Rakes Vow

'All within the accepted limits, of course.' Minnie folded her hands across her ample stomach. 'The Cynsters are one of the oldest families in the ton. I doubt any of them could be bad ton, not even if they tried-quite out of character for them. They might be outrageous, they might be the ton's most reckless hedonists, they might sail within a whisker of that invisible line-but you can guarantee they'll never cross it.' Again, she chuckled. 'And if any of them sailed too close to the wind, they'd hear about it-from their mothers, their aunts-and the new duchess. Honoria's certainly no insipid cypher.'

Timms grinned. 'It's said the only one capable of taming a Cynster male is a Cynster woman-by which they mean a Cynster wife. Strange to tell, that's proved true, generation after generation. And if Honoria's any guide, then the Bar Cynster are not going to escape that fate.'

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 Minnie had expounded were quite contrary to her expectations.

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 Minnie's tone, Patience looked up, and saw Minnie exchange a laughing glance with Timms. Then Minnie looked at her. 'Vane's mother wrote to me about it. Seems the five unmarried members of the Bar Cynster got ideas above their station. They ran a wagers book on the date of conception of Devil's heir. Honoria heard of it at the christening-she promptly confiscated all their winnings for the new church roof and decreed they all attend the dedication service.' A smile wreathing her face, Minnie nodded. 'They did, too.'

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

Minnie grinned. 'If you'd met Honoria, you wouldn't be so surprised.'

'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; Minnie was similarly stricken. Patience watched them double up with mirth-adopting a long-suffering expression, she waited with feigned patience.

Eventually, Minnie choked her way to a stop and mopped her streaming eyes. 'Oh, dear-that's the most ridiculously funny-ridiculously wrong-statement I've ever heard.'

'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.' Minnie shook her head. 'Oh, my-just the thought of a nonassertive Devil…' Mirth threatened to overwhelm her again.

'Well,' Patience said, frowning still, 'he doesn't sound particularly strong, allowing his duchess to dictate to his cousins over what is held to be a male prerogative.'

'Ah, but Devil's no fool-he could hardly gainsay Honoria on such a matter. And, of course, the reason Cynster men always indulge their wives was very much to the fore.'

'The reason?' Patience asked.

'Family,' Timms replied. 'They were all gathered for the christening.'

'Very family-focused, the Cynsters.' Minnie nodded.

'Even the Bar Cynster-they're always so good with children. Entirely trustworthy and utterly reliable. Probably comes from being such a large brood-they always were a prolific lot. The older ones are used to having younger brothers and sisters to watch out for.'

Cold, heavy, the weight of dismay started to coalesce in Patience's stomach.

'Actually,' Minnie said, chins wobbling as she resettled her shawls, 'I'm very glad Vane will be staying for a while. He'll give Gerrard a few hints on how to go on-just the thing to prepare him for London.'

Minnie looked up; Patience looked down. The lump of cold iron swelled enormously; it sank straight through her stomach and settled in her gut.

In her head, she replayed her words to Vane, the thinly veiled insults she'd leveled at him in the drawing room the previous night.

Her gut clenched hard about the lump of cold iron. She felt positively ill.

Chapter 6

The next morning, Patience descended the stairs, a brittlely bright smile on her face. She swept into the breakfast parlor and nodded with determined cheerfulness to the gentlemen sitting at the table. Her smile froze, just for an instant, when she saw, wonder of wonders, Angela Chadwick, chatting loquaciously, greatly animated, in the chair to Vane's left.

He sat at the table's head as usual; Patience allowed her smile to flow over him, but didn't meet his eyes. Despite Angela's outpourings, from the moment she'd appeared, Vane's attention had fixed on her. She helped herself to kedgeree and kippers, then, with a smile for Masters as he held her chair, took her place beside Gerrard.

Angela immediately appealed to her. 'I was just saying to Mr. Cynster that it would be such a welcome diversion if we could get up a party to go to Northampton. Just think of all the shops!' Eyes bright, she looked earnestly at Patience. 'Don't you think that's a wonderful idea?'

For one instant, Patience was sorely tempted to agree. Anything-even a day shopping with Angela-was preferable to facing what had to be faced. Then the idea of sending Vane shopping with Angela occurred. The vision that rose in her mind, of him in some milliner's establishment, teeth gritted as he coped with Angela's witlessness, was priceless. She couldn't stop herself glancing up the table… her priceless image evaporated. Vane wasn't interested in Angela's wardrobe. His grey gaze was fixed on her face; his expression was impassive, but there was a frown in his eyes. He narrowed them slightly, as if he could see through her facade.

Patience immediately looked at Angela and increased the intensity of her smile. 'I think it's a little far to do much shopping in a day. Perhaps you should ask Henry to escort you and your mother down for a few days?'

Angela looked much struck; she leaned forward to consult Henry, farther down the table.

'It looks like it'll stay fine.' Gerrard glanced at Patience. 'I think I'll take my easel out and make a start on the scenes Edmond and I decided on yesterday.'

Patience nodded.

'Actually'-Vane lowered his voice so its rumble ran beneath Angela's excited chatter-'I wondered if you'd show me the areas you've been sketching.'

Patience looked up; Vane trapped her gaze.

'If'-his voice turned steely-'your sister approves?'

Patience inclined her head graciously. 'I think that's an excellent idea.'

A frown flashed through Vane's eyes; Patience looked down at her plate.

'But what can we do today?' Angela looked about, clearly expecting an answer.

Patience held her breath, but Vane remained silent.

'I'm going sketching,' Gerrard declared, 'and I won't want to be disturbed. Why don't you go for a walk?'

'Don't be silly,' Angela returned scornfully. 'It's far too wet to go strolling.'

Patience inwardly grimaced and forked up her last mouthful of kedgeree.

'Well then,' Gerrard retorted, 'you'll just have to amuse yourself doing whatever it is that young ladies do.'

'I will,' Angela declared. 'I'll read to Mama in the front parlor.' So saying, she stood. As the gentlemen rose, Patience blotted her lips with her napkin and grasped the moment to make her exit, too.