The Notorious Bridegroom

by Kit Donner

  She scurried to the landing and up to the attic to debate her next plan of action. Patience tied her hair back with a ribbon and, determined to retrieve her locket, tiptoed down the backstairs. After a few minutes of castigating herself for her carelessness, she turned toward the kitchen.

  The shadows toward the back of the house helped conceal her presence as she hugged the corridor walls. Once or twice a footman hurried by to obtain more imbibing refreshment, which, from the sounds emanating from the front parlor, they were enjoying to a hearty degree. She listened for any noises from the library where the card games proceeded, but except for the scrapes of chairs and murmuring voices, entertainment for the evening showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

  Outside the house, in a darkened corner of the terrace, she tried to judge approximately where the locket might have fallen. Unfortunately, she realized, as she chewed on her last nail, she would have to leave the safety of the shadows to perform an earnest search. The cheeky moon presented almost a chessboard pattern on the terrace stones through mischievous clouds.

  With a quick glance around to assure no one else was about, she crept to the end of the flagstone walkway, judging this to be near the place where her necklace had fallen. On her knees, feeling for a whisper of metal, Patience heard a low whistle. She stopped, her heart pounded in her ears, drowning any other sound.

  There it was again. She looked up cautiously to find Rupert, her missing brother, hovering near a large hedgerow, which outlined the flower garden near the terrace.

  Her eyes widened in surprise and joy, she jumped to her feet and ran toward Rupert, who pulled her into the moon shade of the hedge. She couldn’t believe he was actually here. Patience was delighted to see her brother’s beloved familiar face, and they hugged with hasty stolen happiness.

  But when she stepped back to stare at her brother, she caught her breath at his haggard appearance. He had not shaved in days, his reeking clothes hung on his thin frame, and he had a new lean look which matched the worried, haunted look in his once-cheerful brown eyes. She tried to halt the tears from seeing him in such a manner.

  He had changed, and it frightened her. She still knew well of this stranger.

  “Patience, I’ve been watching this place for a week and have not had the opportunity to talk with you, needing a place to catch you alone and private. I almost spoke to you in the gazebo today but a man walked in to speak to you and then you ran back to the house. I’ve been worried about you after I heard you had come to Winchelsea to find me.” Even his voice sounded faint and tired.

  She clutched his arms and steadied her voice before replying, “I’m fine”—intentionally not mentioning the wounded arm, the sprained wrist, the smugglers, a leering and lecherous Frenchman, and a bothersome earl. “I am trying to gain news about our cousin’s murder, and I think the earl might know something.”

  Rupert’s face turned somber. “This is madness. You cannot hope to learn anything from Londringham, and as you know, he’s quite dangerous. You must return to Susetta Fields on tomorrow’s coach. No arguments.”

  “Rupert, listen to me. You are not the only one to worry. You have not been taking care of yourself. Look at your appearance. I’m worried about you.” She paused, looking beyond his shoulder. “And I’m not sure any longer that the earl is guilty.”

  Rupert raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Impossible. Our cousin was absolutely positive the earl was guilty of treason. It would not take a large leap from treason to murder. What proof do you have of his innocence?”

  Patience smiled. How like Rupert, always thinking, talking, and demanding satisfaction in the same breath. “The earl is trying to find our cousin’s murderer. And he has been meeting with the constable to discuss this.”

  She hesitated, unsure of how much to tell him about her relationship with the earl. “His lordship has been kind to me, and I know before long, I will discover something of import, and we will know without question whom the guilty party or parties are. I just need more time.” Patience tried to keep her face in the shadows, avoiding his penetrating stare.

  Rupert thrust his hands in his breeches and walked a short distance away. “I cannot tolerate this running. I was convinced the earl was the culprit. Now we seem no closer to solving our dilemma and returning home soon.”

