Then Lord Stanton stood before her. “Pardon me, but Countess Du’Breven wishes to visit with Miss Wendover.” When Amelia made as if to rise, he added, “I’m sorry… Miss Patience Wendover.”
“Ah, yes,” Amelia said, looking relieved.
Feeling a lift in her spirits, Patience smiled and rose. Anything was better than witnessing Lord Fortescue pay her cousin flowery and insincere compliments. She walked with Lord Stanton over to an empty settee near Lady Du’Breven. As she sat down, she saw that the Countess, whose back was to the rest of the room, was asleep.
“May I warm your tea?” Lord Stanton asked.
Patience looked quizzically between him and the Countess. “But she’s asleep.”
“A perfect cover, don’t you think? Your tea?”
“Oh. Yes, please.”
Patience adjusted the skirt of her second-best evening gown, a pale blue satin with a net overlay that had not suited Amelia’s sallow complexion and had been handed over to her. She had been determined to wear something flattering tonight for the purpose of charming Lord Aston, and now, not only was he unlikely to seek her out, but she was hidden from the room in this secluded corner. But with all the speculation over the letter, perhaps this was a blessing.
Lord Stanton returned with her tea and sat down beside her. She was surprised at how near he was, only a few inches away. But it was a small settee. There was no reason for her to blush at the way she could feel his warmth and smell his scent of sandalwood and leather. For the first time, she felt a bit nervous around this gentleman. Had he always been this tall and broad?
Patience forced herself to relax by taking a deep breath. She sipped her hot tea, and thought that at least she could count on Lord Stanton not to discuss the love note with her. He wasn’t the sort to gossip.
He bent close to her and murmured, “Now, Miss Wendover, what are we going to do about that love note of yours?”
She took a deep breath of surprise, which was unfortunate, since she had also just taken a sip of tea. Choking, she began to cough, desperately trying to keep her lips pressed together so she didn’t get tea on her dress. Her eyes were closed tightly, but she felt her tea cup being taken from her hand and replaced with fabric. Peeking at it, she held the handkerchief to her mouth and was soon able to clear her lungs.
With her eyes watering, Patience hunched her shoulders as she felt everyone looking at her. She wiped her eyes and opened them to glare at Lord Stanton.
He smiled at her and said over his shoulder, “You needn’t worry, Mrs. Wendover. Your niece is breathing again.”
“No doubt she was excessively concerned,” Patience said softly.
“Well, I did her the courtesy of letting everyone believe she was. I am sorry I surprised you. I should have timed that better.”
“What makes you think the note belongs to me?” Patience asked, knowing that the time for denial was passed—and that it was unlikely that she could have lied convincingly anyway.
Lord Stanton’s expression grew serious. “You will learn, Miss Wendover, that I am very observant. You will also learn, I hope, that I can be trusted.”
Patience shook her head and smiled softly. “I already know that to be true. I have not forgotten how you kept my secret that day in the park.”
“That you ride a horse as well as any cavalry man?”
“More that I was galloping in a very improper way because I believed it to be too late in the day for anyone to spy me.”
“It was a lovely and revealing sight, let me tell you.”
“Revealing?”
“Yes, I learned more about you that morning than I could have during any dance or morning visit. And that is how I know you have the courage to survive this. I will not ask impertinent questions, but will you give me leave to retrieve the note for you?”
Patience looked into his eyes, which were so steady and earnest. “I would be immensely grateful to have it in my possession again.”
The corners of Lord Stanton’s mouth turned down, but only briefly. “It would be wisest to destroy it.”
Though that was precisely what she intended to do, she looked sideways at him. “I will do as I wish with my property, Lord Stanton. I will retrieve it myself if necessary.”
“No, no. I will get it for you. I am quite sure there will be many eyes upon that note, and too many questions should someone be caught removing it.”
“But if you are caught, the conjecture will fall on you.”
“My shoulders are wide enough to bear it, I promise you.”
Patience was unable to keep her eyes from roaming to see this for herself. “Indeed, they are, Lord Stanton.” And then she blushed at the breathless quality of her voice and the slight, knowing look on Lord Stanton’s face.
Chapter Eight
Stanton awoke very early the next morning and pulled on his breeches. So early in fact that he surprised the boot boy in the hallway with an armful of Hessians in need of a polish. The other servants would soon be up and about their duties, so he hurried along the corridors and down the stairs to Lady Blakemore’s drawing room.
Fortunately, his eyes were well-adjusted to the dark, so he found his way easily to the mantle to retrieve Patience’s love note. But to his consternation, it was nowhere to be found. Muttering a curse to himself, he returned to his bedchamber, where he spent the next few hours restlessly pacing in front of his window, wondering who had taken it and what his next course of action should be. But no solution presented itself, and by the time he went downstairs in search of breakfast, he was very hungry and out of temper.
Most of the guests were also assembling in the dining room as he came in. His eyes searched automatically for Patience and found her buttering a scone in a seat next to Miss Percy. Despite Miss Percy’s animated chatter, Patience looked withdrawn and wary. He wished he might do something to reassure her, but telling her that the note had gone missing before he could retrieve it for her would hardly set her at ease. No, he would say nothing to her until he knew more.
