The Pleasure of Bedding a Baroness (38 page)

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Authors: Tamara Lejeune

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“Is she?” Lord Waverly wondered. “She doesn’t appear even to know her husband’s name. What did she call you? Farzini?”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Continue in this vein, sir, and you may well find yourself drowning in the Thames, after all!”
Lord Waverly assumed an injured air. “You threaten me, sir? You marry my poor niece under a false name, and you threaten me? You have injured this sweet, innocent child—innocent no more, alas! You will pay dearly for her maidenhead, by God!”
Patience dug her fingers into Max’s arm. “Max, what is he saying?”
Lord Waverly clicked his tongue. “My poor honey! It’s the oldest trick in the book, dear girl. He only pretended to marry you. It was all to get you into bed. I don’t suppose you would have let him have you otherwise.”
Patience was on her feet. “Don’t be ridiculous, Uncle! Max, tell him he is wrong. Tell him we are married. Tell him, for God’s sake!”
“Of course he’s wrong,” Max said angrily. “You’re my wife. Good God, you don’t actually think—!”
Overwhelmed with relief, Patience threw herself into his arms. “Of course not! Of course, I’m you’re wife. I won’t listen to any more of this poison!”
Max’s arms tightened around her protectively. “We’ll fix everything when we get back to London, I promise.”
He felt her stiffen in his arms. Slowly, she drew away from him. Her green eyes were stormy with doubt. “If we are married, what is there to fix?” she asked slowly.
He cupped her face with his hand. “It’s true, Patsy, that my uncle has not disowned me.”
“What!”
“He couldn’t disown me even if he wanted, which I trust he does not. ’Twas all pretense, to get rid of your sister, which it did.”
“Oh, ho!” said Lord Waverly. “Had your sister as well, did he? The cad.”
“Shut up!” Max snarled.
“How dare you talk to my uncle like that!” said Patience, disentangling herself from Max. “So it was all pretense, was it? Our marriage
is
a sham!”
“No,” he said violently. “I was going to tell you on our wedding day, but you would not go to breakfast with me. You went to your attorney instead.”
She stared at him. “And after?” she snapped. “When I took you in, when you had nowhere else to go? Of course, you had somewhere to go! You had a palace! Why did you not tell me then? You must have been laughing at me the whole time!”
“I couldn’t tell you then. You would never have let yourself love me. But you ... you loved me even when you thought I had nothing.”
“So it was a test!” she cried, infuriated. “You have been testing me all this time?”
“That is not what I meant. You are twisting my words.”
“How could you do this to me?” she railed. “Your own wife? Oh, but of course, I am
not
your wife, am I? If I am not your wife, what am I to you?”
“Don’t be silly!” he snapped. “Of course you’re my wife. It’s simply a matter of getting the right name on the right documents.”
She shook her head. “Which you did not care to do
before
you married me! You lied to me, Max! You deceived me.”
Her anger he could bear easily, but this weary resignation frightened him. “It’s only a piece of paper,” he said, trying to laugh it off.
She stared at him, horrified. “Do you truly believe that?”
“Of course,” he assured her. “We’ll have the whole thing sorted in a trice when we get back to London. My uncle knows the Archbishop of Canterbury personally. This won’t be a problem.”
“Your uncle is used to fixing your mistakes.”
“Yes. You’re going to feel very foolish for making such a fuss about nothing.”
“I feel like a fool already,” she said bitterly. “Uncle, I would like to go to my room now. Suddenly, I’m very tired.”
“Of course, my dear,” Lord Waverly said, jumping up from his seat to take her arm. “You can sleep in the room next to mine. Moffat will build you a nice fire. You can have Rufus with you, too, for extra protection.”
“I am all the protection she needs,” Max declared.
Patience turned on him furiously. “Think again, Mr. Purefoy! You can sleep with the cow in her bed. She’s as much your wife as I am! That is what you have made of me,” she added bitterly, “a poor, dumb beast!”
“Oh, that is ridiculous!” Max snapped.
“So now I’m ridiculous?” she said shrilly. “Were you ever going to tell me? Were you going to let me live my whole life in sin with you?”
