Patience. Max’s heart slammed against his ribs at the thought that their tryst last night had been observed. Indeed, part of him wanted to punch the air with joy at the thought that she would now have no choice but to wed him if her family believed her compromised.
However, the more rational part of him recognised that the way to his prickly love’s heart did not lie in a forced union. She’d frequently told him as much, and with her strong opposition, such a result would be an unequivocal disaster.
Hurriedly he pulled a shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. While he would not have chosen to greet his visitors in a state of undress, the hammering had been such that he did not think keeping them waiting would render the situation any more agreeable.
‘Have some tea brought to the conservatory,’ he ordered, still tucking his shirt into his breeches as he strode towards the stairs.
The scene waiting for him would have had a lesser man pissing his breeches.
Standing in a semi-circle were the Duke of Blackmore, the Earl of Ravenstone, and Reverend Shackleford. As it was, the expression worn by all three caused the Marquess to pause as he entered the room. Surely marriage to someone of his rank should not be quite such a catastrophe, even if it hadn’t been entirely arranged. And then the Duke spoke.
‘Not only have you besmirched the honour of a member of my family,’ he bit out, his voice like a block of ice, ‘but you also had the gall to involve her in an enterprise that was nothing less than criminal conspiracy. You, sir are a blackguard and a rake. Name your seconds.’
Max closed his eyes briefly at Blackmore’s words, then stared directly at Patience’s father. The Reverend, who was already looking distinctly uncomfortable, had the grace to squirm before he recovered and raised his chin angrily.
‘I cannot deny that Miss Shackleford provided invaluable aid in retrieving a family heirloom of mine that had been acquired illegally,’ Max offered carefully at length, ‘but the wholeenterpriseas you put it was done entirely with her father’s knowledge.’ He looked again at Reverend Shackleford who was now turning an interesting shade of puce. ‘I didn’t give you leave to deuced well ruin her while you were at it,’ he declared, quivering in outrage.
Both the Duke and the Earl turned as one to regard their father-in-law with narrowed eyes, making it clear to Max that the Reverend had left out at least part of the story.
‘Please gentlemen, may we sit?’ the Marquess asked wearily. ‘I suspect we have much to discuss.’
‘No, we may not sit,’ barked Augustus Shackleford in response, causing Max to raise his eyebrows in surprise. The Reverend’s face was no longer outraged. In its place was an expression of pure panic. Max felt his heart contract in sudden dread.
‘She’s not here, is she?’ the clergyman whispered before suddenly collapsing with a moan into one of the chairs.
‘Why the devil would she be here?’ demanded Max. ‘Whatever you think of me, I am not in the habit of stealing young women from their beds.’
Fortunately, the arrival of the housekeeper with a tray of tea prevented the conversation from becoming more heated. Glancing at Adam, Nicholas gave a slight nod, and both men sat down. All four remained silent until the housekeeper had gone, but as soon as the door closed, Max leaned forward, his face intense.
‘Has something happened to Patience?’ he questioned tightly.
There was a short silence. ‘We currently have no idea of her whereabouts,’ admitted Adam at length with a grimace.
‘As I understand it, that’s nothing out of the ordinary,’ countered Max drily. ‘After knowing her barely a week, I am aware that Miss Shackleford is very rarely where she ought to be.’
Nicholas gave a rueful snort as he leaned forward to take a proffered cup of tea. ‘I do not pardon you for your crimes Guildford,’ he declared with a weary shake of his head, ‘but I accept that we cannot add kidnapping to their number. Indeed, your tone indicates that you appear to have got the measure of my sister-in-law in a very short space of time which leads me to hope that you hold her in at least some affection.’ He paused, his cup halfway to his mouth before eying the beverage with distaste. ‘The devil take it. Have you got anything stronger than deuced tea?’
∞∞∞
Patience’s first thought as she opened her eyes, was that her head was in grave danger of splitting in two. Her second was that she’d somehow been rendered blind. Blinking to ensure that her eyes were actually open, she turned her head, wincing as the pain lanced between her eyes and finally realising that she was lying in a room that was almost entirely pitch black. For a second, she thought herself back in her bed and wondered how she’d got there, until a soft snore sounded from her right. Gasping in sudden terror, Patience tried to sit up, only to find herself restrained to the bed. Panicked, she struggled against the invisible bonds, raising her head in a desperate effort to see what held her. The darkness revealed nothing, and her fear became a tangible thing, stabbing at her heart in a rhythm that matched the throbbing pain in her head. Whimpering, she thrashed, a scream beginning deep down inside her and rising inexorably into her throat, until finally, she could deny it no longer. Indeed, the only thing that stopped her hysteria was the arrival of an unknown person carrying a candle and a sudden hard slap across her face.
The shock of the slap brought Patience to her senses. Staring up into the cold eyes of what appeared to be a nurse, she struggled to get her fear under control.
‘Where am I?’ she croaked, feeling as though her mouth was filled with wool.
‘Why yer ‘ome dearie,’ the woman cackled, bending down with a toothless grin, ‘an’ if I was you, I’d pipe down lessen you’re lookin’ for another cuff on yer ‘ead. Old Cavendish don’ like ‘is beauty sleep disturbed.’
With that she turned, still cackling, and slowly made her way back towards a door at the end of the room. In the gradually dying light of the candle, Patience could make out four other beds, all of which appeared to be occupied. Patience looked round frantically until finally the door shut, leaving the room in complete darkness once again. She didn’t dare cry out again. Instead, she whimpered and did nothing to stem the flow of tears spilling down her cheeks.
‘They’ll unstrap you in the morning.’ At first Patience didn’t register the soft voice coming from the bed nearest to her, but the movement accompanying it prompted her to turn her head carefully, trying to avoid the inevitable stabbing through her skull. She’d been hit on the head, Patience realised, as the events of the morning filtered back.
‘Where is this?’ she murmured fearfully to the disembodied voice.
There was a pause, then someone else further away answered. ‘You’re in Farfield Place miss.’ Patience swallowed and attempted to frown. The sympathy in the voice was unmistakeable. ‘Where is that?’ she asked, fighting down her sudden nausea.
‘You’d be better asking what rather than where,’ came another comment, this time laced with bitterness.
‘Wh ... what do you mean?’ questioned Patience fearfully. In her heart of hearts, she already knew.
