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Authors: Tamara Lejeune

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BOOK: The Pleasure of Bedding a Baroness
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With a scream that brought every servant in the house running, Patience ran to the bed.
Pru moaned faintly. “Let me die,” she whispered.
Chapter 15
 
“Send for Dr. Wingfield at once,” Patience cried, ashen-faced, flinging the words at the round-eyed servants in the doorway. As Briggs took charge of the servants, ushering them out of the room, Patience tore a strip of lace from the sleeve of her gown and used it to bind the source of the bleeding, a surprisingly small slash on Pru’s forearm.
“Oh, what have you done to yourself?” she murmured, peppering Pru’s cheeks with slaps.
“Pay?” Pru whispered pathetically. “Pay, is that you?”
“Of course it is,” Patience answered quickly. “Lie still! I’ve sent for the doctor.”
“I am betrayed,” Pru said wildly. “Betrayed! Ruined! Compromised! He deceived me. He said he loved me. But I did not say he could do
that
. Truly I didn’t!”
“What are you saying?” cried Patience. “No! Don’t try to talk! The doctor will be here soon. He’ll fix you right up.”
“He isn’t a doctor,” Pru said, her voice sounding much stronger. “He’s only a student.”
“Mr. Molyneux?” Patience said, puzzled. “No—I—I sent for Dr. Wingfield. Mr. Molyneux is much too far away to be of use to us. Are you saying that
Roger Molyneux
has deceived you?”
“That clodpole?” Pru cried, sitting up. “I wouldn’t let him near me, and he knows it!”
“Then I’m afraid I don’t understand. You are talking very wildly.”
Gently, Patience tried to ease Prudence back against the pillows, but Pru would have none of it.
“I am talking about Max!” she fairly shouted. “He did this to me!”
“Max cut your arm?” Patience said doubtfully.
“No! No! I did that to myself. But Max was the one who hurt me. Last night at the ball, he seduced me.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Patience said, her temper fraying. “Max was with—”
She broke off, frowning.
“With you last night?” Pru finished. “Well, before he was with you, dear sister, he was with me. He lured me away from the ball to an empty room in his uncle’s house, and there—! Oh, must I say it? He wronged me!”
Patience sighed. “I think perhaps you are imagining things. This sounds quite a bit like the plot of one of your novels. And now that I think of it,” she added, drawing away, “that cut on your arm is not very deep.”
“I’m not lying!” Pru insisted, grasping her sister’s arm. “He sent me flowers. Here is the note that came with them. He freely admits his guilt. Read it if you doubt me!”
Pru produced the note from under her pillow. Patience snatched it from her angrily, but whitened as she read it, her shoulders slumping.
Most abjectly, I am sorry for the events of last night. No lady should ever be exposed to such rude behavior. When I think that you may have come to grievous harm, I am deeply ashamed. Drunkenness, of course, is no proper excuse for offering violence and insult to a lady of quality. I beg you will accept my profoundest apologies. Please believe that I am, now and forever, your most obedient servant to command.
 
