Page 9 of Denying the Duke (Lords and Ladies in Love 3)

Alex paced the room, unable to sit still, or join the men for a drink. Something was wrong, and he had a feeling it involved Patience. Was she ill?

“Care for a drink, little brother?” Cyrus wandered over to him, his smile annoying enough that Alex wanted to smack it off him.

“No, thank you.”

“Ah, that’s right. You are the pure son. Never drink, never gamble. Do you even fuck?” He snapped his fingers. “Sorry. I forgot about little Lady Patience. How was it? Was she any good?”

Before he even thought about the consequences, Alex pulled his arm back and slammed his fist into his brother’s nose. The marquess went flying backward, his glass soaring through the air, landing with a thump on the carpet, rolling into the fireplace.

He sat there, dazed, shaking his head. Lord Wilton and his father both turned at the ruckus. “What the devil is going on here?” The duke hurried over and grabbed Alex by the arm. “What is wrong with you, boy? Can’t you behave yourself?”

Alex wrenched himself from the duke’s grasp and straightened his jacket. “No, I guess I cannot.”

Cyrus took Lord Wilton’s hand and stood, swaying a bit. Whether from the punch he took or too much brandy, Alex couldn’t tell. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his nose, glowering in Alex’s direction.

If he hadn’t been so anxious to see Patience and make sure everything was all right with her, he would have packed his belongings and left the house immediately.

About ten minutes after the altercation, Lady Wilton and Patience appeared at the door to the drawing room.

Patience looked terrible.

As terrible as a beautiful young girl could look. It was obvious to anyone who looked close enough that she had been crying. A great deal. Her face was pale and puffy, and she appeared as though she was about to toss up her accounts. She stared straight ahead as she followed Lady Wilton into the room, never glancing in his direction.

What is wrong?

Before he could approach her, Lady Wilton took her arm and moved her across the room to stand with the duke, the earl, and his brother.

Bloody hell.

He was to be persona non grata throughout dinner then. Fine. If he could speak to Patience before he left, get her direction so he could correspond with her, he could play the part of the prodigal son.

It was not a new role.

Within minutes the butler announced dinner. Cyrus attempted to take Patience’s arm, but she ignored him and walked by herself to the dining room. She still had not looked, even once, at Alex.

He was beginning to get nervous. Something wasn’t right.

They all took their seats and service began. Alex continued to watch Patience, but she never ate a bite. She pushed her food around her plate and returned full portions back to the footman as he cleared away each course.

Meanwhile, Cyrus kept his glass full, and spent a great deal of time whispering in Patience’s ear, smirking in his direction every time he did. Patience leaned away, obviously not enjoying his attention. Or his breath from the brandy, most likely.

With his appetite also gone, Alex bided his time, waiting for dinner to be over so he could have a few words with Patience and then retire to his room to pack his belongings. He would leave this very night.

Once the last of the cheese and fruit had been served, and it was time for the ladies to leave the men to their port, the duke stood. “Before the charming ladies leave us, it is time for an important announcement.”

Every muscle in Alex’s body tensed as he stared at his father.

The duke signaled the footmen to pour champagne.

Alex tensed further as bottles were popped and glasses filled.

Holding his glass up high, the duke said, “It is with great pleasure that I announce to you the betrothal of my heir, the Marquess of Tavistock, to the lovely Lady Patience Browning.”

With a great deal of flourish, he toasted the group and gulped the champagne. The others followed suit.

Except Alex and Patience.

Alex’s mouth went dry and he turned to look at Patience. She held her glass, her fingers white where she clutched the stem. Her eyes were lowered to the table and she remained as still as a statue.