“I do like amazing people.” The duke’s look was thoughtful, but his smile slimmed to nothing. He glanced at me as if my river of emotions had reached him and swept him away.
He clasped the edge of the desk and leaned in a little. “Comply, LaCroy. I know best.”
No. No, he couldn’t. He was trying to prepare my boy to go to war. To advance him to be less of a concern on the battlefield.
I didn’t want my boy pushed and prodded and made to fit into the duke’s world. I held my breath, counted to ten, then slid the page back to him. “These r-rules are r-ridiculous. It’s not appropriate. Not for a baby.”
The duke sat up from his slouched position. His mouth twinging as if it hurt to do so. He offered the paper again. “I think it is, and it shall be done. My little soldier needs training. You will follow my schedule, all my rules.”
“But—”
“That’s an order.”
I bristled. There was no room in his crisp command for debate or even an extra syllable.
“Mrs. LaCroy, do we understand each other? I heard your thoughts on war, but this is what I want here at Hamlin.”
“It’s still not appropriate.”
“We agreed on a month-to-month engagement. By Jove, you are a difficult one.”
“Now, don’t go calling down your gods on me.”
“What, LaCroy? Jove is an expression for my one God.” He held up one finger, then folded his arms. “Are you telling me that our month-to-month engagement is too long and that I need to find a nanny who understands her place?”
A second was too long when it came to my child. My foolish heart had begun to lead me astray. Thinking of the duke as a substitute father was foolish when he was just a drill master. I’d say anything to stay until I could steal Lionel away. “I understand.”
I took the paper and shoved it into my pocket. “May I go?”
“You may, but this schedule starts tomorrow, Mrs. LaCroy.”
Think happy thoughts, Patience. Demerara, Demerara. Demerara.I offered a salute and headed out the door.
The first opportunity to gain access to my trust documents, I would. All I needed was a chartered boat and a head start. My son and I would be away before the duke succeeded in turning my Lionel into his perfect little soldier.
And before I had to watch the fool man return to war.
CHAPTER 15
BACK IN THESADDLE
Busick tossed his jet shako upon his head and cupped his eyes as he stepped out of the catacombs. Days of rain ended yesterday, but it didn’t snow. The effort to clear the fields wasn’t wasted.
Hamlin’s grounds weren’t perfect for outdoor exercise, but these were the best conditions he could hope for before more showers fell. The darkening clouds, the musk of rain in the air, meant it wouldn’t be long.
He stretched, shifting his weight between his stump and his crutch, then looked to the balcony for the storm called Patience LaCroy.
She churned these past days, blowing into his mind like a cyclone, overturning tables and breaking up dusty cogs, challenging his commands with her passive resistance.
Pretendpassivity.
The woman never complained. She was too smart for that. No, she complied with one-word answers, a yes or a no.
The absence of complete sentences irritated Busick. The occasionalsiror begrudgedYour Gracemade her seem tragic and long-suffering.
That wasn’t her.
Patience LaCroy was passionate and stubborn, and he’d witnessed glimpses of her compassion before he put his foot down. The woman didn’t want him returning to war, but the notion of her coming along, of her being a woman to fight for him and Lionel had been shredded.
