The Notorious Bridegroom

by Kit Donner

  “There is nothing here, Londringham. Besides, with no moon or light, we could not find a tree unless we bumped into it. Let us return tomorrow.” Kilkennen’s growing frustration was evident.

  A few minutes of silence, then farther away, Londringham’s response: “By then it may be too late.”

  Patience lost track of time as she tried to surreptitiously wiggle her hands free. She ignored her wrist throbbing in pain so she could focus on any information she could use to assist in her escape. She heaved a hesitant sigh through the handkerchief when the thin man motioned that they were alone again.

  He then beckoned the short man to his side, and the two of them crept from the cave after instructing Bear to watch Patience.

  The giant man remained on the opposite wall, only a few feet separating them. Angry, harsh voices sounded outside the cave. Apparently something had not gone well for these spies. But if they were the French spies, why would they hide from the earl, one of their own? Were they not in league together? Listening more intently, she heard one of them mention a ship and lost bounty.

  Oh, how utterly stupid of me. These men were smugglers, not spies. Will they harm me? Sitting on the dirty pebbly floor of the cave, she had to keep her wits about her. What could she offer them that might help to win her release?

  Suddenly, Bear made a move toward her. She stilled her heart and offered many prayers but felt no final blow. With two quick slices, he severed the ropes that bound her legs and pulled her gently to her feet.

  She moaned again through the handkerchief, still feeling a bit woozy as Bear led her outside the cave and onto the beach where his two companions held forth a furious argument.

  “’ow could you let this ’appen?” the shorter man remonstrated the tall man sitting on one of the smaller rocks dotting the sands. “’enry, can you ’ear me? This was our first chance with Ledeaux’s ship. I promised ’im a safe delivery. What went wrong?”

  Tall, thin, pockmarked Henry sat motionless, ignoring the man they called the General, when just then the General caught sight of Bear holding Patience. “And ye.” He stalked toward them. “Ye were to watch for trouble. “’ow did you miss ’er? And just what are we to do with ’er? Do I ’ave to do everythin’?” The General then paraded up and down the small strip of beach, berating Bear and Henry at their incompetence to see a plan through. “Remember, I am the brains, yer leader. If ye do as I say, then a little lick of work and we’re livin’ like Prinny. Perhaps I should search for comrades of higher intelligence.”

  Bear watched the General continue his tirade, all the while keeping a firm hold on Patience. Finally, the General walked over to them. “Did I tell ye to leave the cave? Did I tell ye to untie her feet? Bear, do ye realize if ye make the rules and not me, then ye see, we ’a’ to change the plan. And with ye makin’ the decisions, we’ll be strung on Tyburn before the next full moon.”

  If Bear was insulted by the General’s last remark, he moved not a muscle nor offered a defense. But then, Patience was becoming accustomed to the idea that he was a man of few or no words.

  “I will simply ’a’ to locate Ledeaux in the morning and try to explain our little mishap that we were unable to greet ’is ship. Perhaps ’e’ll understand, I surely don’t.”

  He turned toward Patience. “And what should be done with ye? And what might ye be doing down ’ere? ’oo do ye work for?” The questions tumbled out of him as he stared at Patience in her plain gray dress.

  He waved his hand in indifference. His small, round face scrunched up in consideration. “Of course, we can’t take ye with us, and if we let ye go, ye’ll report us to the constable. That does not leave us with many alternatives, now, does it, ducky?” He leaned his oily face closer to hers.

  Patience decided she had had enough of the little General, as bad as Napoleon, was he! She lifted her tied hands and to the amazement of the onlookers removed her gag.

  “Ye could ’a’ removed the handkerchief when those men were ’ere, why didn’t ye?” asked the General.

  “Quite simply, it did not suit my purpose for those men to find me here,” she replied tiredly before settling on a nearby stump. “I work at the house, and if the earl were to find me here, I would lose my position.”

  The three men gathered around Patience looking at her curiously.

  She shrugged. “I was taking a walk when I heard noises and thought to investigate.” She thought to herself, I have been taking a lot of walks lately.

