It seemed that Bamford had indeed acquired a reputation as an avid collector of all manner of artifacts, including those obtained by illicit means. However, that was not the worst of it. He was also reputed to be a collector of wives, having apparently gone through three in the last ten years.
The first had died after being thrown from her horse, and the second from a fall and no one had seen his current wife since a month after the wedding. Evidently, she suffered with hysteria and was kept under lock and key. Naturally, all three had come with large dowries which was clearly the reason Bamford was able to indulge in his hobby.
Max grimaced in distaste. He was all but certain that Bamford was in possession of the diamond, but in light of the unsavoury rumours surrounding the Earl, he was beginning to wonder whether Hugo had actually handed it over willingly.
He was also beginning to speculate whether Prinny did, in fact, have suspicions about Bamford since according to Brummell, his highness had not been happy with Hugo’s apparent closeness to the Earl. Had the Prince still been in Bath, Max would have risked quizzing him, but the Regent had returned to London the day before, tearfully declaring himself in need of some time alone to truly assimilate the death of such a dear friend.
But while the Prince had quit the spa town, those of his circle still living had been ordered to remain in Bath, so even if Bamford did not show his face, one of Prinny’s hangers on might be persuaded to drunkenly part with some useful information.
As Max strode over to pick up his gloves, he suddenly recalled another reason the ball might not end up a complete waste of his evening.What was her name?he mused, heading out of his bedchamber.Patience, that was it. If her sisters were looking to find her a suitor, she would undoubtedly be present, and if she was as socially inept as Northwood had suggested, the evening might turn out to be rather entertaining.
∞∞∞
The Assembly Rooms were filled to bursting, and as she followed her escorts into the room, Patience stumbled in horror. For a few seconds, she wondered if she was about to have an apoplexy. Eyes wide, she took a slight step backwards. Her two sisters, unaware of her sudden pause, continued forward, scanning the room for acquaintances. Suddenly, Patience felt a warm hand placed gently on her shoulder. Looking up in panic, she saw the Earl of Ravenstone eying her sympathetically. ‘Stay close to me,’ Adam murmured, tucking her arm in his. ‘All will be well, I promise.’ The kindness in his voice had her blinking back tears, and she nodded gratefully, doing her best to emulate the graceful steps she’d been taught by Miss Beaumont.
An hour later, she felt as though a noose was slowly tightening around her neck. Indeed, she’d been obliged to make conversationwith so many people she feared her voice might give out at any moment. She felt like one of the marionettes she used to love to watch during the May Day celebrations at Blackmore. But she could tell from the way people looked at her sisters, then at her, that they were not impressed with either her looks or her lack of witty banter.If only they knew what it cost her to simply be polite.
It had been decided that as this was her first appearance in public, Patience would not indulge in any dancing. In all honesty, the decision was a fortunate one, not only because her dancing skills were barely adequate at best, but also because nobody actually asked her.
Slowly, she sipped at the last of her lukewarm tea, whilst studiously looking at the floor. She was aware of the conversation flowing around her as she allowed her mind to return to the plan she’d hatched with her father.
Once back in the more favourable confines of their lodgings, the Reverend had obviously had occasion to give a little more consideration to Patience’s totty-headed proposal which in turn had prompted him to quiz her on several of her hazier elucidations. Unfortunately, despite being a man of the cloth, her father was most adept at the art of telling a convincing plumper and could recognise a fellow dissembler in his sleep.
Indeed, one of his more pertinent questions concerned the unusual skill herfriend’s brotherpossessed which was in fact his ability to read, given that ninety percent of the village population were, for the most part, unschooled.
It had taken all Patience’s imagination to come up with a convincing story. She could hardly tell her father that she’d taught the pedlar’s son herself in return for his tutorage on how to pick a lock. Her explanation must have sufficed however, as the Reverend had finally given her permission to compose a letter, provided she allowed him to scrutinise it. This condition had led Patience to sit for several hours, quill in hand, trying to think how to word the missive in such a way that John would understand what shewasn’tsaying. In short, she requested his presence in Bath as soon as he was able.
Once John arrived, she was entirely convinced it would only be a short step to her discreet removal from polite society. Smiling grimly at the floor, she suddenly became aware that the room had gone quiet. Looking up, she realised that the people around her were staring towards the entrance.
‘What is everybody looking at?’ she questioned Grace.
‘Only the most eligible gentleman of the last half a dozen Seasons,’ breathed her sister in awe. ‘I have no idea what he is doing in Bath.’
‘Guildford came to attend his brother’s funeral, I believe,’ offered the Duke helpfully.
‘Why didn’t you tell me he was in residence?’ demanded Grace, outraged that her husband would even consider keeping such a juicyon ditto himself. Nicholas quirked a brow before questioning drily, ‘You think to match Patience with London’s most eligible bachelor, my dear?’
Grace scowled and drew herself up. ‘Why the devil not?’ she demanded haughtily. ‘She is the sister-in-law to a duke and an earl after all.’
‘Don’t forget a viscount,’ her husband added with a grin.
‘Is that actually the Marquess of Guildford?’ asked Temperance, breathless after returning from a country quadrille. ‘I had thought him in mourning for his brother.’
‘Indeed, he has evidently decided to put aside his grief for an evening at least,’ responded Grace excitedly. ‘How fortunate we decided on this evening to make Patience’s debut.’
‘Far be it for me to put a rub in the way of your plans ladies,’ interrupted Adam, ‘but I was given to understand that Guildford enjoys a special relationship with the Queen.’
‘Queen Charlotte?’ Temperance queried with a frown.
‘Is there another?’ Her husband quirked a mocking brow.
‘Fiddlesticks,’ Grace pouted. ‘Dare we risk her Majesty’s attention again so soon?’
Patience was only half-listening to their conversation. Stepping forward, she stood on her tiptoes in an effort to see over the heads of the surrounding crowd. As the couple in front of her stepped to one side, she had an unexpectedly clear view and gave an involuntary gasp as she suddenly laid eyes on the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
He was tall, easily well over six feet, and his evening clothes fitted as though he’d been poured into them. His hair was the colour of midnight and even from here she could see his eyes were the most amazing cerulean blue. Her heart began thudding in the most absurd manner, and she quickly turned away, berating herself for her foolishness, in time to hear Grace saying, ‘I do not believe her majesty is entirely without a sense of humour, mayhap she will simply see the funny side of the whole incident.’
Nicholas snorted. ‘While I applaud your desire to see your sister make the best possible match my love,’ he declared with a short apologetic bow to Patience, ‘I believe it may behove you to lower your sights … a little,’ he added on observing his wife’s mulish features.
