by Kit Donner
A noise behind him announced he had company. He turned and started at the lovely picture Colette presented in the doorway, where the light from the hallway emphasized her slender form. Only she could affect him like this. He could not contain his eagerness to speak with her, touch her, his gaze devouring the very sight of her.
He crossed the room in a thrice and gripped her hands clasped lightly in front of her, ready to pull her into his arms. But Colette gently disengaged herself to skirt around his large, commanding figure. He couldn’t take his eyes from her.
After she had arranged herself comfortably on the settee, the only piece of furniture in the room for sitting, Colette asked Keegan to close the doors, in a manner to suggest she wasn’t happy to see him. Still puzzled, he obeyed. This is not the Colette that wrote to him, told him that she cared for him. His injured hand shook as he crossed the room to reach for spirits and poured the glass of brandy he had been promising himself. She had wounded him more deeply than the cannon blast.
With his emotions under control, he faced the maid. Dressed in a lovely black gown, she looked ready for an evening event. God, but she was beautiful with her dark brown curls arrayed stylishly around her perfectly oval face with dark eyes. Surely her coldness was due to his unforeseen arrival.
Colette broke the awkward silence. “I’m surprised to see you. I had not expected you. Why are you here?” Her voice was soft and sounded pleasant, as if she were talking to her lace-maker, not her lover.
Keegan propped one shoulder on the wall closest to the liquor, already regretting his hasty decision to see Colette when he had not fully recovered from his injuries. He stared at her, bewildered, trying to find the woman he had fallen in love with.
“It is quite late,” she continued easily. “I do not wish for the countess to find you here. She would not like it.”
The mantelpiece clock struck midnight. He took a long draught of brandy, his steady gaze never leaving her face. His voice low and devoid of sentiment, Keegan replied, “I came to see you because I believed you would care to see me. That you would actually welcome my call, no matter what the time of day.”
He drained his glass, enjoying the liquid burning down his throat. “I must have been mistaken about you.” His features harder than the marble mantelpiece, he finished, “It is a mistake unlikely to happen again.” He pushed away from the wall and bent to leave his empty glass.
“Wait.” Colette jumped off the settee and rushed over to him, tenderly taking his bandaged hand in her own. “Mon amour, what have you done?” Her feather touch stroked the injured hand before bringing it to her lips for a kiss. “Why did you not tell me you were hurt?” she asked with an almost accusing manner.
Keegan’s eyes widened at this chameleon of a woman standing in front of him. Why was she playing such games with him? His eyes dark with anger, he told her, “What of my injury? I am still the same man when I walked in the door and was greeted with your frosty reception. Please spare me your pity.”
But Colette clutched his arm in dismay, her touch penetrating him through his wool evening coat. With tears streaming down her achingly beautiful face, she begged for his forgiveness. “You must know, I am pleased you are here to see me. I was afraid the housekeeper might be listening. She may tell the countess I had a gentleman caller this late and my mistress would be very angry,” her apology laced in a seductive whisper.
His hooded green eyes prevented Colette from seeing his forgiveness. His only response was an order. “Kiss me.”
Colette gently wrapped her arms around Keegan’s stiff shoulders and pulled herself up to his waiting lips. She brushed her lips against his, teasingly, lingering with a promise of more. But when he went to capture more of her sweetness, she danced from his arms and back to the settee, watching him, eyes lit in amusement. She had other plans for him. “Please, sir, not so hasty,” she told him teasingly. “Let us talk first,” she said, patting a place next to her.
Patience felt the glorious sun upon her face the next morning, feeling happy until she remembered the events of the previous night. Surely finding a dead body would unnerve any person. But Bryce had saved her yet again. And no more Sansouche to be concerned about, although she would not have wished him departed to the next life. Prison would have done just as well.
But nothing could intrude on her warm thoughts of the man determined to save her from herself. Although he still had not mentioned the words “love” and “marriage,” she knew he would, he only needed time. Time, what her brother Rupert did not have. She must dress and see Bryce about returning to Winchelsea to find her brother.
She sent two little prayers up to Heaven, one in supplication for Rupert, the other in thanksgiving. Her gratitude was for the man she had found and loved, for Patience had secretly despaired after Richard had left, never to return, that he had been her only hope for marriage and companionship.
But fate had something else planned for Patience—in the form of a handsome, naturally, English spy, who seemed to fear little, except for the safety of those whom he loved.
Patience threw back the covers, anxious for the day to begin, knowing each morning she awakened, she would be impatient to see Bryce.
A sparkle caught her eye. On the pillow next to her lay a beautiful emerald necklace entwined with diamonds in a dainty gold chain.
She stared at it.
First, in delight.
Then, in wonder.
Then in curiosity.
Then, in horror. Suddenly remembering the morning when Bryce had given the countess just such a jewelry box and said farewell—and meant good riddance to his once-mistress. Patience leaned over the bed and promptly retched.
Bryce leaned back against the comfortable, well-padded chair in Lady Elverston’s parlor. He had planned several errands for this morning, including one last stop at Whitehall to finalize their strategies to stop the French spies. Prime Minister Addington had just received urgent news to share with him and word was making its way around the city that Napoleon planned to declare war in the very near future. They had to fortify the southern coast and gain any advantage by capturing the spies in their midst.
