The Notorious Bridegroom (18 page)

Patience followed Lady Elverston and Martha out of the salon owned by Madame Montreax, a modiste renowned for her ability to recreate French fashions expertly, quickly, and discreetly. If Madame Montreax thought it odd that a whole new wardrobe—including pelisses, hats, gloves, gowns, and undergarments—was needed in rather an extreme urgency, she was well paid for keeping her curiosity to herself.

Down the street a brightly colored poster arrested Patience’s attention outside the post office, where she stopped in to mail a brief note she had written to her brothers at home. Captain Culhane’s “amazing, eye-popping, heart-pounding, a-thrill-a-minute circus” was coming to Town, the same circus that performed at the Mop Fair, where she had first met both his lordship and Sally, whose aunt was a tightrope walker. Patience wondered with a smile whether the child still had Lord Londringham’s doll intact.

With the assistance of a footman, Patience climbed into the carriage after Lady Elverston and Martha. Settled comfortably, Patience began, “Lady Elverston, you’ve been so kind to me these last few days, but I fear I have done nothing to warrant your good will, and I don’t know when I can ever repay you for these beautiful things.”

Her older friend graciously dismissed Patience’s gratitude and concern. “My girl, don’t think about repaying me now. It’s such a pleasure to watch you turn into a butterfly. Those drab colors you wore before were simply an insult. Now, as for tonight. I think what I should like would be for you to accompany Lord Elverston and me, and, of course, Martha, to Lady Leeds’s ball. This will be your first taste of the Season. I mean for you to make your mark.” She leaned back against the seat with a satisfied expression on her face.

Patience bit her lower lip in consternation. “Is it not true that young girls have a Season in order to find a husband? I’m certainly not a green girl out of school, and I’m not seeking a husband. I also fear his lordship’s wrath when he learns my identity.” She finished with a whisper. “I feel my courage deserting me.”

Martha sat in the corner of the coach petting her cat, Satan. She looked at Patience in surprise. “You don’t wish to marry? Every girl wants to be married and looked after the rest of her life. Have children.”

And be loved, Patience thought.

Lady Elverston held up her hand to halt their conversation. “Enough of this talk. Patience, I believe the man you seek will be at the ball tonight, a certain Frenchman? Surely, that should sway your hesitation. Buck up, my girl, you can’t quit now. I’m depending on you to save me from dying of boredom for the rest of the Season,” she told her young companion with a warm smile. “No more talk of husbands, agreed?”

Patience kept her eyes closed at Lady Elverston’s request until her gown was carefully placed over her coiffed hair and smoothed over her shoulders and hips. Martha, with help from Lady Elverston’s maid, Eloise, pulled and tugged everything into place before they shepherded Patience to the looking glass near the dressing table and instructed her to look.

Lady Elverston watched as Patience admired her gown and accoutrements, but then saw a look of bewilderment cross the young woman’s face.

Patience put a shaking hand to her neck. “Are you sure there is not a piece to this gown that is missing?”

Eloise smothered a laugh behind her hand and was instantly dismissed. Lady Elverston stood behind Patience to look at the masterpiece she had created. From the tips of her light-pink slippers to the top of her dark hair sparkling with two diamond combs, Patience was beautiful in her sugar-white velvet gown with pink hues. Many women tonight would envy the snowy perfection of her shoulders and that face, which needed no cosmetics to enhance nature. And no artifice could manufacture the innocent excitement shimmering in those lovely hazel eyes heightened by the soft blush of her cheeks.

She was a masterpiece. Now, if only one man would see her as she truly was—and not as a maid or steward but as an equal, worthy of his attention—Lady Elverston would humor Lord Elverston and retire her matchmaking apprenticeship.

“My dear, it’s actually less revealing than it seems. Come, we must go,” she whispered in Patience’s ear.

Patience sighed and turned toward the door, following in Lady Elverston’s wake.

Red Tattoo watched his lordship tie his own cravat. Indeed, there was not much call for Red’s services as a valet. Red figured the man was used to doing for himself. Truth be told, Red was more a friend and companion than a servant.

Bryce turned to face his man. “I haven’t the least notion why I have acquiesced in Lady Elverston’s request for me to attend the Leeds’s ball tonight. These affairs are such a bloody bore.” His expression dark, he remembered days past when he and his brother spent their London evenings frequenting their clubs for late-night card games.

It was at a ball such as this, given by Lady Leeds, where Edward and he first saw Miranda.
A beautiful vision in winter white with impossibly bright golden hair. She looked the part of an angel. Who could tell that frost lay not only on her gown but also in her heart? But that was a long time ago, and I have appreciated the lessons she taught me about the untrustworthiness of the female race.

“My lord, this night’ll be different. Remember, Sansouche will be attend’n with the countess,” Red reminded him.

Bryce’s eyes narrowed at the thought of seeing his ex-mistress and the French spy at this affair. Unfortunately, Red and he had been unable to discover the French spies’ latest meeting place.

