Pascale Duguay
Authors: Twice Ruined
Twice Ruined
Pascale Duguay
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Aurora Regency
An imprint of
Musa Publishing
Twice Ruined, Copyright © Pascale Duguay, 2011
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
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This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
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Musa Publishing
633 Edgewood Ave
Lancaster, OH 43130
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First Published by Aurora Regency Historicals/AMP, June, 2011
Aurora Regency is an imprint of Musa Publishing
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This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
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ISBN: 978-1-61937-011-1
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Editor: Kathy Teel
Cover Design: Kelly Shorten
Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna
This e-book contains adult language and scenes. This story is meant only for adults as defined by the laws of the country where you made your purchase. Store your e-books carefully where they cannot be accessed by younger readers.
“There you are Miss Patty! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Advancing with a slow, stiff gait, the aging servant greeted Patience with a warm smile.
“Sorry to have troubled you, Peters. “ Patience pushed the front door shut with one foot so as not to drop the bundle of spring flowers in her arms. “I was delayed by Mrs. Gibbs. She was in one of her crotchety moods. Nothing would do but for me to brew her a pot of my herbal tea to soothe her old aching joints. Which reminds me, how is your knee today?”
Peters’ bushy moustache twitched.
“My old aching joints thank you, Miss Patty! That new ointment you made for me has done me wonders.”
“Oh, you know I did not mean to put you in the same league as Mrs. Gibbs. Why, if rumours are to be believed, she is at least one hundred and fifty years old!”
“Yes, miss. I can see that as I am only nearing seventy, I am in quite a different league as that ancient, cantankerous female.”
Patience laughed at that. “I will not be dragged into one of our silly arguments. Your moustache is giving you away again, so you may stop teasing me. But I am glad the ointment is working.”
“So am I, Miss Patty.” Peters’ moustache suddenly stilled and his expression became serious. “Time enough to discuss my aching limbs later. Your father would be upset with me if he knew I had kept you here all this time, seeing as how he asked me to send you to his study as soon as you came in. A letter arrived from your aunt earlier today. If you will forgive me for saying so, miss, I would say it is about time she came for her annual visit. Why, your father even had a talk with Miss Thimble a moment ago. I believe she is packing both of your trunks as we speak. She must already be preparing things for your trip to London with your aunt at the end of her visit.”
“Oh, I dearly hope you are right, Peters. Here, will you bring these flowers to the kitchen for me and ask Mrs. Peters to place them in water?”
She handed the old retainer the flowers she had collected on her way from the village and hurried down the hall to her father’s study, untying the ribbons of her faded straw bonnet as she went and tossing it on a nearby table. A red curl fell in front of her eyes and she brushed it aside impatiently. She should probably take a few moments to go upstairs and clean herself up, but she couldn’t wait to hear what her father might tell her. She settled instead for tidying herself in a wall mirror hanging nearby. As her mind raced through all the possibilities contained in her aunt’s letter, she tucked away a few loose curls and brushed at the leaves clinging to her yellow dress.
Was her aunt really coming at last? In her last letter, Lady Westbury had hinted at the possibility of a London season for her this year. Would she finally get to leave this dreary house and visit that wonderful city? Her mind filled with visions of outings to museums, libraries — and yes, balls and routs, too — and she nearly flew into the small apartment her father called his study.
Lord Robert Bingham sat in a scarred leather chair contemplating two documents laid side by side on his desk. A deep frown of concentration marred his lined but still handsome brow as his gaze went from one document to the other. At her exuberant entrance, he lifted his head and an exact copy of her own startlingly green eyes glared at her from across the room.
“Finally! It is about time you made an appearance, Patience! I sent for you hours ago.”
“Now Papa, you know perfectly well that I always go to the village on Monday mornings. What is this I hear about a letter from my aunt? Has she written to tell us she is coming for a visit at last?” Patience peered at the papers on the desk, but before she could make out anything, he had whisked the letters inside the top drawer.
“Don’t be impertinent. Your aunt’s missive is of no consequence. I have news of much greater import to share with you.”
