Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

P atience did not know how much more of this she could take. Rupert seemed to have decided that she was his for the taking and had decided her space was his own. She'd thought he was bad enough before. Clearly, she was mistaken.

They were taking a walk through the park, and Patience made every effort to stay within sight of the house, but every bench they sat upon, every tree they neared, Rupert attempted to press his attentions on her.

Likely sensing her irritation, Xander had now taken a jealous dislike to the man and was trying to insert himself between them. What an excellent dog he was.

How much longer was she to suffer? Did the man not understand there were still social rules of etiquette to follow?

There was no understanding between them, but if Major Stuart had told Rupert she was more interested than she was, she would strangle him.

How was she to draw the man out when she could scarcely keep him at bay?

A heavy sigh escaped her and Rupert turned to look at her. "Is something the matter, my dear?"

It took great strength of will not to openly cringe at being called his dear. "I am restless, is all."

"Are you missing Society in London?"

"Perhaps I am, but I would not miss being with Faith for the birth."

"The time is very soon, is it not?" He looked strangely eager for that answer. Why would that be? Did he wish for her to go to London because he desired to himself?

"Dr. Harvey suspects it will be within the week. I know it will not be a moment too soon for my sister."

"And you wish to have children yourself?"

"I suppose." She tried to remain noncommittal. "It is not something I have thought on overly much. If and when I marry, that will be a decision to be made with my husband."

"Well," he said, making that awful gesture that Patience could only relate to puffing out his chest and preening like a rooster. "I fancy I will produce a healthy brood and you have all the promising signs of being an excellent breeder." He glanced at her hips that she was well aware were wider than her sisters'.

"You go too far, sir. We scarcely know each other." Even speaking of such things in London Society was taboo.

"Forgive my country manners. We speak plainly here and I meant it as the highest compliment."

Country manners, indeed.

"I have a small gift for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangular chest that was ornate in design. How had he fit that into his pocket? "It is a music box." He turned a lever on the back and opened it to play a song she thought was Beethoven.

Patience frowned. A lady could not accept a gift from a man she was not betrothed to. He placed it in her hand and she did not know how to react.

"Do you like it?" he asked eagerly.

"I cannot accept a gift from you, Rupert. We hardly know each other."

"I should like to know you very well. We will remedy that," he continued, unaware of the effort she was making not to shove the box in his face and run back to the house. Indeed, shoving all thoughts of actually marrying this buffoon and what it would intimate, she knew this was the perfect opening to ask him questions.

"As you say, sir. Why not begin with telling me who your friends are?"

He furrowed his brow in thought, then just as quickly released the frown. "Of course, you wish to know with what Society company we would be keeping. I can assure you once married, we would only keep the best of company."

That was hardly reassuring. She knew whoever she married in actuality would be welcomed by her family and therefore Society. "But with whom do you keep company now?" she prodded.

He waved a dismissive hand. "Mostly chums from my school days, but I hardly think them relevant."

"Westwood is quite close with his school chums as you call them," she argued, also wondering why no one was saving her. She told her sisters to rescue her if Rupert stayed longer than half an hour. She glanced longingly back towards the house. Xander, the traitor, had left her side to sniff something interesting in the woods.

Next time, she would insist on someone accompanying them. She did not trust Rupert to behave much longer.

"Shall we meander this way?" Back towards the house she meant. "You can tell me about your friends as we go. I'd love to know what you do with your spare time in London."

She called to Xander, who came bouncing back towards her. She never would have thought a dog could bounce, but that was precisely what he did. She scooped up his lead instead of taking Rupert's arm and began to hasten towards safety.

It did not stop him from hurrying after her and taking her arm.

"Your friends?" she prompted. Why was he so hesitant to speak? Perhaps he did not have friends?

"I cannot say I have many friends, though there are one or two. I do not foresee them settling down and mixing with any Society company we would keep when married."

"Anyone I would know? It would help to know you better."

"I suppose you might know Sir Layton's son, Edwin."

"I cannot recall having met the son. I believe I met the father once."

"He is very well-connected. You will have nothing to worry about, I assure you. There is also another friend named Oscar Beckett, but I cannot think he would have run in the same circles as you. He's terrified of the leg-shackle."

They had reached the rose garden and Patience saw the end in sight. She turned to bid him adieu, but when she did, he stepped forward and planted a wet, smacking kiss on her lips. The repulsion was like nothing else she had ever felt. "Unhand me, sir!" She pushed him away with as much maidenly modesty and outrage as she could muster along with the desire to wretch.

"Your modesty does you credit, but I assure you this is nothing between a betrothed couple."

"We are not betrothed!"

"Rupert Fagge!" the Dowager's voice trilled. "You will not behave like a cad in my garden! Explain yourself!"

