Page 33 of Denying the Duke (Lords and Ladies in Love 3)

“Never.” Alex left the room and had the driver take a slow ride home, so he could gather his thoughts. He had to find a way to convince Patience that marrying him was the best thing for them both.

…

The screech of a horse resonated in his ears as a cannon ball hit its chest, causing the animal to stumble to the ground, crushing the rider underneath. Another cannon roared behind him, alerting his men that the enemy grew closer. He withdrew his bayonet from the enemy and charged forward, leading his men to clash with the French. He looked into the deep brown eyes of a soldier, no more than a boy, as he shoved his bayonet into his stomach. The youth grabbed his middle and screamed, collapsing to the ground.

Alex wiped his brow and turned as one of his men took a bullet to the face. Blood splattered everywhere, covering him, soaking his uniform. They were surrounded by shrieks, shouts, and smoke from the battle.

His stomach roiled and he gagged. He had to get away. He had to leave this hell and return to sanity. He had to leave…

Alex sat up abruptly, taking deep gulps of air, his body covered with sweat as it shook uncontrollably. He dropped his head into his hands and attempted to calm himself. It was a dream, just a dream. The war had ended, Boney had been defeated, Alex was home, and what he’d done had been for the greater good. It was kill or be killed.

He repeated the mantra over and over. Why did that thought never appease him?

Knowing any attempt to return to sleep was impossible, he rose and pulled on his banyan. He sat in the chair next to the window and laid his head back, staring at the ceiling.

Another sleepless night.

The next afternoon, Alex presented himself once again at Patience’s townhouse. This time he was directed to the drawing room and tea was sent for. As he paced the room, waiting for Patience, his attention was drawn to loud voices coming from the next room, which was probably the library. Wilton’s voice was particularly strident, and given his fondness for brandy, he was certainly drunk. He waited a few minutes and then heard Patience’s retort, followed by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

In two strides, he was out of the drawing room. He flung the door to the library open with such force it slammed against the wall. Wilton gripped Patience’s arm and a definite red mark was visible on her cheek. Alex leaped at the man, who thrust his daughter away, causing her to stumble to the floor.

With one solid punch, Wilton landed on his arse and stared up at Alex, a perplexed look in his eyes. Alex helped Patience up and pulled her to his side. “What the devil is wrong with you, man?”

“I told her she was to marry Lord Skeffington. She is my daughter and I can command her.” Wilton gripped the chair alongside him and climbed to his feet.

“The old earl? Are you out of your mind? He must be three score, if he is a day.”

“It is no matter. I promised her to him and she will obey my command.”

Alex’s fingers itched to beat the obnoxious man to a pulp, but he refused to have Patience witness such a display. It was bad enough she’d seen him knock her father to the ground. He took a deep breath to calm himself and said, “You cannot promise her to Skeffington because she has accepted my proposal and will marry me.”

…

Patience moved away from Alex’s side and stared at him. She had done no such thing. In fact, she was still not completely past her pique with him over the pathetic proposal he had offered. At this point, she was tired of men manipulating her and telling her what she would do. First marry this duke, then marry that duke, now wed the ancient earl. She would ra

ther spend the rest of her days a spinster, governess, or companion, rather than be forced to marry the earl, who made her skin crawl every time he looked at her. Entering a convent appealed.

Drawing herself up, she said, “I will leave you both. I do not wish to be a piece of meat over which two starving dogs fight.”

With as much dignity as she could muster, she swept past them and left the room. The side of her face still ached from where Father had slapped her. She should be grateful Alex had stepped in when he had and announced they would marry, but she bristled at his heavy-handed and overbearing attitude.

She climbed the stairs, weariness in her every bone. Since she had no resources, or a method to escape the machinations of the men in her life, it appeared she would marry Alex, after all. Very well, she would marry him, but she would not allow him to treat her like a child. She was through with men’s arrogance. Hopefully, she was not going from one wretched situation to an equally miserable one.

…

Her wedding day, and Patience was anything but a glowing bride. She sat in front of her mirror and watched Polly put the finishing touches on her hair. Three weeks had passed since Alex had made his announcement that they would marry. Or his demand. She could no longer fight both him and her father, so here she sat on a day that should have been the happiest day of her life. The day she married the man she loved.

Only she doubted her love for Alex. Or that he loved her. That young starry-eyed couple was long gone. In their place was a man who had seen the horrors of war and was dealing with the assumption of a title he had not been trained for, and a woman embittered by men’s machinations. All she felt was bullied and used and convenient. She stood as her mother entered her bedchamber. The families had retired to The Abbey a few days prior for the wedding in the very church where Cyrus had been laid to rest a mere six weeks before.

There would be no wedding trip due to Alex’s responsibilities, so once the so-called wedding festivities were over, they would return to London. She assumed her father and Alex had worked out an equitable marriage contract because her father was much more cheerful, and had even bought a beautiful ruby and diamond necklace for her mother to wear to the wedding.

Paid for by the sale of their daughter. She knew her grousing was childish, since most marriages in her class were based on alliances of connections, power, and money. Even her poor mother, with her sad tale, had suffered heartbreak.

She looked down at the sapphire and pearl ring Alex had given her for their betrothal and felt nothing. She didn’t want jewelry, gowns, or fancy carriages in which to traipse all over town. She wanted the dreams and plans of the young Alex and Patience before they had been wrenched apart and whisked away from each other.

“You look lovely, Patience. I believe I have never seen a more beautiful bride.” Her mother walked up to her, and holding her by the shoulders, kissed her cheek. “His Grace will be a very happy man soon.”

“Perhaps.”