The Notorious Bridegroom (16 page)

Bryce smiled warmly at the woman he knew as Lady Elverston, an old friend and more of a mother to him than he remembered his own to be.

A tall, slender gentleman with light red hair, expertly wielding a gold-tipped cane, followed Lady Elverston at a more sedate pace to greet Bryce. The man, Lord Elverston, gripped Bryce’s hand tightly before releasing it.

“Told Lady Gray to allow you to get settled, but she would not hear of it. If you hadn’t come to Town, she planned to visit you and assure herself you had not rotted away.” He smiled fondly at his wife, now comfortably draped over the lime baize settee.

Bryce offered a chair to Lord Elverston before saying to the marchioness, “I’m certainly happy, madam, that we did not arrive at such drastic measures.” He pulled the bell cord for Stone.

Lady Elverston shrugged gracefully. “I mentioned a visit to Lord Elverston, but he never takes me seriously. However, this Season’s been such an awful bore, even the country would have made for a pleasant diversion.” She faked a yawn.

Bryce nodded in her direction. “Society indeed would be bereft without the pleasure of your company. I feel I must have done a service to all those who wait at your feet for a moment of your attention,” he complimented his friend, knowing a store of peers alike fought for the honor of her company. She was well known for her witty repartee and excellent head for advice. He had often envied Lord Elverston for finding such a companionable, loyal, beautiful woman to share his life with.

Lady Elverston granted him a lovely smile. “You’re not out of practice with your gallantry, my dear. Even in the primitive country, I’m happy to see you haven’t lost your touch.”

After Stone delivered another teapot with cakes, Lady Elverston poured, asking Bryce nonchalantly, “Why ever did we sign the treaty? I’m puzzled, Londringham. This Season, all anyone can talk about is when that vile Napoleon will invade our shores. It simply will not do. We hear many of our friends visiting Paris have returned due to persona non grata over there. Does your appearance here have anything to do with that foul Frenchman?” She leaned back on the settee with a graceful elegance as if not in a hurry for an answer.

Bryce took a long swallow of tea and glanced at Lord Elverston before he replied. “No, a little business, nothing more. Actually, madam, it surely was the promise of your presence along with a desire to meet with a few old friends in Parliament.”

Lady Elverston nodded absentmindedly. “Always the clever tongue. However, I daresay you will soon be deluged with invitations to the scene. Not many eligible men this Season, I hear many of the young birds complaining.”

He straightened in his chair. “I’m not the marrying sort, as I have mentioned before. And with all due respect, I do not believe the
haut ton
has yet forgiven the transgressions of my family.”

“Damn,” Lord Elverston said, breaking into the conversation, then, nodding to his wife, “Forgive me, my dear. Now, Londringham, Prinny, and the PM are aware of your service to our country as well as your brother’s sacrifice, you should be welcomed with open arms anywhere.” His rust-colored mustache bristled in agitation.

Bryce’s face turned grim, and he stood up to distance himself from his friends.

Lady Elverston called from her perch, “Londringham, listen to Lord Elverston. Your mother and stepfather returned to France’s embrace many years ago, nearly seventeen. And you were not responsible for Edward’s death. You must not continue to punish yourself for circumstances beyond your control.

“Besides”—she paused—“isn’t it about time you settled down and raised a family? Perhaps one of our young stock may interest you. You would certainly liven things up a bit with your handsome face and substantial coffers.”

Bryce shook his head and returned to his chair. “I’m afraid I won’t be successful in finding a replica of you. And I’m certainly not in the market for a twittering young lady as a wife.”

Lord Elverston interjected, “England needs his services. Plenty of time to think about getting a wife after we deal with the Little Corporal. I envy the peace and quiet he must have without one.”

His wife seemed unperturbed by his last remark and, totally ignoring him, continued, “You need someone to make you happy.”

“He already has a dog,” her husband mumbled to himself.

They heard a soft knock on the parlor doors. When Bryce ordered entry, he was surprised to see Patience in the doorway. His eyes feasted on her quiet loveliness in dove gray which accented her pale-pink cheeks. He stood to greet her as she shyly crossed the room to his side.

“My lord, please forgive my intrusion, but this note was just delivered by messenger who insisted that it was of the utmost urgency. Mr. Stone is handling a situation in the kitchen.” Patience looked up into Bryce’s eyes as she relayed her story.