After serving himself from the sideboard, Stanton sat across from Patience. When she looked up a moment later, he smiled at her, thinking how lovely she was in her primrose-pink morning dress. For some reason, she looked surprised, tilting her head in a quizzical way. What question was she mulling over?
“Well, and what shall we all do with ourselves this morning?” Mr. Stanley asked as he helped himself to some ham and eggs.
Lord Blakemore looked up from an enormous serving of cold roast beef. “I’ve been instructed to take whoever is interested in a riding tour of the estate. Looks like a pleasant day for it too.”
Stanton clenched his teeth, annoyed that Silas had not yet arrived with Tempest. More than anything, he longed to see Patience riding him. But no doubt Blakemore would be able to provide a sufficiently adequate mount for her.
Indeed, as he thought of it, he was hopeful that he might even find a moment to converse with her during the ride. Being among so many guests, the chances for conversation while maintaining the proprieties were few.
Did he dare press her for more information about the love note in hopes of finding a clue as to who might have taken it? Having been alerted by Viceroy that some dalliance had been going forward between Patience and Aston, he thought it likely to suspect Aston of having taken it. But that was very little to go on and perhaps there was something he was missing.
He had no doubt that he was overly focused on Aston due to his own jealousies and concerns for Patience. No good could come of her being so enamored with the fellow but it was easy to see why she had. Aston went to a great deal of effort to make himself fascinating. Though Stanton saw through all his pretty words and practiced charms, there was no reason Patience would. For a young girl who had seen little of the world, who was full of spirit but forced to be prim and retiring under her aunt’s watchful eye, Lord Aston must be eminently romantic.
And romantic he knew he was not. How could he possibly attract the lady�
��s notice when he himself held none of Aston’s attractions? Certainly it was a problem he needed to consider and quickly, before Patience was carried into scandal by Lord Aston.
Watching her as she sipped her tea and stared out the window, he could almost feel the restlessness buzzing under her skin. Maybe it wasn’t romance she wanted so much as excitement—a chance to be herself.
That, he could do.
“We have brought Amelia’s mount with us of course,” Mrs. Wendover was saying, “But I’m afraid Patience will have to stay behind.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Stanley said, shaking his head. “Lord Blakemore, surely you have some horse that would be suitable for Miss Wendover so that she might join us.”
“Aye, I’ll have something for her. And for Miss Percy too, if she’s a mind to come,” Lord Blakemore said, nodding jovially. “Lady Blakemore was concerned about not having enough ladies to make up the numbers as it was, what with the Emery girls not arriving till tomorrow, so never fear, we’ll find something to mount them on.”
“Oh, yes, please,” Miss Percy said.
But as plans went on for who was to join the riding party, Stanton saw an exchange of glances between Mrs. Wendover and Patience—a clear communication that her aunt was not happy that Patience would be riding after all. Now, what lay behind that?
Lord Blakemore drained his tankard of ale and stood up. “Well, if we’re to finish our ride before it’s hotter than deuces out there, you young ladies had best be off to change into your riding habits. I know how long it will take you. Yes, and don’t try to deny it, Miss Percy. I’ve raised three daughters, don’t forget.”
Despite Lord Blakemore’s expectations, it was less than an hour later that the whole party gathered at the stable yards. Since Silas was not yet present to saddle Hermes for Stanton, the task fell to one of Blakemore’s grooms. Cautious as always with his prize stallion, Stanton inspected him to make sure all was as it should be before mounting.
Having adjusted the girth a bit, he murmured soothingly to Hermes, who was inclined to take exception to so many people and the accompanying chaos. But just as he was about to mount, he saw one of the undergrooms lead a piebald mare over to Patience. Appalled because the mare should have long since been put to pasture, he gave Hermes’ reins over to Adlington.
“Take him a moment.”
“What’s to do?” Adlington asked, but Stanton did not stay to answer him.
“Surely you have a better mount than this for Miss Wendover?” Stanton asked the groom.
The young man shrugged, a helpless look on his face. “This ‘ere be the only ‘orse left, ‘cept the carriage ‘orses.”
“But this won’t do,” Stanton muttered.
“It’s quite alright,” Patience argued. “I’ll make do, I promise.”
He glared at the horse. “You’re likely one of the finest riders here, but you’ll be able to do no more than plod along on this broken-down nag.”
“Lord Stanton,” she said in a fierce undertone. “I am not in the position to be choosy when I am given a chance to ride. Even if this is hardly a desirable mount, it is preferable to sitting indoors with my appalling embroidery under my aunt’s critical eye.”
This torrent of words hit him with a greater impact than she perhaps supposed. Once again, he railed against the circumstances, and people, that denied her the simple pleasures she so deserved. And she was correct that he could do nothing for her at this moment. But when Silas at last arrived with Tempest, well, then he would ensure she got a ride worthy of her.
He didn’t say another word of protest. Instead he checked the horse over and held his hands out to toss her into the saddle. While she adjusted the long skirt of her riding habit, he took the reins from the groom and handed them to her. “Do I need to adjust them for you?”
