Chapter One
“Is this your idea of avoiding unnecessary gossip?”
“Apparently.” Patience almost smiled at her cousin as Charity’s mouth fell open in shock.
Needing to appear unconcerned, she sighed and swept a stray lock of auburn hair out of her eyes. Her cousin continued to stare at her in open-mouthed shock, but Patience ignored her, shoving a loose hairpin back into place with a bit more force than necessary.
Charity’s strangled gasp was satisfying. Patience so hated being predictable; thankfully that was one thing she hadn’t had to change.
Another wisp tickled the back of her neck as it slid from the topknot she’d hastily fashioned earlier that morning. This time she left it.
“Well, I for one do not agree,” her other cousin, Prudence, finally found her voice. “After all, I heard from Lady Poundbottom—”
“That old biddy?” Charity interrupted.
Patience rolled her eyes, wondering how she could convince either of her cousins to agree to her plans if they couldn’t focus on the conversation she was trying to have with them. She cleared her throat loudly to get their attention. Amazingly, it worked.
“But to attend a duel of honor?” Charity asked.
Patience ignored Charity. “Pru,” Patience said, turning to her dark-haired cousin, “you must know I would never willingly drag you into trouble if it was not of the utmost importance.”
Pru looked away, then hesitatingly agreed, “I suppose not.”
“What about the time you—”
“Charity, please?” Patience didn’t have time to listen to her past botched attempts at adventure. Besides, she’d already apologized more than once for her past, she was through doing so.
Patience rose from the pale, rose-colored settee across from the fireplace and unconsciously grimaced at her reflection in the ornate mirror hanging above the fireplace. When she realized what she was doing, she reached deep for a calm she did not feel and schooled her features as she had taught herself to do in order to feel confident. Her cousins were counting on her to be strong.
“How could you even suggest that I let Higgie take his life in his own hands?” She watched first one cousin, then the other, waiting for what she hoped would be a fair-sized dollop of common sense to sink in.
“If you’re worried about Great-Uncle Milford’s Ball,” Patience continued, “you needn’t be. I have everything under control.” Lord, please let one of them see reason!
A subtle play of emotions shifted across Charity’s angelic features. For a heartbeat the old feelings of inadequacy surfaced. Though three years younger, Charity had a sharp mind and quick wit that most of society ignored in favor of her stunning beauty. Patience had been counting on Charity to grasp the magnitude of the situation. Was she expecting too much?
Do hurry, cousin, Patience silently urged.
“No.” Charity brushed a ringlet off her forehead. “He’s been the best of friends.”
Finally. “And he’s never once, in all the years I’ve known him, laughed at me or made fun of who I am. Unlike certain others in our family.” Patience bit back the feelings of annoyance struggling to the surface, sending meaningful looks at her cousins. They had the grace to look guilty. Her plan would not work if they did not remember all of the times they teased her and felt guilty enough to fall in with her plans.
“Oliver Higginbotham accepted me, thorns and all.” Patience swallowed against the growing lump forming in her throat and rasped, “He refused to let me accept the blame three years ago—no matter what the ton thought.”
Charity was staring at her reflection in the silver tea service, lips pursed in thought. No help there.
Patience sighed, then turned toward her other cousin, “Pru, what about you?”
“I really am not sure at all,” the young woman stammered, “I mean, well, that is—”
“Patience?” Her father’s deep voice rumbled from somewhere down the long hallway, cutting Prudence’s reply short.
“Bloody Hell.” He was still a few rooms away; Patience had time to win at least one argument.
“Patience,” Charity sighed, “I thought you were trying to find a more socially acceptable phrase.”
Patience grit her teeth to hold back the coarse expression burning the tip of her tongue. Tagging along with her older brother had taught her more than how to fish and shoot.
“Thank you for reminding me, cousin, but I need your answer, not your instruction.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have reminded you,” Charity huffed, “if you hadn’t insisted that I do so every time you utter that foul expression.” Charity shuddered before brushing at an invisible speck of lint on her sleeve.
Patience sighed deeply. “You’re right, I forgot. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so sharp. It’s just that I’m worried about your come-out ball tomorrow. But I simply won’t be able to think straight until Higgie’s problem is solved.”
