Chapter Twelve

The whole affair reminded Patience why she loathed dinner parties. All that pretense. She suppressed a shudder.

By the time dessert was served, her cheeks hurt from a false smile and her back ached from sitting ‘properly'. She could never fathom why people inflicted dinner parties on themselves and others. Making polite talk with someone she had never met and likely had nothing in common with was a bore.

Both men on either side of her were pleasant enough and did their best to engage but there was little they could discuss other than weather, Cornwall and the war. The baron to the left of her did his best to make witty remarks but, unfortunately, he was not a great wit, even if he was a sweet sort of a man. The other man—whose name she could not recall—had a drier sense of humor. She suspected he could be funny if not constricted by the rules and regulations of the dinner party.

Regardless, Patience was not interested in either of them. Only two people at the table held her attention and one of them should not have had it at all. She skimmed her gaze between Pauline and Nate, with it landing far too often on the latter. He glanced up and caught her eye occasionally and the oddest twisting sensation would burst into her stomach.

What was worse was that she found she liked that sensation. That she liked meeting his gaze. That in his finery with his cravat perfectly tied and his jacket near molded to his body, she found herself growing overheated when his blue gaze connected with hers. There had never been any denying Nate was a handsome man but any thoughts of denying she was unaffected by it were gone. At some point during their acquaintance, she had become far too aware of Nathaniel Kingsley.

With dinner finished, the men escaped for brandies while the women gathered back in the drawing room. While Patience mourned not being able to see Nate or talk to him about his conversation with the maybe Pauline, she welcomed the opportunity to get the woman alone. Perhaps she would confide in another woman, perhaps this could all be over tonight and she could go home triumphant.

The thought buoyed her and she practically skipped to take a seat next to the French woman.

"We have not been properly introduced. I'm Patience."

"Sabine." The woman cast a steely gaze over her, one brow arched. "You are Nathaniel's mistress?"

"Um. Yes. That's me."

"I would have thought he would dress you better."

Patience drew in a breath. Thoroughly aware her dress was hardly the finest of fashion, she had been loath to wear it tonight. Of course she would rather be in pantaloons but there was little to be done about it. This pink dress was about the only evening dress she owned.

"He, um, has unusual taste," she said, twining her fingers together.

"Indeed he does." That dark intimidating gaze ran over her again making Patience all too aware that this glamourous woman with feathers in her hair and a dress so exquisite it almost made her rethink not wearing gowns was the sort of woman Nate would like.

And certainly not someone like her with stumpy legs and no waist and terrible taste in gowns.

Patience lifted her chin. This woman might be who they were after—might—but she would not be intimidated or insulted by her.

"Of course Nate appreciates other things about me. He is not a shallow man. He enjoys my wit and conversation." Patience gave a secretive smile. "And my other skills of course."

Sabine threw her head back and laughed. "Ha, of course. I knew there must be something special about you for you to have secured such a man as your lover. I do admire a clever woman who can use her skills to her advantage."

"Is that what you did with Sir Magnus?"

Sabine waved a hand. "Pfft, he was easy to sway, though I suspect he does not know what to do with me now."

"Do you not want a lover who pays you attention?"

She shook her head, sending feathers bobbing back and forth. "I do not need a man's attention, merely his protection."

"Protection from what?"

"Why, life as a woman of course."

Patience hardly knew how to respond to that. The words struck her deep. Life as a woman. How unfair it was that by virtue of your sex, your life was made harder. As much as she longed for so much for herself, at least she did not have to foist herself off on uncaring men. For that, she had to be grateful.

"Someone mentioned you had only recently come across from France."

There was a visible stiffening of the woman's spine. "Yes."

"Did you leave a lover there?"

Sabine smiled. "And a husband."

Patience feigned shock. The comment sealed it in her mind, however. This had to be Pauline. "Will he not come after you?"

"I hope not. When I get the chance I shall file for divorce but for the moment..."

"You are hiding?"

Pauline glanced around the room and lowered her cup of tea with a sigh. "He was not a good man. He found out about my lover and was angry. I could not remain."

"Or he might have harmed you?"

Pauline nodded.

Cautiously, Patience reached over and laid a hand over hers. She drew in a breath. "I know all about your husband, Pauline."

The woman's startled gaze snapped up to hers.

"And about Napoleon," she whispered. "I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" She stood so quickly that tea sloshed over the side of her cup. "Help me. Mon dieu , you cannot help me, no one can, and if you think I would trust an English woman, you are beyond mad."

Without warning, Pauline grabbed her skirts and raced to the door. Patience did the same but the doors to the other drawing room swung open at the wrong moment and a crowd of men entered her path.

She pushed her way through but Nate grabbed her arm. "What's happened?"

"Pauline," she said, motioning frantically to the door where the woman had vanished. She wrenched her arm from Nate's and hurried after her. Nate's footsteps followed behind but she didn't stop to wait. If they lost Pauline now, they might never find her again.

Patience barreled out onto the street and paused to look left and right. The road was busy with carriages and wagons as guests at the local inn and other houses headed home for the night. Ahead, Pauline hurried up the street. Cursing her dress as it seemed to twine around her legs like pond weeds, she bundled it in one hand and gave chase.

Pauline crossed the road before a carriage raced past. Several more carriages crowded the road and Patience took a breath. She had almost lost sight of Pauline. They couldn't lose her!

Someone shouted Patience's name. She rushed forward, intending to make the gap between the next two carriages but something hauled her back. A strong band of what felt like steel wrapped about her waist and dragged her away. Nate's arm held her firm and they tumbled back onto the pavement. She tried to wriggle away but he was having none of it.

