Patience (38 page)

“You know how I hate being wrong,” Patience murmured.

“I know.”

Patience stared into her sister’s soft gaze. “But in this case, I think I might be happy to be wrong.”

Passion’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Patience felt a nervous giddiness welling up at the prospect of making the decision that had been growing more and more irresistible. “Oh, Passion, do you think it would be terribly foolish of me to give up Cavalli?” Releasing her sister’s hands, she pressed her fingers against her temples. “I can’t believe I’m even asking you the question. But Matthew asked me not to go. And, right now, I—I don’t really want to go.”

“Then don’t go.”

“But how can I
not
go?” She dropped her hands. “Who turns down Fernando Cavalli?”

Passion shrugged. “I guess you do.”

“How can I do that? Am I mad? I mean, really, have I lost my mind?”

Passion tilted her head, and her gaze was tender and searching. “I don’t know. Have you?”

Patience shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks I must have.”

“And what does the other part of you think?”

Patience closed her eyes, and the memory of the spanking Matthew had given her that morning filled her mind and immediately eased her tension. He’d spanked her not because she’d disobeyed, but because it
pleased him
, and because
she needed it
. As it was turning out with everything that pleased him, somehow it pleased her, too. And maybe she had needed it, for even though it had hurt, it had made her wet; and afterward she’d felt soft, sensual, and happy.

Patience opened her eyes. Her nipples were hard, and her clitoris felt achy. She took a slow, deep breath before meeting her sister’s unwavering gaze. “The other part of me thinks that staying with Matthew is all that matters. That staying with Matthew is all that has ever mattered”—she swallowed—“or ever will matter.”

Passion nodded slowly. “Then stay, Patience. Stay.”

Patience trembled at her sister’s unknowing echo of Matthew. “Stay?” Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. She wasn’t surprised to find his dark gaze riveted upon her. Even over the distance she could feel his powerful intent. God, how desperately she wanted him. “Stay,” she repeated more to herself than to Passion. “Put away
for now
, and live in the possibility of
forever
?”

“Yes.”

Patience turned back to her sister. “Even though there are no promises between us?”

“I think his promise is in his eyes.”

Yes.
“He has such beautiful eyes, doesn’t he? And he says things, Passion. Such wonderful things.”

“Then have faith in him.”

“I want to. It’s just that ‘forever’ has so often eluded me. Whenever I think I have it, I find I’m wrong. And, this time, I—” Patience blinked back sudden tears. “Well, it’s just that in these few days, I feel changed—or perhaps, as Matthew says, I’m just returning to myself. I’m not entirely certain. But what I am certain of is that I won’t survive being wrong again—not now. Not now that I feel so alive.”

Passion looked toward Matthew. Aunt Matty had returned to the house so he stood alone, staring across the garden at them. Passion regarded him thoughtfully for a moment then she looked back at Patience. Pressing a kiss to Patience’s cheek, she smiled softly. “Stay.”

It took only a moment for the lovely word to inspire her response.

Patience smiled and threw her arms around her sister. Her heart bloomed with happiness and sudden confidence. “I shall stay. I shall stay, and I shall have faith in forever.”

Patience heard Passion’s laughter and it made her laugh. She squeezed her sister tighter. “I love you. And I’ve missed you.”

Passion pulled back with a puzzled grin. “Missed me?”

“Yes. I’ve missed the part of you that used to be mine.” Patience stared into her sister’s hazel eyes—the eyes that were so like their mother’s. “And I’ve missed the part of me that used to be yours.”

Passion’s head tilted.

Patience’s smile deepened. “I love you,” she said again. Then, kissing her sister on the cheek, she turned and ran to Matthew.

 

Matthew watched Patience run toward him. A magnificent smile on her face, her bright red curls bounced and her petticoats frothed like sea foam beneath her raised blue green skirts. His heart pounded with love and anticipation. She looked so exuberant, so full of happiness. What was she coming to tell him?

Just as she turned toward the path that would lead her to the terrace steps, she drew up short. A footman appeared and handed her a letter. Matthew tensed as he watched her smile fade. Who was it from?

