Rakes Vow

Then someone else came into view, pacing about the table. Edmond. He looked back up the table and spoke to someone out of her sight.

Patience waited. Eventually, Henry came into view. Patience sighed. Then she turned and left the conservatory.

The afternoon continued damp and dreary. Grey clouds lowered, shutting them in the house. After luncheon, Patience, with Mi

Vane had disappeared, only God knew where.

Satisfied Gerrard was safe, Patience embroidered meadow grasses on a new set of cloths for the drawing room. Mi

"Ah, me," Mi

Patience's hand stopped in midair. After a moment, she lowered the needle to the linen. "Agreed?" Head down, she carefully set her stitch.

"Hmm-he was on his way to Wrexford's, that's why he was passing so close when the storm struck." Mi

Patience frowned at her stitches. "Reliable?"

Timms exchanged a grin with Mi

"Indeed." Mi

"He'll clear up this nonsense." Timms's confidence was transparent.

Patience stared at her creation-and saw a hard-edged face with grey, accusing eyes. The lump of cold iron that had settled in her stomach the previous night grew colder. Weightier.

Her head throbbed. She closed her eyes, then snapped them open as a truly sickening thought occurred. It couldn't be, wouldn't be, true-but the dreadful premonition wouldn't go away. "Ah…" She tugged her last stitch tight. "Who are the Cynsters, exactly?"

"The family holds the dukedom of St. Ives." Mi

"Mrs. Chadwick mentioned six cousins," Patience prompted.

"Oh, there's more than that, but she would have been referring to the Bar Cynster."

"The Bar Cynster?" Patience looked up.

Timms gri

"Indeed." Mi

Looking down at her stitching, Patience swallowed an acid retort. Elegant gentlemen, all, it seemed. The lead weight in her stomach lightened; she felt better. "Mrs. Chadwick said that… Devil had recently married."

"Last year," Mi

Frowning, Patience looked at Mi

Mi

Patience's frown grew. "Is 'Vane' Vane's real name?"

Mi

Mi

Timms snorted. "It would be more accurate to say that they're the pattern card for 'gentlemen about town'."

"All within the accepted limits, of course." Mi

Timms gri

Patience frowned. Her previously neat, coherent mental image of Vane as a typical, if not the archetype, "elegant gentleman" had started to blur. A reliable protector, amenable if not positively subject to the opinions of the women in his family-none of that sounded the least like her father. Or the others-the officers from the regiments based about Chesterfield who had so tried to impress her, the London friends of neighbors who, hearing of her fortune, had called, thinking to beguile her with their practiced smiles. In many respects, Vane fitted the bill to perfection, yet the Cynster attitudes Mi

Grimacing, Patience started on a new sheaf of grasses. "Vane said something about being in Cambridgeshire to attend a church service."

"Yes, indeed."

Detecting amusement in Mi

Patience blinked and lowered her work to her lap. "You mean," she said, "that just because the duchess said they had to, they did?"

Mi

"But…" Brow furrowing, Patience tried to imagine it-tried to imagine a woman ordering Vane to do something he didn't wish to do. "The duke can't be very assertive."

Timms snorted, choked, then succumbed to gales of laughter; Mi

Eventually, Mi

"Devil," Timms said, in between hiccups, "is the most outrageously arrogant dictator you're ever likely to meet."

"If you think Vane is bad, just remember it was Devil who was born to be a duke." Mi