Even with a possible impending war with France, Bryce thought of Patience. He was anxious to return home and discover whether she had liked the little present he had left her. Instead of more honeysuckle like he had left the day before, he had placed the diamond and emerald necklace, a family heirloom, on her pillow. He rubbed his hands in anticipation of the ways she was probably planning to thank him. But first, he would confess how he felt about her.
“Bryce, I am truly concerned over Patience,” Lady Elverston said, her anxious voice finally biting into his woolgathering, something he never before realized he did.
Bryce leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Why?” He frowned, wondering if his friend could have learned about their escapade last night.
Lady Elverston waved a graceful hand. “I know she is worried about her brother, whom, she tells me, has disappeared from prison, and she is worried about you and your injury.”
Bryce scowled darkly when she mentioned his wound, almost healed. That was his concern and none other’s.
She did not see his dark look but continued, “That girl has taken on the problems of the whole world, and she simply does not look strong enough to carry the burden. I want to see her happy, she deserves to be happy.” Lady Elverston eyed him pointedly.
He rose, avoiding her gaze, and placed his empty teacup on the table. “Yes, she does,” he agreed softly.
With Bryce pacing the room like a caged lion, Lady Elverston quietly proceeded with her attack. “Yes, and since she is not getting any younger, I do not know if we can wait another Season.”
He stopped in his tracks, spinning around to stare in puzzlement at the woman. “Wait another Season for what?”
She merely laughed at his expression. “Well, for a proposal, of course. Martha has informed me that she has received
many gentlemen callers, I think perhaps even the Duke of Grensham has made an appearance?”
Arms crossed in front of him, he told her arrogantly, “There will not be a proposal accepted from the duke or any of the rest of her callers.”
Lady Elverston watched him in false disbelief. “And why ever not? Her lineage is good, she is certainly lovely to look at, she keeps your accounts remarkably straight, and those around her are truly blessed with her boundless supply of love.” She paused markedly. “Have I missed anything?” Her smile bright, she seemed to be seeking his assistance in ticking off Patience’s marriageable attributes.
Bryce pulled a chair around and sat while resting his arms on the chair rack, looking at ease, only the slight twitching in his jaw telling Lady Elverston their conversation was having the desired affect. “Yes, she cannot sit a horse, she’s superstitious, and she’s constantly putting herself in danger in order to help those around her.”
Lady Elverston nodded in agreement. “I see what you mean. Having a good seat certainly keeps up appearances with the genteel folk in Society. Superstitious beliefs reflect a rather flighty humor, hmmm…even an unstable character. As for placing herself in danger for others, well, that is simply ludicrous, lunacy. After all, the first instinct all humans have is for survival. Imagine a selfish girl like that, thinking of others and not herself.” She rose to conclude their conversation.
“I am certainly glad you have apprised me of Patience’s shortcomings. I see now that I have been wrong about her character, and finding a husband for her will be more difficult than I originally had surmised.”
Bryce rose from his chair to confront his longtime friend. With a distinct twinkle in his eye, he added, “And if you would allow me to finish…Appearances in Society do not mean a fig to me, or Patience, for that matter, so if she never wants to ride again, that suits me fine. I find her peculiar superstitious beliefs charming, and she needs me, for when Patience is looking out for everyone else, she needs someone to look after her. And it certainly pleases me to oblige.
“Her compassion and loyalty are equaled by none other of my acquaintance. She has taught me about hope, belief in the goodness of people, when I was convinced otherwise. And about the truly frightening, overwhelmingly foreign emotion called love. I am her apt pupil and have much to learn.
“Before Patience, I had vowed not to marry until Edward’s death had been avenged.” His face shadowed as he recalled the night he had made his vow. “But I find myself more impatient than ever to make her mine.” He fell silent, suddenly realizing this was the first time that he had ever revealed his vulnerability either to himself or to his friend.
Lady Elverston waved her hand as if to swat him. “Why, you liar, you flummoxed me! I asked you here to convince you that in your right mind, you should marry the girl.”
Bryce patted his breast pocket. “Marriage license in hand,” he told her with a grin.
He had finally shocked Lady Elverston speechless. She could only stare at him, shaking her head in bewilderment. Fully recovered, she raised a fine eyebrow.
“Have you told Patience how you feel?”
“Not in so many words, but my intentions have been fairly clear. If she has any doubts, I will clarify them for her tonight.” By word or deed, Bryce thought. His manhood stirred in anticipation. He paused significantly. “Would you and Lord Elverston join us for a surprise announcement this evening at 75 Courtyard Lane?”
Lady Elverston returned, “It would be our singular pleasure. This calls for a celebration. I know she will make you very happy.”
His amused expression beamed. “Of that, madam, I have no doubt.”
Sally peered through the crack in the front parlor door. Aunt Patience was crying again. This time she didn’t make any noise, the tears just slipped down her cheeks, and every now and then she would wipe them away with her handkerchief.