“Very good.” He reached out his hand to catch the note and briefly held her soft hand before releasing it. “I will talk with you later,” he told her in an undertone.

With a graceful curtsy, Patience quitted the room, leaving behind her lavender scent he knew so well. Obtaining permission from his guests, he broke the seal on the missive, which revealed a request by the prime minister for an immediate appointment tomorrow morning.

Bryce shoved the note into his desk drawer and smiled at his companions, indicating nothing was amiss. After Lord Elverston inquired after Paddock Green’s inhabitants and those they shared familiarity with in Kent, Lady Elverston asked, “Who was that lovely woman with the note? I cannot believe she is a servant, for she carries herself as one of the nobility. In fact, she does remind me of someone, but I cannot say who.”

Bryce uttered, “She is my house steward.”

Lady Elverston surprised Bryce with more interrogation regarding the young woman. “Why does she work for you? Does she not have a home?”

Bryce wearily rubbed his brow, disliking this line of questioning and unwilling to educate his friend about Patience. Never before had Bryce been reluctant to discuss anything with Lady Elverston, except for his work. “My butler hired her at the Mop Fair because she said she needed a job.”

Fortunately, his friend dropped the subject, but Bryce had a feeling this was not the last he would hear about the matter of the lovely Patience.

Patience yawned while unbuttoning her gray cotton gown, silently thanking the butler that she had her own little room at the top of the house. Small though it might be, she was becoming quite accustomed to small bedrooms. Except for delivering the note to him, she had not seen Bryce since arriving at his town house.

How could she get his attention? Mention in passing that she is Patience Mandeley, and that it was her brother Rupert that has been wrongly imprisoned? If Bryce was to ask why she hadn’t mentioned this before, it was simply because she had suspected he was the French spy framing her brother. Simple.
At this news,
Patience thought wryly,
he is bound to fall at my feet and promise undying love—or else throw me out of his house and his life.

“Psst…Psst.”

She whirled around to find Lem peeping through the bedroom door, and so turned back to quickly button up again. She walked to the door. “What are you doing here? Melenroy is sleeping across the hallway,” she whispered.

Lem scooched into the room between the door and doorjamb. “Just thought ye would want to know. ’is lordship is goin’ out for the evening.” He raised his eyebrows up and down knowingly.

Patience frowned in exasperation. “Whatever are you saying, Lem? His lordship probably plans to visit his club or whatever gentlemen do when they are in Town.” Unfortunately, Patience reminded herself, he could also be visiting the countess for auld lang syne. Not wanting to examine the welt of sadness this thought struck, she dismissed it from her mind.
Not now. Not now.

Lem shook his head impatiently, his brown eyes open wide. “No, I ’eard Stoney-face ordered a carriage and ’e’s takin’ Red Tattoo with ’im.”

Patience hesitated, then she let out a long breath of air, unaware she had been holding it. She wearily rubbed her brow. It had been quite a long day already. Wherever did his lordship find the energy to do this spying work? “I do not suppose you heard where they are headed?” she asked almost hopefully.

“Nope. But I did ’ear sumthin’ about that French fellow what was with Mrs. Hoity-Toity,” Lem told her, referring to the countess.

Patience knelt down and grabbed Lem’s arms gently. “You mean Sansouche?”

Lem nodded eagerly. “That be ’im. They’r goin’ to find ’im,” he announced seriously, proud of the information he could impart.

Patience’s exhaustion flew away with the night wind. They planned to capture Sansouche! And on her first night in London!

She wanted to be there when they declared Rupert innocent of treason and their cousin’s murder. Could she? Dare she? By St. George, she had every right, after all she had been through. And she was sure Bryce would have invited her along if he knew the truth about her identity.

She bit her lip, trying to decide a course of action. “How much time do I have?”

The little footboy crinkled up his face in thought. “Lucky’s hitching the carriage.”

“I must try.” She faced Lem and instructed him, “Ten minutes is all I need. If they look to be leaving sooner, can you try to stall them?”

Lem squared his shoulders, prepared to do battle for his lady fair. “Miss, I will do me very best. What is it ye plan’n?”

“I shall go with them, of course,” Patience told him confidently, already searching for a pair of her younger brother’s old breeches and shirt she had thrown in the trunk she’d brought from Storrington.

