Page 114 of Rakes & Reticules
Then a younger Fitz had wanted to fight for her, for them, but he had learned that aristocrats really did not abide by the rules they so adamantly dictated.
“No, I don’t believe you deserve a greeting, Reeves,” he said, trying not to be overly obtuse. Gazes turned their way and Fitz refused to give more fuel to the gossip mongers.
“Lord Killingworth, is it? I had word that your cousin perished.” He stood taller, as if Fitz’s cousin being killed in a duel meant nothing. “Now you’re one of us.”
“I’ll never be like you,” he sneered, not believing that he had ever been friends with the scoundrel. “You’re spoiled, conceited and a liar. You told me that Miss Grant and you had an understanding.”
“And we would have if she had listened to her grandmother.” Reeves shrugged his shoulder. “It matters not. With her father declared dead soon, the family will be destitute, and I will be her savior—”
Fitz took a sip of his champagne, needing to do something to prevent him from pummeling his former friend. “You’re delusional. She refused you once, and she will again.”
“Why are you and Stonelake really here?” Fitz ignored the question. Anonymity was key in procuring the reticule and the Honorable Walter Reeves was not to be trusted.
Though most of England knew of the secret marriage between Prinny and Maria Fitzherbert years ago, the entire ordeal was frowned upon and considered illegal. The papers in Miss Grant’s possession in the wrong hands could be used most atrociously. It wouldn’t only ruin the Regent. It would ruin England.
“Our business in Brighton does not concern you,” Fitz said, placing his empty glass down.
“If you came to reconcile with Miss Patience Grant, I’m afraid her grandmother would never allow it. You see she has made me promises,” Reeves said, his gaze wandering over to where Patience stood speaking with Stonelake and her sister.
“Whatever my plans for Miss Grant, they are no concern of yours.” Fitz folded his arms over his chest. Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to hold his tongue, but Reeves was even more pompous now than he was when they were young.
He wanted to tell the Honorable Walter Reeves to go to hell, but maybe using colorful language in a crowded ballroom was not Fitz’s best idea.
Catching Stonelake’s eye, the other man raised an eyebrow at Fitz. Shaking his head, he tried to reassure his friend with the slight movement that he was not going to kill Reeves.
“You should be warned against a woman like that. I tried to warn you before. You didn’t see that five years ago, and you don’t see it now.” Reeves chuckled, shaking his head.
Fitz opened and closed his hand, his neck hot under his cravat. He couldn’t stop the fury and rage that filled him at the other man’s words. He wouldn’t stand there and listen to another foul thing out of the Honorable Walter Reeves mouth a moment longer. “Thank you for the warning, Reeves, but I’m no concern of yours and neither is Miss Grant.”
“That is where you are wrong, old friend. Soon she will very much be my concern.” Reeves released a small rather fake chuckle, shaking his head, not noticing Fitz’s rigid posture. “A woman like that is only good for one thing—”
Fitz took a step forward, crowding Reeves’ into a corner. “If you say one more ill word against the lady in my presence, sir, I will be forced to lay you out in front of all of these people,” Fitz said, jabbing two fingers into Reeves’ shoulder. The other man stumbled back, his eyes wide.
“Fitz, a word for a moment,” Stonelake called to him before Fitz could make an arse out of himself.
Stepping beside Fitz, Stonelake took him by the arm discreetly, leading him away. “He’s not worth the scandal. He never was.”
“I know, but he’s so damned infuriating,” Fitz told his friend, trying to take hold of his anger.
“I did warn you about him at Shrewsbury, but you never did listen. Even as a boy he was a scoundrel,” Stonelake said, turning back to where Reeves stood straightening his tailcoat, his cheeks red with embarrassment.
Fitz walked away with his friend, smiling as he heard the whispers increase around him. Finally, they had something to really gossip about.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Patience had spent a great deal of her childhood in the library at Hillcrest Manor. It was filled with wall-to-wall books, high windows, and dark reading corners where she would hide from her family any time they would visit.
Now she was there for an entirely different reason. To gain her independence once and for all.
Seeing Mr. Reeves speak with Fitz was evidence that no matter what, he would continue to spread lies about her.
For a few blissful moments she had ignored everything—the whispers, Mr. Reeves, the fact that her father was still missing, and most of all, her grandmother’s penetrating stare.
Her grandmother who had informed Fitz of Mr. Reeves’ nefarious plan. Patience still could not fathom that she had actually told him such a thing. Jane Miller was the sole reason why he left her five years ago.
That night, after her family had left the ball, her grandmother had visited her room, insisting on all the details. A mortified Patience had informed her of Reeves’ offer as a benefactor, and to her horror, her grandmother had encouraged her to accept.
Encouraged her.
