Chapter Sixteen

Nate could not recall ever feeling this nervous. Perhaps it was Patience in that dress that was doing it. Maybe it was because Knight and Drake had still not arrived. It could have been because they had to have dinner with Sir Magnus and somehow find a way into his library. He glanced at Patience. No, mostly it was the dress. Every time he looked at her, his hands grew clammy.

He tried to peer at the painting on the wall—a hunting scene—but his gaze inevitably tracked back to Patience who was, it seemed, as nervous as he. They had been pacing in the hallway for near on ten minutes, waiting for his friends to arrive.

Pauline could not be trusted on her own and as much as the housekeeper was determined she would not escape under her watch, it was unfair to ask the diminutive woman to watch over her. So Nate had sent word to his brother to ask for some muscle in the form of Knight. The response had been swift, coming by direct messenger. Drake, it seemed, wanted in on the action. Nate suspected it was more to do with wanting to meet this elusive French woman. The damned man could sniff out an attractive woman from twenty miles off.

He hoped Drake did not do any sniffing around Patience.

Damn, that dress. Who knew a little bit of fabric and lace could have such an effect? Of course, it was not just that. It was the way her hair was curled, making his gaze follow said curls to her long neck then down, down, down to her bosom.

How any man was meant to stay sane around such a bosom, he did not know. They were hard enough to ignore in shirts but the squared neckline of the green silk gown was designed to tantalize. Every time Patience took a breath, he marveled at how her breasts did not spill entirely from the garment.

In she breathed. Any time now, he told himself. Any time now, her breasts would just pop out, and yet they did not. She exhaled and her breasts remained perfectly in place. Whether his sanity lingered was another question altogether.

Patience tweaked the lace of her sleeve, clearly uncomfortable in the dress. It was not, he concluded, the first time he had realized there was something innately attractive about Patience, but it was certainly the first time he had realized she was capable of being feminine. And, in truth, she would be rather good at it if she did not fidget so much. Yes, she was still small and did not have that long column like figure or waifish waist so many women hungered after but she was utterly, and innately appealing.

Since their conversation the other day, they had not talked about Pauline's offer. He secretly hoped Patience had forgotten the idea entirely and then any interference would be unnecessary. He could not allow Patience to run off with Pauline, he simply could not.

The knock at the door was a welcome distraction from Patience. If he remained in the hallway with her for much longer, he was not sure what he would do—something extremely irresponsible and roguish most likely.

Drake and Knight stood at the door, water dripping from the brims of their hats. A light rain had started up, making the steps leading down from the house gleam. He peered around them for any sign of another visitor but there was none. Nate did not know whether to be relieved or not. Patience would not be happy when she found out what he had done.

"You could have warned me about the steps," Drake said, his grin belying his grumbling tone.

He tapped his leg that on bad days was so painful he had to use a cane. The old war injury had ended the captain's career in the navy and set him on the path of smuggling. Sometimes Nate suspected Drake was better at smuggling than following orders anyway.

"Your leg only hurts when you want it to," Nate said, stepping aside to let the two men in. "Usually when you need sympathy from attractive ladies."

"Speaking of attractive ladies." Drake's eyes lit upon Patience.

The color in her cheeks was near crimson. Drake removed his hand and gave a bow. "Miss Patience Grey, what a pleasure to see you in a gown."

Knight hovered near the doorway, his great hulk seeming to sap the light from the room. Women were usually intimidated by him but Patience seemed more disconcerted by Drake's flattery than the beast of a man.

"You know Mr. Knight, do you not?" Nate asked her.

"We have never been formally introduced," she said, purposefully ignoring Drake.

Knight gave a nod of his head and Nate imagined that was the man's idea of an introduction so he left it at that.

"Where is this lovely French belle then?" Drake asked.

"In the drawing room." Nate motioned to the door. "She is to remain in the house and guarded at all times. So far we have had no trouble but we cannot be sure that the information we need is where she said it is and I certainly do not trust her to stay."

Drake grinned. "There's nothing I like more than watching a woman's every move. You can rely on us to guard her."

"As long as that is all you do," Nate warned. If Nate himself had a reputation for enjoying ladies' company, Drake was one hundred times worse. But he would not betray his duty for the sake of a woman, Nate knew that much.

"Stop fussing like an old woman and get to that dinner party," Drake ordered. "We can handle one woman between us, can't we, Knight?"

Knight gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

Nate glanced at the clock in the hallway. "Mrs. Rowley is around somewhere. She can feed and water you. We're late, we'd better make haste."

Drake near kicked them out of the house. Too keen to meet Pauline, he reckoned. But still, they needed someone to watch over her, just until they knew they had the information and he could not think of anyone else he trusted more than them, save from his brother.

They made their way down the steps and Patience let out a tiny squeak as her delicate slipper skidded on the wet steps. Nate caught her before she could tumble and she gripped his arms. Her fingers dug in through the fabric of his coat and he winced. Too damned strong for a girl.

"These shoes are too big," she muttered as she straightened herself.

Nate offered her an arm and escorted her down the rest of the steps. "Did you borrow those from Pauline?"

"Yes. I suppose I should be ashamed that a homeless, countryless woman has more clothing than I do."

Nate shrugged. "Some women are preoccupied with clothes, while others are…are well…"

"Preoccupied with competing with their brothers?" she suggested.

He chuckled. "And I think trying to best one's brothers is more important than clothing."

The carriage he had ordered for the occasion awaited them at the end of the steps. Rain dripped from the driver's coat and hat. He gave them a sour look. "I've been ‘ere ‘alf an hour already."

"And you can charge me extra for that half an hour," Nate offered.

The man's grumpy countenance changed swiftly and he straightened in his seat. "We'd best be off then."

Nate aided Patience into the carriage and the vehicle set off before he had even managed to sit down. He tumbled onto the seat opposite her. Once he had settled more comfortably he bit back a groan of regret. The lit lanterns on the side of the carriage warmed the inside of the vehicle enough so that he could fully admire Patience.

It was not as though he did not like admiring her but he certainly did not need the distraction. Every time they hit a rut—and that seemed to be every second—her breasts moved against the confines of that blasted dress.

He drew in a breath and forced his gaze to the spot behind her head. There was nothing of note there but at least there were no breasts to ogle.

"Knight is quite the brutish sort of man, is he not?"

Nate nodded. Knight. Yes, that was the sort of topic he could talk on. There was nothing remotely attractive or appealing about that man.

"He's a tough fellow. Good to have on one's side."

"And you met him through your brother?"

"Yes. Red brought him on board to help. He's the face of the operation. It's useful to have someone intimidating—means no one will ask questions."

"Even if they did, I doubt anyone would ever suspect you or your brother of being involved. As for Drake…"

"Yes, he's a scoundrel, but a good scoundrel." He chuckled. "He's our scoundrel I suppose is what I should say."

"That's one way to put it." She leaned forward and Nate bit back a groan. "So how do we get into Sir Magnus' library?"

Forcing his gaze from her cleavage, he looked into her eyes. "Perhaps you can use your feminine charms?"

Patience snorted. "We would be more likely to succeed using yours."