Sea Scoundrel (30 page)

“Someone who acts like a child deserves to be treated like one,” he said, sotto-voiced as he passed her by to enter the mingling throng.

Grant’s slight limp, Patience decided, made retribution quite satisfying. She stumbled her way up the stairs then stopped to remove her ravaged slippers. Saint indeed! No wonder he’d scoffed on the dock. No wonder he’d named her fraud—hearing her promise to introduce the girls to the Marquess of Andover, when there he’d stood in the flesh, a scoundrel in the flesh.

Twenty minutes later, newly coifed and shod, Patience vowed she would ignore the knave ... whoever he was.

Cal ing him
My Lord
provoked him. Good. But why did people cal him Saint? It was beyond imagining. And he made fun of her being cal ed Patience!

Grace danced with the quiet gentleman and for the first time, Patience saw radiance in her smile. The girl’s beauty shown from within, as Aunt Harriette had said, but it had never shown so bright as now.

Angel, to Patience’s annoyance, was nowhere in sight, which happened more often than she liked, and worried her more each day. What could the girl be up to? Nothing good, she feared. She’d best have a word with Angel first thing in the morning.

Brian bowed before her, looking uncertain of his welcome.

Patience took his hand as he led her into a country dance.

After having been passed from one partner to the other during the set, Patience final y met him again for a short turn. “Do you forgive me, Patience?”

They bowed and turned, arm in arm, in the opposite direction. “For siring such a dastardly, il -mannered scoundrel?” Patience asked. “Certainly not.” They bowed and parted company before facing each other again. “You could have done better,” she said.

As they separated, Brian’s laughter floated back. Lord, but, she liked the devil’s father. When hw took her hand again, he whispered, “Did do better. There
is
Shane.”

“That’s true.” She nodded. “My compliments.” After the dance ended, he stopped her before they reached her aunt. “But it’s not Shane who makes your heart pound, is it now?”

“No. It isn’t,” she said. “The urge to do murder does make one’s heart hammer.”

one’s heart hammer.”

With a chuckle, Brian squeezed her hand on his arm.

“Grant’s a good man.” He kissed her cheek. “I think you know that.” Then he traded her for Harriette.

Angry with Brian’s scoundrel son, Patience said yes to the first man who approached. He danced wel and spoke little, which gave Patience an opportunity to look for Grant. When their gazes met across the floor, she realized he’d been watching her. At that moment, her dance partner made a bold move on her person, and Patience caught the blaze of anger on Grant’s face, just before he masked it. It pleased her to taunt him, so she looked into her partner’s eyes and smiled.

Revenge tasted sweet as Patience partnered her fifth in a long line of admirers while the heat of Grant’s gaze singed her back. He hadn’t danced at al since she began her campaign to provoke him.

As a rotund military man stepped on her foot, Patience learned vengeance can also be painful. But remembering how Grant’s own feet must pain him, she laughed in delight, hoping each tril —and she tril ed loudly—would grate like flint on steel.

Patience saw that despite his black looks, several daring beauties—perceived wil ing to scale mountains to attain matrimony—remained by his side competing for his attention. Her joy in her game dimmed when he partnered a blond with an enormous bosom. And when he looked at the ninnyhammer, smile wide, Patience wanted to scream. But she had started the game, after al ; drat her for her foolishness.

Soon his string of admirers was as long as hers.

Patience took supper with four gentleman, losing her inspiration to be charming, while Grant dined with several wel -endowed, ladies. It was almost as if he chose them for their bosoms. No. It couldn’t be.

At four in the morning, their guests seemed to wilt. They left, one by one, al except Grant, Brian and Shane, who’s lingering aggravated her. Why did they presume the right of family to remain and discuss the event? Why did no one else seem bothered by it? The girls, sleepy, but content with their evening, lounged on settees, dreaming perhaps of the future. The men sipped their brandy. Brian enjoyed a fine cigar. Lord, wasn’t this the homey scene? And why did it seem so right?

