Sea Scoundrel (20 page)

Than he saw her. Patience looked as refreshing as the sea on a bright sunny morning. Jet beads wove through her rich copper curls. With her little breasts pushed up by the sea-green gown’s waist snug below them and the sheer overskirt ending in a long pointed train at the back, she looked every inch the Lady he’d most like to undress.

She, of course, was the reason he was here. It seemed Patience was the why of everything these days. A habit he should break. And so he would. Tomorrow.

Patience beamed at her girls with pride. Al except Grace were dancing. She moved forward, but stopped when she saw Grant in black evening clothes bending over the hand of an elegant, older woman sitting with the matrons.

He straightened and came to her, a friend beside him.

“Lady Patience,” Grant said. “May I introduce my fel ow scoundrel?”

“Fitzalan, at your service,” said the gentleman, himself, who bowed and kissed her hand, another handsome devil.

“Are there more of you?” she asked. “Scoundrels, that is.”

“Two more,” Fitzalan said. “Four in al . Gabriel rarely attend
these
affairs, and—” Fitzalan turned to Grant. “Devereux has his hands ful , I hear. He may cal upon us one day soon.”

“At which point, we shal go,” Grant conceded. “Honor the bond, yes? Give voice to the oath.”

Fitzalan nodded and turned to her. “Which reminds me.

When your Captain is out to sea, Lady Patience,
you
may cal upon the rest of us, according to Grant’s wishes.” Fitzalan gave her his cal ing card. “Cal me, and as many scoundrels wil come who can. I’l see to it.” He bowed again. “Good day, my Lady.”

She curtseyed and watched him go.

Grant took her into his arms for the waltz.

“Is
he
here?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Why the Marquess of Andover, of course.” Grant scowled.

A poor beginning, Patience thought.

“No. Dammit. He’s not here. Now let’s do this properly.” She thought she’d better humor him and nodded.

“Good evening, Lady Patience.” He took her hand and kissed it.

She curtseyed, impressed by his courtly demeanor. “Good evening, Captain.”

“May I have this dance, My Lady?”

Whatever upset him seemed to have disappeared as quickly as it came. “By al means, Captain.” He swept her into his arms, and for a few moments waltzed her silently about the room.

“Thank you for the girls’ lovely gifts.”

“Next time you enter an establishment like Madame Lambert’s, Patience, give them one of your cal ing cards.

There wil be no mistaking your identity. Are you wearing the—”

“Do not even say it! You committed an appal ing breach of etiquette by sending me those, those—”

“Bosom inserts,” he whispered warming her ear.

“Scoundrel!”

“We’ve sufficiently established that, I believe. Now, do you know what I wanted to do when I saw you standing here tonight.”

Oh, Lord, her knees were turning to jel y again. “What did you want to do?”

“I wanted to invite you to share our first dance. Then I remembered we’ve waltzed before.”

Patience’s face warmed.

“Much as I’d like to, Patience, I cannot end this dance as I did our last.”

“You knew what I was thinking?”

He chuckled.

“It’s as wel ,” she said attempting to gather her wits about her. “I’m certain kissing is not at al the thing to do on the dance floor.”

“Not at al . Nonetheless, I wish very much to do exactly that.” Patience wondered if he was gammoning her but she couldn’t tel . That irritated her. On one hand she wanted him to be sincere about wanting to kiss her, on the other, she was angry for wanting it. “I thought you hated English Society. And I didn’t think they invited sea captains to Society Affairs.”

“I do hate Society. And you do learn quickly, Lady Patience, to make the class distinction and look down on those beneath you. Though, if I remember correctly, you put me in my place as an ignorant Colonial the first day we met.”

“Captain, I told you I was sorry that day and I’m sorry now, if I sounded—”

“Oh, you
did
. But, save the condescension, Patience. It doesn’t wash. Now to correct your misconception, the fact is I was not invited. I am just being myself, an ignorant Colonial, coming to this bal despite having no invitation. I did it, however, out of concern for the lovely young ladies you brought with you tonight. I see they are nearly al dancing this waltz. Who gave them permission to do so?” Patience stopped moving. “Permission?” He forced her to move as he scowled down at her. “One must have permission to dance the waltz. I secured it for you before I asked you to dance. Who secured it for the girls?”

Patience’s eyes fil ed. “No one. Oh, Grant, is that a terribly unforgivable error? What am I going to do?”

