A Love That Never Tires (Linley & Patrick #1)

The woman reared back and spat at him.

Still gripping Linley’s waist with his right arm, Patrick took his left hand and grabbed the woman’s face. As a last resort, he pushed his palm against her nose as hard as he could, bending her head back and forcing her to turn Linley loose.

The crowd of bobbies and good samaritans dragged the woman away, taking the fight with them. Patrick pulled Linley back into the automobile.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

Linley nodded. “Those women are insane! How dare she spit on you!”

He pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped his face. “They only want to upset people. It fuels their fire when anyone reacts.”

“Here, let me.” She took the handkerchief from him and cleaned the spittle from his flushed face. After a moment, she said, “Thank you for fighting for me. You were very brave to stand up to her like that.”

Patrick almost laughed. “I would hardly call that brave.”

“What would you call it, then?”

He shrugged. “Merely doing my duty as a gentleman to assist a lady in need.”

“I’m flattered you deem me worthy of such a rescue,” Linley said, settling back into her seat beside him. “But you shouldn’t be so dismissive of your braveries, no matter how small. You’d be surprised just how much of an impact they can have.”





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN





Turned out in their finest, Linley, her father, and the rest of their team stood before an enormous, recently whitewashed house and stared at the line of motorcars that stretched down the street.

“Are you certain this is the right place?” Schoville asked.

Sir Bedford Talbot-Martin checked the address Patrick gave him one more time—Number twenty-six Park Lane. “This is the house.”

“Come on, then.” Linley said, picking up her skirts. “We don’t want to be late for our own party.”

They followed her up the front gate of the magnificent mansion. Its large, rounded terraces overlooked the park, and Japanese lanterns lined the walkway leading up to the front door.

Patrick greeted them in the foyer. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

“We weren’t sure we were at the right place,” Linley said, smiling. “Whose house is this, anyway?”

He took her by the arm and led her through the room. “Might I say you look absolutely stunning?”

They passed through the foyer and into the drawing room. Everything smelled of fresh paint, as if the entire house had been renovated. The walls were a sunny yellow and the parquet floor gleamed from a fresh waxing.

“Who did you say this house belonged to?” Linley asked again.

“It is my house.”

“Your house?”

He nodded.

Linley looked around the room again. “Your house…”

“No one stays here,” Patrick explained. “It costs a fortune to maintain.”

“I believe it.”

He took her by the hand. “The ballroom is through here,” he said, sliding two heavy pocket doors, opening the room up to the Grand ballroom.

It wasn’t as large as the one at Markham House just down the street, but Linley thought it no less beautiful. Gilt woodwork decorated the ceiling where three gold chandeliers hung over the dance floor. In the corner, the string band began the first melody of the evening.

“I also have refreshments laid out in the dining room,” Patrick said.

“You’ve thought of everything.”

He squeezed her small, gloved hand. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

“It is, Patrick,” Linley said. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“Let’s just hope the evening is a success,” he replied. “Do you think you can play hostess to three hundred guests?”

“You invited three hundred people?”

Patrick grinned. “I invited everyone.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“All for a good cause.”

Gradually, the guests filed their way into the house. Patrick stood in the foyer, greeting them as they entered. Linley and her father patrolled the ballroom while Archie and Reginald stationed themselves in the drawing room next door. Schoville told everyone not to worry about the dining room—that would be his territory.

“There are a lot of very important people here tonight, Button,” Linley’s father whispered to her. “I believe your marquess has proved himself useful, after all.”

“We are very fortunate to have a friend like Lord Kyre, Papa.”

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