Roses and Flames

Chapter 20

Patrick had revealed all to her or as much as he ever would. Now that Ambrosia knew that he had feelings for her she sought to inflamed them with jealousy. He had even given reason to her to hope and then he had pushed her away.

But before that he had approved her match and promised to attend her wedding. As her older brother, he owed her as much. If he did not want her to think of him again, ever again as anything more than that, he had best learn to play the part.

He went to the table, took up his pen and wrote.

Ambrose,

You have nothing to apologize for. It is I who am at fault. As to what happened yesterday, it is best that we never speak of it again. I will forget if you shall. As to my going see again? It is clear that this this distresses you. My plans are not set. If it is so important to you, I will forgo the Navy and practice on land.

As to your wedding, I am supremely happy for you and send my congratulations to his grace as well. I will remain in London and attend your engagement ball and wedding, just as I said. You have my word. Eagerly awaiting the see that I might call you her grace, instead of my dear little Ambrose…

But he would be damned if it was told to him again that he might go and work for the duke. That was too much to expect as of him.

He scribbled his signature at the bottom and then blotted it and sealed the letter before opening the door and calling the footman who was still waiting outside.

There. It was done and the letter was on its way. It might well have been written on black bordered mourning stationary, for all the satisfaction he felt. Even though the situation had been hopeless from the first, he could not help but feel a fresh sadness at losing her, any more than he could keep from wanting her.

But in medicine he had found that it was sometimes necessary to give the patient poison in order to counteract a more serious malady. Attending her wedding would be so to him. Swallowing this bitter pill would be the first step towards curing this affliction.

Ambrosia was beautiful. Patrick had already known that. But he had never seen her decked in finery. He had thought her lovely in a simple day frock, but tonight she was magnificent. The silk of her ball gown was as blue as her eyes and as smooth as her hair. A necklace of gold and diamonds lay like a collar of stars, about her lovely white throat.

Perhaps Lord Wentworth had been right all along. Even without the complications of blood the creature that stood before him could not have been his. The necklace alone was worth a year’s salary. He could have never afforded to put it there. And to her it was nothing more than her mother’s necklace which she never had been too old to wear. With the Duke, she would have this and much better. A different jewel for every month and a room full of ball gowns to wear them with.

With the duke at her side, the picture was complete. He was tall, handsome and nearly as golden as she. He smiled at her as though it was an honour for him to have won her. They were like two pieces of statuary which had been designed to compliment each other. As a duchess she would glitter, as she did tonight, from without and within. She was already so bright that it hurt to look upon her.

Yet he could not seem to stop. Once he had fulfilled his promise to her, he would be gone for good. If memories were all that he had for sustenance then he would burn each of them so deep in his brain that he might never forget any of the single detail. As he waited to be presented to the happy couple, he did his best to mask his hunger he felt for her and arrange his face in an expression of brotherly pride.

“Pat.” She reached out and took his hands in hers.

“Ambrosia.” She leaned in presenting her cheek to be kissed and he very well could not avoid it without being extremely rude and looking silly. He leaned forwards as well, kissing the air a scant inch from her cheek. Even then his lips tingled as if a spark sizzled in between them as if bridging the gap.

“It is so good to see you here. I feared that you would not come,” she whispered in his ear as he leaned close to her. When he leaned back, she searched his face with worried eyes.” It has been almost a week.”

Since he had nearly ravished her in his rooms. He still woke up each night from a dream ending to that interlude had been different and he had felt her gasping in passion beneath him.” I promised, I would be here, to celebrate your happiness.”

“That is most kind of you,” The duke said. He was still at her side, possessive and quiet.

“My felicitations to you as well, your grace,” said Patrick with a stiff bow and an awkward expression.

“Thank you Doctor,” The duke was better at managing an appropriate and better response.

Ambrose was staring at the both of them hoping that there could be more than anything than the cordial dislike between them.

“And now, if you will excuse me?” Patrick raised a genuine smile and then said,” I must not keep you from the other guests.”