“Nothing at the moment. Let me think.” They were distracted by a shriek and turned to look. Rose pul ed from her partner’s arms, slapped him across the face, kicked him in the shin with the force of a lead-bal ed pendulum and ran from the room.

Patience tried to step from his embrace to fol ow Rose.

Grant held her in place, his hands firm at her waist. “That scene isn’t going to do the girls any good. Don’t compound it by rushing after her. I’l get Rose’s wrap and escort her to the carriage. You strol about the room, casual y, as if you haven’t a care in the world, and gather the girls to leave.

Under no circumstances show regret or concern. You must accomplish it smiling, with as much ease and decorum as you can summon. And, Patience, never let them know you care one whit what they think. Do you understand?” She nodded as if in a stupor. He needed to snap her out of it and get some color into her. “Patience. Have I told you how lovely you look. Those bosom inserts make a considerable difference to your overal , um, carriage.” Patience gasped.

As her lungs fil ed, her breasts rose, and Grant flashed his most wicked smile. “That’s even better, sweetheart.” Just like a firecracker, she came to life, color flooding her.

“If we weren’t in a crowded bal room, I’d slap that stupid grin off your leering face,” she whispered furiously.

“If we weren’t in a crowd, my love, I’d pul you right down and continue our delightful lesson.”

Patience’s eyes widened. “Odious snake.” She turned away, dismissing him out of hand.

Good.

When Grant stepped back into the bal room after settling Rose in the carriage, he accepted a glass of champagne and sipped it casual y. He overheard a group of women chattering like chickens on a ship before a storm. He attempted to ignore them while scanning the room for Patience, but they repeated one name like a death knel , Miss Kane. What the bloody hel had Sophie done now?

Patience stopped beside him and touched his sleeve. “It’s possible we have a problem.”

“Have
we?
Real y?”

“Sophie has made a match.”

“At her first bal ? Pray tel , who is the lucky man who has asked for her hand in such a tempestuous fashion?”

“No one has asked for her hand.”

“Patience.”

“Oh, al right. But I’m very concerned about Sophie right now. It seems she has asked Baron Munchkin to marry her.

“And?”

“He said he would be delighted.”

Grant snapped the stem of his glass in half.

Pain cut through Patience in rather the same way the glass shards cut Grant’s bloody palm. “You’ve hurt yourself!”

“It doesn’t signify.” He urged her into the garden with a nod, his uninjured hand to her back, and dropped the glass into a marble urn.

Patience took her handkerchief and wiped his hand with tender strokes.

“Leave it. We ... You, dammit, have more pressing problems. Baron Munchkin is in exile from Russia, and it worries me that no one knows why. Everyone does know, however, that he is penniless and hanging out for a wealthy wife. When you consider that English heiresses have eluded him for years, this certainly turned out to be a successful evening for him. A wealthy American is as good a meal ticket as any, though I suspect a Colonial would have been his last choice some years ago.” Grant shook his head. “How do we extricate little miss dervish from this misal iance without causing an international incident, I’d like to know.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t want to be extricated. She seems to have made an excel ent match. He is a Baron.”

“Patience, you’re sharper than that.”

Patience bristled. He’d insulted and complimented her in one stroke, to which she could form no reply.

“The
Baron
lost two wives, one after the other, not five years ago. Both wealthy. Both dead. Accidents, of course.” Patience paled. “Please help me get them home. We can decide what to do later.”

“That’s my girl. Ever practical. Fetch Grace, she’s danced with the same partner too often. She wil be considered loose, which is the least of our problems. No,
your
problems, blast it.”

“Do you suppose it matters so much about Grace dancing with the same partner? After al , she waltzed without permission. One doesn’t seem to be worse than the other.

However, Lady Caroline Crowley-Smyth did turn her back when I approached her a moment ago. Does that signify?

Should I worry overmuch about that?”

“Only if you want your girls to find titled husbands. But after tonight, it won’t be a concern, because you’l likely never be invited to another London society function. As far as I’m concerned, that’s cause to rejoice. But the girls’ mamas won’t be best pleased.”

Patience stifled an overwhelming urge to weep.

Grant took her arm. “Let’s go before the girls add more social blunders to their list. Get them together and meet me in the foyer.”

Grant found Angel first, placed her arm on his and led her outside toward the waiting carriage.

