by Regina Scott
Patience stepped in front of her, and Gussie met her gaze.
“Is that what you want?” Patience asked. “To make a difference?”
“Why else would I go to such trouble?” She began worrying her hands in time with her steps as she paced around Patience. “Harry is doing his part to end this horrible war. You are doing your part to help him remain unseen. Why can’t I help? I must be good for something!”
Patience caught her hands as she passed, steadying her. “Oh, Gussie, you have already done so much good. Where would Harry be without you? You raised him, taught him to live by his principles. You set the example of what it can mean to care.”
She blinked. “I suppose I did.”
Patience gave her hands a squeeze. “Yes. And he needs you now more than ever. We must safeguard Yvette until she reaches London. We must prevent the Villers from learning the truth.”
Gussie nodded. “You’re right. I have perhaps been trying too hard to be original.”
Patience smiled. “You? Never.”
Gussie grinned, the dimple on either side of her mouth reminding Patience of Harry. “And when all is well, we can discuss the introduction of more common ingredients.”
“And calamus.” Patience released her. “My mother used the ground root to soothe an upset stomach. I’ll look in her book to see if she associated it with the skin. You may have made your discovery.”
Gussie beamed. “Oh, Patience, you are so good for me. I wish you would stay on.”
Harry had said the same, but she was no longer sure he meant it.
“We can discuss that later,” Patience said. “For now, let’s keep everyone from fretting over things they shouldn’t know.”
Gussie agreed, and the two headed back downstairs. Mr. Cuddlestone was hovering at the foot of the stairs. Gussie sailed right past him, but Patience offered him a thumbs up, earning a relieved grin from the butler.
Meredith and the others were in the withdrawing room. They must have decided to try a dramatic reading that evening, for Lydia and Yvette were paging through books and comparing thoughts. Meredith moved to Gussie’s side.
“Please forgive me,” she told the older woman. “I did not intend to direct your household or your work.”
Gussie inclined her head. “And you must forgive me, Meredith. I am not myself. This house party will be the death of me.”
“But ma chère Lydia,” Yvette said across the room. “How would anyone enjoy a recitation of Roman conquests when war is so very close to these shores?”
“Historical tomes are edifying,” Lydia protested. She lifted the heavy book higher. “And lo, thirty years before the birth of our Lord, Caesar did fix upon a scheme of taxation and subjugation, wreaking havoc on the peoples across the vast Roman empire.” She shivered. “Fascinating.”
Yvette closed her eyes, tipped her head to the side, and let out a snore.
Lydia shut the book with a giggle. “Very well. No Roman conquests. But there must be something we can declaim.”
Just then, her brother strode into the room.
“Moderate your tone, Lydia. I could hear you in the game room.”
Somehow Patience doubted that, but Lydia grimaced and dropped her gaze.
Yvette fluttered her lashes in his direction. “But Monsieur Villers, your sister is a darling. See how sweetly she tries to keep us all entertained. You should praise her.”
“Yes, well.” He shuffled his feet. “Nicely done, Lydia.”
Lydia glanced up and eyed him as if she didn’t believe him.
As Meredith and Gussie went to join the two by the bookshelf, Patience turned to him. “The ladies will be offering a dramatic reading for the gentlemen this evening. Your sister will no doubt have an important role.”
He preened. “Well, of course. It’s about time Lydia received her due.”
As he was the first to criticize the girl, Patience decided not to comment on the statement. “Where are the other gentlemen? We would not want them to overhear. It would spoil all the fun. Perhaps you could keep them busy.”
He sighed. “More billiards, I suppose. But very well, I’ll do my part. Before I go, however, I must speak to you.”
What now? Patience drew him out into the entry hall. “Activities not to your liking? Room too cool?” she guessed.
He frowned. “Why does everyone assume I mean to complain?” Before she could answer, he shook his head. “Never mind. I wanted to thank you for your kind ministrations while I was ill. You care about those around you, Patience. I find that commendable.”