The Royal Post was so famous for its speed that people often used it more like a messenger service, sending notes back and forth across town in the same day. If Mickey Wilkes had done his job, then it was entirely possible that a letter from Cavalli was now being delivered into Patience’s hand.

Gripping the stone rail, Matthew moved toward her. She was staring at the front of the unopened envelope. Dread surged in him as he slowly descended the stairs. She turned over the envelope and opened it. He paused, and his gut tightened when she drew out and unfolded a single sheet of paper. As she read it, he forced himself to continue down the steps, watching her for any sign of distress.

Though her face was slightly lowered, her expression didn’t seem to change.

Matthew stepped off the last stair and moved toward her. “What is it, Patience?”

She looked up at him, her expression a little bewildered, but then she smiled. “It’s from Maestro Cavalli. He’s rescinded his offer to take me as a student. It seems his wife has become concerned about the ‘intimate nature’ of the teacher and student association.” Patience shrugged. “She doesn’t want her husband teaching a woman.”

Matthew stared at her, his breath shallow. “You’re not upset?”

Patience paused and seemed to mentally search herself. When her gaze returned to him, she smiled. “No. I’m not.”

What?
A tentative relief flickered beneath Matthew’s skin.

She stepped closer to him, and he breathed the scent of gardenias. “Do you know why?” she asked.

“No.” Despite her smile, he held his breath. “Why?”

“Because I’d already decided to stay.”

He let out his breath in a rush. “You had?”

She tilted her head and the corners of her mouth curled oh so sweetly. “Yes, I was coming to tell you just now.”

With a joyful shout, Matthew swept her into his arms. She laughed as he whirled her around. The sound of her laughter, the smell of her skin, and the feel of her body all made him giddy. She was his! She was his and he would never let her go. Never . . .

Slowing to a stop, he threaded one hand into her hair as he held her tightly. “I’m so happy you’re staying,” he whispered against her temple.
Because I love you.
“Because I—I need you.”

Her arms tightened around him. “I need you, too.”

Yes!
She needed him. Which was why she must never discover that he was the source of the letter. Why the hell had he sent it? He should have trusted in himself—he should have trusted in her.

But it was too late—and what did it matter? She was staying. All on her own, she was staying.

Matthew pulled back to look at her. “I want you to come to Angel’s Manor—you and Aunt Matty.”

Patience’s smile widened. “You do? When?”

“As soon as possible. I have some business I need to attend to, first in London then at the mine. After that, I can meet you there.”

“Oh, Matthew, I’d love to see your home.” She laughed. “Aunt Matty will be ecstatic. I just need to write to my father for his permission.”

“Write your letter, then. For though I have much to do, I want you with me.”

Holding her tight, Matthew pressed his lips against her brow then closed his eyes and breathed the smell of her hair. “I’m glad the letter didn’t hurt you.”

She drew back to look at him. “Before you, it would have. But not now.” She cupped her hand against his cheek. “Now it’s just confirmation—a beautiful and unexpected confirmation from God that my decision to stay is the right one.” She lifted onto her toes and touched her soft mouth to his. “How could I possibly be upset by that?”

SONG OF SOLOMON 5:7

 

 

 

 

Matthew surveyed the parure of diamond jewelry. It was an exceptionally fine collection that included combs, a necklace, earrings, two bracelets, a belt buckle, and a ring. Each piece was set in gold and the diamonds sparkled against the black velvet of the box.

He remembered Patience wearing her cut steel. She deserved real jewelry—jewelry that matched her in beauty and quality. Now if only she would agree to marry him, he could adorn her properly.

Snapping the box closed, Matthew realized the jeweler’s apprentice was still standing before his desk. He’d already thanked him and given him his tip. “Thank you,” he said again. “They are lovely. I accept them.”

The young apprentice looked nervous. “My master was sure you’d be pleased, Mr. Hawkmore. The only thing is—and he heartily regrets this inconvenience—but he insisted—he insisted that I must give you this.” He whipped a piece of paper from his pocket and extended it with a shaky hand.

Frowning, Matthew took the paper and unfolded it.

It was the bill!

Heat suddenly radiated up from his collar. Never, in all his years of patronage, had he ever been billed upon delivery. Never!

