The Duke's Christmas Greetings (Regency Christmas Summons Book 3) Page 6

  “Not. One. More. Word!”

  And at her nod, Pryce hopped down from the coachman’s box and quickly opened the door to the Bradenham traveling coach. Still, Patience started for the other coach anyway. If Quent was truly here…

  Mama yanked her backward, and then shoved her, rather urgently, toward the open door of their own carriage.

  Matt followed Patience and her mother out of the taproom and witnessed the dowager marchioness practically push her daughter into an awaiting coach. His heart lurched and he started toward the pair, but someone grabbed his arm, pulling him backward.

  Matt’s gaze shot to a rather large man who was wearing a fairly murderous expression. “Who are you and what the devil are you about?” the man growled.

  What the devil was right. Matt shook out of the man’s hold and squared his jaw. “Who the devil are you?”

  “Quentin Post. That was my sister just now, and I’d like to know exactly what’s going on.”

  Damn it all. Matt hadn’t expected that in the least. Which of her brothers was which? “You’re the one who lives in a haunted castle.”

  Post sized Matt up, his hazel eyes taking all of him in as if calculating how easy it might be to kill him and how quickly he might dispose of the body. “We’ve established who I am, but I still don’t have the pleasure of your name,” the man growled.

  “Matthew,” he said quickly as Quentin Post didn’t seem to be the most patient fellow at the moment. “Doctor Matthew Campion.” And he lifted up his doctor’s bag as though to verify his identity.

  It didn’t seem as though Post was expecting that answer and he took a slight step backward. “All right, Campion.” He nodded, not looking any happier than he had a moment ago. “Now would you care to explain why my step-mother just hurried my sister from your company as though the devil was chasing after them?”

  “Lady Bradenham wouldn’t listen to reason,” he began.

  “She rarely does. But that hardly explains why you were with my sister at an inn?”

  “Well, Patience was helping me, you see,” Matt started to explain, which was apparently the wrong thing to say as Quentin Post’s eyes suddenly blazed.

  “Helping you? Is that the word being used these days?”

  “Yes.” How else could he explain it? That was what she’d done, after all. “There was—”

  “I’ll help you into an early grave. If you ever go near my sister again, I’ll kill you.”

  Matt barely noted that a fist was coming his way before his world turned completely black.

  Patience fell onto her bed, unable to stop crying. Not that she wanted to stop, She wanted to cry until she had no tears left and then she wanted to cry some more. It had been the best day, the most perfect day of her life and then Mama had ruined everything. She refused to listen to one word Patience had said and instead berated her the entire way back to Danby Castle. This sort of behavior was exactly why the four of them had been sent off to Yorkshire in the first place. Mama expected this sort of idiocy from Hope who never thought before she did anything, but she’d expected more from Patience. Mama was glad Papa hadn’t lived to see one of his daughters behave so abominably. And Mama had never been more disappointed in her life in any of her three children as she had been that afternoon and she wasn’t certain she ever wanted to lay eyes on Patience again. But she would make certain Patience never saw that unacceptable country doctor again, if it was the last thing she ever did.

  From that moment on, Patience didn’t ever want to lay eyes on her mother either.

  How could she? How could she have made such a scene back at the Sword and White Rose? How could she have said those things to Matt? How could she have ruined the only chance for happiness Patience had ever had? And how could she not even let Patience explain that nothing untoward had even happened.

  If only Patience had spotted Quent. He was the most reasonable of her brothers, her most favorite, certainly. If she’d only been able to find him at the inn, he would have never let Mama behave in such a way. He would have listened to Patience. He would have been calm and reasonable and—

  A knock came at her door, but she didn’t want to answer it. She wanted to be left alone and—

  But it didn’t matter what she wanted as the door opened a second later, and both of her sisters bounded into the room.

  “What happened?” Hope breathed out, dropping onto the bed beside Patience.