  Continuing in her most earnest manner, she assured them, “I will not tell the constable about your presence here tonight, if you do not tell the earl where you found me.”

  The General considered her bargain. He and his men had never killed anyone before, leastways not a young woman. Truth be told, he became slightly nauseous around blood. He beckoned Henry to the side to discuss a plan of action.

  She observed the men for a few minutes as they talked animatedly, looked at her, and then back to each other. So immersed in their conversation, they did not hear her approach. They sprang apart at the sound of her voice.

  “Please keep in mind, gentlemen, that since the ship did not land, no smuggling was committed by you. And I have no proof that would convince a constable of your intent.” She enjoyed explaining that bit of news to them.

  Henry scratched his chin as the General weighed her words. “She does ’a’ a point there, ’enry.” A pause. “Done. Yer free. Bear, untie her hands. Little lady, just don’t be in-terferin’ in our business, again,” the General instructed a little less harshly.

  After Bear cut away the ribbons of rope, she rubbed her wrists and hands as she studied the men. They actually reminded her a little of her brothers waiting at home. The giant was like her brother Benjamin, and the General like James.

  “Our lookout! We forgot about ’im!” Henry shouted, pointing to the top of the cliff.

  “’enry, signal him to meet us,” the General barked as he walked toward the cave.

  Patience started to the entrance of the hidden passage, and then turned to the would-be smugglers and the General once more. “Have you ever thought of another line of work? Gainful employment and one with less likelihood of swinging by the end of a rope? Perhaps you three could easily find work, in the militia or on a ship? Smuggling seems a rather dangerous profession.”

  The General smiled condescendingly to Patience. “’Tis true, perhaps. But where is the excitement in such jobs as ye mention? And we ’a’ never actually smuggled anything. This was our first opportunity. And I thought my plan foolproof. I guess it would ’a’ been if I didn’t ’a’ to depend on a couple of fools.” He laughed at his own joke.

  When the General had finished snickering, he grew sober. “Perhaps it ain’t smuggling what will bring us fortune. I will have to review our future endeavors.” He nodded thoughtfully while stroking his chin.

  Patience shrugged, giving up persuasion for the other thoughts on her mind. She waved to Bear as she hurried down the beach, and, much to her surprise, he returned the wave.

  Meeting with no difficulty in the passageway, she slipped silently through the study and up the stairs. Her hands trembled from exhaustion and fright after her adventure on the beach. She did hope those men would listen to her and pursue more honorable goals than smuggling. She smiled when she thought of Bear. He seemed such a gentle soul for his great strength.

  She entered her room exhausted beyond measure, needing to rest and plan how to proceed. Stepping out of her shoes, she fell onto the bed, careful of her wounded arm. Anything else was simply too much trouble.

  She felt lost, unsure how to continue. Tonight had been a narrow escape from those smugglers-to-be. Patience needed someone to confide in, someone who could understand. Her thoughts rested briefly on the earl, and she grimaced. Her enemy certainly would not be willing to help her.

  But yet when he had held her in his arms on the floor in his room, he did not seem like the enemy, in fact, he seemed very unenemy-like. His arms h
ad felt strong and sure and very comforting. She wanted to feel his warmth again. To taste his lips. I must stop this playacting, Patience lectured herself tersely. If he discovers my true identity, he will have me thrown out of the house, and even worse, perhaps into prison.

  Her hand automatically reached for her silver locket for comfort, a present from her mother. But her fingertips felt nothing. She quickly sat up, all exhaustion banished in fear of her loss. She examined her clothes and the bed, but the locket was missing.

  It must have fallen off when Bear carried me to the cave, she thought despondently. I have lost my precious locket, am nearly killed by smugglers, most likely sprained my wrist, and have made no progress uncovering proof of the earl’s treason. What a miserable day. Surely, tomorrow must be better.

  In the wee hours of the morning, Londringham, Kilkennen, and Red Tattoo arrived back at the house. Red and Kilkennen went to their rooms, but Bryce had another destination before he could find rest.