Aunt Harriette came in and sat in the chair whose arm was occupied by Brian. Patience raised her brows when Brian took Harriette’s hand in his and they smiled into each other’s eyes, for al the world as if—

“Oh my!” she said, the exclamation startling everyone to attention, so she decided it was as good a time as any to address them. She stood and smoothed her skirts. “I wish to congratulate you, ladies, on a fine evening. You impressed everyone. The gentlemen—and I name them so loosely—who perpetuated the betting at White’s tendered personal apologies and promised, in future, to refrain from such. Lady Caroline Crowley-Smyth has restored her patronage, now that we do not need it, but it is another victory.

“Speaking of victories, the Duke of Graham, from Edinburgh, has asked to cal upon Grace.” Grace bowed her head, hiding her smile. The word Duke was repeated with squeals. It seemed their quiet, warm-hearted Grace would likely make the best match. Though he was older by perhaps fifteen years, it was clear the nobleman appreciated the calm, loving woman.

The announcement subdued Rose—though Shane seemed not the least aware of it. Patience wondered why more men were not murdered by women. She speared Grant with her look.

He smiled and raised his brandy snifter.

The girls’ were so animated, Patience could hardly believe they’d gone nearly twenty-four hours without sleep, not to mention their having danced nearly half that time. Stil in al , she would like to sit right down and gossip with them. Being the person who must remain in control could be sobering.

Patience clapped her hands to gain their attention; she was fairly jumping out of her skin with the need to get her final announcement over with. “Girls, believe it or not, this is a night for more surprises. From the first day of our journey, I listened to you argue over which of you would marry the il ustrious Marquess of Andover. You even questioned whether you would ever meet him.”

Al looked up expectantly. If a hairpin fel , they would hear it.

“The time has come. Before I make the introductions, however, I would like you to know that I met him tonight, despite your parents’ misconceptions.” Should she take Grant by the hand and drag him forward, make the announcement and let them tear him to shreds?
If
only they would.
Perhaps no formality was required.

Perhaps a quick,
‘The Captain is the Marquess,’
would suffice.

She looked to her sympathetic Aunt, to Brian, who smiled, to Shane, whose nod said he knew she could do it. She’d thank him for that later. She stopped at Grant. The scoundrel’s eyes danced. He
enjoyed
her discomfort!

While she considered retribution, he stepped forward.

“Patience’s shock this evening is entirely my fault, and I publicly beg her pardon.” He bowed before her and took her hand to kiss it then turned to the room at large. “As I beg yours. It was the hand of fate, I have no doubt—a fate I know to have a sense of humor—that led Patience to book passage on my ship. God’s truth, a truth I have long tried to deny, I must tel you now, that I ...” He looked from one to the other.

Patience saw the dawning in some eyes.

“I am the Marquess of Andover.” He bowed again. “At your service.”

Exhausted from the excitement and success of their bal , and from learning the Marquess of Andover had lived among them for months, Patience’s girls had said goodnight. Shane and their father had gone home and Aunt Harriette went up exacting a promise that Patience would quickly fol ow.

Grant stood by the mantle and watched Patience pace in agitation while searching his mind for a way to make her understand. Everything. He stepped up behind her and put his hands on her arms. “Patience, please.” Like a shot, her arms swung out knocking his away. She turned on him like a spitting cat. “Please what? Please forgive you? Forgive you for letting me cal a Duke
Brian
for heaven’s sake? For hiding the fact that you are the Marquess of Andover? Perhaps you’d like me to forgive you for tel ing me in the middle of a crowded bal room before hundreds of curious guests.”

“You sound like a fishwife.”

“Perhaps so. But I have every reason to sound this way.

What do you wish me to forgive you for, Grant? You want me to accept the deceit and lies, and forget they happened? I’m sorry, my Lord, but there’s too much between us now for anything ever to be the same again.” Grant lifted Patience in his arms. “Damned right there is.

So stop acting the spoiled child!” He’d startled her. Good.

He sat down with her, glad she was stil too surprised to argue.

“This is what’s between us, Patience,” he said, swooping like a bird of prey seeking sustenance, stealing her breath with a kiss.

Stil , she pul ed away, gazed at him, groaned, and came back for more. Her cold anger warmed to a glowing ember.