  “I did not tell her where you were,” Grace said from the foot of the bed. “But you were gone so long and she talked to one of the stable boys and…”

  It didn’t matter how Mama found out. None of it could be undone, which only made Patience cry harder. Hope touched a hand to her back. “Don’t cry, dearest. Everything will be all right.”

  But nothing would ever be right again, not if Mama wouldn’t let Patience see Matt. How could it?

  “You aren’t hurt, are you?” Grace dropped onto the bed as well and smoothed her hand over Patience’s arm. “If something happened, you must tell me. I’ll kill him if he hurt you. I’ll—”

  “He didn’t hurt me!” she almost yelled. What a ridiculous thing to suggest. Matt would never hurt anyone. He was he the kindest, gentlest man ever. He’d even taken in Ashes, for heaven’s sake!

  “All right,” Grace replied evenly, which was deucedly annoying at the moment. How could she be so even when Patience’s world was falling apart? “Patience, what happened then? You must tell us.”

  She didn’t want to tell anyone, but Hope and Grace were her sisters. And the three of them were as close as any three sisters could be. So she sucked in a breath and then a few more until she was calm enough to tell them, even while tears still streamed down her cheeks. “I’m in love with him.”

  “You fancy him,” Grace corrected dismissively. “You haven’t known him long enough to love him.”

  “That means nothing.” Hope scowled at their sister. “I knew I loved Henry the moment I met him, and—”

  Heavens! Patience wasn’t as foolish as all that was she?

  “I hardly think Patience wants you to compare her doctor to Lord Kilworth,” Grace grumbled. “Isn’t there some sort of decent example you could use?”

  Lord Kilworth had been the worst sort of scoundrel, even though Hope still hadn’t realized it. And now that the man was dead, she likely never would. But—

  “You are most unfeeling,” Hope snapped. “You might not have liked Henry, but I loved him. And if Patience says she loves her doctor, then she must. Have you ever known her to behave foolishly? The very fortunate fall in love quickly and stay that way all their lives. Why must it take forever to know what’s in your heart?”

  Grace didn’t look chastened in the least as she heaved a sigh. “And what of your doctor, dearest?” She turned her attention to Patience. “Does he love you too?”

  Well, he hadn’t said that in so many words. She thought he did, though. He’d said his heart pounded for her and he’d said he meant to talk to the duke, hadn’t he? What would be the point in talking to Danby if it wasn’t to ask something of him, like permission to court her or ask for her hand? Of course that was before Mama had been so ugly to him, before Mama had decreed that Matt would never take a step in her direction. “I think he does,” she said very softly, fighting back a fresh round of tears.

  “I’d hope you’d know for certain,” Grace muttered under her breath, but Patience heard her anyway.

  “One day,” Hope began, with a rather imperious tone, “Grace Post, you will find yourself in love. And you will be fortunate if Patience and I even listen to you without saying I told you so.”

  “I am listening,” Grace protested.

  “With a judgmental ear,” Hope returned. “She’s miserable enough. She doesn’t need your condescension.” And then her most passionate sister shook her head. “Even Braden and Quent fell fairly quickly, Grace.”

  “Quent spent an entire year looking for a girl he already knew, like an idiot.”<
br />
  Quent! That was it!

  “That hardly—” Hope began.

  “Quent!” Patience rolled over and sat up. “Quent is in Danby.” Perhaps he could do something. He’d always done whatever was needed when she was younger. Always much more helpful than Braden or Mama.

  “What is he doing here?” Hope asked.

  Patience shrugged. “I’m not certain. Prestwood mentioned him and then I spotted his coach when Matt and I were at the inn and—”

  “Prestwood?” Hope echoed.

  “What in the world were you doing at an inn with Doctor Campion?” Grace looked horrified.

  “Well, the innkeeper’s grandson broke his leg, and I talked to the little boy while Matt fixed his leg, and…”

  “Mama found you at an inn with the man?” Grace shook her head. “You’re lucky you’re both alive.”

  Well, what did an inn have to…? And then the gravity of the situation hit Patience like a ton of bricks. “Heavens, Grace! If we were going to do that why would we leave his perfectly nice cottage to go somewhere everyone knows him?”

