The Bluestocking’s Bargain (The Ladies’ Essential Guide to the Art of Seduction #5)

Chapter 14.2

“Of course, I took it! Even I know that anyone could find it there, and Patience would never have a book without a legible title on the spine.” She went into her chamber and lifted a doll from her cradle. He watched as she opened the end of the doll’s bedding, and removed a fistful of banknotes. “Anyone might expect you to have hidden funds, and thus they might believe Patience had some. In contrast, everyone knows that I have no money at all.” She smiled and handed the clutch of banknotes to him. “I checked your tally, but your sums are always right.”

“Amelia!” Arthur caught her up and swung her around, kissing her cheeks in turn. “You are an angel.”

“Not often,” she ceded with a frown. “Not literally .”

“But I am beholden to you all the same. Thank you!” He kissed her again, then secured the funds in the inner pocket of his jacket. Patience would be able to publish her book after all. He was unaccountably relieved that he would be able to keep his pledge to her, and he would do it, regardless of her choice for their future.

“I cannot see them at all,” Amelia said, then indicated his empty buttonhole. “My brother would not consider himself to be properly dressed thus.”

Arthur grinned. “I will remedy the situation before the greater world can take note of my error.”

“You will write me?” she entreated and he hugged her again.

“Before tomorrow. I promise.”

The governess cleared her throat then, and Arthur looked up to find her in the doorway. He bid them both farewell then descended the stairs with a light step. In the foyer, he helped himself to a yellow rosebud from the arrangement on the table and fitted it to his buttonhole. He nodded to Stevens as he left the house, then stood on the steps and surveyed Berkley Square.

It was a fine day for a walk, in Arthur’s view, and not so very far to Golden Square.

He could not help but hope that Patience could be persuaded to give him a second chance.

* * *

“A caller for you, ma’am,” Wentworth said as he opened the door to the library.

Patience was there with her father, the cats now curled together upon a small settee that was graced by a sunbeam. She had confided the entire tale to her father and they had reviewed every pertinent detail. As she had hoped, once he knew of her regard for her husband, her father was determined to set all to rights.

She spun to find Arthur entering the room, a welcome glimmer of mischief in his eyes that made her heart skip. Perhaps he had realized that she loved him, regardless of his finances.

“Arthur!” she said and hastened to him, reaching to kiss his uninjured cheek. Then she frowned. “Or should I call you Charles?”

He smiled. “I have been called Arthur for so long that I should think you summoned another if you called me Charles.”

“Then Arthur it will be,” she said. She might have drawn him toward her father but he claimed her hand and placed it upon his chest, his eyes glimmering all the while. There was something secreted in his jacket, something that crinkled when she moved her fingers.

No!

He bent and put his lips to her ear, setting her afire with the low murmur of his voice even before she heard his words. “Amelia was very critical of my choice of hiding place. She is very interested in becoming a spy, but finds my inclinations sadly lacking.”

He had retrieved the funds. Truly, Patience could not have imagined a better resolution.

“They are yours,” he continued. “To fulfill the pledge I made to you.”

“Arthur!” she whispered and stretched to brush her lips across his. “But I have a better solution,” she said. Patience put her hand through his elbow and led him to her father. The men greeted each other with welcome pleasure. “We have conferred, as you advised, and have contrived a solution.”

“Indeed?”

Her father gestured to the various books opened on his desk. “I have been consulting various references, and it seems that you and Patience might yet be legally wed. Marriage is the sole sacrament that does not require the service of a priest, as I am certain you know, but there is always the question of legal clarity, and in the case of offspring, I believe it might be prudent to have witnesses of your union…”

“But the lady may not wish to have me,” Arthur said and Patience nudged him.

“I will have no other,” she vowed, watching him smile. “The vicar is coming within the hour,” she informed him. “We sent for him immediately that he might arrive once you were here.” She watched as Arthur began to smile. His eyes lit in the way she loved, a sparkle lighting in their depths. It was wondrous to watch him realize she wanted him for his own sake, and that even penniless , she would have willingly put her hand in his forever. “If you would repeat our vows.”

“I should be honored.” He lowered his voice. “Are you certain, though, that you would see your life bound to a man who did not surrender his truth to you immediately?”

“I am,” Patience said, her gaze locked with his. “For I love you, independent of what your name might be. And I know that situation to have been an exception, not a rule.”

“You are correct in that, Patience.” His eyes darkened with a satisfaction that made her heart skip, then he brushed his lips across her mouth. It was a tantalizing reminder of how they would celebrate this nuptial night and Patience flushed to her toes, knowing that he watched her closely.

Her father cleared his throat. “I also have taken the liberty of inviting Patience to return to this house, along with you, sir, and to resume her former responsibilities in managing the household. As a widower with only one daughter remaining unwed, I have considered the prospect of shortening my hours at Carruthers & Carruthers, that I might indulge more regularly in reading. My brother would like to bring in his sons as apprentices to the trade, and I thought that having you and Patience in residence here would be ideal.”