  He quietly opened the door to Patience’s room and found her sleeping soundly. He had thought perhaps the woman’s scream he had heard on the beach had been hers, but why, he couldn’t say. He shook his head at his fanciful musings and was just about to close the door when he noticed her shoes near the bed. Silently as the moon, he crept into her room and grabbed her shoes for a look.

  Muddy, wet, and sandy. He put them back where he had found them, and, annoyed and something more, headed to his bedchamber to find some sleep or peace, probably not both.

  Chapter 10

  The next day after dinner, Isabella cornered Bryce in the gazebo where he had headed after taking a stroll. The swishing of satin warned him of her approach. He turned to lean his back against a column, watching her enter the sanctuary. The countess smiled coyly at him as she seated herself comfortably on the marble bench, the diamonds sparkling around her neck providing the only light other than the moon’s beam.

  “Bryce, darling, I missed you at dinner. There was no one to speak to, no one to discuss this weekend’s hunt and festivities. And I have spent so much time preparing for it. Where have you been all day?” Her shrill voice startled the quiet night air.

  He knew that his answer—avoiding her—was not likely to meet with a great reception. Damn, he had forgotten about his promise of a hunt for her friends. Since he had been unable to persuade her to leave, he had hoped that Isabella’s friends would convince her to return to London with them, that their endeavors might succeed where his had failed. There had been little gain in keeping his ex-mistress and her French cousin here, especially since Sansouche had been making noise of late about traveling up to Town. Besides, Bryce planned for his new house steward to occupy a lot more of his time.

  Isabella prattled on, unaware of Bryce’s unresponsiveness. “Everyone has responded to my invitation and have all expressed great enthusiasm over the soiree Saturday night. They all know you have seldom opened your house for any type of affair.”

  He ignored her words while clinically studying her artfully arranged blond coiffed hair, painted face, and svelte body. Why had he ever been attracted to her? She was considered quite a thing of fashion by the ton, perhaps that was why he had been interested. And Isabella had been persuasive at a time after his brother’s death, when he needed an outlet for his grief but had no energy to find it. Isabella had simply pronounced him hers, which he did not feel the need to confirm or deny. But those few times of controlled passion with Isabella had only left him feeling more empty and disconsolate than before.

  Now, staring at her beauty in the moonlight brought another face to his mind. Patience. His new house steward whose dark brown tresses promised sensuous pleasures, her luminous hazel eyes passion-filled with innocence, and ripe lips made for kissing. Or for lying, he could not be sure which.

  Isabella seductively rose from the bench and moved near Bryce, placing a red finger-tipped hand on his arm. With a little pout, she rejoined, “Can we not have together what there was, once before? I miss you in my bed. I am lonely for your touch and your kisses. Do not tell me you seek another’s bed?” she asked, her face a complete picture of sulkiness with an underlay of ire.

  He looked down at her arm before gently removing it, and walked to the end of the gazebo before he replied, “Isabella, content yourself that I have not found a replacement for you. However, in the future, where I care to partake of a woman’s company is no longer your affair.” Carefully measured words, sure to pour vinegar onto her wounds, but the woman needed firm convincing. His footsteps on the walk heralded no sound in the vacant air he left behind.

  Isabella watched him leave, a bitter anger growing inside. After all she had done for him! Well, he would not discard her that easily! She still held a few cards of her own.

  The household threw themselves into the tasks at hand, preparing for the countess’s visitors. Her guest list included the usual number of fashionable, reputable, and disreputable rakes and ladies normally attending a function outside of Town. Bryce thought wryly of all those who had accepted the invitation simply from curiosity. He could not remember the last time the house had been opened for guests. Society gatherings had always been a duty and never a pleasure for him.

  When he thought of his home at Paddock Green, he remembered enjoying outdoor activities with Edward. He was more at home with a fishing pole than with dancing the country dances. Thank goodness he would only have to tolerate the small group of visitors for a few days. Then life and his household would return to some semblance of normalcy. Time was growing short for locating the ring of French spies, and, unfortunately, Sansouche had proven less than helpful.