  “I probably wouldn’t mention that to Mama,” her most serious sister replied. “You’re already in enough trouble.”

  “We went to help a poor little boy,” Patience stressed.

  “And landed yourself in more trouble than Hope was in all of last year.”

  Hope scowled in response. “I do hope you never make an error in judgment, Grace, as it will be impossible for me not to throw it in your face at every single opportunity.”

  “Oh, stop, will you?” Patience begged. After all, there was no reason to rehash Hope’s past antics. Besides…“Aren’t you the least bit curious why Quent is in the area?”

  “Actually, yes,” Grace said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think something was going on.”

  Perhaps something was, not that Patience cared one way or the other. But if her brother could help her out of the awful predicament she was in, she’d be a fool not to beg him to help.

  “Meow.”

  Matt blinked one eye open, the eye that wasn’t still swollen shut after his encounter with Quentin Post.

  What an awful day yesterday had been…Well, only the second half of it had been awful. The first half had been the best day he may have ever spent. But that last half…? It was made even worse because the first half had been so perfect.

  After coming to in the Gibson carriage on his way back to Allwynds, Matt tried to piece together the last things he remembered, which were Lady Bradenham ripping Patience from his grasp and forcing her into the lady’s carriage and then Patience’s brother crashing his fist into Matt’s face. Loving Patience Post was not for the faint of heart.

  Then he’d ridden straight for Danby Castle as fast as he could, only to have Dawson tell him that Lady Patience wasn’t receiving callers and that he wasn’t currently welcome on the ducal grounds.

  And he’d ended his day dining alone, with only Ashes for company and feeling about as miserable as he could ever remember. Today wasn’t looking any better, not when the first face he saw was that of a little grey kitten peering down into his one good eye.

  “Meow.”

  “Meow yourself,” he grumbled.

  The cat dropped onto Matt’s face and started to purr.

  Oh, for the love of God. “Go on.” He sat up, spitting cat hair from his mouth.

  Ashes looked indignant, hopped off the bed, and left Matt to himself, which was exactly what he wanted, except…Well, he wanted to be left to himself, but he wanted Patience there with him. But how was he to manage that? He didn’t for one moment think she wasn’t receiving callers. She just wasn’t allowed to see him. And if he wasn’t welcome at Castle Danby and she wasn’t allowed off the premises, how was he ever going to see her again?

  There had to be something he could do. Something, anything.

  He made his way to his wash stand and stared at the awful looking reflection staring back at him in the mirror. That purple, swollen eye made him look like the worst sort of brigand. He washed his face, careful of his eye, and then went about his morning ablutions, racking his brain for some idea about how to go on.

  As soon as Matt headed downstairs to break his fast, Mrs. Henderson met him in the foyer.

  “A gentleman is in the parlor for you,” she whispered, looking fairly concerned.

  Who the devil was at Allwynds at this hour? “Which gentleman?”

  Mrs. Henderson shook her head. “He wouldn’t say, Doctor, and he insisted on staying even though I told him you weren’t receiving anyone yet this morning.”

  “Is he sick or injured?”

  She shook her head once more. “Just appears to be angry.”

  Perfect. Matt glanced towards his parlor and nodded. “Thank you, I’ll see to the fellow straight away.” Then he strode past his housekeeper, into the parlor and saw the very reason he was only able to see out of one eye that morning.

  Quentin Post was lounged in one of Matt’s soft leather chairs and he didn’t seem inclined to stand. Instead, he rubbed his chin as he assessed Matt and probably his own handiwork. “Well, aren’t you pretty this morning?”

  Matt didn’t even try to keep the growl from his voice when he said, “If that’s all you came for, you can leave.”

  “I don’t think I’m quite ready to do that, yet.” The gentleman narrowed his eyes on him. “I saw my sisters yesterday.”

  “How is Patience?” Matt couldn’t help but ask.