She managed a smile.
As if encouraged, he took a step closer. “And because you care, I feel I should warn you. I have evidence your betrothed is dealing with smugglers.”
Patience searched his face. His dark eyes were alight with glee at possessing such a scandalous secret, but sweat gleamed on his brow under the sweep of dark hair. Was he nervous? What did he expect her to do, draw a blade on him? And besides, how had he managed to spy on Harry from the sickbed? And why was he telling her now?
“I can scarcely believe it,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the carpet.
He laid his hand on hers. “I promised you I would look into the matter of his disappearances at night, and this was what I discovered. I spoke with him about it, urged him to give it up, even threatened to inform the Admiralty—merely to save him, you understand. But he laughed me off. I only tell you so as to give you time to prepare yourself for his downfall, my dear.”
Downfall? He could do nothing to Harry. Surely the Admiralty knew all about his activities. Yet if Beau was willing to tell her and the Admiralty what he thought he knew, who else might he tell? Even if he only confided in Lydia, the girl’s enthusiasm might lead her to blurt out the news. Harry’s reputation would once more be in tatters. It was a sad fact that some men turned a blind eye to an affair. They would be less sanguine about treason.
Patience pressed her free hand against Beau’s. “Please, say nothing. We cannot see Harry harmed.”
His smile was kind. “Your concern does you credit, my dear. I suppose I might be mistaken. Tell me, what do you think of Harry’s cousin?”
Did he suspect Yvette as well? Oh, but he was dangerously close to the truth.
Patience made her eyes as big as Lydia’s. “Why, she is charming. I’m so glad Harry decided to reconcile her with the family.”
Something other than kindness glittered in his eyes. “Interesting that she lives nearby yet Lydia and I have never met her.”
“You have seen her, sir. She had an unorthodox upbringing and struggles to fit in with polite society. You cannot blame Harry for not wanting to bring her into a larger group.”
He shook his head with a chuckle. “You are either the most naïve woman I have ever met or the best liar.”
Patience drew herself up. “Really, sir, you go too far.” She started away, and he moved to block her.
“Forgive me, Patience. This whole matter distresses me greatly. Harry has been my friend, yet I find myself in a quandary. There is a war on, and good men cannot keep silent. Besides, there is the matter of the reward.”
Patience frowned. “Reward?”
“Indeed. It is well known the Crown is offering one hundred pounds for information leading to the arrest of those dealing with France. Given Lydia’s need for a dowry, you cannot ask me to forego such a prize.”
In his world, one hundred pounds was a pittance. Lady Lilith had spent that much on two ball gowns. In Patience’s world, however, it was enough to live a year frugally.
But nowhere was it enough to betray Harry.
“I’m sure some gentleman will be more than delighted to marry your sister, regardless of dowry,” she told him. “Have you spoken to Lord Carrolton? He is of the age to seek a wife.”
He took a step back. “As I mentioned, I know the Carroltons well. They cannot supply the life I wish for my sister.”
Meaning they would not pay him a bride price
nor allow him to influence them. What a grasping fellow!
Patience stared at him as his meaning became clear. “You want money from me!”
He drew himself up. “I’m sure I would never be so crass. I mention the matter only because Harry is important to you. As his bride-to-be, I thought you would want to help.”
“You thought me an easy target, rather,” Patience informed him. “I regret to tell you, sir, that I have nothing—no dowry, no fortune, no family or influence. Harry and Gussie are everything to me. You threaten them at your peril.”
It was a bold statement, but she meant every word. For the first time in a long time, she felt needed, important, useful. And she was ready to defend those she loved, regardless of whether they returned that love.
She had never looked particularly fierce. The shape of her face and her slender frame destroyed any chance of being menacing. But Beau Villers took one look at her, waxed white, and excused himself to hurry for the stairs.
Something strong, powerful, pulsed through her. Was this how Jane felt when she spoke her mind? How Meredith felt when she argued for a client? How Yvette felt when she bested an enemy? If Patience could do this, then perhaps she had what it took to stand by Harry’s side. It was all up to her.
