Patience (14 page)

Mark shrugged as he dropped into the chair Mickey had vacated. “I’m sure I could come up with several.”

“Don’t bother.” Matthew slammed down his fork. “Just know that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Grand West Railway.” He wouldn’t be forced to heel by Benchley or anyone. “Whatever it takes . . .”

Mark nodded as he picked up his coffee. “Good. I take it you have a plan—one which utilizes the skills of our young Mr. Wilkes.”

Matthew paused. In the past, he would have told Mark everything. But this was his own fight and he wanted to wage it alone—indeed, he
needed
to wage it alone. Besides, since discovering his illegitimacy, he felt as if there were an invisible barrier between his half brother and him.

He reached into his breast pocket. Of course, there were some things he couldn’t keep a secret. He pulled out the deed to the mine and slid it across the table. “If no one will sell me coal, I’ll mine my own.”

A small smile turned Mark’s lips as he reached for the deed. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something. Everyone was talking about your winnings at the card table last night.”

Matthew sat back in his chair.
Good.
The more talk there was the better.

Shaking his head, Mark glanced over the deed, and then he grinned at Matthew. “Can you imagine the look on Benchley’s face when he hears of this? Don’t be surprised if tomorrow the
Times
announces Danforth’s murder.”

Matthew raised his brows. “That would be pleasant news.”

Mark folded the deed and slid it back across the desk. “I hear six good men put their signatures on the legitimacy of the card game.”

“Yes.” Matthew returned the deed to his pocket. He counted each of the signatures as victories. “And speaking of the
Times
, I sent a messenger to London early this morning. He’s carrying one letter to my solicitor and another to the
Times
, announcing that I’ve acquired the mine. While Mr. Banks begins the paperwork for recording the acquisition of Gwenellyn, I’m expecting that the announcement in the paper will forestall any selling of shares.”

Mark nodded. “You know Benchley will contest your ownership.”

Matthew stiffened. “He’ll have to sue me for it then, and he’d better hurry. I sent a third letter to Mr. Penworthy, one of GWR’s managers. I’ve instructed him to go to Gwenellyn to take hold of the books, and to see to the immediate loading of coal onto GWR engines.”

Mark smiled as he studied him for a moment. “You said you don’t want my help. But if you need an investor for your mine, I’m here.”

Matthew nodded and forced his shoulders to relax. “Thank you. I know little about it, other than it’s large enough to support a village. I’ll know more when I see the ledgers.”

Picking up his knife and fork, Matthew returned to his meal. He couldn’t help feeling a measure of excitement over the prospects before him. Rail owners had been at the mercy of mine owners for too long. He was going to change that.

Chewing his sausage, Matthew watched Mark sip his coffee. Since marrying Passion, his brother’s face had lost its hard edge and perpetual frown. He looked at ease, and—happy. Passion’s love was good for him.

Matthew shoved down the swell of envy that rose in him. “How’s the library coming?”

“They’re clearing the site. Building will begin in the spring.”

“How does it feel to be the architect of the next National Library?”

“Superb. Especially since my presence on-site will not be required until after the baby is born.” Mark’s eyes softened. “I want to be with Passion as her time approaches.”

“Ah, yes.” Matthew speared another piece of sausage. His brother had everything a man could want—his good name, his honor, his place in the world, and a woman who made it all worthwhile—a woman who loved him, and cherished him, and carried his child.

Matthew stared down at his plate. He suddenly had a vision of Patience with her belly full and round. His heart skipped. He’d always wanted children—children of his own, and a wife of his own. Before the scandal, the role of husband and father had been a huge part of how he’d envisioned his life. But what now—when the only name he had to offer was a stolen one?

“She looked beautiful last night, did she not?” Mark asked softly.

Yes.
Matthew glanced up. “Passion? Yes. Yes she did.” He dropped his napkin on the table. “My lovely sister- in-law seems to be faring beautifully.”

“That she is.” Mark cocked his brow. “But tell me, how is
my
lovely sister-in-law faring?”