"Patience," he said.

"Let me go, we're losing her."

"She's lost." Her elbow struck him in the gut as she tried to get away. "Damn it, Patience. She's gone."

"No." She fought again but he was too strong and large. When she began trying to pry his arm away from her, he rolled her over so that her back was against the hard ground. He pinned her with his body and he wrapped his fingers about her wrists.

She could go nowhere. He had her imprisoned.

"Let me go," she protested.

"Not if you're going to attempt to get yourself killed again."

"I would have made it."

"Sweetheart, you would have been crushed."

She was being crushed now by his body. Hard on top of her, she was aware of every inch of him from his strong thighs, one pressing between hers to his granite like chest, crushing her breasts. She could hardly breathe. Rolling her head to one side, she peered up at the empty pavement. Only carriages came and went but there was no sign of Pauline.

"You don't understand," she said, hating the crack in her voice. "You don't understand." To her dismay, hot tears welled in her eyes.

"It is not worth your life." Nate stared down at her, his gaze running over her face and most likely taking note of her tears. She hated them and hated that he saw them. Tears were a sign of weakness and weakness was not acceptable in her family.

"You don't understand," she mumbled again.

He released a wrist and fumbled in his jacket before pulling out a handkerchief. Nate dabbed the corners of her eyes and her cheeks. His tender actions simply made her cry more. No one had ever wiped away her tears. If she had ever cried, she did so in her room where her brothers could not see and tease her.

Nate shook his head and eased himself to sitting, then he dragged her into his hold. There, on the cold stone pavement, he tucked her against his chest so tightly that she could hear the powerful thud of his heart. He held her there, one hand keeping her captive against him while the other brushed up and down her back. She cried for some time, ugly, ragged tears that left her chest aching and sore, and her eyes hot and swollen. His shirt grew damp under her cheek.

Once she was finally able to take a breath without sobbing, she straightened and he handed her his handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and gave an unladylike blow before offering it back.

He laughed and shook his head. "Keep it."

Patience bunched it up in her hand and held it tight. "I am sorry." Her voice was harsher than she'd expected. She felt as though she had been washed in scalding water and pulled through a wringer.

"You do not have to apologize."

"I do. I have been difficult and foolish. If I had not been so keen to finish this job quickly, I would not have scared her away. Perhaps if we had done it your way and waited it out, she would have come to us."

"Are you saying I might have been right?" He grinned.

"Never." She sniffed and smiled. "But I am sorry I did not listen. I know you are doing this as a favor to my brother. I'm sure there are other things you would rather be doing."

"Not at all. There's nothing I like more than a bit of subterfuge with a stubborn woman." He skimmed a thumb over her cheek where an errant tear was making its way down. "What do I not understand?"

She sucked in a breath and shook her head. A sense of relief ran through her, left her feeling exhausted but better. All that crying seemed to have done her some good. But was she ready to talk properly about her family?

Nate waited, his gaze patient and understanding. It was odd to equate this man with the arrogant and rude one she thought she knew yet it did not surprise her he had these qualities.

"You know I wanted to do this to prove something to my family," she stated.

He nodded.

"But it is more than that." She pulled at a curl by her neck, twining it around and around her finger. She could not meet his understanding gaze anymore so she eyed the mucky hem of her dress, all too aware of Nate's arms still around her. "My father never wanted a girl. He was disappointed to have one."

"You cannot know that," he protested.

"I can. I even heard him say as much once to my mother when I was young before he died. She asked him to let me be more involved with him and my brothers and he declared he wished I'd been a boy."

Nate hissed out a breath. "Christ."

"So you see why I must do this? I must prove he was wrong about me. That women are just as good as men."

"Sweeting, you are easily as good as your brothers, if not better. They have had the advantage of being born male while you have had to fight for everything. I am sure if your father saw you now, he would be proud of you. I certainly would be if you were my daughter."

She snorted. "What have I done to make anyone proud?"

"You've carved your own path. You do not care what anyone thinks. You're strong and brave, and clever."

She hardly knew what to say to these compliments. When had anyone said such words to her? And to be called strong and brave and clever? Most women would probably rather be called beautiful or elegant but not her. Those words meant more than he could know.

"You are a surprising man, Nathaniel Kingsley."

He tilted his head. "How so?"

"Underneath that arrogant exterior is quite the charming man."

"I thought I was always charming."

"Your idea of charming and mine is entirely different I fear."

"Well I am glad I have discovered a way of charming you. I thought it might never happen."

She peered up at him. Their bodies were still close, tangled together while he held her. The scent of subtle cologne cocooned around her and she felt her heartbeat trip. When she peered up at him, his face was mere inches from hers.

"You wanted to charm me?"

Yes. Please say yes.

"Yes."

A smile worked its way across her face of its own accord. How ridiculous it was that she should want to be on the receiving end of his attentions. She had a lot more things to worry about than whether a lord should wish to charm her—and even though he had admitted he did, it meant nothing. Nate was likely used to charming every woman in the country with ease. A man like himself would see her as a challenge. She should not take stock in it.

Nate eased his arms from around her and stood. He offered her a hand. Patience slipped her hand in his, brushing down her skirts as she came to standing.

She grimaced. "I think this dress is ruined."

"Good," he declared. "Let us burn the thing and forget it ever existed." The genuine disgust on his face as he stared at the gown in question made her laugh.

He shook his head and put her hand through his arm. "Let us see if we can explain this away to our guest."