Page 65 of Denying the Duke (Lords and Ladies in Love 3)

“I want to thank you again for taking me in, and most of all, to your cousins for allowing me to stay.”

After pulling the bell cord, Suzanna walked back to Patience. “It was no trouble, I assure you. Lady Montfort—my cousin Eunice—is a most agreeable sort, as is her husband. They’ve been married for several years, with no children, so she showers all her motherly attention on me.” She studied Patience’s face. “I think you need a cold cloth or perhaps a bit of ice for your cheek. It looks rather painful.”

“Yes. It is.”

The young maid arrived and Suzanna instructed her to fetch chocolate and rolls as well as ice and a cloth for Patience’s face. Suzanna helped Patience out of bed and wrapped her in a warm robe. “It seems to me you have picked up some of your cousin’s motherly instincts,” Patience said with a smile as they walked to the gathering of chairs and a low-slung table in the corner of the bedchamber.

Once they were settled, Suzanna smoothed out her skirts. “All right. What is going on, cousin?”

Over food, Patience poured out the entire story. She started back when she and Alex had met years before, right up until the time she arrived in the middle of the night at the Montfort townhouse with her baggage and lady’s maid. When she finished, the pot of chocolate was empty, the rolls were reduced to crumbs, and Patience was exhausted.

“That is an amazing story.” Suzanna shook her head. “I never knew the two of you had known each other before you became betrothed to the marquess.”

“Oh, we knew each other, all right. We had promised ourselves to wait until we were older and ready to commit to marriage. The announcement by my father of my betrothal to Cyrus devastated me.”

“I don’t imagine it did too much for your husband, either.”

Patience merely shook her head. For months, she had dreamed of Alex climbing into her bedroom window and making off with her. When that hadn’t happened and she’d realized it was a stupid young girl’s dream, she had pushed any memories that hurt too much to the back of her mind.

Her cousin picked off invisible lint from her gown, apparently not wanting to make much of her question. “What will you do now?”

Patience sighed. “I know eventually I will have to speak with Alex. Divorce is completely out of the question. I hope to arrange some type of an amenable separation. He has many properties. We could spend the rest of our lives not ever seeing each other.”

Suzanna tapped one slim finger against her tightened lips. “I am afraid, cousin mine, you forget one very important thing.”

“An heir,” they both said at the same time.

“I haven’t forgotten. I am hoping my courses don’t appear and that will be taken care of.”

“And if the child—if indeed there is one—is a female?”

Unable to sit still with all the grief and sadness strangling her, Patience eased her aching body out of the bed and slowly wandered around the room. “I refuse to think that far. First, I need to see if there is a child on the way, and then whether I am off the hook by presenting Alex with a son, or not.” She turned to her cousin, her chin up. “I will face that situation if, and when, I need to.”

A slight scratch at the door drew their attention. Polly entered, carrying a freshly ironed gown over her arm. “Your Grace, are you ready to prepare for the day?”

“Yes, Polly. Thank you.”

“There i

s one more thing.” Polly hesitated, a slight flush rising to her face.

“What is it?” Both women studied the young girl.

“His Grace is in the drawing room…where the butler put him a short while ago…after he told him you were not receiving. His Grace has announced to all and sundry that he has no intention of leaving until you speak with him.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Alex strode through the main room at White’s and joined Cam, Templeton, and Hawk, who were gathered in the corner with empty coffee cups and opened newspapers scattered about the table and chairs. He had no idea how he would have survived the past two weeks of Patience’s stubborn resistance to his attempted visits without them.

The house was so empty. The servants tiptoed around him, and for the most part, the place felt like a mausoleum. There was no smiling face across the breakfast table, no smirk over the chess board, and no warm, soft body to cuddle with in bed.

And for the first time in weeks, his nightmares had returned nightly.

“Bloody hell, Bedford, if you don’t lose that tense look about you, I will have to drag you to Gentlemen Jackson’s for a few rounds.” Hawk lowered the newspaper he’d been reading and studied Alex.

Alex threw himself into an empty chair. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve been to Montfort’s townhouse every day for two weeks. Always the same answer, ‘Her Grace is not receiving.’ And the arse that I am, I’ve sat for hours waiting for her to come down the stairs. Twice.”

“I would say your method is not working,” Templeton observed.