Matthew pictured Patience as he’d left her—sound asleep, with her bright curls spilling across her pillow and one graceful arm curved sensually above her head. His chest tightened. He wanted her. “She’s faring magnificently.”

Mark curved his hands around his cup and propped his heels on Matthew’s desk. “She’s a great beauty. Montrose is head over heels for her. But, frankly, there are many who want her.”

Matthew looked at his brother and a strong possessiveness fueled his desire. “None can have her.”

“None but you?”

Matthew nodded. “That’s right.”

“Where will this lead?”

Matthew picked up his coffee. “To the possession of Patience.”

“And will this possession lead to a proposal?”

Matthew paused and put his cup back down.

Taking a deep breath, he felt his shoulders relax.

Matthew looked at his brother then shrugged. “Perhaps. But she has no desire for marriage.”

Mark was quiet for a moment as he held Matthew with his level gaze. Finally, he spoke. “Passion says that you’ll have to win Patience’s love if you ever hope to marry her.”

Patience’s love.
Matthew sat back in his chair. Just the thought of it made his heart pound and his blood rush. God, what would it be like to have her love?

“She also says that winning her love won’t be easy.”

Matthew tightened his fingers around the arms of his chair. He shouldn’t think of it. “Neither of us is seeking love.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t find it.”

Matthew frowned. “
If
I find it, that doesn’t mean I need return it.”

Mark’s brows lowered as he dropped his feet and leaned forward. “If you find it, and you don’t return it, Patience will be hurt.” His brother’s jaw tightened. “And if you hurt Patience, Passion will be hurt. I’m telling you now—do
not
hurt my wife.”

Though Matthew was not surprised by Mark’s warning, it angered him nonetheless. “Funny you should be warning me. If memory serves, it was only a few short months ago, that I was warning
you
against hurting Passion.”

“And you were right to warn me.” Mark sat back. “Just as I am right to warn you.”

Matthew sat forward. “When you took Passion behind the screen at the Crystal Palace, with no idea of who she was or where it would lead—why did you do it? You’d never done anything like that before.”

“Because . . .” Mark’s gaze turned inward. “Because the moment I touched her—the moment I smelled her and felt her, I wanted her—more than I’d ever wanted anyone.” He paused. “I couldn’t even see her face at first. But then she looked at me, and it was as if the world stopped turning.” He was quiet for a long moment before looking at Matthew. “I tried to walk away. I
did
walk away. But I couldn’t stay away.” He shook his head. “I had to have her.”

“Exactly.” Matthew tossed his napkin on the desk as he stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He’d almost made it to the door when his brother’s voice stayed him. “I know you want her love, Matt. Perhaps, you even know how to get it. But you’ll only keep it if you love her in return.”

Love.
Matthew tensed. He hated that the word still called to him—more powerfully than ever.

Turning on his heel, he stared at his brother as angry resentment coursed through him. “You know, despite the fact that the Benchleys’ desertion fueled my social ruin, I’m not sorry Rosalind broke with me. In fact, I’m grateful to her—to her and to her hateful father. Her abandonment saved me from a marriage that I would have grown to loathe. And her cold rejection showed me what a miserable fool the illusion of love had made of me.” His jaw clenched. “Love? Love is not for me.”
No matter how Patience tempts me!
“Do
not
speak of it.” He turned back to the door.

“Why? Don’t you think you’re worthy of it?”

Matthew froze and a boiling rage seared him as he slowly faced his brother. “Fuck you.”

Mark raised a dark brow. “Ah, I see I’ve touched the truth.”

Matthew’s body began to shake, and he stared at his brother through a wash of red fury. “How dare you speak of worthiness! You, who have everything—your name, your fortune, your place in society. You, who always disdained love, but now have so much you could drown in it!” Matthew gritted his teeth as a sharp pain stabbed at his gut and left an ugly bitterness in its wake. “You, who, even when we were boys, had the love of the good and noble parent in our home. You know what the truth is, Mark? The truth is that you’ve
always
been the one who had everything worth having.”