“Of course, I was going to tell you.”
“Oh? Why? According to you, it’s nothing. Why tell me at all, if it’s nothing?”
“Exactly!”
Lord Waverly patted her hand. “He would have told you when he tired of you,” he declared, laying his arm across her shoulders. “Then he would have put you away quietly. That’s the advantage of a sham marriage, you see.”
“Don’t listen to him, Patsy,” Max pleaded. “Our marriage is not a sham!”
“Are you sure of that?” she asked.
“Well, I am not a barrister,” he said roughly. “But it seems to me—”
“It seems to
me
you don’t care! ’Tis only a piece of paper, after all! A sham either way, is that it? And if our children are all bastards, what of it? Obviously, I’m just being ridiculous!”
Max bit his lip. “I will make this right for you, Patsy. I swear!”
Patience trembled with rage. “Stop calling me Patsy!” she howled at him.
Breaking free of her uncle, she ran upstairs. Entering the first room she came to, she banged the door so hard that a chunk of soot was dislodged in the chimney downstairs, landing with a crash in the fireplace and sending sparks flying.
Max turned on Lord Waverly. “You and your poisonous tongue!” he said furiously. “Now look what you’ve done!”
“It’s no good blaming me, boy,” the baron replied. “You’re the one who put the cart before the horse. Now you have to pay. I think it’s only fair to tell you my price has gone up ... considerably.”
Chapter 23
 
Lord Waverly enjoyed the journey to London immensely. He sat on one side of the carriage with his niece and his terrier, while Max sat brooding on the opposite seat. Patience stared pointedly out the window, cold and unforgiving.
“What a delightful conveyance!” exclaimed his lordship, bouncing on the seat. “So well sprung! One of your uncle’s, I suppose?”
Patience turned accusing eyes to Max. “You told me it was hired.”
“Oh, no, my dear,” Lord Waverly assured her. “If you look at the door in full sun, you can see where the crest has been painted over.”
“Is there anything you haven’t lied to me about?” Patience demanded, glaring at Max.
Max sighed. “I never lied about the important things,” he said wearily.
“Just your name,” she sniffed. “Our marriage! Nothing important!”
“I do hope we can spend at least one night at Breckinridge,” Lord Waverly said eagerly.
“No,” Max said shortly.
“But, surely it is not so very much out of the way,” Lord Waverly insisted. “And so convenient to London! I cannot believe you did not take my niece to Breckinridge on your way to Wildings. These roadside inns can be quite sordid. I suppose you were too ashamed to take her to Breckinridge.”
“I
did
take her to Breckinridge, as it happens,” Max said tightly.
“No, you didn’t,” said Patience.
“Of course I did. We spent the night there. The first night of our journey.”
Patience stared at him. “You told me that was an inn! And Mrs. Oliver? Was she not the landlady?”
“She is the housekeeper.”
Patience slowly turned red, thinking, he was sure, of the night they had spent there together. “Does she know we are not married?”
“For the last time: we are married.”
“We most assuredly will not be staying
there,
” Patience said vehemently.
Max bit back a curse. “We can certainly change horses and drive through the night.”
“It’s two hundred miles to London!” Lord Waverly protested.
Max shrugged. “What’s two hundred miles in a well-sprung vehicle? We’ll be there in two days.”
Patience suddenly had a thought. “And my topaz?” she asked, tearing off the glove on her left hand.
Max had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m afraid it
is
a diamond. But only ten carats,” he added quickly. And then, even more quickly as she began pulling the ring over her knuckle, “You swore it would never leave your finger!”
Patience contented herself with glowering at him.
“I can get you a topaz, if you want,” he offered. “I’d have to buy it, however, and would that not be a false economy? That ring has been in my family for three generations.”
Patience refused even to smile at his attempt at humor.
They did travel through the night, but, at the end of the next day, Lord Waverly was moaning so piteously on account of his carbuncles that they were obliged to stop for the night at Saint Albans. Three rooms were not to be had for the three travelers, and Max spent the night in front of the fire in the taproom.
The following morning, they rolled into London, Lord Waverly floating in a cloud of laudanum, the boils on his bottom freshly lanced and dressed.