Patience was a bit terrified of the Dowager in that moment, though she knew her to be an old dear. The relief of having Rupert's assault against her stopped combined with the fear of what she might expect finding them in such a position.

"Your ladyship!" He jumped back. "I meant no offence to Miss Whitford. I intend to make her my wife."

The Dowager's black brows lifted almost to the silvery curls that adorned her head. "Is that so? Have you received Westwood's permission? If so, I've heard nothing about it."

"I-I," he stuttered and stumbled.

"As I thought. I think it's time you returned home, Rupert. Once you've apologized to Miss Whitford."

"I meant no offence, Miss Whitford." He made her a bow and then scurried away.

They both watched him leave, then the Dowager turned to Patience. "What was the meaning of that? You should not have encouraged him in such a manner."

"Of course not, my lady. I thank you for your timely intervention."

"I do not think he would have pressed himself on you more than he did. However, he is clearly under some delusion that you will be his bride."

"A delusion I intend to rectify with due haste."

She nodded. "Then I will pretend I saw nothing. Especially if his encroaching mother arrives trying to say otherwise."

"You are our jewel amongst jewels, my lady. Do you wish to return to the house?"

"No. Thomas will retrieve me in a little while. I need some more fresh air after that unpleasant scene."

She could not agree more. Patience curtsied and turned about to find Major Stuart and make clear what she was and was not willing to do in the name of help. However, she paused, thinking it might be better to vent some steam before speaking with him.

Diverting to the east lawn where the games and targets were, she promptly positioned herself to throw her knife. A few good throws should relieve her of some of the angst that was built up inside.

She took the knife from its sheath, then grabbed the hilt, honing in on the target. Pull back, release. Thud. Dead centre. "That one was for Rupert."

After marching to the target to pull out the blade with satisfaction, she returned right back to her starting position. Position, pull back, release. Thud. "That one was for Stuart."

"Imagining my face as the target, I see?" he asked lazily as he leaned against a marble balustrade behind her.

"Notice I hit your face dead centre," she retorted without missing a beat, even though her heart was racing at his surprising her. Some fine guard dog Xander was, who was now licking Stuart's hands.

"I heard Rupert was a bit overly effusive in his admiration today."

Patience marched right up to Major Stuart and stood toe to toe with him. "And where were you? Promising someone else to protect them and failing?"

"I deserved that, I suppose. I never imagined you would leave the drawing room or walk on the grounds alone. Without a chaperone." What were you thinking? He refrained from saying that but implied it.

"So it is my fault. I see. There was no one available, but your grandmother saved me."

"Saved you?" He straightened up from his lazy stance. "Did he try to harm you?"

She made a huffing noise. "It depends on what you refer to as harm. My nerves will certainly suffer at every remembrance of his wet, slimy lips pressed against mine."

"He kissed you?"

"If you could call what he did such a thing." She shuddered with disgust and wiped at her mouth.

He cursed under his breath.

It was a good thing Rupert had left, because Ashley would have murdered him for daring to accost Miss Whitford in such a manner. He'd wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he'd not been prepared for the reaction. He would've erased that disgusting memory and replaced it with a much better one, if he did say so himself.

As they walked back to the house, there was laughter, and they both stopped to look for the source.

Patience inclined her head to the left and he followed around the hedge. They came upon the open lawn, where Grace, Joy, Lord Montford, and Mr. and Miss Cunningham were playing pall mall with one of his aunts.

"Would you two care to join us? We've only just begun and can start over," Aunt Rosemary offered graciously.

"Unfortunately, duty calls," Ashley answered.

Patience also waved away the offer with a mutter. "I have a desperate need to wash my mouth with soap."

Xander took off after one of the balls, and Mr. Cunningham scooped him up with much laughter. "I can hardly blame him when we played fetch with one of these at home."

"I will return him to the house so you may carry on with your game." Patience made to go for the pup.

"Oh, can he please stay with us for a while? I've scarcely seen him with all the attention to Freddy and her kittens." Joy was now scratching behind his ears.

"Of course," Patience said, though Ashley detected some hesitance in her voice.

They walked in silence. He sensed she was more bothered than she let on. "Forgive me for leaving you to Rupert alone. Do I need to call him out?"

She seemed to relax a fraction. "No, of course not. I want to help, truly, but I would be appreciative if he did not touch my person nor continue under the disillusion that we are betrothed."

"He said that?"

She nodded in the affirmative. "Hopefully, your grandmother disabused him of that notion. She blistered his ears when she came upon him trying to kiss me in the garden."

"I would imagine so," he agreed, unaccountably angry that Rupert had kissed her.

"Is there no other way?" she pleaded.