Patience had the satisfaction of seeing Arthur astonished. “That is most generous of you, sir,” he said, his voice husky. “I would be delighted, if Patience finds the situation acceptable.”

“I do,” she said. “Which is why the house is in uproar, for we shall have the room that was formerly my mother’s.”

“There is only a small dressing room adjacent,” her father informed Arthur. “With insufficient room for a bed of the dimensions you undoubtedly find customary. I could move from my chamber…”

“No, Papa, there is no need.” Patience smiled at Arthur. “I was hoping that you might not mind sharing my chamber as a matter of routine.”

“There is another sizable chamber down the corridor,” her father interjected, but Arthur was already smiling.

“I cede to your arrangements, Patience, with great pleasure.” His eyes fairly glowed as he looked down at her and she could not believe how much she adored this man.

That he loved her as well was more than she could ever have hoped.

“The vicar has arrived, sir,” Wentworth intoned from the doorway. “As have Mr. and Mrs. Carruthers and their sons, along with a generously proportioned hamper.”

“We cannot simply appear and demand a meal,” Aunt Elizabeth declared, hastening forward to take Patience’s hands. “I had two chickens set aside for our dinner and they should not go to waste. I was certain that Mrs. Frobisher would know precisely how best to bring the meal together, for there was no chance of our missing your second wedding within a week, dear. Praise heaven that both matches are to the same man!” She beamed at Arthur, who looked bemused.

Patience heard Prudence come racing down the stairs, for she had been banished from the discussion in the library and was clearly curious. The bell rang again as Catherine and the baron arrived, one of their footmen carrying a flagon of wine into the house and the other delivering a fine fresh salmon. Wentworth directed them toward the kitchen and Patience saw two shadows slip from the library, one black and one silver, as the cats followed the progress of that salmon. There was a veritable crowd in the foyer as everyone greeted each other with the enthusiasm of long lost friends, then a fierce rapping at the door.

“Oh, Mrs. Oliver,” Catherine said. “I thought she had come inside already.”

“Mrs. Oliver?” Patience whispered as Wentworth opened the door to a crooked old lady dressed in the fashions of forty years before, a vast collection of veils hiding her face. She feared she had recalled the name of the author incorrectly, for this lady looked unlikely to have composed such a volume.

“She is the author of the book you intend to publish, of course,” Catherine said. “When we heard from your father today, I thought this an ideal opportunity for all of you to become acquainted.”

“Do not tell me that you are among those families who declined to appreciate spirits?” Mrs. Oliver demanded, peering at the group of them. “After such an impromptu invitation, I should expect at least a glass of ratafia.” She moved closer to Arthur, looking him up and down. “Were you not formerly the son of Lady Beckham, a notorious rake and scoundrel?”

“I am such a wastrel no longer, Mrs. Oliver. My affection for my wife has redeemed me.”

“Ha! It was not your wife, sir, who tamed your wild impulses. It was my book!” The old woman cackled as she headed for the best seat, the plumpest once closest to the fire. “The baroness has told me of its triumph in her conquest.” She settled into the chair, accepted a glass of ratafia, and saluted Patience with such gusto that half of it spilled onto her glove and dress. “We should give a copy to the wife of every rakehell in London, the better to ensure it is favorably reviewed.”

They all laughed together at the notion as she drained the rest of the beverage and set the glass down with a thump. “Now what is this about a wedding? If there is to be one, let it commence, as I am famished.”

Patience and Wentworth directed the guests, ensuring that everyone entered the library for the second exchange of vows, but Patience caught Arthur watching the older lady with a puzzled expression.

“Do you know her?”

He shook his head. “I am certain we have never met, but there is something undeniably familiar about her.”

That mystery would have to wait to be resolved, for the vicar called for their attention. Prudence seized a flower from the hall table and thrust it upon Patience, who faced the man she loved for the second time in rapid succession. Arthur’s gaze flicked to the noisy gathering of guests when the vicar cleared his throat portentously, then met Patience’s gaze again. Goodness, how she loved that he always looked to be on the verge of laughter.

She realized that he was unaccustomed to such a raucous gathering and might have apologized for her family and their enthusiasm, but he shook his head and bent closer. “You bring me another gift, Patience. I had lost my name before you. I had no purpose before you granted me a commission. And I had no family before you claimed my heart and shared yours with me.” His eyes twinkled. “I shall have to live long indeed to have the time to properly demonstrate my appreciation.

“You might begin this very night,” she whispered so mischievously that he laughed aloud. Then they stared into each other’s eyes as they pledged again that their two hearts would be one.

* * *

Arthur could not believe a man could be so blessed. Patience chose him, her words clear and filled with conviction as she made her vows again. Her family gathered around to celebrate their happiness. The publishing venture would be launched and against every expectation, they had a warm and welcoming home. He could not have contrived a better resolution himself.

There was but one outstanding detail to resolve.

