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Authors: Tamara Lejeune

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BOOK: The Pleasure of Bedding a Baroness
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“You live in Grosvenor Street, my lord, do you not?” Pru asked him, imperfectly recalling the address on his lordship’s card. “Which house is yours?”
“I live in Grosvenor
Square,
Miss Waverly,” he corrected her.
“Then you must know Mr. Adams,” said Patience, breaking her silence. “He is at Number Nine.”
“Mr. Adams?” he sniffed. “I have not had the honor. I know of no one who has.”
“Mr. Adams is the American ambassador,” Patience said indignantly.
“That certainly does explain it,” said his lordship.
“Explain what?” Patience said, her eyes narrowed.
“Why no one ever goes there, of course,” he replied.
Patience laughed bitterly. “You English think yourselves so superior! But, don’t forget, sir, we have bested you twice in as many wars, and, if you are ever so foolish as to make war with us again, you will be bested a third time.”
He smiled tolerantly. “I fear Your Ladyship’s speech is riddled with so many errors that it would take a man with more patience than I possess to correct them all.”
“Name one,” Patience said.
“There is no such word as ‘bested,’” he informed her. “The correct word, if, indeed, I understood Your Ladyship’s meaning, is ‘worsted.’”
“Is that so?” Patience said hotly.
“Furthermore, Your Ladyship would do well to consult a dictionary on the difference between ‘will’ and ‘shall.’ I recommended it to my estate agent, and he found it most instructive. Why, he speaks almost like a gentleman now. As for England making war on her colonies, Your Ladyship is mistaken. Quite the reverse, I should say. You Americans keep making war against England. Biting the hand that feeds you, what? And, as for besting us, or, rather, worsting us, twice, nothing could be so absurd. We are better off without America. Better to cut the cancer out than allow it to spread through the body politic. In the end, we judged, quite rightly, that the colonies were not worth the trouble of keeping them.”
Patience laughed scornfully. “Is that what you tell yourselves?”
“In the second conflict,” he added, “America achieved nothing but a return to the status quo. That, my dear Lady Waverly, hardly can be called a worsting.”
“As the victor of two wars, sir, I believe we Americans may assert our superiority over England in whatever terms we choose! Let us say we
bested
you the first time, and
worsted
you the second! Do you like that better?”
“Patience!” Pru cried in horror. “You are being an ugly American. Lord Milford, I do apologize for my sister. She forgets that we are half English.”
“No, I don’t,” Patience retorted. “Our father had the good sense to leave England.”
Lord Milford could hardly believe that Lady Waverly was the same sweet creature who had received him with such pleasure a mere two days before! Never in his life had he been so deceived in a woman’s character. Probably she is not even rich, he decided. If, at this point, they had not been within sight of Tattersall’s in Grosvenor Street, he would have been tempted to make some excuse and take the sisters home. As it was, the street was so crowded it would have been nearly impossible for him to turn the curricle around.
After handing the reins to the attendant, Milford jumped down and helped Prudence from the groom’s seat. Not content to wait for him, Patience opened her door and climbed down. “This way, Lady Waverly,” he said sharply. “No unescorted female will be permitted inside.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she grumbled.
“Indeed,” he said coldly. “If it were up to me, women would not be permitted in Tattersall’s at all!”
“If that is how you feel, why did you bring us here?” Patience asked.
Milford made no answer. With his lips pressed tightly together, he led them swiftly into the main room, where sunlight streamed in through the glass roof. Patience bought a sale book from one of the pages hawking them in the sawdust enclosure.
Pru could not be bothered to look in a book. “I like that one!” she cried, pointing.
“That is a saddle horse,” his lordship told her knowledgeably. “Do you ride, Miss Waverly?”
“No, my lord,” she admitted. “But I have always wanted to learn.”
“Nonsense,” said Patience, turning the pages of the sale book impatiently. “The only time you ever sat on a horse, you nearly died of fright.”
“I was only ten,” Pru said angrily. “You didn’t much like it either!”
“No,” Patience admitted. “I prefer driving.”
“And she has the calluses to prove it,” Pru sneered. “May we look at the saddle horses, my lord?”
“Of course,” he said amiably.
“Oh, I wish I had brought some sugar lumps,” Pru murmured.
Patience, her nose in the sale book as she walked after them, inadvertently stepped on a young man’s foot. “Excuse me, sir!” she said, red faced with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
The young man touched the brim of his hat. “Not at all,” he said, at almost the same time. “I saw my chance and I took it.”
She blinked at him. “Sir?”
“I saw that you weren’t looking where you were going, and I deliberately placed my foot where you were sure to step on it,” he explained.
“Why would you do that?” she asked, bewildered.
“To make you look, of course,” he replied. “How else could I hope to make your acquaintance?”
He was rather handsome, with a boyish face and angelic blue eyes, but, unfortunately for him, she had always preferred the rugged type. He was just a bit too beautiful for her. “I seem to have become separated from my companions,” she murmured.
Instantly, he offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you to them,” he said.
Patience hesitated. “But I don’t even know you,” she protested.
His blue eyes twinkled. “But I know you,” he said. “You are Miss Prudence Waverly.”
Patience frowned. “I am Patience Waverly, sir,” she corrected him coldly. “How is it you know my sister, sir?”
He gave a start of surprise. “You are Lady Waverly?” he repeated incredulously. “I could have sworn you were Miss Prudence Waverly.”
“You did not answer my question, sir. How do you know my sister?”
“I don’t really,” he conceded. “I have seen her but once, and then only from a considerable distance. Perhaps,” he went on tentatively, “Your Ladyship would permit me to introduce myself?”
“I insist that you do!”