"Certainly he shall never be alone with you again. I will think upon other avenues to try to draw him out."

"Has nothing else developed?" she asked eagerly.

His initial impulse was to deny her. What place did a lady have in an investigation? But then he checked himself. He knew the Foreign Office did employ some ladies in that regard, and they were quite skilled. "I am not certain what there is to tell that you do not already know." He turned to look down at her and raised a knowing brow.

"Most of it was being in the right place at the right time." She did not try to defend herself.

"We do not think there is anything more to glean from Devil. It did look as though Rupert recognized him, but Devil swears he never saw the man's face, and that Rupert's voice is too high to be his contact."

"You cannot truly believe that idiot orchestrated anything but the arrangement of his neckcloth!"

"No. I agree with you, but we have no other leads besides his scheme. Renforth is looking into possible connections. Sir Layton's son might be the only link we have between who had the information about the munitions being on that ship and Greenwich."

"That still seems a stretch."

"It is. I am hoping Renforth's sources have sent word. I am heading now to check."

"I will not attempt to insert myself, Major, but as I now have a vested interest in avoiding Rupert if possible, would you please inform me what my next orders are to be?"

Ashley could not help but smile. Most ladies would have had a fit of the vapours at what she'd endured only minutes ago, but she was not ready to quit.

"I assure you, I will let you know." They parted ways once inside the house, and he took to the study to look for his colleagues.

Renforth and Westwood were present.

His commander removed his reading glasses and looked up from the papers he was perusing.

"Any news, sir?"

"Perhaps." His face did not look convincing. "I've received a report from my contact, but there is nothing here that would incriminate Layton's son or Mr. Fagge of anything more than sewing their wild oats. Women, drink, gambling—those could be attributed to more than half the gentlemen in London."

"But have they been associated doing those things together?"

"Surprisingly, yes. It seems Mr. Fagge does occasionally slip out from under his mama's overbearing thumb."

Westwood snorted.

"And Layton?"

Renforth shook his head. "While we have not been able to obtain records of his finances, he does play very deep."

Ashley paced as he thought. "It seems too coincidental for there not to be a connection. Layton is one of the few with access to the information, Layton's son and Rupert are friends, at least one of them has recently come into funds, and Layton's son must lose a great deal of money on the tables if he plays deep."

"I agree. We must keep looking. Manners sent word to his father about arranging the trap, but it would be much better if we knew who we were trapping ahead of time."

"Most assuredly."

Manners entered the room and held up a letter. "I've just heard from my father."

"There's another East India vessel already scheduled. It's the perfect set up, exactly like last time. Only the same people will know about it, excepting us, of course, and this shipment will not really be ammunition and arms, except for lining the top of the crate."

"If they are on to us, they might not take the bait," Ashley pointed out.

"Maybe not, but it is worth a try."

"In my experience, once people taste a little success, they become greedy," Westwood added.

"I am afraid whomever it is will simply hide behind Devil's gang—and potentially Rupert. How can we draw him out?" Renforth asked.

"If they know we've got Devil, they will have to get a message to the others. Therein lies the potential to hook the big game," Manners added.

"Let's hope your father makes the shipment sound too enticing to pass up." Renforth tapped his glasses against his temple. I'm keeping men watching Layton. Hopefully, they will discover something—if we are on the right track before it's too late."

"We have one week from tonight," Manners added.

"Devil needs to be moved." Ashley had almost forgotten that small detail.

Renforth scowled at him. "Whyever for?"

"When Rupert questioned me on why we were keeping him here, I had to reassure him. There was no good reason I could give other than to say he was leaving immediately. That we'd had some delays in transporting him."

Renforth looked at the ceiling, exasperated.

"We can make a show of him leaving, then sneak him back in."

"I suppose so. We still need to keep watch to see if someone else tries to signal. They must know we have been doing it, but they will need to message them somehow. As far as the others know, Devil is still operating as usual. If we arouse their suspicion, the whole operation is in jeopardy."

"If someone signals twice, we will know they received the message."

"Assuming they know Devil's system."

"There is always the risk they will abandon this gang altogether and use another."

"True, but the notice is short and the more people involved, the greater the risk."

"I haven't any better ideas and we have to try something."

"Well, the bait should be out there by now. Chum and I will keep an eye on the gang. Please just send word on what the plan is. I'll be off." Manners turned and left.

"Should some of us return to London to help there?" Ashley asked.

"If this fails, then that would be the next option. As we are almost certain Taywards is only being used for its vantage point. And possibly for storage or transfer."

"What about also making a show of the others leaving, so that the mastermind lets down his guard? Lady Westwood's time is almost upon us, and I'd like this resolved so she can give birth in peace."

"Then let us prepare to put on a show."