She clenched her hands into tight fists. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you, but I can’t help but worry that it will when my back is turned.”
Pru rose from her seat and walked over to stand beside Patience and patted her on the arm. “You are the best of cousins, and the best of friends.”
Patience couldn’t have asked for a better segue, “Then you’ll both come with me?”
Pru hesitated, then shot a glance at their pouting cousin. “Of course, Charity and I would be lost without you. Wouldn’t we, Charity?”
Charity signed dramatically, glanced at her reflection in the teapot and smoothed a fingertip across the arch of her left eyebrow. “We know you prefer living in the wilds of Sussex, tearing around on horseback and all those other appallingly athletic pursuits of yours.”
“But,” Pru cut in, “you digress.”
“Ummm, yes, cousin, sorry.” Charity’s abject look was quite convincing. “We do understand your need to make certain we don’t run afoul of anyone like Alasdair.”
Charity’s words arrowed through Patience. Alasdair.
As easily as that, the mention of his name brought back a wealth of unwelcome memories. “I worked so hard repeating idiotic phrases and practicing lady-like expressions in the mirror.”
“We know you did, dearest,” Pru sympathized, pulling Patience by the arm, guiding her toward the settee where they sat down.
“Beyond tedious,” Charity agreed, joining them.
“But did that help attract the man of my dreams?” Patience asked.
Her cousins wisely remained silent.
“‘Twas all for naught,” Patience whispered as her cousins remained silent on either side of her. “I attracted him by being myself. At least I thought I had, but that was a lie too.”
She let Pru hug her, wondering when she’d truly be able to put the rejection behind her for good.
“Patience!” her father called again, sounding closer now. Patience could manage to aid Higgie alone, but would feel better if her cousins were at her side. At least that’s what she told herself. She was still unwilling to admit the deep-rooted fear that she’d fail again, left to her own devices.
“Shouldn’t you answer Uncle Nathaniel?”
“Hmmm?” Her decision to leave the safe haven of her parents’ country estate after three long years to face and conquer her demons had been twofold and necessary. Her cousins had no idea what lay ahead of them, but Patience did. Those of the ton who smiled but were insincere. Those who offered a helping hand, all the while spreading your sorrows until they were common knowledge, fodder for gossip.
She had survived—barely—but that was not the point. Surviving in the face of adversity was. Nothing would stop her from protecting her cousins from suffering a similar fate.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Charity grumbled. “Answer him!”
The sound of doors opening and closing snapped Patience back to the present and their coil. She stood up. “Yes, Father. Coming!”
Turning back, she spoke softly, “Higgie was there for me.” God, she’d cried all over him and shaken the poor man to the bone. “Though I was less than gracious for his interference at the time.”
The mahogany paneled door swung open, and her father’s broad frame filled the doorway. “There you are!”
Lord Waterbury strode across the lush carpet to where Patience stood. “I need to speak with you about tomorrow night.” He paused and turned, acknowledging his nieces, “Ladies.”
“Hello, Uncle,” Pru smiled.
“We’re nearly finished here,” Patience said.
“This won’t take a moment. Excuse us, my dears.”
“Certainly,” Charity agreed.
Placing a hand to her elbow, he led Patience from the room.
Late afternoon sunlight spilled in through the pair of multi-paned windows on either side of the chimney at the opposite end of the hallway. The light illuminated the long corridor, casting the richly-toned Aubusson rugs and family portraits with a glimmer of burnished gold.
“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”
Her father mumbled a response beneath his breath, which she could not hear. Something of import must be weighing heavily on her father’s mind. Patience smiled up at him. Would she ever meet a man as utterly perfect as her father? As far as she knew, the only honest and trustworthy men, in the whole of society were her father and her cousins’ fathers, Uncle Chester and Uncle Malcom.
Too bad her brother wasn’t more like their father. Thoughts of her brother reminded her that she should be concentrating on the duel. She mentally berated herself for letting her thoughts stray from her plan.
“I know you have the best of intentions where your cousins are concerned,” her father began.
Patience nodded but wasn’t really listening, wondering what time Barrett would be back. She had to slip in and out of her brother’s room unnoticed. She needed to borrow a pair of his breeches, a waistcoat, and shirt without anyone being the wiser.