  Patience went to him and placed a comforting hand on his back. “I do suspect someone. There is a Frenchman here by the name of Alain Sansouche. The earl’s mistress, Countess Isabella’s cousin. I don’t trust him, and I think he might somehow be involved.”

  Her brother’s countenance brightened. “Truly? How?”

  How could she reveal that the man was a danger to them both? If she told Rupert about the Frenchman’s suggestion, her brother would carry her back home to Susetta Fields.

  Hating to lie, she replied, “I’m still working on this idea. The earl also believes our cousin may have been involved in espionage. Perhaps Lord Carstairs played a dangerous game of chance with French spies?”

  Rupert shook his head and swore under his breath, forgetting good manners. “Carstairs? I would have sworn—but I don’t know what to believe anymore. What are we involved in? I’m running for my life, and you are in the lion’s den. Patience, we can’t keep on like this. Where will it end?”

  He stopped and turned toward her. “I can’t leave you here. I’m not convinced you are safe. Come with me. I’ll see that you return home safely.”

  She removed a heavy lock of hair from her brow and squared her shoulders, ready to do battle. “Listen to me, little brother, what harm can befall me? This Frenchman does not know that I suspect him of spying. He only knows me as a house steward. I promise to be careful. I need a little more time.”

  Rupert looked at her stubborn face and, with a reluctant grin, uneasily agreed. He pulled her close for another reassuring hug. “Only a bit longer. I’m sure Louis and the rest of our brothers are concerned, and we certainly do not want them coming here.”

  Patience agreed, then paused. “What about your safety? You look all done in,” she murmured softly, brushing his cheek with her hand.

  “I’m better, now that I have seen you. I’ve been quite worried when I couldn’t reach you. Three strangers I met on the road have taken me in. We keep to ourselves during daylight and only venture out when evening is our cover. They appear to be avoiding the law, as am I.”

  She gaped at him. “You are living with ruffians?” Ruffians being the only word she knew for criminals.

  “Now hush, I know this might sound hard to believe, but I don’t think they’ve actually done anything criminal. If you met them, which I hope to God you never do, you would see, they are harmless and not very bright. I think it a wonder they have not been caught, but they’ve treated me well and given me a roof and food, so I can’t complain of the company I keep.” He offered a rueful grin. “I must go. Please be careful, little one. I promise to.” With light fingers to her hair, Rupert escaped past the hedgerow and into the trees.

  Patience bit her lip thoughtfully as she returned to the edge of the terrace. The soiree’s din had grown louder. Laughter and music wafted through the night air, drifting along on a breeze. Before she could continue her search, she caught sight of a masterful presence.

  His lordship stood on the Palladian balcony above the lower terrace, transfixed by the night. What did he see? What did he search for? Whatever he was thinking seemed to take him many miles from here.

  She waited in the shadows content to study him, almost as if she could determine his character and purpose. It occurred to her that he truly didn’t need anyone. This man could take on the whole world and win single-handedly. From his keen observation to his intelligence, broad shoulders, and strong hands, he would be formidable to his enemies.

  He had treated her so tenderly when she’d been injured. But that was only because he was trying to weaken her defenses, to get her to admit what she had been doing outside his window or in the tree. Yes, tha
t’s how clever he was.

  And she almost wept with this discovery because she wanted his touch to be real, and she wanted him to need her. Here was a hard man who wore distrust and darkness like a mantle.

  Yet, she had seen other sides of him. He seemed to honestly care for Lem and his education. He showed concern over his other servants, and more than once she had heard him mention his land tenants and whether they were receiving enough food and supplies to feed their families.

  But where was his reward? His face portrayed a mask of emotions, caught between his own private heaven and hell. His lean, chiseled features captured character and honesty, an honesty he would respect in others. But deception—he would certainly seek to destroy the deceiver.