“But what could be more important than my aunt’s annual visit?” Patience flung her arms wide, almost knocking a lamp to the floor.
“Sit down before you break everything! I have never seen a more energetic female in my entire life! Hasn’t that dragon of a governess taught you anything? Ah, the money I have spent on her! At least that has finally come to an end.”
“Papa, what are you talking about? You are not making any sense!”
“Sit down and you may know the whole of it.”
Patience sat down reluctantly. An uneasy feeling made the hair on the nape of her neck stand up. What had her unscrupulous father done this time?
Father and daughter might share the same green eyes, but there ended any sign that they were related. Lord Bingham was a tall, broad-shouldered man, while Patience favoured her aunt’s petite build. His dark, straight hair, which was now thinning on top and showing signs of grey at the temples, was no match for his daughter’s riotous mane of curls and their unusual colour, a blend of various shades of red.
As to their characters, Patience often wondered if she had been switched at birth. Maybe there was a green-eyed girl out there with a strong penchant for cards and a willingness to do almost anything to keep playing.
“It has recently occurred to me,” continued Lord Bingham, “that you are no longer a child, my dear Patience, and that in exactly six weeks you will be of age.”
Patience nearly fell off her chair in amazement. She could not recall the last time her father had remembered her birthday. Something was most definitely afoot.
“Now, no matter how much I may cherish and value your presence in this household,” Lord Bingham continued. “I cannot allow you to remain on the shelf for my sole comfort.”
Patience forced herself not to jump to her feet again. Fury overcame her earlier surprise. How dare he speak to her so? Hadn’t she begged him time out of mind to take her to London for the Season? They both knew the only reason she was still unwed was because she had been kept on this desolate estate to act as an unpaid servant while her father spent most of his time in London’s seediest places gambling all their money away. Aware that the only way to get to the bottom of this was for her to remain calm, Patience ground her teeth together to keep herself from speaking out and held her hands firmly in her lap in an effort to stay still.
“Therefore,” Lord Bingham continued, “I have gone to great trouble to find you an appropriate husband. The wedding is to take place as soon as matters are settled between your future husband and myself.”
“And who, pray, is to be my husband?” Patience asked between clenched teeth.
Lord Bingham suddenly seemed fascinated by a scratch marring the surface of his desk and did not meet his daughter’s gaze. “I have decided on our very good neighbour and friend, Sir Rupert Carlton.”
“What?” Patience cried on a high-pitched note. Her resolution to remain composed instantly vanished. She jumped to her feet, sending her chair toppling backward. “You cannot be serious!” she shouted. “Sir Rupert may be your friend, but he could never be my husband! Why, he must be nearly sixty years old!”
“For God’s sake, girl, lower your voice! How many times must I tell you not to scream in the house? The last thing I need right now is to have to replace all the windowpanes! Sir Rupert will make an excellent husband for you. I am sure he will know how to curb these unsavoury displays of yours.”
As Patience opened her mouth to respond, Lord Bingham expertly cut her off by adding, “I suggest you go say your farewells to your governess now. She must be nearing the end of her packing. The carriage should be at the door any minute to take her back to whichever dragon lair she sprang out of.”
After Patience fled her father’s study, she ran up the rickety stairway to the second floor and knocked on Miss Thimble’s door. Not waiting for a reply, she barged inside and found her governess standing at the foot of the bed in front of an open suitcase. Her cheeks glistening with tears, Miss Thimble stopped in the act of folding a nightshirt.
“Oh Patience!” Miss Thimble dropped the nightshirt and opened her arms. Patience plummeted into the soothing embrace.
“You can’t leave us! I will not allow it!” Patience cried onto the older woman’s chest.
“There is nothing to be done, dear. Your father has ordered me out of his house.”
“Do you know he also means for me to marry that odious Sir Rupert?”
“Yes, your father told me.” Miss Thimble stroked Patience’s hair and pushed the red curls out of her eyes. “Do not worry about that. I cannot believe that it will come to be. I would never leave you otherwise. Before I met with your father, Peters informed me that a missive from your aunt had arrived. I am sure she will be here very soon to put things to rights.”