Red continued, “You may have luck and learn somethin’ from him about Lord Carstairs’s murder.”

Bryce shrugged into his evening coat. “Perhaps, but at least I’ll have him under my scrutiny if he does want to start any trouble. Remember to follow him when he leaves tonight.”

Red nodded as Bryce strode out his bedroom door.

Accepting his cane, hat, and gloves from Stone and Lem waiting at the front door, Bryce asked Stone, “Have you seen Miss Simmons anytime today? Should I be concerned over her absence and Miss Martha’s, or is she in the company of Lady Elverston?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly, showing a master’s concern with his servant’s whereabouts.

Stone replied perfunctorily, “I believe the latter to be true, my lord. Enjoy your evening, my lord.”

Bryce nodded and swept out the door toward his carriage where Lucky awaited him. If Patience was with Lady Elverston, and Lady Elverston was at the ball, then that would place Patience at the ball.
This evening bodes ill,
he thought, as his carriage rolled down the gleaming wet street and a spring rainfall hushed the night to sleep.

Lord and Lady Elverston, Miss Patience Mandeley, and Miss Martha Krebs waited on the landing for their introductions before proceeding into the ball.

Lady Elverston stroked her black-and-white boa trapped across her neck while she stared at the assembly. She then leaned over to pinch Lord Elverston’s arm. “I told you we were much too early. And I don’t see any sign of Lord Londringham. Suppose he shan’t come?” The pleasure she planned for this evening was on the verge of slipping away.

“Calm down, Lady Gray. If Londringham told you he would be here, then the man will be here. I hear them announcing our names.”

After the introductions, Patience followed Lord and Lady Elverston down the stairs in the best imitation of a feather floating on air. Concern still lingered over the unplanned display of more of her feminine charms than she desired.

Her Grace, the Duchess of Leeds, was held in high acclaim by Society, and her soirees were always a crush. She loved to entertain and although her town house could accommodate only a small number in the Great Hall for dancing, no one usually turned down an invitation. The Great Hall bloomed with the rich scent of hot summerhouse lilacs, roses, and pink carnations. Patience welcomed the sight of two sets of French doors that opened onto the balcony. When the dancing started, it would surely be sweltering.

Given their earlier-than-usual arrival, their party easily found seats along the gold wainscoted walls. Her first ball in Society, Patience couldn’t believe she was really here. Her heart beat like a bird’s wing, and she could feel the moistness in her palms beneath her gloves. Excitement brought a bright glow to her face, but only Bryce consumed her thoughts.
What would he have to say? Will he be willing to help me? Or will he be terribly angry?

A tall, thin gentleman with hair designed à la Titus materialized at her shoulder with the duchess, who conducted the introductions. He had a pale, poetic face with limpid brown eyes that gazed at Patience as he asked for the honor of a dance.

Although she had secretly hoped to save her first dance for Lord Londringham, anxious glances to the stairs gave no hint to his eagerly anticipated arrival. Perhaps she could use a little practice. She had spent a few hours with a dance instructor this week at Lady Elverston’s town house, quickly memorizing the dance steps, to Lady Elverston’s great pleasure.

The nervous young man, who seemed younger than she, looked shocked at her acceptance, but his visage immediately beamed. The young man, Gunner Simkins, bowed, and gathered her in his arms to whirl her onto the dance floor for the opening dance of a lively quadrille.

Patience’s partner certainly kept her on her toes, literally. Trying to prove light on her feet, Gunner thwarted her efforts with his large, ungraceful steps, landing, more often than not, on her well-shod feet. After their youthful exertion on the dance floor, her partner, unfortunately, apparently wanted to linger next to her chair, as if safeguarding her from other potential suitors.

Patience sent him off in search of a lemonade as she once again scanned the ever-engorging crowd for Lord Londringham. Soon several young men blocked her vision, asking for a dance or one of her smiles. She acquiesced to several more dances before begging for a respite to repair her toilette.

Upon her return, she found the Countess Isabella had arrived on the arm of Alain Sansouche. Patience uncharitably thought the countess looked like a fat sow in her impossibly tight blue gown, adorned with miles of diamonds, probably some of the many rewards given to her by past loves. Sometimes it could be difficult to think good of all people, as her brother James had often schooled her, especially when a particular person had been Lord Londringham’s former lover.

When Patience took a few steps into the hall, searching for Lady Elverston and Martha, a new gaggle of young men surged around her, quacking for attention.

Her previous dance partner, Gunner, took charge of the eager young pups and claimed introductions. “Gentlemen, this is the confection of pink and white I told you about. An angel who flies when she is dancing,” he pompously told his agog audience.

