you would not change places with your sister for the world.”

  Pru drew in a deep breath. “I want Patience to be happy, of course. And you, too.”

  “That is very generous of you, Prudence.”

  “Oh, my sister and I made a promise long ago never to let a man come between us,” said Pru. “I will dance at your wedding, Brother. I hope one day, you will dance at mine.”

  “I will, of course,” he said, smiling.

  “I must go,” said Pru. “Patience and I are attending the theater this evening. Will you send for a hack?”

  “I’ll do better than that,” he said. “I’ll drive you home in my curricle!”

  “How very brotherly of you,” said Pru.

  Patience returned from the attorney’s office a little after five in the evening. As the carriage pulled away, she was dismayed to see Lord Milford driving toward her in his curricle.

  “Miss Prudence!” he hailed her, drawing up to the curb.

  “Sir, it is I, Lady Waverly,” she said impatiently.

  Milford tossed the reins to his groom and descended to the pavement. “No,” he said, striding up to her. “It is Miss Prudence, surely.”

  “Are we going to argue about it, sir?”

  “No, of course not,” he said. “It is Miss Prudence, though, is it not? I know it is, for I just saw Lady Waverly return to the house with Mr. Purefoy.”

  “You saw no such thing,” she snapped. “I have only just returned this minute in my carriage alone. My sister has been at home all day.”

  He blinked at her. “Then it must have be
en Miss Prudence in the curricle with Mr. Purefoy. Very cozy they looked, too. Dammit! What is he playing at?”

  “You saw my sister in a curricle with Mr. Purefoy? Sir, either you lie or your eyes deceive you. Either way, I am tired of you!”

  Milford paid no attention to her. “I should have known it was she, for he was driving. Had it been you, you would have taken the reins into your own hands.”

  “Oh, go away!” Patience snapped.

  Leaving him on the street, she went into the house. “Is my sister here?” she asked Briggs.

  “Miss Prudence is in her room resting,” came the reassuring reply.

  Nodding, Patience went up to her own room to bathe and dress for the theater.

  At half past seven, she knocked on Pru’s door. There was no answer. “Pru!” she called, knocking. When there was still no reply, she became worried. Trying the handle, she discovered that it was locked. Now frightened, she hurried to her desk to find the keys. Opening the door, she discovered Pru on the bed, her eyes closed, a trickle of blood running down her arm. A wicked-looking letter opener, its tip stained with blood, had fallen to the floor.

  With a scream that brought every servant in the house running, Patience ran to the bed.

  Pru moaned faintly. “Let me die,” she whispered.

  Chapter 15

  “Send for Dr. Wingfield at once,” Patience cried, ashen-faced, flinging the words at the round-eyed servants in the doorway. As Briggs took charge of the servants, ushering them out of the room, Patience tore a strip of lace from the sleeve of her gown and used it to bind the source of the bleeding, a surprisingly small slash on Pru’s forearm.

  “Oh, what have you done to yourself?” she murmured, peppering Pru’s cheeks with slaps.

  “Pay?” Pru whispered pathetically. “Pay, is that you?”

  “Of course it is,” Patience answered quickly. “Lie still! I’ve sent for the doctor.”

  “I am betrayed,” Pru said wildly. “Betrayed! Ruined! Compromised! He deceived me. He said he loved me. But I did not say he could do that. Truly I didn’t!”