“No, thank you, they are well enough. Please, my lord, stop worrying over me. The whole party is waiting to set out.”
Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that she was right. He went back to his horse and received the reins back from Adlington. Lord Blakemore led the riders out of the stable yard as he mounted, Patience following placidly behind the others.
No doubt sensing Stanton’s frustration, Hermes grew restive and shifted about, but Stanton soon had him settled again. As he rode up next to Patience, she smiled at him. “I was worried for a moment that you were going to have more trouble with your mount than I with mine.”
Stanton cast a wry look her direction. “I don’t know who is more restive, Hermes or I. No doubt we’d both be better for a good, long gallop.”
“Well don’t keep him to a walk on my account. I am fully resigned to the prospect of trailing behind the rest of the group for the whole of the morning.”
“I know it, and I intend to keep you company.”
“That’s very kind of you, my lord.”
“It’s not. On the contrary, it’s quite selfish, I assure you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I should otherwise be constantly turning back to ensure you were still with us. If that animal doesn’t sprain a forelock or lose its wind on the first hill, I have no doubt you’ll be stranded at the first stream or hedge because it can’t jump.”
“I don’t know why you should be so concerned for me.”
He shot her a look. “Don’t you?”
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, clearly guessing at his meaning.
He looked away to allow her to recover from her confusion and glanced at the line of riders ahead of them. Miss Percy and Lord Adlington, not surprisingly, had fallen behind the group and were riding close enough together that Adlington’s boot occasionally brushed against Miss Percy’s skirts. Ahead of them, Amelia was flanked on either side by Lord Aston and Lord Fortescue. Mr. Viceroy and Mr. Stanley rode at the head of the group with their host.
“Isn’t it lovely being out in the fresh air and sunshine?” Patience asked a few minutes later, her face tilted up toward the sky.
“Not afraid for your lovely complexion?” he asked, teasing her.
“Not as worried as I should be, if you ask my aunt. I’m afraid I developed some very bad habits before she took me in. My father, bless him, let me spend as much time riding as I wanted, and I rarely did so with anything covering my face. I’d stay out all day in the summer, wandering around on my pony, picking blackberries from the brambles, and chasing imaginary brigands across the countryside.”
“Sounds idyllic.”
“It was. My mother has been frail since I was very young so I had very little supervision as a child beyond the servants who were too busy about their duties to give much thought for me. I would escape outside at the first opportunity and come home berry-stained, with my hair trailing down my back all in a tangle, and absolutely no sense of the fact that I’d missed supper. I believe I was in a such a state when my aunt first saw me, and she’s never forgotten it.”
“How old were you?”
“Oh, likely about ten. After that, she pestered my father into hiring a governess and a music teacher for me. The governess lasted until I was fifteen, at which point I convinced my father that I’d learned everything I’d ever need to know from her. That freed up more time for me to ride again, but Aunt Wendover still hasn’t forgiven my poor departed father for giving in to me. I assure you, she has never given in to me on anything.” There was a hard, resentful tone to her voice now.
“I’m sorry she isn’t kind to you,” he said, hoping he was not intruding too far.
She looked up at him as if much struck. “Do you know, you are the first person ever to see that she is not. And I am puzzled to know how you do know it.”
“Because you are not your true self in her presence, and forcing someone to hide their personality and talents is not kind, however well they may care for you otherwise.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say so. I would think you’d be more likely to view her strictures with approbation.”
He was not at al
l surprised to hear her say so, knowing what she thought of him. “Miss Wendover, I am not a prig, however proper I may be. It is my nature to be solemn and thoughtful and cautious. But I swear, I have been much less so lately. Indeed, I believe that if you were to know me better, you’d discover that there is a great deal more to me than you suspect.”
She smiled up at him. “That sounds like a challenge.”
He laughed. “You may take it as one.”
She responded with a burst of warm laughter that made him even more determined she would not be crushed by the life handed to her.
“I didn’t know you were capable of smiling until this morning at breakfast, and now you are laughing.”
Stanton sighed and shook his head. So that was why she’d looked at him so oddly earlier, just because he’d smiled at her. What man goes about courting a lady without smiling at her? Well, he would be sure to remedy that.
“Miss Wendover, it is impossible not to when you look at me with such teasing impertinence. But while I know you to be full of spirit beneath your prim manners, I wonder if you would be daring enough to ride out alone with me one morning.”
How her eyes did sparkle then. “But what shall I ride? I can’t risk taking Amelia’s horse out again.”
“Trust me to take care of that—and it won’t be on that lumbering creature either.”
She laughed, and when she answered, her voice rang with excitement. “Then I will dare to ride with you. Just send me word. You’ll see.”
Throughout the rest of their ride, Stanton made plans to do just that. The only thing that marred his humor for the rest of the day was not knowing what had become of the note. In the wrong hands, it could most decidedly be dangerous.
And so, when he walked into the drawing room that evening before dinner and found the note sitting precisely where Lady Blakemore had left it the previous evening, he was dumbfounded. Clearly, deep games were afoot.
To Love a Lord Page 6
