Chapter Eleven

Nate had not expected to have to wait for Patience. Of all the women to be standing around in the hallway for, he never thought it would be her. How hard was it to put on a dress?

After expressing interest in Sir Magnus Colebrook's business dealings, Nate had managed to procure himself and a friend an invitation to one of his regular dinners. Magnus it seemed was new money—having risen from the ranks by dealing in coffee—and would not turn down patronage from a lord. Albeit a lord with a courtesy title. The invitation to dinner had arrived only a day after Nate had paid a visit to Magnus' offices. All was going well indeed.

He tapped a foot and pulled out his pocket watch. Well, it had been going perfectly until he told Patience she had to wear a dress. What she would say when he intended to tell people she was his mistress he did not know. Perhaps she was taking forever to punish him.

There was a creak from upstairs. Then a door closing. He held his breath and waited for that first footstep on the stairs. He watched avidly.

A slippered foot appeared, leading up to a column of frothy pink. He scowled. Then he nearly laughed. He clamped his teeth together—hard. So hard that his jaw hurt. After the hassle it had taken to get Patience into a dress, he would not laugh. He. Would. Not. Laugh.

Well, there went all his ideas of a ravishing beauty being underneath those breeches.

As she descended the stairs, she shot daggers at him with her gaze. "Do not say a word."

"You look...striking," he managed without laughing. "Like a beautiful...bird."

Very well, that was not his most charming of compliments but it was better than saying she looked like a pink blancmange that had been dropped on the floor and scooped up into a pile. Unfortunately for Patience, this hideous dress did her no justice. It hid her strong legs, sat awkwardly on her waist and somehow even managed to be unflattering to her breasts. The paler pink frills added width to her and the hue did nothing for her complexion.

He somehow managed to rip his gaze from the monstrosity and turned his attention to her face. If he did not look at the gown, the sight was quite pleasing. Gone was the practical hairstyle of a braid or some tight twist. Joyce had helped her he suspected.

Curls dangled around her cheeks, brushing them like the fingers of a lover. A few graced her neck too making it look long and succulent—ripe for kissing. A few white blossoms had been scattered throughout and a large gold comb held it all in place. Now if he could just forget the dress, he would have no problem pretending she was his mistress. Hell, if she was back in her breeches, he certainly wouldn't.

"You see now why I do not wear dresses."

"To be fair, I see why you do not wear that dress. I would have to see other dresses first to come to a proper conclusion as to whether or not you should wear dresses."

She made a face and wriggled.

"What's the matter?"

"I hate wearing stays."

Inwardly he groaned. So had she been corsetless this whole time? No wonder he had been unable to keep his attention from her breasts.

She gave another wriggle, handed him her reticule and gave the stays in question a tug through her dress. Once satisfied, she took the reticule and straightened her pelisse.

"Shall we?"

"The carriage is waiting." He motioned to the door. "It has been waiting some time."

"Well, if you had to wear stays, perhaps you would be late too."

He opened the door and escorted her to the carriage. "Some men do."

Patience opened her mouth and closed it. "No!"

A footman opened the door and they climbed in. Nate sat opposite her but he was beginning to regret it when not even the dim light of the lamps could hide that sickly pink color. Whoever gave her that dress should be shot. No, whoever made it should.

"Indeed," he said with a grin. "Some men like to keep everything in place." He patted his stomach.

"I had no idea." She glanced at his waist. "Of course, you will never have a need for that."

He thought color flew into her face at the mention of his body but he could hardly tell as the pink from the dress was reflecting off her face. He rather liked the bashful expression, though.

"I keep myself active," he agreed. "I would rather do a little exercise than wear women's underwear to be sure."

"If I had the choice, I'd never wear stays again."

If he had the choice, she wouldn't either. The thought of those breasts all confined made him slightly angry. They were far too glorious for such treatment.

"So," he said, in an attempt to move his mind away from where it had been lingering too much lately, "Sir Magnus has made his fortune in coffee. He lives lavishly and is obvious with his money. From what I heard at the docks, he likes female company."

"So it's likely he would take in an attractive French woman."

"Certainly."

"Let us hope she is there."

He nodded. "For tonight, we are not Mr. and Mrs. Smith, nor are we married. I am back to being Lord Nathaniel Kingsley and you are my mistress."

She opened her mouth and he held up a hand.

"I could not garner an invite as plain old Mr. Smith and if there is anyone there I know, they would recognize me instantly. Besides which, if Pauline has discovered her cousins are not in town, she will know we cannot possibly be them."

"But why your mistress? Can I not be your cousin or some such?"