“ … and I know you wish to honor your mother and myself by putting your best foot forward,” her father droned on.
She smiled absently at him. A hat! She’d have to borrow Barrett’s beaver top hat. She suppressed a shudder of revulsion, that hat was hideous.
“ … Viscount Rexley!” Her father beamed.
She stared at him and nearly let her favorite expression slip. Her father raised his right eyebrow. The arched brow had her immediately swallowing the retort, nearly choking on it.
“I’m sorry, Father.” Her mind raced backward at a furious pace trying to recall what the viscount had to do with top hats and putting her best foot forward.
“Really, my dear,” he said with a sigh. “If you wish to hold a man’s attention, you would do well to listen when he speaks.”
“Forgive me, I was woolgathering.”
He raised his hand in the air, another well-used gesture, that had the same effect now as it had when she was ten years old and had been caught climbing out of her bedroom window onto the roof. She immediately fell silent and awaited her father’s edict with a growing sense of doom.
“Viscount Rexley will be your escort tomorrow evening at the Duke’s Ball.” Her father narrowed his eyes and very slowly and clearly stated, “You will be pleasant to the man.”
“But I—” the words died on her tongue. If she were to slip out tonight, she’d best not give her father any reason to watch her too closely.
“Yes, Father.”
Taking her arm, he led her back to the parlor where her cousins waited. Before she could recover from the shock of his latest decree, he was reminding her not to forget her promise. Striding from the room, he reminded her of a general heading off to the next battle.
“Well?” Pru asked.
Charity skirted the cherry occasional table that displayed their grandmother’s silver tea service. “What did he want?”
“Ummm, nothing.” She couldn’t even begin to explain what he wanted. She hadn’t been listening. But she wouldn’t admit that to Charity or Pru, or they wouldn’t truly trust her to watch over them.
“You are still coming to the ball tomorrow night, aren’t you?” Charity stood perfectly still except for the nervous reaction Patience was all too familiar with, the sight of her younger cousin wringing her hands.
“Of course,” Patience soothed, struggling for composure while her mind raced frantically, searching, remembered faces and names of titled gentlemen she had met. But it was no use; she simply couldn’t place the face of Viscount Rexley.
She took her cousin’s hands in her own and gave them a quick squeeze to stop their nervous motions. “I would not miss your debut at Great-Uncle Milford’s Ball for the world,” she lied. She’d rather be standing knee-deep in the stream by the western border of their estate, fishing pole in hand, but that point was now moot. “Haven’t I agreed to stand beside you two through the entire Season?”
Charity nodded.
“I’m here to stay, and to see that nothing untoward happens to mar your big night.” She turned toward Pru and signaled for her to close the door, “Yours as well.”
Pru smiled.
“Now, where was I?”
“You were about to tell us your plans for a disguise,” Pru answered.
Patience slowly smiled. “We’re going to dress as young lords.”
Charity groaned aloud.
“No time left to deliberate,” Patience told her. “Scrounge what you can from your father, Charity. Your height will carry it off.”
“What about me?” Pru asked.
Patience looked down at her much-shorter cousin and wished for the hundredth time that she too was plump and petite like Prudence. Her youngest cousin was the image of her mother and her aunts. Unfortunately, she and Charity took after their fathers in height.
“Can you sneak into your brother’s room and borrow something from him?”
“If Mamma catches me, I’ll be exiled to The Aunts!”
Patience tried not to think of that particular dreaded punishment, but the threat unnerved her. She warned Pru, “Then don’t get caught.”
Her cousin’s face had turned a ghastly shade of gray. Ignoring it, Patience continued, “We shall meet at the stable at four o’clock.” Taking their silence as agreement she nodded briskly, “I’ll have the carriage ready.”
“I’m not spending an entire week re-potting The Aunts’ collection of exotic plants!” Pru shuddered, obviously envisioning the oft-used odious parental threat.
“Really, Pru. Don’t be such a silly goose,” Charity admonished.
“Everything will go as planned. We have nothing to fear.” Patience hoped her prediction would come true. Higgie needed her.
“Aren’t you the tiniest bit afraid?” Pru’s whispered question released the unease Patience had been trying to keep locked inside.