Furious, he raised his eyes to the jeweler’s apprentice. “My credit is impeccable. I have never failed to pay for that which I have ordered.”

“Yes, Mr. Hawkmore! That’s true.
I
know it’s true.” The young man was red-faced with embarrassment. “But my master felt that—well, that this time—because of the number of pieces in this—this particular collection—that this time—just this once, mind you—that he must—well, that he simply must secure—must secure payment. Just—just this once. Under the circumstances.” The young man’s trembling voice trailed off.

“What circumstances?” Matthew ground out.

The apprentice paled. “I—I, uh . . .” He swept his hand across his brow. “Mr. Hawkmore, you know Lord Benchley is also my master’s patron. Well, Lord Benchley, he’s—he’s insinuating things.”

Matthew’s hands clenched into fists. “What things?”

“That—that he might not do any more business with Smithfield and Sons. And that no one else of any quality will either so long as my master is”—the apprentice swallowed convulsively—“is servicing you.”

Matthew suddenly had a visceral understanding of why Roman emperors often killed messengers. He wanted to heave the box in the apprentice’s face.

But where else might he expect this treatment? Archibald Benchley patronized many of the same artisans and merchants that he did. Matthew’s humiliation and rage grew as he imagined Benchley infecting them all. Today his credit was denied. Tomorrow he could be refused service altogether.

He looked at the black velvet box.

If he sent it back, Patience would have nothing.

Shaking with fury, he pulled out his ledger and, with a stiff hand, wrote a cheque for the full amount of the bill. His jaw clenched as he stood and held out the note, which the apprentice suddenly seemed reluctant to take.

But he did take it, pulling his hand back quickly once it was between his fingers. “Thank you, Mr. Hawkmore.”

“I don’t want your thanks,” Matthew snapped. “Tell your master he needn’t worry about losing his customers of quality, for that is the last cheque he will ever see from me.”

The man bowed as he backed across the room. “Very well, Mr. Hawkmore. I’m sorry, Mr. Hawkmore.” Then he turned and scurried out the door.

Matthew gripped the edge of his desk as he stared down at the black velvet box. He forced his hands to open it.

He let his eye wander over the sparkling jewels.

It was an exquisite parure. But now it gave him no pleasure.

It gave him no pleasure because it was, without doubt, the most costly thing he’d ever purchased.

Not because of the exorbitant sum he’d paid for it.

But because of the deep measure of pride it had cost him.

He closed the lid.

 

 

“Oh, Patience, when are you leaving? Have you written to Father? What does Aunt Matty say?”

Patience smiled across the table at her sister. “Yes, I’ve written to Father. Assuming he approves, we leave in ten days. And Aunt Matty is beside herself with excitement.”

Passion grinned. “I’ll bet she is. I wish I could watch the unrelenting matrimonial assault she is sure to wage upon the two of you. I’m certain it will be vastly entertaining.”

“Oh, she’s already acting as if it’s a fait accompli. The moment I told her I wasn’t going to Cavalli and that we were going to Matthew’s home instead, she raised her eyes heavenward and thanked God for answering her prayers and ‘making me see reason. ’ Then she began planning the wedding.”

Passion laughed as she picked up her teacup. “Did you tell her Cavalli had cancelled your instruction?”

“I did. She said it proved that the very forces of the universe were moving to insure that I marry Matthew.” Patience cocked her brow. “Which, she said, was exceedingly fortunate, as I ‘cannot always be counted upon to know what is for my own good.’ She did, however, praise me for finally accepting that I’m a peach.”

Passion smiled softly and sipped her tea before returning the cup to its saucer. “You seem reconciled to her ambitions for you.”

“Aunt Matty may have whatever ambitions she likes.” Patience looked down and adjusted her napkin in her lap. Matthew had said he wasn’t interested in marriage. Yet everything he did, and everything he’d said since then, seemed to negate that declaration. Even Passion believed he had intentions toward her. Patience tried to contain the happy exuberance that seemed to be welling up in her continually.
One step at a time.
With a sigh and the remains of a smile, she shrugged as she looked at her sister. “Her ambitions will not decide our lives.”