“I am Broome. Mr. Frederick Broome, your landlord.”
“Oh!” said Patience. “How do you do, Mr. Broome?”
To his surprise, she stuck out her hand, and, to her surprise, he shook it.
“I have written you two letters, sir,” she went on rapidly. “As yet, I have received no reply from you.”
Freddie lifted his well-groomed brows. “No? How very odd. I instructed my man of business to write to Your Ladyship without delay. In any case, allow me to answer you now. There is no question of Your Ladyship’s being responsible for any damage caused by the dastardly Mr. Purefoy.”
Patience beamed at him. “At last! Someone who understands that he is dastardly. Everyone else is awed by his wealth and rank. His uncle’s wealth and rank, I should say. You are not afraid of him, Mr. Broome?”
“Certainly not. Believe me, I have had words with the man. I shall have more words with him, too, after meeting you. Why, the things he said about you! I am tempted to call him out!”
“He is by no means worth it,” she said. “I do not care in the least what he says about me.”
“He told me you were the most unattractive female he ever saw in his life.”
Patience’s face slowly turned crimson. “It is of no consequence,” she choked. “I didn’t like him either!”
“It is clear that you were more than inconvenienced by the man,” Freddie said sympathetically. “In light of your suffering, I am quite prepared to refund the full amount of your rent. I really must speak to my man. You should already be in possession of the funds.”
Patience was taken aback. “That is very generous, Mr. Broome,” she stammered. “But I’m afraid I cannot accept! We cannot stay in your house rent free.”
“I insist,” he said. “After your ordeal, I could not possibly charge you rent.”
“Could we not split the difference?” said Patience.
His brows rose. “By all means, let us split the difference,” he said gamely. “If Your Ladyship would be good enough to tell me how?”
Patience laughed. “I have just agreed to pay half the rent, sir.”
“Shall we say a third?”
“Deal,” said Patience, sticking out her hand again.
Before the bargain could be sealed, however, Prudence, with Lord Milford in tow, came bounding up to them. “Patience!” she scolded her. “We thought we’d lost you.”
Patience quickly introduced their landlord.
“Good heavens!” said Freddie. “There are two of you! Why are there two of you?”
“We are twins, Mr. Broome,” Patience told him. Milford greeted Freddie with stiff civility, returning the latter’s bow with a slight nod.
“Come, Lady Waverly,” he said. “Mr. Broome is nothing more than the younger son of a baron. He should know better than to put himself forward in this shocking manner.”
Patience’s eyes flashed with anger. “You forget, sir, that my father was the younger son of a baron! Sir,” she went on, turning her back on the earl, “I understand that a lady must have an escort in this place. Would you be good enough to lend me your arm?”
“I’d be delighted to give it to you outright,” he replied.
Milford, acutely aware that his rejection was being observed by dozens of interested acquaintances, bowed stiffly. “I am obliged to you, Broome,” he said angrily.
“Your servant, Milford,” Freddie replied carelessly. With a cheery wave, he led Patience away. “And, so, my lady! What can I show you? A hunter, perhaps? I know just the one.”
“You’re very kind, sir,” she murmured. “I hope I’m not taking you away from your own business.”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “I was just waiting for my cousin. But he is very late, and not half as pretty as you are. I am completely at your disposal. I have a friend selling a lady’s hunter. If you had worn your habit, we could mount you.”
“Oh, I’m no rider,” she told him quickly. “I want something to drive, Mr. Broome.”
He looked down at her in surprise. “What?” he said. “With those soft little hands?”
“I am stronger than I look, sir,” Patience told him. “I drove a gig in Philadelphia, and I never met with an accident.”
“Oh, you don’t want a gig,” he said instantly. “A pony phaeton would be better.”
“My sister suggested a high-perch phaeton,” Patience said doubtfully.
He shook his head. “Let me give you the
verbum sap,
Lady Waverly. A high-perch phaeton is good for two things: breaking your neck, and breaking your horse’s neck.”
“Oh!” said Patience. “I wish to do neither, Mr. Broome.”
“I have a friend selling a pony phaeton.” Taking her sale book from her, he flipped through the pages. “Here. Lot twenty-seven. Shall we go and have a look?”
“It seems a good place to start,” Patience agreed, allowing him to guide her.
As they walked, Freddie began to extol the virtues of his friend’s pony phaeton, but broke off suddenly. “There is my cousin now. Would you mind awfully ... ? I particularly want to introduce him to you.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” said Patience, as they changed course. “But why should you particularly want me to meet him?”
Freddie had no time to reply, however, for a gentleman came striding up to them at that moment. Without so much as a glance at Patience’s face, he said, “I think, sir, that you have kept me waiting long enough!”
Patience stared at him, hardly able to believe her ears. He sounded, but did not look at all English. His hair was very black and curly. His skin was very brown, in sharp contrast to his light gray eyes. His mouth was wide and his nose was hooked. He was remarkably tall, with wide shoulders and very long legs encased in fawn-colored riding breeches.
“You’re the one who was late, cuz,” said Freddie, not in the least cowed by the larger man. “Did you think you were the only one interested in my grays, sir? I’ve half sold them already to Sir Charles Stanhope.”
“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t, Mr. Broome!” Patience said impulsively. “They’re much too good for
him
.”
At the sound of her voice, the dark gentleman’s eyes swung to her face. Patience caught her breath. He was too harsh-featured to be considered handsome, but there was an intensity to him that she found enormously attractive. Her pulse quickened instinctively, and, for all his good looks and charm, Freddie Broome was instantly eclipsed. She was hardly aware of his existence.
BOOK: The Pleasure of Bedding a Baroness
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