Max took a deep breath, attempting to get himself under control, and when he looked at her again, his expression was guarded. Lifting her gently from his lap, he stood up. ‘I understand,’ he said evenly. ‘You do not need mycharity, and as it appears I have served my purpose, I will offer my heartfelt thanks for your assistance in recovering my property and bid you good night.’ He inclined his head politely, then turned to leave.
She watched him walk away, her heart slamming against her ribs.
‘Max…’ she cried. For a brief second, she thought he wouldn’t stop, but then he turned back, lifted his brows and gazed at her, his blue eyes enigmatic in the moonlight.
She had no idea what to say. How could a man such as him even consider tying himself to a woman with such an odd kick in her gallop? One who would embarrass him at every turn?
‘I … I am not wife material,’ she whispered in the end.
He seemed to sag for a second, then he straightened. ‘Indeed, you are not,’ he agreed drily before turning round and striding away.
∞∞∞
Patience watched the first light of dawn from her chair in the window of her bedchamber where she’d been seated for the entire night. Her eyes felt as though they had sand in them, but she hadn’t shed a tear. Instead, she’d spent the hours going over and over what happened in the summer house as if somehow, she would make sense of it.
After the Marquess had left, she’d sat for a while on the sofa, her mind unable to process what had just happened even as her body still throbbed from his touch. At length, climbing slowly to her feet, she’d dragged herself back into the house and upstairs to her bedchamber. Freddy was naturally delighted to see her, and she reasoned that his presence meant her father had not yet returned home. She hoped he hadn’t done anything foolish, but in truth felt too wretched to care.
What the devil was wrong with her? She didn’t want to marry the Marquess. She didn’t want to marry anybody. So why did she now feel as though someone had died?
Ignoring the sudden slamming of her heart against her ribs, she determinedly began shedding her boyish clothing, just as heavy footsteps coming up the stairs set Freddy to barking. Knowing it could only mean one thing, Patience rebuttoned her shirt and went wearily to open the door.
‘Well?’ the Reverend questioned as soon as he’d done fussing with the foxhound.
Patience smiled for the first time since the Marquess’s leaving and nodded. ‘We found it,’ she confirmed. Her father grinned in unabashed delight.
‘So that’s it then. No more rum-dubbing for you, my girl. Now you’ve paid your debt, you can disappear off to Blackmore and live the life you always wanted without your sisters’ interference.’
Yesterday, that had seemed like the thing she wanted most in the world. But that was yesterday.
And now, as she sat warming herself in the early morning sunlight, all she could see were two incredible sapphire eyes, heavy-lidded with desire.
For her.
How was it possible?
Itshouldn’thave been possible.
And now she just felt … lost.
At long last, as the sun finally swept away the last vestiges of night, she put her head in her hands and wept.
∞∞∞
The Earl of Bamford’s memory of the night before was hazy at best, but as he examined the bruising around his nose, he seemed to remember some kind of priest. He frowned, then winced at the resulting pain. He’d decided to visit Sadie’s on the way to the ball. He hadn’t been in a while, usually preferring to spend more time with his personal doxies, but for a quick tupping there was nowhere better. The trollops at Sadie’s didn’t object to any of his special requests either.
He remembered walking out to wait for his carriage and then falling, followed by blinding pain, then … nothing, until … He shook his head to clear it. There were two of them. What the devil were two clergymen doing outside Sadie’s? One was a large man with a bulbous nose. He’d looked vaguely familiar. All this thinking was making his deuced head ache. He needed brandy.
Dismissing his valet, he decided to take breakfast in his study. Some devilled kidneys would undoubtedly help with his hangover. The cheap brandy he’d consumed while enjoying Moll’s attentions was definitely not for a sensitive stomach. As he walked down the stairs, he reflected on his luck that two vicars should be on hand when he’d fallen. If they hadn’t… He shuddered as he pushed open the study door.
Where the devil had he seen that vicar before? He poured himself a brandy and gave his instructions to the housemaid. Seating himself in his customary chair, he winced again. Evidently, it wasn’t just his face that hurt. Truly, he was getting old.
Sipping the brandy, he sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. He didn’t know any deuced vicars, the only one he’d even laid eyes on in years was the one accompanying Blackmore’s bumpkin relative to his soiree. His eyes flew open. The same chit he’d seen with Guildford.
With a curse, he climbed out of his chair and hurried over to the bookcase. A minute later, his worst fears were confirmed.The bastard had taken it.His mind whirled. How had Guildford gained entry?
And how thefuckhad he foundSepideh’shiding place?
Swearing, Bamford flung the brandy glass at the wall. The heavy crystal broke into shards, spattering the golden liquid everywhere.