  Weaker men she recognized easily because of having been surrounded by them all her life. Her brothers and Richard. Louis, strong in character, weak in body. Then there was James, with his constant devout faith and the Bible orchestrating his thoughts of his rewards in Heaven but little help to his family on earth. And, of course, lovable Benjamin. Content to cultivate sustenance from the soil but in great need of nurturing himself. They all needed her.

  The strong hands that gripped the smooth stone of the balcony railing knew power and possession. She thought guiltily of wanting to feel that possession and was suddenly envious of anyone who had ever received his attentions. She shook her head. Why did he seem as if he had known more than his share of pain in this world? So many questions swirled in her head, unending.

  All this fanciful study of a stranger. Tiredness must have crept upon her after the long day and the excitement of seeing her brother. Right now Rupert would be making his way back to his shelter with those criminals he had mentioned.

  “Who’s out there? Show me your face.” His lordship’s orders would not accept delay.

  Although she could remain unseen by him and flee without detection, she felt drawn to his mood and had no desire to leave, and every wish to stay, as reckless as it may be. She stepped away from the green garden walls and walked hesitantly toward the house, obeying her heart’s impulse, her search for her locket forgotten.

  She stood near the garden path and looked up to stare at his lordship’s moonlit face, aware that the same light revealed her own identity.

  The night seemed made for dreaming and pretending.

  “What are you doing out here in the dark, Miss Patience?” his question devoid of any expression of judgment.

  “I lost something, and came to retrieve it.”

  He stared at her intently, perhaps trying to read her face for duplicity. She wanted nothing more than to be honest with him, but was it possible? If he wasn’t guilty of all that she suspected of him, she could ask for his help and seek from him refuge for her brother.

  “Perhaps we share the same objective. Have you found what you’re missing?” he inquired quietly.

  “No, my lord. And you?” she replied, anxious to know his answer. She bowed her head briefly, then returned her gaze to him.

  “No, it appears luck is not with us tonight.” He hesitated. “The moon adds a shiny luster to your hair,” he murmured in amazement.

  His comment startled Patience, who self-consciously put a hand to her wayward hair hanging over one shoulder.

  “You need bright colors, the gray paints you pale. And so fair. Even by this darkness and a canvas of drab, you are an enchantment. A vision. The night appears to do you justice.”

  “It would appear, my lord, that we both enjoy the night’s companionship.”

  He leaned his elbows more solidly on the stone balcony railing, seeming to enjoy this moonlit conversation.

  “That is so. Although the night spared me from pleasant dreams, that is, until I met you,” he told her cryptically. “Am I only dreaming you?”

  Patience laughed softly. “No, I am well and truly here before you. A real woman with hopes and fears.”

  “A beautiful woman like you should fear nothing. I almost believe you. I want to believe you are real.”

  Until her brother’s plight was resolved, she did not know how to make him believe. “Please, my lord—”

  Voices from the other side of the house heading in their direction cut short their conversation. Patience identified Sansouche’s voice immediately and began to panic. Although she knew he wouldn’t insult her in his lordship’s presence, she didn’t want him to discover her here. She looked around desperately for an escape path. A few of the countess’s guests lounged on the side terrace, blocking that exit.

  Ignoring the earl’s presence, she raced to the door connected to the study and then to the one leading to the back parlor, but found them both locked. Her heart beat fiercely as she sensed her enemy’s imminent arrival.

  “Patience,” the earl leaned down to whisper, “use the trellis and climb up to me,” he told her.

  She looked at him blankly and then at the old trellis, patterned and cross-stitched with wandering vines and budding roses, then back to his lordship and said, “I can’t. With my arm, I don’t think I can pull myself up.”

  “What are you more afraid of? Climbing the trellis or meeting our Frenchman?”

  His reasoning brought her straight to the trellis. Studying it doubtfully, she wet her lips and grabbed a high wooden rung. Hitching her skirt to her waist, she began her ascent. She shut her fear of Sansouche out of her mind and concentrated on climbing the fanciful ladder. Any minute the Frenchman would stroll around the corner and catch her climbing the side of the house. Please let me be in time, God, she prayed fervently, her heart taking flight.

