“And my fortune?”
Viceroy nodded. “I’ll not insult your intelligence to say that it will not be welcome. But so would it be to any man. And I assure you, you could not tie yourself to any man who would treasure you more than I will.”
“You are the first man to ever say such things while looking me in the eyes. You did so long ago when you first made your offer, and now you do again.”
“So you believe me?”
Amelia nodded and flew at him. Viceroy held out his arms and caught her. Stanton shook his head, somewhat relieved to have that resolved but not caring to witness such a display.
“Well, that’s the end of my hopes,” Aston said, pulling himself up off of the ground. He touched the scratches on his cheek. “I wonder if he knows he’s marrying a shrew?”
“That’s no concern of ours, I thank Providence,” Stanton said. “Viceroy, what are your plans?”
“If Amelia has no objection, I intend to discover a rector or some such and be married tonight. I’ve had a special license in my pocket since we left London.”
Stanton eyed the man with respect. “At long last, you behold me envious of your plotting.” He turned away. “Come, Aston, you cannot stay here. You would be decidedly in the way.”
“I’m not going back to the Blakemores’, if that’s what you are thinking. Not looking like this.” Aston pointed to the war wounds on his cheek. “I’m for London.”
“Where no doubt you’ll rot in a drunken stupor. Well, I’ve no argument to make. Just see that you take yourself off. I have matters of my own to attend to.”
Without a single look over his shoulder, Stanton went to find the stables to reclaim his horse. Soon he was back on the road to the Blakemore’s ball, hoping that surely now the worst was behind him—though he had every intention of having a conversation with Mrs. Wendover before embarking on his future with Patience.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The ball was full of bright, glittering, laughing people, but Patience could not enjoy it. Despite being asked several times to dance, she smiled and accepted only because manners required it of her. For the most part, she stayed seated by the Countess, watching the door to the ballroom for Stanton’s return, even though she knew it was much too early to expect him, even with the most optimistic outcome.
“Have you noticed, my dear,” Lady Du’Breven said, “that Mr. Viceroy is not present and was not at dinner?”
“No. No wonder Lady Blakemore was flustered at dinner—with four of her guests missing. The wonder is that my aunt has not approached to ask where Amelia is.”
The Countess nodded. “No doubt she has been making her own enquiries. There is a spectacular brittleness about her smile tonight, do you not think?”
Though unwilling to see her aunt, Patience turned in the direction she had last seen her and shivered when she met her aunt’s eyes. They were certainly cold and determined.
The country dance currently being enjoyed by the company came to an end. There was a stir at the end of the ballroom, not far from where Patience and Lady Du’Breven sat. Lord Blakemore stood upon the raised dais where the orchestra played.
“Good evening. I am in the happy position of being asked to announce two betrothals this evening and ask that you may all join with me in wishing these couples joy. Miss Harriet Percy has accepted the hand of The Right Honorable The Viscount Adlington.”
As the crowd applauded, Patience looked for her friend and found Harriet standing near Lord Blakemore, her hand through Adlington’s. Their joy was apparent in the smiles they gave one another. Who was the second couple? Someone who lived close by and had come to the ball?
“And it is with great pleasure,” Lord Blakemore continued, “that I also announce the betrothal of my good friend Sir George Hallister to Miss Patience Wendover.”
While the guests applauded and Lord Blakemore smiled benignly, looking about the room, Patience felt her blood turn to ice as waves of horror washed over her. “What has she done?”
Lady Du’Breven began to stand. “That creature! I’ll not stand for this.”
But Patience was ahead of her, rushing forward to put an end to this scheme before her aunt’s latest trap became a lifelong cage. Denying the betrothal would cause a scandal, as well her aunt knew, but such was her anger and indignation that she cared only for escape.
She wove her way through the crowd, ignoring the felicitations offered her on every side. As she broke through it to the open space on the dance floor, she found that her aunt and Sir George stood together, also receiving the congratulations of those around them with self-satisfied smiles. Harriet looked stunned and on the point of tears. Well, Patience would put the matter straight, no matter the consequences.
“It is not true,” she said, loudly. At first only those closest to her heard and grew silent. She said it again, raising her voice still further. “My aunt has made a grievous mistake. I am not betrothed to Sir George. I refused his offer in no uncertain manner, so I must correct this misapprehension. Pray accept my apologies.”
A delighted and shocked murmur swept through the room like a gust of wind.
“Patience!” Aunt Wendover gasped. “You are embarrassing us. Do not make it necessary for me to share precisely why it is that you are marrying Sir George.”
The threat was obvious—that she would claim Sir George had compromised her. No doubt everyone who had heard her knew what she meant. To continue meant Patience’s ruin through scandal, but she would not draw back. If only Lord Stanton had been here so that she might announce their engagement, but he was not. In the end, she would effectively lose her chance at happiness in an effort to save Amelia.
“Miss Wendover has stated her wishes,” came a deep and familiar voice behind her. Lord Stanton came to stand at her side, still dressed for riding. “The matter is therefore at an end.”