Lem pulled on her sleeve. “But ye can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

Patience smiled at her little protector. “No need to worry, Lem. His lordship will make sure no harm comes to me.”

He thought hard, then nodded in agreement.

Patience’s “Hurry, Lem” sent him on his way to track down the master and his valet.

Dressed in disguise with a low black hat pulled down half-hiding her face and all of her hair, Patience looked back longingly at her bed. Knowing she was infinitely safer in bed, she reflected that if all cowards hid in their beds, the world could never be saved.

Twenty minutes later, the hired coach rumbled down Park Lane in Mayfair, heading toward the docks. The two men inside never noticed the figure slipping onto the back of the carriage on the footman’s perch.

“I shall have Lucky stop at Harrigan’s Point. According to my calculations, we’ll only be a few blocks from the Lion’s Coeur. You are certain, tonight they meet?” Bryce’s eyes narrowed in speculation.

Red Tattoo’s small head bobbed vigorously as Bryce leaned back against the seat in satisfaction. The evening air blew cool as they passed fewer and fewer night owls the closer they drew to the docks. Bryce’s man had never been wrong yet. Flexing his hands encased in black leather gloves, Bryce remarked, “They are an impetuous lot, meeting right underneath the king’s nose.”

“Aye, and when we find them, they’ll wish they never left France!” The valet’s enthusiasm broke over his face in a smile missing several teeth.

Bryce appreciated Red’s loyalty to a country not his own. Their task to rout the spies had proven as difficult as uncovering Patience’s secrets, he thought to himself. He had had every intention of finding Patience today to discuss her situation, but time had slipped away in planning their mission tonight.

She had to know her subterfuge must come to an end. Only then could she come to no harm, and he would know the truth. She must be sleeping by now, exhausted from their long journey.

He imagined her long, lustrous hair flowing gently down her back as she slept fitfully on her side. Long lashes decorated her milky skin tinted peach. And her full mouth, strawberry red, opened slightly.
“Keep her safe,”
he had demanded, remembering his orders to Stone, his footmen, and even Lem, to maintain a watch on his precious steward.

Bed. A nice thought and where she should be, Patience grumbled to herself as she held tight to the swaying coach. She stared straight ahead, the night air chilling her through her thin coat, her focus committed to Lucky. A backward glance from the groomsman would depose her and greatly anger the man inside the carriage.

Her heart thumping loudly in her ears, she swallowed hard. What was she afraid of as long as Bryce was near? She knew instinctively he would save her if she came into any danger. But then who would save her from his assured wrath if he discovered her presence?

Patience listened to the clicking carriage wheels and the voices of dancers, weary from exertion on the ballroom floor, as the coaches carried them home. Thirty minutes later, Patience began to smell the stench of the docks, the river breeze helping to scatter the vile odors of human waste and garbage.

Where were they headed? As the coach rattled down one narrow lane after another, Patience began to regret her impetuousness. She should have left these matters in his lordship’s very capable hands. But she had to do
something
to help Rupert. And that meant capturing the Frenchman. It was the only way.

The carriage came to a rocking stop and Bryce quickly climbed down, instructing Lucky where they’d meet. Tipping his tall hat, Lucky touched the horse’s back lightly with the whip. The sound of squeaky carriage springs vanished into the rest of the evening’s sounds of stevedores unloading cargo, while sailors and the King’s navy enjoyed a bit of frivolity and drinking along the wharf.

Red led the way through a maze of warehouses and taverns lining the busy docks. Bryce’s large form overshadowed his smaller companion as they hurried deeper and deeper into the unsavory part of the city, where who knew what sort of culprit watched in the pockets of darkness surrounding them.

Finally, Red halted abruptly and pointed down the cobblestone street to a small, dimly lit doorway. No sign outside announced the tavern, frequent customers did not need directions. The simple wooden entryway connected to a larger stone warehouse.

As they circumnavigated the building to the back, Bryce and Red heard voices but couldn’t make out their conversation. Red pointed up, where Bryce noticed a dirty window slightly raised for ventilation. The voices sounded louder but still no words could be discerned.

Bryce told Red in a hushed tone, “The window looks like the only way in.” He scanned the rest of the building and devised a plan. He had assumed they would only bring attention to themselves entering the tavern in the normal fashion and would probably not be able to get close enough to hear anything.