There. He was through with the first challenge. Now he must manage a few hours of courtesy and then he could be on his way again. But when Ambrose was involved, nothing was ever going to be that easy. Was it just because she was the hostess that she seemed to be every where that he turned? Or was she actually following him through the gathering, showing up where he least expected her, to flash a smile and to blow a kiss?

Each time that he turned away, pretending that he did not notice or that he had not seen or was too busy in conversation with another to speak to her. At last she caught him alone standing in the dance floor with no excuse to avoid her.

“Dance with me.” She was holding out hand to him, sure that he would come to her, as he always had and then he would swing her in his arms.

“I do not think that is wise,” he replied. Just the thought of touching her made his palms sweat.

“Dancing? Not wise?” she laughed.” Is that your professional opinion? I assumed that such a harmless exercise would be recommended by a physician.”

“You know that is not what I mean,” he said in a harsh whisper, glancing around to be sure that no one else could hear.

She gave him a coquettish flutter if her fan.” I really have no idea. If you mean specific by your refusal then you must tell me directly.”

“If you truly mean to marry the duke, I think that it is unwise for the two of us to dance,” He said through gritted teeth.

“My commitment to him has not stopped me from standing with every other man in this room. Save yourself, of course. You have been avoiding me.”

“I have not,” he said, wishing that it was not such an obvious lie.

“I am sure that Duke has no objection to it.”

“What he wishes does not concern me,” and now he sounded like a jealous fool.

“If not him, then whom? What reason could you possibly have that would prevent you? If people notice you avoiding me, they will wonder and they will talk.”

Now she trapped him. She was probably right. Someone might remark at how strangely behaved around her. Above all else, there must be no talk.

She continued to refuse him, sure that he could not refuse.” I am open for the next waltz. Stand up with me and stop being silly about it.” She gave him a sly smile.” It will be over before you realise and, I swear no harm will come to you.”

“No! Not a waltz.” He had said it too sharply and loudly and a matron a few feet away gave him a sharp, disapproving look. But the idea was simply too much to bear.” I will stand up with you, if you insist. But let it be some other dance.”

“All right,” she said, giving him a disgusted sigh.” La Belle Assembly. It is starting now. And we will stand up with the Duke and other, so you need have no fear of upsetting him.”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed.” It is not from fear of him that I refuse you.”

“Fear of me, then?” She gave a toss of her head.” That does little to improve my opinion of you.”

The letter had been a lie. She did not need moral support to make this decision. She merely wished another opportunity to torment him. He seized her hand with no real gentleness, as he had done when they were children, and dragged her towards the centre of the room. “Come on, then, brat. The sooner it is begun, the sooner it will be done. Then you must leave me in peace for the rest of the night.”

He had been right. This had been a mistake. She had thought that a public temptation might force a commitment out of him. At the very least, it would give her one last chance to be with him. But this was not the memory she wished for. It was too painful.

They shared the set with Duke of Mayburry and his partner, a lady of great beauty and little wit, but she was a skilled dancer and little more was required of her now. They traded bows and curtsies, and the dance began.

Patrick swung her to a place opposite him and circled. And though he followed the steps to a letter, it felt as thought she was being stalked by a wolf. In comparison, Samuel’s pass was easy, relaxed and confident. He smiled at her, enjoyed the dance, enjoying her company. She turned her back to Pat who was watching her too intently, a frown upon his face. His eyes bore into hers, taking in her every movement to the point where it became alarming. And past the frown and the beetled brow she saw the truth.

Jealousy.

Frustration.

Rage.

It was not distaste that kept him away. He wanted her as much as he had on the day that they had kissed.

And now she danced with the duke again. In his eyes, she saw nothing of importance. He possessed her already, or very nearly did, and thus he was thinking of something else.

But each time Patrick took her hand she almost felt like, it was as if he never meant to let it go. The release was stiff and graceless, as though he had forced his fingers to open and let her escape. He was gritting his teeth in concentration. He did not need to count the steps, for he seemed to have no trouble in keeping track. His posture was rigid as though he suffered pain from each and every single touch of hers.

Yet he did not seem to get enough of it.