"Patience, I hardly thought you the prim and proper type. Is it so very appalling the thought of being my mistress?"

"No. I mean, yes. Yes, of course. I would never wish to be your mistress. What a thought." She huffed out a breath.

"Anyway, if there is anyone there I know, they will know you are not my cousin, and the chances are there could be people I know."

She folded her arms. "I do not see how you are suddenly in charge of this all. You're not even a government agent."

"Neither are you."

"My brother is. He's taught me everything I know."

"Including dressing as a boy and getting into a fight?"

"No, but he taught me how to not get hit."

"He did a fine job. He would be proud. But now is not the time for fighting. We must wine and dine and be charming so we can get close to Pauline if she is there."

"I am not a simpleton," she said with a defensive pout gracing her lips. "I can behave."

"We shall see."

"I can," she insisted.

Oh challenging her was far too much fun. He had never really paid much attention to her at the various balls and events in the village but he was certain while her family allowed her to behave a little differently, they had taught her at least a little etiquette. She would not show them up. That dress, however, was another matter… Damn, the desire to take her to a dress-maker was unbearable. If they trussed her up in beautiful silks, what would she look like then? Curiosity was going to eat into him all night and he was willing to bet he'd spent the night picturing her in all sorts of different gowns and costumes.

Sir Magnus' house was not far from the property they were currently occupying so they arrived promptly. Set near the edge of the busy town, the house took up a large plot and was surrounded by wrought iron gates. Carefully tended green lawns and flower beds that likely bloomed with color in the spring followed the square lines of the house. Long windows glowed brightly into the night, revealing the shadows of occupants inside.

"Here we go," he said as he hooked Patience's arm through his and led her up the path to the front door.

A butler answered and led them inside. The entrance hallway had an air of grandeur but it was overdone. Every surface gleamed from golden framed mirrors to marble floors to busts of various Greek gods. Compared to his ancestral home, it was a lot shinier, but then the Kingsley home was full of antiques and old furnishings, and most had not been shiny for a long time.

After their coats had been taken, Magnus entered the hallway to greet them. With long thick sideburns and a full head of sandy hair slightly touched with red, the years of hard work hardly showed on his face. Only the creases around his eyes and slight dark shadows indicated he spent many nights working late to achieve all he had. Nate knew well enough about late nights but of course the sort of work he did was not quite so honest as Magnus'.

"Lord Nathaniel," he greeted, "I am mightily glad you could come. Nay, honored," he corrected himself. "I am honored you could attend my little soiree. It is nothing big but I do hope you shall enjoy the food and company. We are hardly like the set in Town but we do our best, and my cook is one of the finest at this end of the country."

Nate blinked, waiting for the man to take a breath. When it seemed he had stopped, Nate smiled and introduced Patience as his very good friend. Magnus hardly seemed to notice the pink dress or in fact the woman—his full attention was on Nate.

"Will you not come in? We are having drinks before dinner is served."

Nate followed Magnus, keeping Patience securely on his arm. He sensed the tension inside her but whether that was because of the situation or those damned stays, he could not tell. He felt the need to keep her close in case she did something reckless.

In attendance were several local families. He recognized a few but he had never been good at remembering the names of all these people he was introduced to. Balls were a bore unless a conquest-to-be was in attendance and although he did his duty and danced with a few eligible women and talked with those he must, he always felt as though he was not quite occupying his body. There were so many more interesting things to do.

But at least tonight was not simply a dinner party. Tonight he was on a mission and that was enough to ensure he paid attention and noted everyone's names. As Nate glanced around the room, he noted one woman sitting by the fire alone. With dark hair, fine, fashionable clothes, and an attractive figure even when sitting, he was certain she was their woman.

"Oh," Patience said.

"Is something the matter?" Magnus asked.

"Oh no, not at all. It's just… I see you have a Rembrandt." She motioned to the painting on one wall. "He is one of my favorites."

Magnus's eyes sparked and he seemed to finally notice the woman attached to Nate's arm. "You like art?"

"Indeed, my mother is quite the talented artist and was determined to teach me all she knew. I unfortunately did not inherit her skill but I certainly inherited her love for the greats."

Nate tried not to stare, really he did not. Where had this woman come from? And all this talk of art, was this true?

"Do you have any other pieces?" she continued, unlinking her arm from Nate's. She mouthed something to him but he did not catch what it was.

"Yes, I am quite the collector," Magnus said, his face as eager as a puppy's about to get a pig's ear.

"Will you show me?"

Magnus glanced at Nate, as though looking for permission. Nate nodded though he was still not sure what was happening.