It was signed “Purefoy.”
Patience suddenly felt cold. She struggled to breathe. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “What happened last night?” She looked sharply at Pru. “What exactly happened last night?”
“He left the ball for a time, and when he came back he was—I don’t know—flushed with victory! He had been dull before, but suddenly he was full of gaiety and merriment. He danced with me. He told me he loved me. He said he would marry me. I thought—”
Patience was shaking her head.
“He did!” Pru insisted. “He told me he had a present for me upstairs—a betrothal gift. So we slipped away, laughing. By the time I realized what he really wanted to give me, it was too late. At first it was only kissing, which, I confess I liked very much.”
Patience turned her face away, crushing Max’s note in her hand.
“But then he started pushing his hands all over me and up my clothes,” Pru went on, beginning to sniffle. “I did not like that. I broke free of him and ran to the door! It was locked!”
“This is not possible,” Patience whispered. “There has been some mistake.”
Pru did not heed her. “After that, what could I do? I tried to stop him, but he was too strong! His hands were everywhere. I started to cry, but he just said I was a silly girl, and that it would all be over in a moment. He promised to marry me and love me forever if I would be good. So I was good. I let him ... I let him put his great ugly thing in me! It hurt! Oh, Pay! It hurt so much.”
Patience could bear no more. Quickly, she jumped to her feet, but then stood frozen in indecision. What was there to do, really? What would running from the room accomplish?
“Won’t you say something?” Pru begged.
Patience, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions, could not speak.
Pru burst into tears. “I knew you would say it was my fault! It
is
my fault, I suppose, for trusting him. Oh, Patience! I should have listened to you. Now he says he will not marry me.”
Patience swung around. “When did he tell you that?”
“Today. I went to see him while you were out,” Pru confessed. “I know I should not have gone to him, but the matter had been weighing on me so heavily. So I went to see him.”
Patience listened in silence.
“His servant let me in. Max appeared. He took me up to the same room where he’d ravished me. He said I belonged to him now. I was happy, because I thought he would marry me. So I let him do it to me again. But, afterward, when I spoke of marriage, he laughed in my face. He told me I was his—his whore, and that he could do that to me any time he pleased. He told me—very roughly—to get dressed. Then he drove me home in his curricle as if nothing had happened! If you do not believe me, ask Lord Milford,” she added. “He saw us.”
Patience rested her forehead on her hand. “I know he did. He told me.”
Sinking back down to the edge of the bed, she read Max’s note again. Desperately, she tried to think of some innocent explanation for the words, but she could not. And Milford had seen them together! Max had been drunk, of course—he said so in his note—but that was no excuse.
He was not drunk when he was with me,
she thought. But, of course, he had gone back to the ball. Anything could have happened there ... she had been asleep in her own bed by the time Pru returned home from Sunderland House.
In her hand was his admission of guilt.
Pru watched her curiously from the bed. “I was so distraught that I tried to take my own life. I suppose it is a good thing that I faint at the sight of blood.”
“It is a very good thing!” cried Patience. Suddenly, she clasped Pru tightly in her arms. “Forgive me! I am sorry I ever doubted you, my love,” she whispered, holding her twin close. “It was the shock of it, I fear. But I shall never doubt your word again. Say you forgive me.” Drawing away, she held Pru’s tear-stained face in her hands.
“I forgive you,” Pru said generously.
“And do you promise never, never to try to hurt yourself again?”
“I promise,” said Pru. “What are you going to do, Patience?”
Patience bit her lip. “I know that some people—many people—well, most people—would be inclined to think that marriage is the only possible solution,” she said. “But, if it is not what you want, Pru,
I
will never force you to marry. If it is your wish to bring charges against him, I will bear the expense. I don’t know the laws here in England, and I’m sure it will not be easy to bring a man like him to justice, but you will have me at your side. You will always have me at your side. And we have his confession in writing, do we not?” Hastily, she smoothed out the crumpled note. “The magistrate will want to see it, no doubt.”
“Would it not be simpler to marry him?” Pru said anxiously. “I don’t want to go to court.”
“We might simply go home,” Patience suggested. “Cut our losses here. The lawyers can sell the estate, settle Uncle’s debts, and send us the remainder. And, now that Lord Banville has forgiven his debt, it could be a handsome sum.”
Pru shook her head. “But I would still be ruined. No, Max should have to marry me. Don’t you think? You’re not going to let him get away with this, are you?”
Patience drew in a deep breath. “But, dearest, are you quite sure you want to marry a man like that? What sort of husband do you think he will make you?”
“I don’t care about that. It’s the only way to repair the damage to my virtue.”
“Very well, then,” Patience said wearily. “If marriage is what you want, I will make it happen. He shall marry you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t you worry,” Patience said grimly. “I’ll manage it.”
Gently, she eased Pru’s head down to the pillow and covered her body with the quilt. “I believe the doctor has arrived. I must go and speak to him.”
“No! Don’t leave me!” Pru cried, gripping her sister’s hand. “Don’t let him near me! I’m quite all right! It’s only a scratch. It’s stopped bleeding already. Please, Patience! I can’t bear the thought of another man touching me!”
To allay her fears, Patience agreed. “Very well. But you must have a nurse. I will send for Mrs. Drabble. She took excellent care of me. I trust her completely.”
“All right,” Pru agreed reluctantly.
Lady Jemima was called to sit with Pru while Patience spoke to Dr. Wingfield.
“I am sorry to call you out for nothing, sir,” she greeted him. “My sister is feeling a little—a little melancholy, but there is nothing really wrong with her. She is resting now. It seems I overreacted.”
“Crossed in love, eh?” he said, smiling. “As long as I’m here, I might as well—”
Patience stepped in front of him. “Thank you, sir, but she is comfortable now. I’ll send for you in the morning if she is no better. Please do bill me for your time.”
Dr. Wingfield seemed insulted by the offer, and quickly took his leave, muttering under his breath.
By the time Mrs. Drabble arrived, all the servants save Briggs had gone back to bed and the house was quiet. Pru was resting comfortably with Lady Jemima watching over her. Patience, dressed to go out in cloak, bonnet, and gloves, met the nurse at the door. “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Drabble,” she said, helping her out of her cloak. Quickly, she explained what had happened, with more candor than she had used with the doctor.
“No!” Mrs. Drabble gasped. “Not Max! I don’t believe it!”
Patience shook her head. “I do not have time to argue, ma’am! I wish it were not true, but it is. My sister is in her room. Please be good enough to attend her. I must go out for a while.”
Rather than go to the trouble of calling for her carriage, Patience simply took Mrs. Drabble’s hack. “Sunderland House,” she told the jarvey. Deep in thought, she hardly noticed her surroundings until the carriage lurched to a stop.
After a rather long wait, Venable opened the door to her. “Madam!” he said, startled.
“Baroness Waverly to see Mr. Purefoy,” she said very quietly and firmly.
“Mr. Purefoy is not at home, madam. Was he expecting you this evening?”
“Where is he?”
“I cannot say, madam.”
“Well, is the Duke of Sunderland at home?” she demanded. “Would you be good enough to let me in whilst you go and enquire?” she added, as Venable hesitated.
Stepping aside, he allowed her into the house and closed the door. While she stood, wringing her hands, he glided off.
Venable returned several moments later and conducted her to the drawing room. Huddled in his bath chair next to the huge marble fireplace, the Duke of Sunderland looked small and insignificant. His nurse stood behind him. “What do you mean coming here in the middle of the night?” he asked irritably. “I’m not at all well, you know.”
“I’m very sorry,” Patience replied. “I am Lady Waverly. I believe you are acquainted with my sister, sir.”
“Acquainted? I gave her a ball, didn’t I? Gave you a ball, too, though you couldn’t be bothered to attend,” he added resentfully.
“I did not ask you to give me a ball. I had a previous engagement. Sir, I have come to talk to you about my sister. My sister and your nephew.”
“You’re a haughty one,” he observed. “Well, sit down, then. What about my nephew?”
“I will stand, thank you,” said Patience. “I will be brief, sir, and blunt. Your nephew has compromised my sister. Now he must marry her.”
He raised his brows. “Is that so, madam?”
“Yes, sir,” she said coldly.
“I see. In what way has he compromised your sister?”
She frowned. “What do you mean
‘in what way’
? He—he has seduced her. He has stolen her innocence.”
He snorted. “You mean she has lost her virtue. How does that concern me?”
BOOK: The Pleasure of Bedding a Baroness
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