Chapter Twenty
Confound the man! Harry stalked out of the game room, heading for the entry hall. Just when he thought he had Beau Villers safely cornered, the fellow slipped away again. He seemed intent on gathering evidence to incriminate Harry. He already knew enough to be dangerous to their plans.
But the first person he saw coming across the entry hall was a tall, slender man, whose neat but plain coat and trousers proclaimed him a servant of some sort. He must be the valet.
“Have you seen your master?” Harry demanded.
The fellow paled as if expecting a reprimand. Very likely he was used to going unnoticed by the rest of the household.
“Not lately, sir,” he said, gaze downcast. “Had you need of my services?”
“No, thank you,” Harry said, stepping aside to let him pass. “But if you see him, let him know I’d like a word.”
“Very good, sir.” He hurried past.
Mr. Cuddlestone and Wilkins were working against the far wall, coats off and sleeves rolled up. Already they had shoved the mahogany table that usually graced the middle of the hall to one side.
Harry frowned. “Are we redecorating?”
Cuddlestone straightened. “No, Sir Harry. The ladies will be performing a dramatic reading this evening, and the mistress would like suitable surroundings.” He raised his brows as if hoping Harry would gainsay his aunt.
“Did you see Mr. Villers pass this way?” Harry asked, unwilling to get between Gussie and her plans.
“A few moments ago. He looked rather indisposed.”
Sick again? If only Harry could be certain it would keep him abed and out of his way.
Patience came out of the withdrawing room. “Mr. Cuddlestone, would you happen to have any extra bedsheets?”
Cuddlestone frowned. “Is there something amiss with your bed, Miss Ramsey?”
“No, no. Gussie would like to drape them over the paintings so all eyes are fixed on the performers.” Her apologetic smile took in the butler, Wilkins, and Harry. Once more Cuddlestone looked to Harry.
“Whatever Gussie wants, humor her,” Harry said. “It is in all our best interests to keep our guests occupied.”
“Of course, Sir Harry.” Cuddlestone nodded to Wilkins, who dusted off his hands, shrugged into his coat, and strode for the stairs.
Patience moved closer to Harry. Her eyes looked heavy, her shoulders tight, as if she was ready to fight the famed boxer Gentleman Jackson himself. “May I have a word with you?”
Harry nodded. Taking her arm, he led her across the entry hall to the door of his study.
“What’s happened?” he asked as they stepped inside.
She raised her chin. “That odious Mr. Villers attempted to pry money from me in return for his silence. He threatened to tell the Admiralty about your work.”
Harry shook his head. “Like a dog to a bone, that one. Don’t worry, Patience. He already tried the same tactic with me and got nowhere.”
Her color deepened. “So, he thought I would be easier prey. The scoundrel! Can we please throw him out now?”
Harry chuckled. “Unfortunately, the causeway remains impassable. I’m tempted to send him to the inn in the village, but I don’t want to leave Lydia at his mercy. He will be in no mood to be conciliatory.”
She deflated. “You’re right.” She glanced up at him. “Isn’t there any way we can keep Lydia and lose him?”
“No way short of proposing marriage, and I am spoken for, remember?”
She did not look amused. “But Harry, I cannot trust him. What if he isn’t satisfied with our refusal? He could make trouble for you.”
Harry shook his head. “Nothing I cannot handle. The War Office and the Admiralty keep in close contact. Surely the leaders know of my actions. With the causeway out, I haven’t been able to send word about Yvette with anyone I would trust.”
She shivered. “Then we’re truly on our own.”
He ran a hand up her arm. “But not defenseless. We’ll survive this. Try to keep Gussie from rebuilding the manor for her reading, will you?”
Her gaze searched his. “What will you do?”
Harry took a step back. “I intend to have it out with Villers, once and for all.”
~~~
The valet let Harry in. Shrinking in on himself, as if he feared rebuke, he backed away.