The road brought them first to Sunderland Square.
“I will take my leave of you here,” said Max, his fingers on the door handle. “I will consult with my uncle and his attorney. I will call on you this afternoon.”
Patience shrugged. “It will be good to see my sister again,” she said.
“Oh, yes; do give Prudence my love,” he said sourly.
He got out and closed the door, but turned back full of hope as she opened the window.
“Max?”
Instantly, he caught the gloved hands clutching the windowsill. “Yes, my love?”
“You w-will call on me, won’t you?” she said, a slight tremor in her voice.
Max was so relieved, he almost laughed. “Of course I shall! Now kiss me good-bye; there’s a good girl.”
With a backward glance, to be sure her uncle was still in a drugged stupor. Then, leaning out the window, she gave Max her mouth.
“It
is
more than just a piece of paper, you know,” she said reproachfully. “It is a sacrament. Think of our children. What would become of them if our marriage is on shaky ground?”
“I will make this right, Pazienza. Just have a little patience with me,” he added, with a faint smile. “And don’t listen to your bloody uncle! He thinks I’m as bad as he is.”
“And you’re not?” she said, arching an eyebrow.
“You know I’m not,” he said softly.
Sitting back, she closed the window, and Max sent the driver on his way.
Patience felt almost happy. On impulse, she decided to stop in Grosvenor Square to surprise Prudence. Lord Waverly hardly stirred as the carriage stopped outside Lord Milford’s house.
Patience went up the steps alone, but, before she could knock, she heard an upstairs window opening. “Patience!” Prudence hissed at her.
Looking up, she saw her sister’s head and shoulders leaning out the window.
“Prudence!” she called happily. “I was just about to—”
“Don’t!” It would have been an urgent scream if Prudence had not been whispering. “Don’t ring the bell! I’ll come down!”
“Don’t be silly,” Patience began as Prudence disappeared from the window. In the next moment, Pru’s bare feet came over the window ledge, startling Patience.
“What are you doing?” she cried, alarmed. “When you said you were coming down, I thought you were going for the stairs!”
“I cannot stay in this house another instant!” Pru declared.
“That much is obvious!”
Prudence was standing on the window ledge. The fact that her sister was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown suddenly impressed itself on Patience. “Go back inside at once!” she gasped. “At least put on your dressing gown!”
Pru ignored her. “If your coachman would move up a little, do you think I could jump onto the roof of your carriage?”
“Certainly not!” Patience cried, alarmed.
The coachman, however, seemed to think it was an excellent notion. Slowly, and carefully, he began backing up his team, angling the coach over the curbstone.
By this time, they were attracting attention in the street, which, fortunately, was not very busy at this early hour of the morning. The door of Lord Milford’s house opened and a man whom Patience took for his lordship’s butler came running down the steps. He looked up at Prudence in horror, his periwig slipping over his bald head.
“Don’t just stand there, man!” Patience snapped. “Get a ladder!”
From inside the house, a hand reached out to grasp Prudence’s ankle. She shrieked in surprise and nearly fell. Patience could not see her sister’s would-be rescuer, but Pru did not react well. “Let go of me, you brute!” she screamed.
“No, don’t!” Patience shouted to the unknown hero. “Don’t let go of her, I beg of you! She’ll fall! Will someone please get a ladder?”
With her free foot, Pru stomped on the hand of her rescuer. Howling, he let her go. This time, she did fall, or rather, she jumped, to Patience’s horror. The coach was not ideally placed, however, and she did not land on the roof. Instead, she struck the side, but managed to grab hold of the brass railing of the luggage rack. From there she was able to drop into the arms of the footman who had jumped down to assist her.
Lord Milford leaned out the window. “I—I had to grab her,” he stammered, looking down at Patience with a very red face. “She was going to fall!”
“Thank you very much, sir!” Patience shouted. “I will take her home now, I think.”
“No! Wait!” His lordship withdrew into the house.
“Patience!” Pru cried. “Take me away from this place! Hurry!”
She was already in the carriage, beckoning wildly to her sister. “Thank you,” Patience told the butler with what dignity she could muster. “I don’t think we’ll be needing the ladder after all.”