Mark stood, a deep frown creasing his brow. “Worthiness is not measured by name or fortune, Matt. Worthiness is measured by character—honesty, decency, nobility, and the willingness to love. You taught me that—you and Passion.”

Matthew clenched his hands into fists. “Yes, well that was easy for me to say when I still had my name and my fortune. And it’s easy for you to say now, isn’t it?—still being in possession of your own.”

Mark stared at him. “Yes. But that doesn’t make it any less true.” He took a step forward. “I want you to be happy, Matt. If Patience is right for you, I want you to have her and be happy.” He shook his head. “But if you refuse to love her, eventually you’ll lose her.”

“Enough!” Matthew turned and yanked the door open. “I don’t need to love her to master her. And I
will
master her!”

The slam of the door shook the paintings on the walls.

 

“ ‘The disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his lord. It is enough for the disciple that he be as his master, and the servant as his lord.’ ” Patience tensed and skipped to verse twenty-six. “ ‘Fear them not, therefore: for there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; and hid, that shall not be known.’ ” She looked at her sister as she closed the Bible. “The Gospel according to Saint Matthew.”

As she drew upon her canvas, Passion glanced at her. “As with Christ’s disciples, we should not fear the disdain and persecution of others who do not understand what we do. We must simply obey our Master and serve Him as He bids us. Therein lies salvation—not only our own, but the salvation of others.”

Patience studied her sister. Half sitting upon a high stool as she worked, Passion’s long auburn hair fell down her back over her pale green dressing gown. She looked beautiful and at ease. She couldn’t possibly know the many places her words touched.

“Why did you choose this chapter for today?” Patience asked.

Passion kept drawing. “I saw you leave the ball with Matthew.”

Patience’s heart suddenly raced. Would her sister forbid her Matthew’s attentions? “Yes.”

“And, late into the night, your room was empty.”

“Yes,” Patience breathed.

Passion looked at her with her warm hazel eyes. “He’s a good man, Patience. And if he’s the one, I’m glad. Would you mind taking up your cello, now? I want to decide upon a pose.”

Patience pushed down the layers of her petticoats beneath her violet gown, and set her instrument between her knees. She looked warily at Passion. “But . . . ?”

Passion met her gaze then lowered her pencil. “I trust Matthew. And I trust you. That’s why I chose that reading for today. I sense that there is some purpose each of you has for the other, and only God knows what that purpose is.”

Patience waited. “I hear the caveat in your voice. When is it coming?”

Passion sighed as she looked at her. “It’s just that I fear you’re wandering into dangerous territory—territory neither one of you can predict.” She shook her head. “The sharing of intimacies changes things between people, Patience. And I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Patience lowered her eyes and tapped her bow idly on the strings of her instrument. Passion was the only person who knew about Henri. And while Patience periodically felt the necessity to remind herself of her past weakness, she didn’t like her sister reminding her. “This is completely different from before,” she said quietly. “I’m a grown woman now and I know my mind.”

“You’ve always known your mind, darling. It’s your heart I fear for.”

Patience frowned as she remembered her dream and the pain she’d felt in her heart. She plucked a few notes. “You know my heart belongs to my instrument.”

“Oh, Patience, do you really think you can give your body to a man such as Matthew and not have your heart follow?”

Patience stiffened. Her heart was her own. She had rescued it and mended it from its earlier ill use. She met her sister’s eyes. “Do you really think that I am incapable of keeping my own heart? That just because I finally enjoy some fulfillment of my body, my heart must follow, like some blind beggar?”

Passion didn’t flinch. “No. I think you’ve built a tall and solid wall of protection around your heart. But what if Matthew is strong enough to tear that wall to rubble? Are you prepared for that possibility?”

Patience frowned. “Wait. What do you mean I’ve built a wall?” Her chest tightened and her fingers clenched around the neck of her cello. “Just because I’ve chosen a different path in life, means my heart is closed?”

“It’s just that after Henri—”