“Saint? I say, Saint. Wait up, man.”

Grant walked faster, wishing his blasted nickname to hel , but his pursuer caught up. “I say, Saint. What’s the idea, leaving with my ladybird?”

Grant stopped and regarded the man. Just who he needed, the biggest rakehel in England, cal ing Angel— “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, hel o, My Lord,” Angel said, preening. “Captain, I’d like you to meet the Marquess of Andover.” She smiled with pride. “Won’t Patience be surprised?”

Grant raised a brow. “Indeed?” He regarded the mock Andover until the object of his inspection squirmed like a worm-sucking fish.

“I forgot to tel the Captain our news,” Angel said, oblivious to the undercurrents.

The erstwhile Andover beamed at Angel, looked at Grant’s scowl, and succumbed to a fit of coughing. Grant slapped him on the back. Hard. “What the devil’s going on here?” he asked, not masking his fury.

Adam Skeffington, Earl of Hertfordshire, loosened his cravat and swal owed. “Angel here—” He cleared his throat.

“Has agreed to be my ladybird.” He smiled in triumph.

“Thought I’d bring her round to Kensington tonight.” His eyes narrowed. “How’s it happen she’s leaving with you, I’d like to know?”

Grant turned to Angel. “You’ve agreed to an
arrangement
?

With the Marquess of Andover?” He spoke the title with emphasis.

“Yes, Captain, I have. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“His ladybird, Angel?”

“Wel , yes. I suppose that’s what it’s cal ed in England.”

“Please tel this gentleman what a ladybird is.”

“Certainly, Captain, if you wish, though I don’t see the need.

I’m sure he knows very wel .”

“Humor me in this, would you, Angel, and tel his Lordship what you perceive to be your role as his ladybird.”

“I say, Saint. This is most irregular.” Grant held up a hand. “Hear the lady out ... Andover.” Angel thought for a minute. “I suppose I would be the lady he takes for walks, and to the theater, and drives in the park.”

“And?” Grant prompted.

“Oh yes,” she said, as if she forgot something important. “I expect a man sends his ladybird flowers and such, does he not? Did I remember to give you our address so you may send trinkets, my Lord?”

“Stay!” Grant said to Skeffington as he took Angel’s arm and propel ed her forward. “Angel, let me hand you into the carriage. Rose is inside and she needs you.”

“Of course. Good night, my Lord.” She waved and turned back to Grant. “Won’t Patience be pleased that I have come to an arrangement with the Marquess of Andover, when we have been waiting so long to meet him?” Grant frowned. “Angel you wil not speak of this to Patience until I introduce the subject. Do you understand?” She looked disappointed. Grant could hardly credit her innocence. He shook his head. “You don’t understand what’s happening here and I can’t go into it right now. Be a good girl, wil you, and don’t say anything to Patience.

When I get to the house, we’l discuss it.” Angel seemed final y to accept his word and nodded. He opened the door and handed her up offering an encouraging word to Rose, stil teary-eyed, before he closed them in the carriage.

When he reached Skeffington, he took the bounder’s arm in a firm grip and led him away from the fashionables stil arriving. “So the Marquess of Andover has made an appearance here this evening?”

Skeffington chuckled.

Grant chuckled with him. “Care to tel me why you did it?”

“What? Cal ed myself the Marquess of Andover? Easy. It’s al the chit could talk about. Made her dreams come true, so to speak, or I would if you’d let me take her to—”

“
Don’t
... make me cal you out,” Grant said.

Skeffington shuddered. “Point taken, Saint. We’l forget the whole thing.”

“Not yet, we won’t. You do understand the girl has no notion she agreed to become your mistress?”

“Do you think so? I didn’t know they made them that stupid anymore.”

“Let’s just cal Angel innocent, shal we?”

“See here. What right do you have interfering? This is a private affair. I could bring her along to the house as I planned, bed her properly and she’d be begging me to ...

ardrkk.”

Grant held the insect by his col ar, his feet hardly touching the granite step. “I claim the right of an old family friend to protect the Lady’s virtue. She is an innocent, too young for your profligate ways. If I hear another word about this, Skeffington, I’l put a bal through your heart, I swear it. And if you ever, ever, attempt to pass yourself off as the Marquess of Andover again, the Marquess wil personal y see to it that you leave England in disgrace. Do I make myself clear?”