Grant knew he’d tamed her when her hand slipped inside his shirt. He nearly lost his breath at the feel of her caressing his chest. Reluctantly, he placed his hand over hers, above the fabric, to stop its wayward journey. “Hear me out, wil you?”

Patience wondered how Grant always managed to calm her. A moment ago she was a volcano about to erupt then he kissed her with such tenderness. No matter what happened between them in the future, she’d never be able to forget the tenderness, the caring, and the passion. “Al right, I’l listen.”

He nodded. “As you already know, my mother ran off.

Shane was eight and I was ten. I don’t think she ever wanted us. She certainly never wanted to be bothered with us.”

Patience tried not let him see her pity. “Through the eyes of a child, it might have looked that way, Grant. But, I’ve learned that a child’s perception can be distorted. What happened to her?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But believe me, she didn’t love us.” He took one of her loose curls between his fingers. “Anyway, when we discovered she was gone, Shane and I set out on our ponies in the middle of the night to find her. We were babies real y, and we wanted our mother. We didn’t understand that she didn’t return our love.”

Grant shook his head. “The old man.” He sighed. “No. I’ve cal ed him that for too many years. Father found us near morning. He was angry. He told us our mother was no good and we were better off without her. It can be hard on a smal boy to hear his mother is no good. But father must have been right, because we never saw her again. I don’t know if she’s dead or alive and I don’t care. Our lives changed, but not as much as you’d imagine. We had one parent, who was a rakehel of the first order. Women, parties, gambling, were everything that mattered to him. He rarely bothered with us. No doubt, we reminded him of her, or more precisely, what he’d lost—my father never took kindly to losing. Anyway, we didn’t see him often and what we saw, we detested.”

Patience kissed his nose.

He kissed hers. “My father’s steward, Hadley, took us under his wing. He showed us people were equal, not upper crust and soggy bottom, that satisfaction could be found in honest labor and pride could come from that. The more Hadley taught us, the less we respected our father, which was not Hadley’s purpose. To be fair, he tried awful y hard to instil respect for Brian in us.”

“He must have been crushed you were so hard-headed.”

“Spitting mad. Not crushed. Not Hadley.” Grant smiled looking far into the past.

Patience was glad he had a few happy childhood memories.

“After Hadley died, I went in service to the crown for a while.

That’s how I got the blasted title. Then society opened up to me, and I hated it more up close than from afar. In my mid-twenties, I convinced Shane to join me in a shipping business. Two know-it-al bucks, we went to London to tel our father what we thought of his world. I hated him quite a bit more than you hated your Aunt Harriette. We made our own way after that day, and never contacted him.” Patience thought her heart would break.

“We built a shipping empire in Boston. Our ships sail al over the world. Shane captains some and I captain others.

Sometimes, as on
The Knave’s Secret
, we take ship together.”

He smiled and touched the tip of his finger to her lips. “One day, on our way to London to enlarge our empire, we took on a hel cat and four spitting kittens. Patience, you taught me to forgive, and to find, buried deep inside, a spark of caring for my father. After you made up with your aunt, I went to him and we talked, much like you and your Aunt did, except we talked louder. Eventual y, we formed a wary peace.” He kissed her. “I have a family again, because of you. I think Brian is happy too.”

Patience wiped her eyes. “I’m glad, Grant, and I believe Brian is happy. Shane, too. But, Grant, that doesn’t excuse the fact that
you
lied to me. Once we got to know each other, I told you I didn’t know the Marquess. It was time for you to speak up. The fact that you let the lie fester so long

—”

“
Please
believe that I stopped thinking of myself as the Marquess of Andover.” He shook his head. “No, it’s deeper than that. I denied who I was, even to myself. It was only after I settled with my father that I found myself wil ing to admit it. Remember, I wasn’t forced into it tonight. I could have said he left town. But I felt I owed you the truth.” Patience felt manipulated, but she could not seem to decide how. And it was so late, and she was so tired.

“Thank you. I think.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and toyed with his earlobe. “Why then did you tel me you would introduce me to the Marquess as early as on the ship?”

“If he was in England. I had a mind to say he was not.”

“More lies.” Patience straightened. “What about the gossip? The terrible things they say about you? The Hel fire Club?”