Patience’s relief was immeasurable. In a moment when she had been sure her courage would fail, he had arrived to support her. But even as his presence meant a reprieve from this horrific ordeal, a wrenching awareness crept through her. The proper Lord Stanton, whose character had never been smirched in any way, had now been thrust into a scandal that no doubt would fly on winged tongues across the breadth of England.
He had gone just this night to rescue her eloping cousin, stood now in a ballroom in buckskins and a greatcoat, dressing down her aunt in front of a crowd of interested onlookers, and was undertaking to join his good name to a woman who could offer him nothing but disgrace as her dowry.
There was no possible way she could do that to him. And no matter what he felt for her, which she did not doubt, she knew that it would hurt him in the end if she did not release him from the engagement. Perhaps if she had not rushed headlong into battle with her aunt, everything would be different. But there was no drawing back now from the consequences of what she had done.
She had suffered many ills at her aunt’s hand—the loss of pastimes that brought her joy and solace, the snuffing out of her personality, and her duplicity with Sir George. But though Patience would never wed Sir George, her aunt had won now after all. Numbly, Patience watched the unfolding scandal, a helpless spectator to the tragedy she saw on her horizon.
Aunt Wendover had not yet given up. “You tell me that you are engaged to my niece, sir? Then how is it that she was closeted earlier in the day with—”
“Madam, you will hold your tongue,” Stanton commanded, speaking over her. And such was the fury in his voice that her aunt faltered, whitened, and fell silent. When he was sure she would be quiet, Stanton lowered his voice. “Let us continue this discussion somewhere else, where we may be private. I have no wish to provide further entertainment for the Blakemore’s guests.”
Patience’s heart sank, hearing in his voice how much he hated this spectacle. She might not have been able to move had she not felt the Countess’s hand in hers, leading her along. Stanton stood waiting for her, concern etched in his expression. It gutted her th
at he could still look at her that way, even after everything she had done to him.
Stanton looked away from her then, his attention turned to someone over her shoulder. “This is not your affair, Sir George. You will remain here.”
“I will not. I have been robbed of my intended. Demme if I don’t sue for breach of promise.”
Stanton towered over Sir George, an imposing force as he stared down his nose at him. “If half of what I suspect about your treatment of Miss Wendover is true, you may thank heaven that you are old enough to be my grandfather. Your age has saved you from being horsewhipped.”
Sir George sputtered, his skin darkening to an alarming shade of crimson before he stormed off in the other direction.
Stanton held out his arm to Patience in a very proper manner and led her from the room as if she were a queen and not a poor nobody who had just scandalized the ton. As they went, Patience felt every eye upon them as if they were thorns in her flesh. How they would gossip and speculate and delight in this, like carrion crows catching the scent of blood in the air.
As they left the ballroom, the whispered murmurs grew into a roar, but Stanton paid no heed as he led them downstairs to Lord Blakemore’s library. He led Patience to a well-worn armchair and took care that Lady Du’Breven was also seated comfortably, before turning to face her aunt.
“I cannot think what you have to say to me,” her aunt said, glaring at Stanton. “I know not how Patience managed to captivate you so far that you have forgotten all that is due to your name, but so she has. And no doubt when you have come to regret this night’s actions, you will remember that had you kept from me interfering, you might have been free of her.”
Stanton shook his head. “I cannot determine if you believe the poison spewing from your mouth or if you truly are the hag that you have shown yourself to be. It is of no matter, however, as you will henceforth have nothing to do with us. I wished only to tell you that Patience is now under Lady Du’Breven’s protection until our nuptials may be arranged.”
“And so she might have her with my good will. I hope never to set eyes on her again.”
But as she turned to leave, Stanton said, “You may wish to know that your daughter is likely become Mrs. Viceroy.”
Patience blinked, wondering how such a thing had occurred. But then remembering all that Amelia had confided in her, she thought perhaps it was precisely what her cousin had intended all along.
“No.” Aunt Wendover turned, her eyes widening with shock. “But she left with Lord Aston. I made sure that it was so.”
“She did leave with him,” Stanton said. “But Aston found himself in the unenviable position of playing the villain in a rather tame gothic tale and has taken himself off to London to lick his wounds. And you now have a son-in-law you would do well not to cross swords with.”
“A plain mister? All my efforts, all my planning? Her, with her breeding and fortune, to throw herself away when she might have had an earl? Aston is a dissolute wreck, but she would have been a countess. What a fool!”
Unable to hold her tongue a moment longer, Patience said, “No, she was not a fool. She is one of the most courageous women I have ever known, and she has managed for herself what you would not give her. I hope she finds great happiness, for I think that she has had very little of it in her lifetime.”
“Happiness? That’s nothing but a young girl’s dream. You’ll learn that soon enough when the roses of your infatuation have begun to rot.”
Upon those words, Aunt Wendover spun and left the room. The door slammed behind her. In the silence that fell, Patience felt as if a nightmare had ended. But there was no relief, because her life would soon become nothing but dreary, endless loneliness, made all the worse because she had a brief moment where she dared to hope for the sun.
