* * *
“What do you mean they’ve gone?” Grant demanded none too quietly.
The retainer stood calm despite Grant’s scowl. “They have departed for Dorset House.”
“The ball? Damn and blast, man, they’ve gone too early.”
“Yes sir.”
“Didn’t anyone tell them about appearing fashionably late?”
“Apparently not, sir.”
“How long ago did they leave?”
“A little more than an hour, sir.”
“Thank you, Winters.”
Barely twenty minutes later, Grant jumped from his carriage. “I’ll walk from here, John. I don’t know how long I’ll be, but wait.”
The coachman tipped his hat. “Sir.”
Grant walked past eighteen carriages waiting in line to arrive at the front steps and discharge their elegant passengers at exactly the proper moment. He took the steps to the town-house two at a time and waved at the Duke of Dorset as he bypassed the receiving line.
The Duke chuckled.
His Lady scowled. “I finally get him to attend one of my balls and he doesn’t have the courtesy to pay his respects.”
“You invited him then, pet?”
“Of course not, but it’s still a feather in my cap that he’s here.”
The Duke patted his ladywife’s hand. “And well-deserved, my love.”
The Duchess smiled as if the compliment were her due. “Thank you, Montvale. Dear Lady Lessing, so pleased you could come.”
Grant descended the steps into the Dorset House ballroom at a quick, though sedate, pace. He did not wish to be formally announced; it would be best if this could be done quietly. But to his chagrin, there were several in the room who recognized him immediately.
He made his way to the gaming room and stood unobtrusively in the doorway between there and the ballroom. Bloody, dissipated fools trying to impress each other on one hand then stab each other in the back when self-gratification warranted. God, I hate this. What in bloody hell am I doing here anyway?
Than he saw her. Patience looked as refreshing as the sea on a bright sunny morning. Jet beads wove through her rich copper curls. With her little breasts pushed up by the sea-green gown’s waist snug below them and the sheer overskirt ending in a long pointed train at the back, she looked every inch the Lady he’d most like to undress.
She, of course, was the reason he was here. It seemed Patience was the why of everything these days. A habit he should break. And so he would. Tomorrow.
Patience beamed at her girls with pride. All except Grace were dancing. She moved forward, but stopped when she saw Grant in black evening clothes bending over the hand of an elegant, older woman sitting with the matrons.
He straightened and came to her, a friend beside him.
“Lady Patience,” Grant said. “May I introduce my fellow scoundrel?”
“Fitzalan, at your service,” said the gentleman, himself, who bowed and kissed her hand, another handsome devil.
“Are there more of you?” she asked. “Scoundrels, that is.”
“Two more,” Fitzalan said. “Four in all. Gabriel rarely attend these affairs, and—” Fitzalan turned to Grant. “Devereux has his hands full, I hear. He may call upon us one day soon.”
“At which point, we shall go,” Grant conceded. “Honor the bond, yes? Give voice to the oath.”
Fitzalan nodded and turned to her. “Which reminds me; when your Captain is out to sea, Lady Patience, you may call upon the rest of us, according to Grant’s wishes.” Fitzalan gave her his calling card. “Call me, and as many scoundrels will come who can. I’ll see to it.” He bowed again. “Good day, my Lady.”
She curtseyed and watched him go.
Grant took her into his arms for the waltz.
“Is he here?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Why the Marquess of Andover, of course.”
Grant scowled.
A poor beginning, Patience thought.
“No. Dammit. He’s not here. Now let’s do this properly.”
She thought she’d better humor him and nodded.
“Good evening, Lady Patience.” He took her hand and kissed it.
She curtseyed, impressed by his courtly demeanor. “Good evening, Captain.”
“May I have this dance, My Lady?”
Whatever upset him seemed to have disappeared as quickly as it came. “By all means, Captain.”
He swept her into his arms, and for a few moments waltzed her silently about the room.
“Thank you for the girls’ lovely gifts.”
“Next time you enter an establishment like Madame Lambert’s, Patience, simply present one of your calling cards. There will be no mistaking your identity. Are you wearing the—”
“Do not even say it! You committed an appalling breach of etiquette by sending me those, those—”
“Bosom inserts,” he whispered warming her ear.