  “Well, I saw two of them,” Post amended. “My step-mother insisted Patience wasn’t feeling well enough to attend dinner.”

  Panic swirled around Matt’s heart. What did that mean? “She’s not well?” he breathed out. Had he kept her out in the elements too long? Was it the snow that fell on them at his doorway? Or—

  “Hope and Grace assure me that she is well, and that she is unharmed.”

  Matt breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

  “My step-mother has always had a flare for the dramatic, but in this case, you should count yourself fortunate that she hasn’t demanded your head on a platter.”

  “I shouldn’t have taken Patience with me yesterday, I—”

  “No.” Quentin Post agreed with a definite nod. “You shouldn’t have taken my sister to a bloody inn, even if it was just to care for some injured child. Surely you must realize what that must have appeared like to Lady Bradenham, to me.”

  Actually, Matt hadn’t given it a second thought. He’d been concerned about little Robby Gibson’s broken leg and the locale of the injured boy hadn’t crossed his mind. “I’m an idiot.”

  “Aren’t we all sometimes?” the man said, which Matt didn’t expect in the least. Then he sat a little taller and heaved a sigh. “Anyway, Hope and Grace insist I speak to you and find out your intentions.”

  His intentions. Finally, someone was willing to listen. Matt dropped into the chair across from Post. “I’ve never met anyone like her,” he began. “She’s the most perfect girl I’ve ever known. Now, I can’t imagine I’m the sort of man you have in mind for your sister, but...”

  “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

  The question knocked Matt backward and he sputtered slightly. “Well, I just…that is…I mean, I’m the son of a doctor, the grandson of a doctor. I…”

  “And she’s the daughter of a thrill seeker who died in a race before she was born. I hardly see your point.”

  Did the man truly not care that Matt wasn’t a peer, that he had no claim to any title or greatness in any way. “She’s the daughter of a marquess.”

  “Yes, well, the current marquess sent me here to keep an eye on our three sisters. Fortunes can come and go and a title can be tarnished, but the core of a man remains constant. I can assure you that my brother and I are less concerned about a man’s station and more concerned with how that man might treat our sister.”

  Matt could hardly believe what he was hearing. Was the man serious? “With care,” he breath
ed out. “As though she was the most precious thing in the world.”

  Quentin Post nodded at that. “And what is it you like about her, Campion? Her dowry or—”

  “Good God!” Matt sputtered. He hadn’t given a dowry even the slightest consideration. “Patience is kind and beautiful and…”

  “There are two other girls who look just like her, if it’s her beauty that struck you.” Her brother’s eyes narrowed slightly, assessing Matt once more.

  “But they’re not her,” he replied, with a little fire in his belly. And they didn’t have her heart, the core of who she was. “No one is like her. No one has ever made me forget my own name, take in a kitten I could do without, or do foolish things like put my livelihood in jeopardy just to spend a few moments with her.”

  “Speaking of the state of your livelihood,” the man began, “I saw Danby last night and he is quite furious with you, I think you should be aware.”

  Matt had figured that out for himself. Who knew what was in store for his future in Yorkshire now? How could he even provide for Patience without Danby’s support?

  “He told me to tell you that you should not even think about attending his Christmas ball this year.”

  The duke’s Christmas ball. Matt had never gone before, though he’d been invited in years past. “I’m not really the waltzing sort.”

  A shadow of a smile tugged at Post’s lips. “Patience does love to waltz, that is too bad to hear.”

  Damn it all, Patience would be at that ball. What if—

  “Danby said that if you dared to step over his threshold, that you could look for a different village, that your career in Yorkshire would be non-existent.”

  The breath whooshed out of Matt. He knew Danby was angry, but he hadn’t expected that sort of threat. The duke was generally reasonable, or at least he’d always found him to be so, but…

  Quentin Post reached into his jacket and retrieved an ornate envelope. Then he held it out for Matt.

  “What is that?” he asked, taking the heavy vellum.

  “Invitation to Danby’s Christmas ball.”

  Matt blinked at the man. “I thought you said—”