Patience gave him a smile. "Why do you not get a drink, my love, and enjoy the company?" she said company tightly and swung her glance over at the would-be French woman.

Nate nearly slapped a hand to his forehead. Patience wished for him to speak to the woman. If he spoke to her without Magnus, perhaps he would find out everything they needed to know. Why he was being so dim-witted he did not know but he was certain the blame fell at Patience's putrid pink shoes and how her act had utterly befuddled him.

The use of my love had baffled him a little too.

"Yes, of course. I am no art-lover I'm afraid," he confessed. "You must show Patience here what you have or I shall never hear the end of it."

"I would be delighted. It is not often I get to discuss art with an expert."

"I am hardly an expert, sir, but I shall try my best."

Patience near led the man off so Nate took a drink from the footman and did a casual stroll around the room, pausing to speak with a couple he had met once before at a summer ball apparently. When he had finished with pleasantries and engaged them in enough conversation, he moved around to the fire and placed his glass of brandy on the fireplace.

The woman watched, an eyebrow arched.

"We have not been introduced. It was remiss of Magnus."

She smiled. "I am not an official guest." Her accent gave her away immediately as French.

"Lord Nathaniel Kingsley at your service."

"Sabine," she said simply.

So either this was Pauline and she was using a different name or this was another French woman. He wasn't sure that was particularly likely.

"How do you know Sir Magnus?"

She folded her hands in her lap and eyed him through a clear but calculating gaze. He had the impression she was taking in everything about him and weighing it up in her mind yet she revealed little in her expression aside from a hint of a smile. Patience had been right—Pauline, if this was her, was a clever woman.

Hell, he'd never hear the end of it.

"I am his mistress."

It was hardly rare for a man to take a mistress. After all, Nate himself had just strolled in with a supposed mistress on his arm. If the woman was a widow or high-ranking, one could get away with almost any indiscretion. Many a noble man took his mistress everywhere. However, he had not expected her to come out with it so boldly.

"And you have known him long?"

Her smile expanded a little. "A mere week."

"Ah. Is that long enough to be considered a mistress?" He moved to sit on the chair next to her.

"What else would you call me then?"

He shrugged. "A close friend?"

She laughed. "I do not think close friends behave quite as lovers do."

"Perhaps you are right. You are French, are you not? How are you finding it in England? Do people treat you well?"

Pauline or Sabine stiffened. "People treat me well enough. There are of course those who would think me a spy or some silly nonsense."

"You are certainly far too beautiful to be a spy."

"A spy cannot be beautiful?"

"Not at all. No one could forget your face."

"Is that why you singled me out, my lord? Because you find me beautiful?"

"I thought I had been quite subtle about it but apparently I was wrong." She giggled. "I singled you out because I was curious as to why I had not been introduced to you and why you were sitting alone."

"I am sitting alone because I am a French mistress in a room full of English people and Magnus is forgetful. He is very keen to show off all he has and I am not included in that."

"Seems odd to take a beautiful mistress and not wish to show her off."

She lifted a shoulder. "Magnus is a strange man."

"Not too strange for you, though."

"Life is often strange, non ? I am not afraid of oddities."

"It seems Magnus has lucked out indeed to find a mistress like yourself." Nate stood to retrieve his drink and motioned to the drinks table. "Can I get you something?"

" Non, merci ."

"How long have you been in England?"

"Long enough to make me miss France."

"Why did you come here then?"

Pauline appeared to debate answering then she paused. "I would like that drink after all."

Nate fetched her a wine and by the time he had returned to Pauline the dinner gong was rung. He led the party in, as per his rank, alongside a Lady Rosa, the wife of a baron. Patience and Pauline were taken into dinner near the back of the line. Nate found himself sitting frustratingly too far from either woman. Of course, he should have been more bothered by being unable to sit by Pauline but he wanted to tell Patience of his conclusions.

Even if it did mean sitting next to that pink monstrosity, he also found it hard not to be able to talk to her. Apparently he had grown used to being told off every two minutes by her. He noted she swung the occasional glance his way but he suspected it was merely because she was itching to find out what he had discovered.

Of course, he had nothing solid—not yet. And Pauline was being careful, but if she had nothing to hide, why would she have skirted his questions? Why would she take up with a man she hardly knew? It had to be her.

But what now? Confront her? Wait? She was so close to running away and hiding under her shell he had to conclude they could not confront her so the only other option was to gain her trust, which would be a much longer game than they were expecting.

Funnily enough, however, the idea of extending his time with Patience did not bother him at all. She met his gaze and gave him a small smile. Did she feel the same, though?