Tempting the Footman (House of Devon #5) - Lauren Smith Page 0,1

keep you safe. At some point, he may send me away and hire a chaperone he can bribe to be absent for the moment he finds a way to get you compromised by one of those friends.”

Venetia tried not to think about Patrick stooping so low as to trick her into marrying one of his friends. “Have you truly been feigning illness?”

“Yes, for the most part. Aren’t I quite the actress?” Gwen’s giggle was so animated that Venetia’s concerns abated slightly.

“Now, what do you say? Shall we attend this house party in the country?”

Venetia examined the letter again, seeing quite clearly the duchess’s invitation. “I suppose it would be nice . . .”

Just then the drawing room door opened and Patrick strode in. He wore a finely cut waistcoat and striped pantaloons, which quite dandified him. Selling her father’s country estate had lined Patrick’s pockets well, and he’d made it clear to Venetia and their grandmother that he wasn’t afraid to spend it.

“Ah, Venetia, there you are.” Patrick smiled. “I was hoping you’d be up for a ride in Hyde Park with me. There are a few friends I would like to introduce you to, especially Mr. Bernard Kenyon. He’s a dear chap, quite taken with you, and he’s only glimpsed you from afar. I think you would suit each other well.” The entire speech was delivered quickly, and it was quite obvious that Patrick didn’t realize his motives were blindingly clear.

“Patrick, I told you—with my trust, I’ve no need of marriage.”

Patrick’s smile withered, and a cold edge glinted in his eyes.

“I know you think that will satisfy you, I’m the head of this family now, and it is my wish that you marry.”

Venetia rose slowly from the couch. Her temper, which rarely flared, had sprung to life at her cousin’s threat. It seemed to her horror, Gran was right about her cousin. She’d been desperately not wishing to believe it but she could deny it no longer.

“Patrick, let us lay our cards upon the table and speak frankly. You wish for me to marry one of your friends. I have no doubt the arrangement would be that you would have been paid by this new husband from part of my money he would acquire control of after the marriage. I have the right of it, do I not?”

Red suffused Patrick’s face as fury took over. “Now see here, Venetia. I have tried to be polite this past year, but my kindness is at an end.” He grasped her arms quite forcefully. His grip was so tight that Venetia gasped as pain shot up her arms. He gave her a violent shake, and Venetia was so stunned that she couldn’t react.

But Gwen did. In a fluid motion, she swung her cane in a rapier-like arc to land between their bodies.

“Release her, Patrick. Now.” The steel in her tone clanged like a fencing blade.

Patrick seemed to recover himself and released Venetia, then took a measured step back as he straightened his waistcoat and cleared his throat.

“My apologies, cousin. That was undeserved. You hurt my feelings with your unwarranted accusations. I request again that you accompany me on a ride to meet Mr. Kenyon.”

Patrick’s sudden and unexpected brutality had made one thing clear to Venetia—she and her grandmother could not stay here any longer.

“I will go change into my riding habit, if you can give me half an hour.” It took every ounce of control to keep her voice light to prevent another angry outburst.

He was all pleasant smiles and joviality again. “Yes, yes, of course, cousin.” Then he looked to Gran. “Grandmother.” He nodded stiffly and left the room.

Neither Venetia nor Gwen spoke right away, waiting until the sound of booted steps down the hall assured them that Patrick was out of hearing.

“Good heavens.” Venetia wrapped her arms around herself.

“You will not go riding with them. I will not allow it,” Gwen declared.

Venetia rubbed her trembling arms and after a moment reached out to take her grandmother’s hand in hers. “Gran, I must. And while I’m gone, you will see to it that we are packed and ready to leave for the country.”

“I don’t want you alone with them. He could arrange to have his friend compromise you, or worse. For all we know, that man has a priest waiting there as well.”

It was a valid concern, but Venetia thought—or rather, hoped—Patrick was not that desperate yet.

Venetia dropped her arms to her sides and clenched her fists. “I am four and