He stepped around a huge pile of refuse and to the side of the tavern, where he noticed a ladder leading up to the wooden roof. Bryce motioned to Red to join him, and, one after the other, they climbed the aged ladder. Once on the roof, they crept to the back side of the tavern and peered over the edge. Still not close enough. Bryce decided that the only way to hear was to lower himself down to the window, using a rope anchored to Red’s waist.

When his valet untied the rope he carried over his shoulder, Bryce reached for it. But Red danced out of his reach. “I’m lighter, I’ll go.”

“Nothing doing. I’m going.”

Normally, Red would brook no argument with Bryce, but the valet hastened to tie the hemp rope tightly around his waist and handed the end to Bryce.

Bryce thought to change his valet’s mind. “How is your French,
mon ami?
”

“Magnifique.
Better than yours,” Red told him with a toothless grin, then climbed onto the wooden ledge.

Bryce looped the rope around the brick chimney for leverage, and pulled it a few feet across so that he could brace his legs against the roof’s edge, leveraging his good leg to hold the majority of Red’s weight. When he signaled Red to descend, his body jerked with the hard pull of the rope against the demands of Red’s body as the tight cord bit into Bryce’s gloves.

At intervals, Bryce lengthened the line of rope to assist Red in his descent. When he thought Red close to the window, he leaned over the edge to whisper to his friend dangling in the wind, “Can you hear what they are saying?”

Red looked up into Bryce’s face, the starless sky behind him. “Sansouche, I know his voice. He’s talking with someone but I can’t tell, I think maybe it’s a woman.” He glanced back at the window. “She’s leaving. The Frenchman is now talking with the others. There are maybe twenty men or so.” Red returned to staring in the window.

A few minutes passed before Red looked up again. “I hear a little more. The invasion! Soon?”

Bryce gritted his teeth, his valet’s weight working on the muscles in his sore leg. “Where? I need something more. Do you see anyone you recognize? What did the woman look like?”

A door banged closed beneath them just then.

“What’s happening?” Bryce asked urgently.

Red frowned, his hands gripped the rope tightly above his head. “They’ve stopped talking. Someone is pointing to the window. I think someone may have seen me.”

“Climb up, we need to move,” Bryce called down to him.

Bryce heard only a click of a pistol cocked before a powerful force knocked him down on the roof, and the bullet’s whistle pierced the air dangerously close over his head.

Well trained, Bryce pulled his own pistol free and shot at the dark figure across the rooftop. He heard a sharp cry and saw the villain disappear over the roof’s ledge.

Red! When Bryce had hit the roof, the rope had unfurled from his hands, snaked free from the chimney, and dropped his friend several feet toward the ground. Bryce limped over to the edge of the roof and was relieved to see Red crawling off a thick pile of smelly refuse at the back of the building. His valet signaled to Bryce he was safe.

Bryce winced as he drew himself up, his knee bruised from the jolt to the hard surface. Who had pushed him and saved his life?

A figure in black lay motionless a few feet away. He inched his way down the roof and turned the body over. Even without the moon’s help, he would have recognized the treasured features of Patience. Unconscious, she had probably hit her head when she pushed him out of the way. He breathed a sigh of relief after detecting a slight pulse in her neck and saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

He had to get her out of here. Not much time. Already he could hear footsteps underneath him and on the street. Bryce swiftly decided the ladder would take too long and glanced around the rooftop searching for another means of escape. The next building over had a connecting roof.

Bryce carefully lifted Patience in his arms and transferred her to his shoulder. With heart pumping and his leg pulsing in pain, he made his way across to the other building and found a door that led down into another tavern.

He carried her down the stairs until they came to a narrow hall lined with doors. With no one in sight, Bryce pulled Patience off his shoulder and hugged her next to him, holding her up by the waist. He made sure her hat still covered her hair and her features before carrying her down to the public room.

Making his way across the crowded room, Bryce heard an inebriate call out, “What’s wrong with your drinking partner? Not used to our hard ale?”

Bryce smiled good-naturedly and nodded. “He’s rather young and untried with spirits. His mother will surely box his ears after tonight’s adventures. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I must get the drunken sot home.”