The little girl held her doll, Spring, by the neck, at her side, wondering whether she should go find Aunt Martha or Aunt Melenroy, perhaps they would know how to cheer Aunt Patience.
“Let me see,” Lem whispered urgently in her ear, pushing her away from the door. The little footboy squinted through the crack, then sighed as he frowned at Sally, who watched him avidly. “She’s still cryin’.”
“I know. I was watch’n before you pushed me,” Sally retorted.
“Why do girls cry all the time?” Lem muttered almost to himself.
Sally’s little shoulders straightened back. “We don’t cry all the time, just when we’r sad, like when I lost my doll.” Spring hung forgotten by her side.
Lem’s eyes widened in concern. “Why is Miss Patience sad? Someone should tell the master.”
Sally shook her head sadly. “But ’e isn’t ’ere to ’elp Aunt Patience.”
Lem stared beyond Sally’s small blond head. What would a soldier in the King’s army do to comfort a lady? His little face furrowed with heavy thinking. Then he remembered that Miss Patience liked Miss Martha’s cat, Satan. He would find Satan and bring him to Miss Patience. He was sure that would cheer Miss Patience right up.
He ordered Sally to stand vigil outside the parlor door, in case Miss Patience needed her.
Sally’s tiny mouth pouted slightly. “But I’m too little to stand forever by the door.” Spring’s dress dusted the floor.
“Ah, ye can’t do anythin’, yer such a baby. Then sit on the floor,” Lem’s impatience with the little girl obvious.
Before she could tell him she wasn’t a baby, he had lifted her in his arms and sat her down with a plop on the soft carpet. He pointed his finger at her. “Ye stay ’ere and I’ll be back to get ye.” He marched off on his mission, leaving Sally staring forlornly after him.
It sure was lonely here in the hall. Sally heard the housemaids in the dining room, and through the nearby open window heard merchants calling their wares. The little girl wandered over to the window nearest the front door. Pushing aside the white linen curtains, on tiptoes she could see the busy street below her, the beautiful carriages wheeling by with shiny coachmen driving the lovely shiny horses. Was that the pudding man?
Sally bit her lip. Standing guard sure could be hungry work. Perhaps if she left Spring to watch over Aunt Patience, she could find Aunt Martha and they could buy a pudding. Carefully placing Spring by the gap in the French doors, the little girl skipped down the hallway and down the stairs. She would return before Lem did, so he would not know she had left her post.
Patience dropped the necklace she had been worrying on the fireplace mantel and turned in stunned amazement at Colette waiting in the doorway. Her last tears had dried after she had decided she would confront Bryce about the necklace. He surely did not think it would be that easy to get rid of her.
She swept across the room and pulled her friend into the room, shutting the door behind them. After seating Colette comfortably on the sofa, Patience sat down beside her, concern etched gravely on her face. “How are you? Where have you been?” It was amazing how someone else’s troubles could make your own fly right out the window. “I have been so worried about you.”
Colette blinked her long dark lashes in surprise. “But why? There is nothing wrong with me.”
Patience shook her head, grasping the maid’s arm. “But the note. I was to meet you at Puffins Lane last night. You were in trouble.” She could not control the dismay and confusion in her shaky voice.
The maid’s green eyes grew wider, her mouth slightly open as she listened to Patience. “I sent you no note. What did the note say?”
Patience rubbed her brow and collapsed against the back cushion of the sofa. “None of this makes any sense.” She paused and drew a deep breath. “Late yesterday, I received a missive with your signature claiming you were in trouble and needed my help. When I arrived at the specified place in Puffins Lane, I…found the countess’s cousin, Sansouche. He was dead.” Patience still had not fully recovered from the previous night’s shock.
Colette look
ed down at her hands in her lap. With a voice barely above a whisper, she told Patience, “We learned this morning. The constable visited with the countess, who is distraught over his death. I must help her with arrangements to return to France immediately.”
Patience turned to her friend. “Does anyone know who might have wanted him dead and why?” She hesitated before telling Colette, “I think someone sent me there to find his body, and they knew I would come when I heard you were in trouble, but why?”
Colette shrugged and rose to walk to the bay window, looking outside. “I do not know. All this trouble, it makes me anxious to return to my home.”
She paused, then turned to face Patience, still mulling over this mystery. “I am here this morning because I do need your help.”
Patience sat at attention at this unexpected announcement. She raised her eyebrows in query. “But what is it? You are in some type of trouble? What can I do for you?”
Returning to her side, Colette took Patience’s hands in her own. “As I said, I must leave England.”
Patience offered her friend a smile of support. “I’m sorry to see you go. What will you do on your return to France?”
The maid looked down before replying. Quietly, she told Patience, “I have learned of my uncle’s malaise. He needs me and has asked for me.”
Placing a comforting arm around Colette’s shoulders, Patience commiserated with her. “I understand about the needs of family. You should return.”
The room remained still, each woman consumed with her own thoughts. Then Colette turned an anxious face to Patience. “That is why I am here.”
Patience stared curiously at her friend. “If it is within my power, I shall do whatever I can to assist you.”
The maid’s face brightened a little. “Mon ami.”
Just then Stone entered without knocking, part of his nature, with a tray of tea.