  Her progress was slow with the use of only one hand, and having to use caution because the rungs were wet and slippery beneath her feet. As she grew closer to the top, she remembered her old fear of heights. Her destination actually had not looked that high from the ground. Despairingly, she felt prickly thorns pick at her bodice and further expose her white drawers.

  Breathing heavily, she heard Sansouche bid his companion good night, and fear fueled her strength to boost herself the final distance. Looking up, she saw she would need the earl’s help to climb over the balcony railing.

  He watched her climb with keen interest, admiration in his eyes. When she had almost reached the balcony, she stretched out her hand to him for assistance.

  “Can I believe in you?” he asked, his face quite somber.

  “What do you mean? Hurry, pull me over, Sansouche will arrive directly.”

  “Tell me or I will let him find you. Is this a farce or are you not with Sansouche?”

  His help was so close. She shook her head, pleading with him, “Please believe in me. I know nothing of this man, only that he frightens me,” she admitted. Footsteps rang on the walk around the corner.

  Quickly, Londringham leaned over the side of the balcony and, taking Patience by the waist, pulled her over the top. Both stood motionless in each other’s arms as they heard the Frenchman stroll along the terrace, keeping to the dark side of the balcony, hidden from the bright moon’s gaze. Every few minutes, they heard his footsteps stop, but then he continued around the side of the house, heading toward the party on the side terrace.

  She sighed with evident relief when a sudden gust of wind felt close on her legs. Both Patience and Bryce, for different reasons, were drawn to the sight of her drawers fluttering in the wind. Before she could untwine her skirt, they noticed a quite long rip, rending a gaping hole from knee to thigh exposing a pale curved thigh.

  Chapter 12

  Patience ignored the earl’s gaze as she bent awkwardly to join the torn pieces of material together. Ruefully, she shook her head, acknowledging the impossibility of the task. Why did this have to happen now? I must retain some dignity in this situation, she thought, feeling a flush warm her face.

  Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she tried to pull down her skirt to hide the tear.

  Bryce placed his hand over the hand that wrestled with her skirt and held it lightly in his own. With his other hand, he reach
ed up to gently stroke her cheek.

  Patience, captured by his intense blue gaze, could scarcely breathe, so enraptured was she by his spell. When she nervously wet her lips, this tiny, unconscious movement prompted Bryce to groan under his breath before he pulled her into his arms, seeking more of what she wanted to offer him.

  His left arm held her comfortably to his side as his right hand carefully cushioned her head while he brought his mouth down on her moist lips, gently at first, then with increasing pressure.

  She succumbed to the tender caress of his lips as the blood in her veins whirled and sang in pure delight. No thoughts or conscience disturbed her dream of experiencing his powerful touch. With eyes closed, she gloried in his instruction, wanting to give as much as she received. She eagerly welcomed his seeking tongue, claiming possession with his demanding kiss.

  When first one arm, then her other arm wrapped shyly around his neck, Bryce knew soul-saving victory. Her passionate response enveloped him in such pleasure, he determined it would be only the beginning of her secrets he intended to learn tonight. His hand drifted down to her shoulder and rested on her breast. Beneath the thin muslin bodice, he felt her heart pounding with a rhythm that matched his own. Contentment could not end before he claimed the exquisitely rounded breast hidden from his touch.

  He enjoyed softly igniting her breast to desire through her covering. But it was not enough. The three top buttons came undone easily, giving him access to the treasure he sought beneath her chemise. He felt a shudder surge through the young woman, which brought his own blood-filling arousal to painful life.

  Relieved to find this enchantress as spellbound as he was, he felt her low moan against his lips as her body leaned into his with surprising ardor. He delighted in her shy but ardent embrace as he stroked her lithe buttocks, and continued his assault on the smooth feel of her breast and hardened nipple.