  During the past few days, Bryce rarely caught sight of Patience. She seemed very clever at avoiding him. Mornings she worked on his accounts, and afternoons he spent away from the house working with the constable on Carstairs’s murder. The only times he saw her they were not alone. Probably just as well. Bryce could not seem to concentrate when she was near. He remembered her kisses and her heated touch and wanted to experience them again.

  Thankfully, Red Tattoo, who watched Patience’s movements, could report nothing strange or out of the ordinary to his master. No posted letters, no rendezvous, nothing. But if Patience was not a French spy, then who could she be? And why was she here, in his house? Could her story possibly be true? All evidence was to the contrary.

  Although the truth still eluded him, Bryce thought how passionate Patience would be in marriage to a man she truly loved if her actions to avoid marriage to a man she hated were equal. He knew nothing made sense, and he was not a patient man to await the answers he needed. After six months, his brother’s murderer still escaped justice and at least one spy resided under his roof.

  In time for guests, all bedchambers had been aired and thoroughly cleaned, silverware polished, furniture dusted, downstairs salons opened and freshened. Servants hired from the village had been brought in to help clean as well as provide additional staffing during the visitors’ stay. The countess barked orders and harangued the staff as they worked tirelessly, until she was satisfied with the results. When every single floor had been dusted, looking glasses shined clear, silver gleamed pure, and shrubbery nipped and clipped, the countess declared the house and grounds presentable. Most of the staff, including Lem and Melenroy, in addition to the extra hires, professed their dislike of the countess and expressed strong hopes that her ladyship would soon depart.

  On the day of the guests’ arrival, the occupants of Paddock Green were in a chaotic state as the countess flitted and fussed over last-minute details. Patience, still favoring her wounded arm, escaped to the stables with Lem to find Clara, the goat, to feed her. Gulliver followed behind them with only a slight limp from the rabbit trap incident. They talked of the future, of Patience’s return home someday, and of Lem as a soldier in His Majesty’s Horse Guards, when he was older, of course.

  During their pleasant break from the house, Patience completely forgot about the house books she had had to put
away before the guests arrived. She and Lem ran over the daisy-dotted meadows and down the long corridor of green landscape which adjoined the earl’s gardens. Returning to the kitchen, they paused to take a breath, and that is where Mr. Gibbs found them, panting and laughing.

  His face held no trace of amusement in finding his servants off on a lark. His eyes narrowed to tiny slits and his hands twitched by his side, eager to be put to use. Since Patience had not been a member of the staff very long, she did not recognize these understated signs of his fury.

  She approached him apologetically, prepared to defend Lem’s absence. “Sir, I fear I took rather long with Lem outside…”

  But Mr. Gibbs brushed her aside with a slight push to her uninjured arm and turned to Lem. “You, you little blighter. You have caused me trouble for the last time. Come here.” The violence in his voice showed in the terror on the little boy’s face.

  Patience stepped between the butler and Lem. In a voice intended to calm the beast, she continued quietly. “Please, listen to me. Our tardiness is all my fault. We were feeding the goat and lost track of time. It was my idea, let the punishment be on my shoulders.”

  Sudden shrill laughter from the parlor reminded the three of the newly arrived visitors. Lem darted around Patience, hoping to reach the door to the hallway, but Mr. Gibbs caught him by his collar and hauled the boy in front of him.

  Before she could intercede, Lem started a fight of his own—hitting out at Mr. Gibbs and yelling, “Ye ain’t gonna touch me! Ye ain’t gonna touch me! Ye won’t beat me no more! I’m runnin’ away from ’ere. Far away, so’s ye won’t find me!” The footboy’s voice echoed in the kitchen, alerting others in the house of trouble.

  With one hand on Lem, Mr. Gibbs leaned over and shut the door to the hallway to mute the boy’s howlings. Patience suddenly realized what Lem had never been able to tell her. Fury and fear in Patience’s heart took over her senses as she stared at the butler’s face which was filled with venomous hatred for her and the boy.