Stanton came to her then and knelt before her. He took both of her hands and looked up into her eyes. “Patience, I confess I desperately want to know what you were subjected to by your aunt and Sir George, but if you don’t wish to tell me, I will never ask again.”
Touched beyond words and feeling ever more unworthy of this man, Patience withdrew her hands from his grasp and framed his face with them. “Sir George did indeed try to embrace me, and it was terrifying, but Amelia saved me before he had done more than grasp my waist. I shudder to think what might have happened if she had not come, but she did.”
Stanton’s face hardened, and his eyes lit with anger. He stood and strode to the other end of the room, where he braced himself with one hand on the mantle over the fireplace. Every line of his back and shoulders showed the storm of anger raging within him. But after a minute, he turned again, calmer. “Remind me, my dear, to send Mrs. Viceroy a splendid wedding gift. Nothing could ever repay my gratitude to her, but I shall endeavor to do so.”
His words were so full of the future, of the partnership they might have together, that her eyes watered. How resolute he was—the perfect gentleman. But no matter how honorable he might be, she had to be more honorable still.
She stood, determined. “Stanton, I must say something.”
He tilted his head, looking puzzled at her tone. “Of course. What is it?”
She clenched her fists together and took a deep breath. “I appreciate the vast honor you have done me, but loving you as I do, I cannot hold you to a promise that will only bring you harm. I release you.” The last words came out as little more than a tremulous gasp before she turned and fled through the French doors to the dark gardens beyond.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Stanton watched her leave, frozen to immobility by the shock of her words. Surely she could not have just said what he thought he’d just heard.
“You great booberkin,” the Countess admonished. “Go after the girl.”
Her furious tone spurred him to action at last. In just a few strides, he crossed the room and was out the door. The moon shone brightly on the lush, sleepy gardens, illuminating the gravel walks and hedges. But even so, the shadows cast by the light were deep, and it was only by chance that he caught sight of Patience’s gown as she turned the corner into a walled garden.
His boots fell loudly on the pathway as he went after her, so he hoped she would not try to avoid him. He did not understand what had led her to take such a step, but he prayed that whatever troubled her would not prove an impossible hinderance.
When he came into the walled garden, he found her standing still, her face bowed into a handkerchief, sobs wracking her slender shoulders. He ached to see her suffering and swore to himself that he would do anything to ease her pain—even if that was to let her go.
He approached her slowly and spoke gently. “Will you tell me what has happened? I cannot bear to see you hurting.”
Patience turned slightly, though not enough to face him. “I am trying my best to be noble. Please do not dissuade me—I don’t know that I have the strength to forebear.”
The fear in his chest began to ease away. No, this was not because her feelings had changed. So long as she loved him, surely anything else could be rectified. In a few unhurried steps, he closed the distance between them and grasped her bowing shoulders. “That argument is not a very strong inducement, love, since that is precisely what I want to happen. Can you tell me what is troubling you?”
“You are too kind—hiding your feelings over the scandal I’ve created. I know you must be repulsed by it. Indeed, how could you not be? If only I had held my tongue and dealt with my aunt later, perhaps it would not have been so terrible, but I did. Oh, Alex, I cannot ask you to subject yourself further to the mess I have created.”
“My reputation? That is your concern?” He moved around to stand in front of her, raising her face with a gentle nudge. “Why should that worry you when it doesn’t worry me in the least? I promise you that I never set out to establish the reputation I have, and sometimes it has irked me past bearing—like when a certain young lady found me dull and comfortable.”
Her lips twitched then, an
d she gave a small chuckle. “Oh dear. I am sorry about that.”
“I believe I told you then that it is only because I am by nature prudent and sober…not because I care a farthing for what others think of me. When I returned tonight, covered in dust from the road and anxious to reach my bedchamber to wash and change into evening dress, I heard someone in the hall exclaiming that you were betrothed to Sir George. And let me tell you that I didn’t care a farthing that by shouldering my way into the ballroom I would set all the tabbies talking. I cared for nothing but getting to you.”
“But Stanton, I have nothing to offer you…and now not even my good name.”
“I want nothing more from you than the chance to love you and make you happy. You have brought zest and energy and life into my existence. What more could I want than to wake up every day to more time with you?”
She leaned into him, as if seeking his strength and support. “I do not know how I came to be so fortunate, and I am sure that I do not deserve it. But, Alex, I am selfish enough to want you despite knowing you could do so much better.”
His heart eased still further. “Then, please, be selfish forever.”
She looked up at him finally, and he stood mesmerized by the sparkle of moonlight and tears in her eyes. “If you were to kiss me, I am quite certain I would not be able to hold out against you any longer.”
Hearing the note of humor in her hopeful voice, he smiled. “Then prepare to have your resistance shatter, my dear. And if you should ever begin to have such worries again, let me know immediately so that I might distract you from them again.”
***
Patience awoke the next morning longing to see Stanton. Impatiently waiting for Dora to come in so that she might dress, she went to the window and opened the draperies to let the morning sunlight flood into her room. She raised her chin to meet its warmth and smiled to realize that it could not compare to the sunshine in her heart.
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