Patience tried not to roll her eyes at this sugary compliment. Instantly his acquaintances besieged her for the next dance. To be sure, she had never had this many invitations to dance, due to the scarcity of men back home. Most had joined the service or married their local sweetheart. She usually had to settle for her brother Louis’s friend Old Clive Bailey, blind in one eye with a bum leg, or for young Eddie Fishery, who had more hands than a spider.

Lord Bryce Andover, the Earl of Londringham, had arrived a few minutes earlier. His tall, imposing figure striding across the dance floor to his friends astounded more than a few of the gawkers, his presence at the Leeds’s ball certainly a surprise, and curiosity-seekers gossiped the reasons why.

More than one had heard numerous stories of his heroism in their war with France, but the latest
on-dit
tantalized the feverish crowd that he may have had a hand in his brother’s murder. The rumor had never truly died down, and, for some unexplained reason, people usually believed the worst when the truth held no titillating appeal. And Londringham had no interest in apprising anyone to the contrary.

After Londringham greeted other peers in attendance, he turned to search the room for Lady Elverston and Patience. He soon spotted the countess and Sansouche talking with Lady Leeds and the Marchioness deVillion before he noticed a gathering near the French doors.

Finding Lady Elverston alone on a settee, Bryce gestured toward the group. “What do you suppose is happening over there?”

His friend stood up to have a better view of the commotion and secretly smiled. “I believe several young gentlemen have found a jewel they are interested in acquiring,” she responded with a laugh.

The small crowd finally broke apart, allowing Bryce his first glimpse of Patience. His emotions in check, he feasted on the lovely vision in white and shades of pink with a glorious crown of dark brown hair, dazzling in the wealth of candlelight in the hall.
Lady Elverston’s machinations, to be sure,
he reflected to himself. Staring at her regal beauty dressed in snow-white finery, could she be the alter ego of his pretty maid and house steward? Anger and disillusionment tasted bitter as he realized Patience had tricked him.
For what gain?

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Lady Elverston, what is the meaning of my steward in attendance tonight?”

Lady Elverston, with a sly puzzled look, glanced over his shoulder to the swains paying court to her lovely creation. “That, sir, may be your steward, but her given name is Miss Patience Mandeley. Her brother is Baronet Mandeley of Storrington.”

“She never mentioned it before.” Mandeley.
The name seemed somehow familiar. Of course, the young man imprisoned in Winchelsea, his surname was Mandeley. Could this Mandeley possibly be another brother? If so, that would explain a lot, but not the reason for forestalling the revealing of her identity.
Bryce warred within himself whether to spank her for her subterfuge or taste the honey only he could coax from her sweet lips.

He came out of his reverie to notice the besotted blades fawning over her. His jaw set, he strode determinedly over to the woman that he had overheard the young bucks call the “White Dove.” Bryce arrived in time to hear one of them asking her for a dance. He cleaved through the small crowd of worshipers and offered a curt bow to Patience. With one hand wrapped firmly around her svelte waist, he stated irmly, “This dance is mine.” His eyes never left her surprised countenance.

Bryce stared down into her softly flushed face, her hazel eyes shining brighter than any star. He asked, “Why didn’t you tell me your real identity?”

Patience stared up into his hardened features, dismayed at his clipped words, certainly justified. From the icy blast of his cool blue eyes, she felt her heart freezing over like her flowers in winter. Her hands grew cold beneath her gloves as she tried to follow his lead, her mind numb.
How could I have thought I could make him understand? And where can I start? I should have told him the truth a long time ago.

“My lord?” she whispered, unsure how to respond.

“You’re like the rest of your breed, my girl,” he responded sharply.

She felt his disgust crawl onto her skin. Suddenly feeling braver than she usually believed herself to be, Patience faced down this slander of the female race. “I agree that I should have told you sooner,” she admitted, lifting a finely arched eyebrow.

But he ignored the beginnings of her apology. “How can I believe you? You are far more clever with lies than you are with the truth.” His frozen chips of blue eyes posed a threat to her senses, but no thought could be entertained of fleeing, since he held her tightly around the waist.

She had the temerity to pull away from his stern gaze, her face as pale as her gown.

“Why didn’t you tell me what Lady Elverston had planned in launching you tonight? I would have made an effort to be timelier. And all your following? Have you taken a fancy to anyone? They look rather young as playmates.”

Patience bristled at this insult, taken aback at his cruelty. Before she could formulate a tart reply, he continued, “And what lies have you told my friend Lady Elverston?”

She shook her head, unable to look away from his uncompromising visage. “None.”

His laugh sounded harsh to her ears. “You do possess loyalty afterall to your own sex. You would have thought I had learned my lesson by now.”

“I beg of you, my lord, please allow me time to explain later, when we have left here,” she pleaded with him. She had wanted to look her best for him tonight. Only him. And now she felt the tears ready to slip through the cracks of her oh-so-thin veneer.

“Please, no tears. That has never worked with me. I cannot believe that Lady Elverston didn’t confide in me.” Bryce was speaking to himself, paying no heed to her protests.