When the ceremony was completed (again) and congratulations had been exchanged (again), he asked Patience’s father if he might write a note. “I promised to tell my sister where we might be found,” he confessed and found himself with a stack of fine paper, a new quill and a pot of ink. As he wrote to tell her of his situation, he realized another detail, though it was Patience who noticed his consternation.

“What is amiss?”

“Taylor will lose his post,” he said. “Lady Beckham may dismiss him this very day, and I know he keeps very little of his income for himself. He sends much of it to his mother in Sussex.”

“And you fear for his welfare, of course.” Patience crossed the room and spoke to her father, who nodded and listened as Arthur finished his letter to Amelia. What could he do? He would offer Taylor a post, but he had no notion of the Carruthers household finances—nor even did he know what income he and Patience might expect from their venture.

“You must ask him to join us here,” Patience said, appearing by his elbow again.

“I would not impose…”

“But Papa does not have a valet and you will need Taylor’s services. I will write also to Gellis and invite her to follow us here, if she so desires.” She smiled. “The household could use another man and another maid. We had a couple leave at the end of the summer, and I had not advertised for replacements before you so distracted me.”

And so Arthur wrote to Taylor and Patience wrote to Gellis. Wentworth assigned the delivery to the baron’s footmen in the baron’s coach, and Arthur had to admit that Lady Beckham would be more inclined to receive any tidings from footmen in livery.

The boys then demanded that he teach them how to win at cards, and while Arthur demurred, they suggested he might teach them to fight instead. Their mother urged the cultivation of their dancing skills, their father spoke of increasing their commitment to reading while Patience’s father discussed the merit of skill at bookkeeping. Prudence insisted that Arthur find her a husband. He teased her with the suggestion of Mr. Fanshawe.

“But he is old, as old as Papa!”

“Older yet,” that man said mildly, ushering them all toward the dining room.

“You are a fiend,” Prudence said and Patience scolded her even as Arthur grinned.

“I meant his son, of course.”

“He has a son?” Prudence demanded.

“But on further consideration, he is a handsome and diligent man of responsibility, almost as old as me.” Arthur shook his head. “You would not like him at all.”

“I will come to the shop,” Prudence declared. “I will come every day until you introduce me to him.” Truly, she reminded him of Amelia in her determination to have her way.

Then someone somewhere shouted that a wretched cat had claimed the fish’s tail.

Patience and Arthur exchanged a knowing glance. “Catrame,” he said with assurance, certain he had not enjoyed an afternoon more. “The better thief, although he shares.”

“If he mouses in exchange, Mrs. Frobisher will ensure he has his fill.”

The afternoon culminated with the arrival of Taylor and Gellis in the baron’s coach, the vehicle packed with Patience and Arthur’s clothes, and the new bookcase, as well as Patience’s books. Gellis herself rode with the coachman and a grinning Taylor hung onto the back between the footmen. There was much laughter as everything was unpacked and brought into the house, and Arthur smiled when Gellis dropped into a deep curtsey before Patience.

“Bless you, my lady,” she said with a broad smile. “Nothing will be right in that house soon and I could not be more glad to be away.” Her gaze slid to Taylor, who offered her a quick wink, and Arthur guessed there was a greater inducement to the move even than that.

They were then summoned to a very crowded dining room, and a table and sideboard burdened with food. He felt the cats winding their way around his ankles and held Patience’s hand fast within his own as everyone raised a glass to toast to their future welfare.

Patience had brought him everything he desired, and more.

* * *

It was late when a chattering Gellis finally left Patience alone. The room that had been her mother’s was still in some disarray, the bookcase still empty in one corner and books piled on the floor before it. The cats had chosen their perches in this smaller room and purred contentedly, their bellies full of fish. She could hear Arthur and Taylor in the adjoining room, and the occasional burst of male laughter, as well as the sounds of the others in the house.

Carruthers House was more than an abode. It was her home and she had not realized how much she loved it until she left. It was wonderful to be back.

She considered the book manuscript she had removed from the bag and set upon a table. She smiled, closed her eyes, and riffled through it to choose a page.

In the bedroom, in privacy with one’s lover, a lady can reveal her own urges as nowhere else in the world. Be bold in your caresses, and forthright in your demands. Instead of lying back and accepting whatsoever your partner deigns to offer, tell him what you wish of him. Make the first address. Touch him as you wish—or touch yourself as he watches. I have written of boldness before, but the combined power of audacity and surprise cannot be underestimated, nor can its ability to change the foundation of a relationship be overlooked…

Goodness. Did she dare?

Patience heard Taylor leaving the adjacent chamber. She barely had time to cast aside her robe before Arthur opened the door. She turned to face him, wearing only a welcoming smile, and watched a thrilling heat light his eyes. He murmured her name with reverence and crossed to her side more quickly than she might have believed possible. His kiss was more potent than ever it had been and there was a new and irresistible fire between them.

Audacity and surprise, indeed. This volume would be worth its weight in gold.