Page 29 of Denying the Duke (Lords and Ladies in Love 3)

Lord, she was sick of men. Her father was more interested in selling her off to the highest bidder. Now the highest bidder was dead, and his replacement wanted her to jump into marriage as a convenience for him. No words of love, or even caring. Like her father, Alex’s comment was simply “do this because it makes my life easier.”

How she longed for the Alex she knew four years ago. He had been sweet and whispered words of love to her, and had made her feel special and cared for. This cold man who had returned from the military looked at her with lust. Not that those heated glances were bad—certainly not. And his kisses…

She wanted, and yes, deserved, more than lust and demands. But oh, how she missed his touch, his kiss, his body next to hers. Chastising herself for allowing Alex to tie her into knots even when he was not with her, she settled into their carriage.

She would enjoy this garden party and possibly meet women with whom she would become friends. Patience put a smile on her face and linked her arm with Mother’s. For this afternoon, she would put the Duke of Bedford far from her mind.

The thought cheered her considerably.

…

Alex leaned back in his chair and addressed Mr. Merlin, his secretary. “That is about all I can handle for today.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I will have the correspondence ready for your signature later this afternoon.”

Alex waved him off. “No hurry, I will be out for the rest of the day. Tomorrow morning will suffice.”

He would be out for the rest of the day because he could no longer stand being inside. His years of the military had not been spent, for the most part, inside four walls. Now, a feeling of choking, of not having enough air, swept over him, forcing him to take flight.

After quickly changing into his riding clothes and tacking Night Storm himself, too impatient to wait for the stable master, he rode out of the city limits and into open acreage. He could have ridden on Rotten Row in Hyde Park, but he had no desire for companionship and useless chatter.

What he needed was a clear head to decide what to do with Patience. He snorted. He didn’t need to think long and hard on what he wanted to do with Patience. Kiss her senseless, drag her to his bed, strip off her clothes, and make love to her until neither of them could walk.

Considering how he’d botched his proposal, that fantasy would not come to pass anytime soon. Perhaps he should buy some flowers, go to her townhouse, and get down on one knee—as was the custom—and offer a proper proposal.

The thought nudged at the back of his mind that the reason he’d failed to offer a decent proposal was his uncertainty about even wanting marriage. Despite his duty and responsibility.

Patience was a wonderful young woman who deserved more than him. He, with his dark secrets, frequent nightmares, and shattered soul, was certainly no woman’s dream.

He pushed Night Storm until the animal’s foaming and blowing came to his notice. He slowed down and moved into a canter, then a trot, and finally walked the animal until he reached a pond with surrounding trees where he pulled up on the reins and dismounted.

After wiping the horse down with grass, he walked him to the edge of the pond where he drank greedily. Alex sat alongside him, his forearms braced on his upraised knees, gazing out at the pond, wondering what his next move with Patience should be.

As much as he’d wanted her for four years, it would almost have been easier had she and Cyrus married. Then she would be out of reach, he could forget her, and marry a woman who wanted no more than his title and money. Knowing Patience as he did, she would not settle for that. She wanted more. Much more.

And he wasn’t at all sure he had it in him to give it to her.

…

Patience wiped the windowpane, trying to at least look out at the gloomy, rainy day. A drop of water slowly made its way down the glass until it puddled on the wooden frame, then pooled with the others. She sighed.

“For goodness’ sake, Patience, come away from the window and work on your embroidery.” Mother frowned as she stabbed her needle into her piece.

“I am sick of embroidery.”

“Then read a book.”

They both turned as Wickham entered the room. “My lady, the Duke of Bedford is requesting an audience.”

“No. I am not at home to visitors.” She sat in her chair and picked up her sewing, her face flushed with anger. She was not ready to see Alex. Her feelings were still raw over how he’d treated her.

Mother gasped. “You cannot turn away a duke!”

Patience continued to stab at the poor piece of cloth. “I can, and I just did.”

Wickham lingered at the door, a confused expression on his face. He was well trained and knew one did not snub a duke. Well, she would. “That is all, Wickham. Thank you.”

He turned on his heel and left. Patience returned to her embroidery, ignoring the disapproval radiating in waves from her mother.