Lance tore off his neckcloth, screwed it into a ball and threw it at Denny’s head. “I am not in the mood for your games, my friend. Say what you want to say, then leave me in peace.”
“Hmm. I think you have answered my question, anyway. Clearly you know that she is the one playing games. If you still doted on her, I should have said nothing, naturally, but when you snarl at me like a caged wolf, well…”
“A caged wolf? I am not caged yet, you know.”
“And do you still plan to step into her cage?”
Lance stilled. “We are betrothed, and I am honour bound to walk into that cage, if she wishes it. You think I should not? She has made a misstep today, but she will come to herself… surely she will. Do you not think so?”
“The question you must answer, friend,” Denny said, “is which is the real Patience, the gently restrained one or the… forgive me, but the brazen hussy who hangs off your arm like a lightskirt.”
“A lightskirt! Retract those words!”
“Now, now, you must not call me out, Lance, for you know I could skewer you with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Ha! I should like to see you try! But seriously, Denny, you must not talk about lightskirts and Patience in the same breath. She is a lady to the core of her being.” Yet even as he spoke, he recalled her inviting him into her bedroom, and late at night, too, when anything could happen. Surely that was just her innocence. She could not know the possible consequences of such an invitation.
“She may be a lady,” Denny said, gathering up discarded items of clothing, “but she is up to something and I should not like you to be taken advantage of, that is all. Let us not fall out over it, my old friend.”
“Of course not,” Lance said, with a half-smile. “I agree there is something… not quite right about this sudden start of hers, but I shall see how it plays out before I make any irrevocable decisions. Now go away, for heaven’s sake, and leave me to get some sleep.”
But when Denny had gone, Lance did not get into bed. Instead, he poured himself a brandy and sat down at the desk in the window. From a drawer, he brought out a sketch book, its pages well filled. As he leafed through them, Patience’s lovely face gazed out at him, her eyes clear and unafraid. Such happy times, back in the summer, when he had admired her wholeheartedly and little by little she had responded, as gently as a rose unfurling its petals. Page after page he looked at, remembering. Yes, that one! There he had captured the hint of mischief in her expression. He was rather proud of his work there. Yet he had never suspected that it signalled anything more than schoolgirl exuberance… a liking for jokes and teasing, perhaps.
Now he wondered. What was going on in that lovely head of hers? And why did it make him feel as if something precious had been spoilt?
If he had been asleep, he would never have heard the click of the door opening, and perhaps his life would have been irrevocably different. But he was not asleep, he did hear and so he was on his feet, his sword stick in his hand, before the flickering candle flame was beyond the door.
“What do you want?” he called out gruffly.
The candle wavered. “Lance?” came a small voice.
“Patience?”
He crossed the room in a few strides, and hurled open the door. Her face was streaked with tears, and for a moment he had an overpowering urge to take her in his arms and hold her close and kiss her and—
But that was madness! Neither of them wore anything other than a nightgown and robe, and he knew perfectly well where such kisses would end.
“Go back to bed, Patience,” he said, trying to subdue the tremor in his voice. Lord, how she tempted him!
“But I am so unhappy! I made you angry… you are not angry, are you? Will you not let me kiss you and—”
“No! What the devil are you thinking?” Anger, that was the way of it. Righteous anger would suppress this terrible desire to do exactly what she asked of him.
“I love you, Lance. Will you not show me that you love me, too? I am so unhappy.”
“Then go and weep on your mother’s shoulder,” he hissed at her, his rage rising with every word she spoke. “Get out of my room,now!”
He half pushed her out into the corridor, closed the door, then fumbled to turn the key in the lock. She must not come back in, at all costs.
He leaned his forehead against the door, eyes closed in misery. For now he knew exactly why she had come to find him.
16: A Departure
It was so many hours of wakeful wretchedness before Lance fell asleep that he was woken by Denny’s vigorous shaking.
“Come on, slug-a-bed, time to get moving.”
Lance groaned. “Leave me alone, you devil.”