Patience left the comfort of Miss Thimble’s embrace and threw up her hands. “We can’t let Papa order us around like this. There must be something we can do!”
Miss Thimble shook her head sadly. “If I do not leave immediately, Lord Bingham will not pay me what is owed to me this quarter. However, if I do leave, he has said that not only will he pay me my due, but he will add two months’ wages as a bonus as well as providing me with a ride to London.” Miss Thimble could not hold back a snort at that. “Now, I am sure I do not need to tell you that I am not one to fall for a bribe, but he knows very well I cannot afford to miss a quarter’s worth of wages. If it were just me…”
Patience nodded. Miss Thimble sent almost all of her wages to help support her widowed sister and her four children, and it was very wrong of Papa to threaten her in that way.
“If Papa is willing to spend money on anything other than his gambling, then you may be sure he is hiding something from us. If only I had money of my own, we could run away together. The few coins I have would not get us very far, I’m afraid, or help you provide for your sister. But what if…”
Miss Thimble tensed. “Now do not go dreaming up one of your schemes. Promise me you will quietly await your aunt’s arrival!”
“What if she does not show up in time?”
“In time for what?” Miss Thimble’s wet face suddenly transformed into what Lord Bingham called her dragon look. “No one can force a woman to the altar, Patience. Even if your father threatens to throw you out, he would never actually do so. Should he be so lost to all sense of propriety, however, you may go to any one of the local people, and they will take you in until your aunt arrives. The whole village loves you and everyone here will do all they can to help. Peters will make sure your aunt knows where to find you.”
Miss Thimble drew out a handkerchief. She resolutely wiped the tears from her face and proceeded to blow her nose. “Now, there is no point crying about what cannot be changed. You had better help me pack if I am to be ready before the coach shows up at the front door.”
Patience helped her governess fold the last of her clothes and made sure she did not leave any of her things behind, all the while trying to come up with a plan to foil her father’s wishes.
But less than thirty minutes later, they were standing at the bottom of the front steps. Patience had not thought of anything to keep Miss Thimble from leaving, and she had never felt so helpless in her life. She clasped her companion’s hand as the Bingham coach approached.
“I will miss you,” Patience murmured, suddenly aware of the emptiness Miss Thimble’s departure would create in her life. “I know it was not easy for you to put up with me most of the time, but I appreciate all you have taught me — or at least attempted to teach me.”
“Oh, Patience!” Miss Thimble squeezed the hand she was holding tightly, giving her a wan smile. “I would be lying if I said the last ten years had been the most peaceful of my existence. On the other hand, I have never met such a kind-hearted, endearing, and charming girl as you! I am very proud of the woman and lady you have become.” Miss Thimble dropped a kiss on her head and handed her a slip of paper. “I have written down my sister’s directions. I want you to keep me apprised of the many adventures you are bound to encounter when your aunt takes you to London.”
“But what will happen to you?”
“Oh, I imagine I will stay with my sister until I find a new position. I am hoping your aunt will give me a letter of recommendation. If you could please mention it to her when you see her, I would be very much obliged to you.”
Patience nodded, unable to speak. Miss Thimble’s predicament was much more serious than hers. The kind, wrinkled face was not getting any younger, and she suspected that her own foibles had caused many, if not most, of the grey hairs to appear on her head. It was time someone took care of Miss Thimble, rather than the other way around. The thought crossed her mind that the same could be said for Peters and his wife, as well. The three of them had been so much a part of her life that she had considered them more like family than servants. But who would look after the elderly couple when she left this house, as she would surely do one day if she were to marry? Was not the whole point of her going to London for the Season to find a husband?
As soon as she freed herself from this predicament, she would do something for all three of them, she vowed. She had no idea what yet, but with all the scrapes she had gotten herself into and out of, she had no fear that it could be done. She certainly owed them this much after what they had gone through at her father’s hands, not to mention her own.