Hastily, she got into her carriage. “What on earth—?” she began furiously, as the footman closed the door.
The carriage lurched to one side as the wheels descended from the curb. Then it righted itself, and they were off, moving briskly toward Clarges Street.
“Prudence, what is the meaning of this?” she began again. “I’m sure your friends must think you’re mad!”
Pru’s teeth were chattering as she hugged herself. “They are not my friends,” she said tearfully. “I’m so c-cold!”
Hastily, Patience wrapped her up in the carriage rug, pulling it off the inert form of their uncle. “Of course you’re cold!” she scolded her. “You’re still in your nightgown, you silly girl! What do you mean by climbing out the window? You could have broken your neck!”
“I can think of worse things,” Pru said darkly.
Patience sighed. “What have you done now? Did you quarrel with Isabella?”
“I haven’t done anything,” Pru said shrilly. “You always blame me! Is it my fault that I was locked in a room for days with no clothes, no shoes, no fire, nothing to eat? I don’t even know what they did with my maid! It’s a wonder I’m alive at all!”
Patience could hardly believe her ears. “What are you saying?”
“Lord Milford has been holding me a prisoner in his house,” Pru told her. “He said I could not have anything to eat unless I promised to marry him.”
“What?”
“If it were not for Isabella, I would have starved,” Pru declared. “I suppose you got her note? She promised she would send one to you.
She
at least is not the monster her brother is.”
“I received no note,” said Patience. “But we have been traveling ... I stopped here before going home on the merest whim. My God, Prudence! If you have been injured—Are you all right?”
“No, I am
not
all right!” said Pru, the words half obliterated by a powerful sneeze. “I got tired of waiting for you to come and get me,” she went on crankily, when she had made use of her sister’s handkerchief. “I was so c-cold and so hungry that I—that I—Well, finally, I told him I
would
marry him! I had no choice!”
Patience took Pru to her, rubbing her arms to warm her. “Darling, I’m so sorry!”
“I thought perhaps R-Roger would see the notice in the newspaper. I thought he might come to c-congratulate me.”
Again, she sneezed. Patience quickly opened her cloak and gathered her shivering sister into its folds.
“He c-came so quickly to congratulate you,” Pru continued, sniffling. “I was watching from the window in case he should come. When I saw you get out of the coach—! Oh, Pay! I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life!”
“I knew that Isabella was not to be trusted,” Patience said grimly.
“It’s not Bella’s fault,” said Pru. “If she hadn’t smuggled food into my room, I would have starved.”
“She should have let you out of the house!”
“I won’t hear a word against Bella,” Pru insisted. “She did the best she could. He—he was going to come into my room and—and—Well,
you know
. But Bella wouldn’t let him. She said the appearance of my having been compromised would be sufficient for his purposes.”
“We must be grateful to her for that, at least!” Patience snapped. “What on earth could his purpose be? Has he gone mad?”
“He is not the wealthy lord we thought him,” said Pru. “He needs money desperately. And I went right to his house like a lamb to the slaughter! The instant we are married he means to start borrowing against my inheritance.”
Patience hugged her tightly. “Never mind, dearest. You’re quite safe from him now. Oh, I should have insisted on taking you with us to Wildings! It was—it was selfish of me to leave you behind.”
“It was,” Pru whimpered. “It was selfish of you. I s-still can’t believe you chose him over me. He’s not even all that good looking. Quite swarthy!” she added with a shudder.
“I didn’t choose him over you,” Patience protested. “You mustn’t think that. You will always be my sister. And now you are his sister as well. Max will be furious when I tell him. He will make Lord Milford very sorry, I can assure you!”
Pru snorted. “Of course he will; but do you think he will ever wake up?” She jerked her chin toward the sleeping figure on the opposite seat.
Patience laughed. “Oh, that’s not Max! That is our uncle, Lord Waverly. It turns out he isn’t dead, after all.”
“Just sleeping, then?”
“He’s a scoundrel, Pru! He’s been at Wildings all this time, hiding from his creditors. The sale was his idea. He was going to abscond with the money. Disappear and never come back.”

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