“Scoundrel!”
“We’ve sufficiently established that, I believe. Now, do you know what I wanted to do when I saw you standing here tonight?”
Oh, Lord, her knees were turning to jelly again. “What did you want to do?”
“I wanted to invite you to share our first dance. Then I remembered we’ve waltzed before.”
Patience’s face warmed.
“Much as I’d like to, Patience, I cannot end this dance as I did our last.”
“You knew what I was thinking?”
He chuckled.
“It’s as well,” she said attempting to gather her wits about her. “I’m certain kissing is not at all the thing to do on the dance floor.”
“Not at all. Nonetheless, I wish very much to do exactly that.”
Patience wondered if he was gammoning her but she couldn’t tell. That irritated her. On one hand she wanted him to be sincere about wanting to kiss her, on the other, she was angry for wanting it. “I thought you hated English Society. And I didn’t think they invited sea captains to Society Affairs.”
“I do hate Society. And you do learn quickly, Lady Patience, to make the class distinction and look down on those beneath you. Though, if I remember correctly, you put me in my place as an ignorant Colonial the first day we met.”
“Captain, I told you I was sorry that day and I’m sorry now, if I sounded—”
“Oh, you did. But, save the condescension, Patience. It doesn’t wash. Now to correct your misconception, the fact is I was not invited. I am just being myself, an ignorant Colonial, coming to this ball despite having no invitation. I did it, however, out of concern for the lovely young ladies you brought with you tonight. I see they are nearly all dancing this waltz. Who gave them permission to do so?”
Patience stopped moving. “Permission?”
He forced her to move as he scowled down at her. “One must have permission to dance the waltz. I secured it for you before I asked you to dance. Who secured it for the girls?”
Patience’s eyes filled. “No one. Oh, Grant, is that a terribly unforgivable error? What am I going to do?”
“Nothing at the moment. Let me think.”
They were distracted by a shriek and turned to look. Rose pulled from her partner’s arms, slapped him across the face, kicked him in the shin with the force of a lead-balled pendulum and ran from the room.
Patience tried to step from his embrace to follow Rose.
Grant held her in place, his hands firm at her waist. “That scene isn’t going to do the girls any good. Don’t compound it by rushing after her. I’ll get Rose’s wrap and escort her to the carriage. You stroll about the room, casually, as if you haven’t a care in the world, and gather the girls to leave. Under no circumstances show regret or concern. You must accomplish it smiling, with as much ease and decorum as you can summon. And, Patience never let them know you care one whit what they think. Do you understand?”
She nodded as if in a stupor. He needed to snap her out of it and get some
color into her. “Patience. Have I told you how lovely you look? Those bosom inserts make a considerable difference to your overall, um, carriage.”
Patience gasped.
As her lungs filled, her breasts rose, and Grant flashed his most wicked smile. “That’s even better, sweetheart.”
Just like a firecracker, she came to life, color flooding her. “If we weren’t in a crowded ballroom, I’d slap that stupid grin off your leering face,” she whispered furiously.
“If we weren’t in a crowd, my love, I’d pull you right down and continue our delightful lesson.”
Patience’s eyes widened. “Odious snake.” She turned away, dismissing him out of hand.
Good.
When Grant stepped back into the ballroom after settling Rose in the carriage, he accepted a glass of champagne and sipped it casually. He overheard a group of women chattering like chickens on a ship before a storm. He attempted to ignore them while scanning the room for Patience, but they repeated one name like a death knell, Miss Kane. What the bloody hell had Sophie done now?
Patience stopped beside him and touched his sleeve. “It’s possible we have a problem.”
“Have we? Really?”
“Sophie has made a match.”
“At her first ball? Pray tell, who is the lucky man who has asked for her hand in such a tempestuous fashion?”
“No one has asked for her hand.”
“Patience.”
“Oh, all right. But I’m very concerned about Sophie right now. It seems she has asked Baron Munchkin to marry her.
“And?”
“He said he would be delighted.”
Grant snapped the stem of his glass in half.