The inebriate, his friends, and the tavern owner bid Bryce and his companion a good night. Outside, Red met them around the corner before Bryce shouldered Patience again in order to better their escape. They waited in a darkened sanctuary while several pairs of feet ran by them and overhead, hearing plenty of swearing, yelling, and huffing, all in French.

Then Bryce did what he did so well, something that had saved his life more than once. He molded his body to become one with the night, carrying the slight weight of Patience’s still form. His only thought was to see her to safety. Her reasons for being out at the Frenchmen’s retreat he would discover later.

Red followed his master through the anthills of the docks, through boroughs and lanes, which Bryce knew blindfolded after ten years of spying for the British Crown. When they were several blocks away from the wharf, Bryce paused to rest in the darkness and turned to his faithful friend. “Even if I couldn’t see you, I can smell you. I hope our enemies do not follow your scent to us,” he joked upon noticing spoiled soup remains and rotten eggs decorating Red’s ruined black coat.

Red pointed to Patience. “Who might ye got there?”

“Actually, it’s my missing house steward and my rescuer.”

“The girl? Is she dead?”

“No, I think she must have hit her head. I saw no signs of bleeding, but I must get her home quickly.”

Red found Lucky waiting for them at the prearranged spot, and the carriage lumbered away to a safer place for the two men and one brave young woman clasped tightly in Bryce’s arms.

When Patience woke the next morning, she blinked away sleep in confusion over finding herself in a half-tester bed in an unfamiliar bedchamber. A nauseating headache pounded her temples as she squinted at the frieze of Grecian figures expertly carved in the cornice of the ceiling. The sun brazened through the slight gap in the curtains, lighting the lovely room of pale blue.

Where am I?
She uttered a soft moan. Thinking hurt too much. She heard a chair creak and looked across the bed to find Bryce’s deep blue eyes watching her with concern. He looked terrible, as if he had not slept all night.

Suddenly, her adventure from last night flooded back into her consciousness. Her well-intentioned but misguided plan to help Bryce capture Sansouche for her brother. Up on the roof. The man with the pistol, pointed at Bryce. She remembered pushing him out of the way, surprise on her side.

She looked up to see him standing by the bed. “The physician said when you woke, your head would probably still ache,” he told her, his voice pleasantly soft.

Patience felt pricking pain behind her eyes. She shook her head. In a husky, thick voice, she asked, “What am I doing here? What is this room?”

Bryce continued to stare down at her. “You saved me from a bullet last night and were rewarded for your efforts with a knock on the head from your fall. You are now in one of the guest chambers. I thought it would be more comfortable for you and offer more privacy.”

Patience managed a soft “oh” in reply.

He then added, “The physician left medicine—” But his patient had already slipped back into the welcoming web of sleep.

Something tickled her nose. Soft and fluffy. Patience sighed and rolled over on her back, batting at the offending method of torture which had disturbed her slumber.

It wouldn’t go away. She pried open one eye to discover the identity of her torturer. Lem.

He waved a long white feather in front of her nose, then leaned over to whisper loudly in her ear, “Are ye awake yet, miss?”

Both her eyelids reluctantly pushed back the shutters of sleep to find Lem’s concerned face hovering inches from her own.

“I am now, you little fiend. How did you get in here?” Patience asked sleepily before pulling herself up into a sitting position. Her head protested only slightly in pain.

Lem climbed onto the big bed, swinging his feet over the side. “I sneaked in when the old lady insisted ’is lordship get some rest. ’e’s been in ’ere watching ye for ever so long, even the doc said ye’d be fine. I guess ’e wanted to make sure.”

Bryce was here, caring for her? She must look a sight.
Woman thy name is vanity.
Glancing down Patience was horrified to find she still wore her brother’s shirt and breeches from her recent escapade.
Not exactly an enticing, fetching appearance,
she thought wryly.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

Lem cocked his head in thought, then replied, “About a day or so, I think. Melenroy an’ Lucky ’as been asking about ye. Even Stoney-face seems concerned. It’s morning, ye ’aven’t eaten in over a day, ain’t ye hungry?”

“Yes, I think my appetite has returned, and I’m feeling ever so much better. I shall rise and go to the kitchen to assure Melenroy I am again with the living,” Patience jested to the boy.
I wonder if I still have employment with his lordship,
she thought despairingly.

Bryce would want answers. And he deserved them. Branding herself a coward, she feared reprisals upon him learning the truth.