“That will be all, Tecet,” Villers said. The valet quickly disappeared into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as if wishing to distance himself from anything that might happen with his master.
Villers had already retreated to the chair by the fire, coat, cravat, and boots off, feet to the warmth and chin on his chest.
“You threatened Patience,” Harry said, striding to his side.
Villers glanced up at him. “I threaten a good many people, not that I manage to derive any gain from it.”
Harry put a hand on either arm of the chair, bracketing him in place. “And that’s all that brought you here? A hope you might profit from my loss?”
Villers shook his head. “You know as well as I do I’d hoped for a match between you and Lydia. She was supposed to be my ticket to the upper echelons. If she married a duke, I’d be set for life. But she doesn’t have what it takes to snare a duke.”
Harry straightened. “You malign your sister to no cause. She has many fine attributes.”
A sneer turned up one corner of his mouth. “Oh, certainly. Bluestocking tendencies and the regrettable need to chatter incessantly. I thought surely, with your reputation, you’d be willing to take her. At least she’d have a title then. But even a penniless nobody beat her out there.”
“So, failing to snare me, as you put it, in matrimony, you decided on blackmail instead.”
Villers spread his hands. “It might have worked. But Patience refused to help, and you laughed it off.”
“You failed to consider my reputation,” Harry said. How ironic it should be the thing that saved him.
Villers sighed. “Just my luck. I finally have a secret I can share for reward, and the fellow involved is more scandalous than I am.”
Harry straightened. “Am I? I seem to recall you fighting a duel last year over an unknown lady, and many have remarked at the way you push Lydia forward. If I were to swear out a complaint for blackmail, I’d probably be believed.”
He sunk lower. “You might at that. Shall we call a truce?”
“I’m willing,” Harry said. “But if you cross me, Villers, I will retaliate.”
“Fine,” he spit out. “I’ll play along, stay for the holiday as planned. But, as soon as Easter is over, Lydia and I are leaving, even if we have to swim that wretched causeway.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Harry said.
~~~
No one had much interest in dinner that night. Yvette, Gussie, and Meredith ate sparingly of the mutton and candied carrots, perhaps because they were anxious about the upcoming reading. The ladies had settled upon a play and spent most of the afternoon rehearsing, Yvette and Gussie taking turns issuing directions. Like Patience, Julian seemed more interested in watching the others over dinner, and Beau, who had consented to join them, picked at his food. Only Lydia tucked in with any gusto.
After dinner, they repaired to the entry hall, Fortune having been left in Emma’s care. On Gussie’s orders, the place had been transformed. Sheeting draped the walls, and candles here and there sent light flickering across the fabric until the entire space sparkled. Mr. Cuddlestone and Wilkins had brought in armchairs from the withdrawing room and Harry’s study and arranged them around the hearth at one end of the room. Patience took her seat next to Harry and the other gentlemen while Gussie and her troupe took up places in front of the fire.
Glancing around to make sure everyone was seated and attentive, Gussie stepped forward, eyes bright. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a tale of love and intrigue, courtesy of our beloved Bard.”
Beau raised his brows. “You’d attempt Shakespeare?”
Gussie pointed a finger at him. “Behave, Mr. Villers, or I shall confine you to your room.”
Beau leaned back and closed his mouth.
Harry winked at Patience.
With a satisfied nod, Gussie resumed her theatrical stance, head up and eyes out over the room as if one hundred people eagerly awaited the work instead of the four and Cuddlestone. “And now, without further ado, we present for your entertainment, a reading from Antony and Cleopatra.” She stepped back next to Meredith, who held the book of plays in her hands.
Yvette took the part of Philo, a Roman solider under Marc Antony. Though she struck a determined pose, her lilting voice made it difficult for Patience to picture a brawny fighter. Then she looked up from the text to affix her audience with a vibrant blue stare as she finished her first speech. “The triple pillar of the world transformed into a strumpet’s fool. Behold and see.”