She pushed the unwelcome feeling back into the tidy little box reserved for weaknesses and forged ahead. “The only thing I fear is that we won’t arrive at the field in time to stop Higginbotham from making a monumental mistake.”
Needing to stay calm, she drew in a deep breath, and with it the comforting scent of beeswax and lemon. The familiar scent reminded her of home and family, her only refuge and staunchest of supporters. “He’s one of the best friends I have. I refuse to let him get killed because of the rumors.”
“Yes, cousin,” Charity said, turning toward Pru, “rumors.”
Pru had the grace to blush, “How was I to know Lady Cresskill would repeat what I’d told her in the strictest of confidences?”
Charity ignored Pru and turned to Patience. “How will you stop him?”
“I’ll think of something.” Patience wrapped her arms about her waist to ward off the sudden chill in the parlor. Was it a portent of what was to come?
Patience moved to the door and rested her hand on the knob. “Look on the bright side,” she paused, then said, “we’ve always wanted to observe a gentleman’s duel of honor.”
“I haven’t,” Charity mumbled.
Patience sent her a quelling look.
“Mother will never let me go anywhere with you again,” Pru predicted.
“We’ll be disguised,” Patience reminded them. “No one will know us.”
“They’ll not likely forget us,” Charity grumbled.
“We’ll whisk Higgie away before the first shot is fired.”
“And you’ll get your wings clipped for sure when Uncle Nathaniel gets wind of where you’ve been,” Pru added.
“Have a little faith in me, cousin,” Patience admonished. “Besides, I’ve thought of everything. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Mistress Prudence, Mistress Charity?” the family butler appeared in the doorway.
“Yes, Thorpe?” Patience smiled at her family’s retainer.
“The carriage is here, and your mothers have instructed that you not dally.” This last was said with a touch of haughtiness that so endeared the old man to her.
“We’d best hurry then, Cousin,” Prudence rose to her feet and moved to hug Patience.
“Do be careful,” Charity warned, brushing past Patience. Charity had never been the type to hug.
“As should the both of you,” Patience whispered.
They swept from the room, followed by the indomitable Thorpe.
Alone, Patience sagged back onto the settee and since no one was watching, slumped. Lord, she wanted to pull her hair out. What did her father mean by telling her she’d be escorted to her Great-Uncle’s Ball by some unknown viscount? Surely he wasn’t going to begin searching for a husband for her again? Not after the last fiasco.
Well, in all honesty, it wasn’t her father’s fault that she’d fallen in love with a fortune hunter. Men are not to be trusted. Trusting in Alasdair had been her downfall.
Straightening her spine, she slowly rose. Smoothing her hair, Patience tucked in a few loose hairpins before shaking out her skirts, hopefully getting rid of any wrinkles. Patience smiled. Wrinkles always made her mother suspicious.
“Ahh, Patience, there you are.” Her mother stood in the doorway to the parlor.
“Yes, Mother. Is there something you need?”
Her mother smiled. “Do be a good girl and go and fetch my book of sonnets.”
She sighed, knowing better than to suggest that that’s what they had servants for. Her mother didn’t trust just anyone to handle her favorite books. “Where did you leave it?”
Her mother rubbed at her temple absently. “I believe your brother borrowed it. He mentioned something about Venetia.”
“Lady Solebury’s daughter?”
“Er, yes. Lovely girl.”
“Barrett is reading poetry without being held at gunpoint?” This conversation was definitely becoming interesting.
Her mother sighed deeply. “Yes, dear.”
“And planning on quoting it to Venetia?”
“Now, Patience, I didn’t say that.”
“This is too juicy a tidbit to let pass without commenting.”
Her mother drew in a deep breath, straightening to her full commanding height—all of five feet two inches—a mere half a foot shorter than Patience. “You will not say anything to vex your brother.”
Placing a hand to her breast, Patience tried to appear shocked. “The thought never crossed my mind.”
Lady Waterbury’s eyes narrowed, but she patted her daughter’s hand. “Never mind, dear. Please bring me the book. I’ll be in the conservatory.”
Patience knew this would be her chance to slip in and get the things she’d need for their dawn rendezvous. “I may have to wade through a mountain of debris first.”
Her mother’s silvery laughter floated down the hallway.
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