Patience (48 page)

Patience glanced up at the magnificent chandelier that glittered over the grand foyer. “I think it’s an elegant house, Aunt Matty.”

Her aunt shook her head as she glanced up at the same chandelier. “No, I much prefer the chandelier that appoints the foyer at Hawkmore House. And the stair at Angel’s Manor is far grander than this one. Even this banister does not feel quite comfortable under my hand.”

Patience drew her aunt toward the retiring room and spoke quietly. “Perhaps we should refrain from commenting on these things until we are in the privacy of our coach.”

“What? Well, for heaven’s sake, Patience, I was whispering,” she said out loud. “Gracious, I couldn’t even hear myself, so I don’t know how anyone else could have heard me. I don’t even know how you could have heard me,” she asserted loudly as they entered the quiet retiring room.

Only a few, mostly elderly, ladies were in the dimly lit room, but at the sound of Aunt Matty’s voice, they all looked over with a start. Patience smiled and nodded graciously as she led her aunt to the far corner of the room.

“Do you want the chaise or the chair, my dear?” Aunt Matty whispered loudly.

Patience glanced through the French doors that led to a private balcony. Due to the cold, no one was there. The chair was closer to it. “I’ll take the chair,” she whispered back.

“Oh, very well. I’ll take the chaise. Though I’m not at all tired. The only reason I’m not insisting you take it is that I have two more dances with Lord Rivers, and I really ought to put up my feet.”

“Ssshhhh!” A lady reclining by the fire glared at them.

“Well!” Aunt Matty whispered as loudly as ever, then flounced down on the chaise just as a young girl might.

Patience had to smile as she helped her aunt get situated on her side and covered with a fur throw. Then, taking her hand, Patience sat in the overstuffed chair beside her. In the dim light, her silver hair glinted and all the wrinkles of her face were softened. She looked so tender.

“Do you want to talk?” she whispered more quietly than Patience had ever heard her.

Patience squeezed her aunt’s hand gently. “No, thank you.”

Aunt Matty nodded and stroked her thumb over the top of Patience’s hand. “I just want to tell you that you’re doing wonderfully well this evening. You make me proud to be your aunt, Patience.”

Patience’s heart swelled. “You make me proud to be your niece.”

Aunt Matty smiled, then stifled a yawn. “I’m not at all sleepy,” she murmured. “But since you want to be quiet, I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit.”

“Very well, Aunt Matty.” She squeezed her hand again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Half a minute later her aunt was snoring softly.

Getting to her feet, Patience carefully extracted her hand from her aunt’s and tucked it beneath the fur. Then she kissed the top of her head and, quickly opening and closing the French doors, stepped out onto the blissfully empty balcony.

The cold night air was bracing. She inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. Finally, a moment alone—a moment to reclaim her equilibrium. She released her breath and watched it turn to vapor.

She was grateful for Aunt Matty’s praise. She only hoped her aunt’s opinion was one generally shared—at least by those who were nice. For while many of the people Matthew had introduced her to were gracious and polite, there were also many who quite openly snubbed them. Not least of all Lady Humphreys, who, followed by a line of gaggling, honking ladies, had rudely cut in front of Aunt Matty and her at the refreshment table.

Rosalind Benchley’s arrival had only made things worse. Clearly quite popular with many of the ladies, including Lady Humphreys and her minions, Lady Rosalind’s presence had escalated the degree of feminine animosity sent Patience’s way. Those who’d been ignoring her earlier in the evening were now sending her obvious glares and disdainful glances. She had patently ignored all malice directed at her, but it had been wearing nonetheless.

Leaning against the railing, she gazed out over the empty garden below and tucked back a loose curl that had slipped over her brow. Thank God for Matthew. His strong, protective presence at her side was like a shield. His confidence was palpable, and not only did the spiteful ladies dare less when he was by her, he also knew who was receptive to an introduction and pleasant conversation. This was, after all, the circle he’d moved in before the scandal. So he knew whom to approach and whom to avoid, and several people had actually approached them.

Stepping back from the rail, she shook out her skirts. It was like being on a seesaw. She wished she could get off, but she accepted that Matthew knew what was best—both for them and for his business.

Smoothing her hands down her bodice, she drew a final cleansing breath. In time, all this nonsense would pass. But for now, she was strong enough to weather the storm.

Turning back toward the doors, Patience started as they suddenly opened and Lady Rosalind stepped onto the balcony.

A shiver prickled beneath Patience’s skin as the younger woman closed the doors and then turned to face her.

They stood there for a moment, silent. It was interesting—Lady Rosalind’s expression, which had been so sweet and full of laughter below, was drawn into colder, more malignant lines than Patience would have thought her lovely features capable of. She was a beautiful woman, with her dark hair and sparkling eyes—but now, her doll-like face was an unbecoming mask.

“I’ve come to tell you something that you should know,” she hissed.

Using her height, Patience looked down her nose at the shorter woman and said nothing.

Rosalind’s scowl twisted, and she took a step closer. “Matt doesn’t love you. He loves me.” She leaned forward. “He’s always loved me. So whatever your public arrangement,
I’m
the one who holds his heart.”

Unmoved, Patience shook her head. “Poor girl.”

“Poor girl?” Rosalind snarled. “
You
are the poor girl.”

Patience sighed then leveled her gaze on Rosalind. “Lady Rosalind, this juvenile behavior does not become you. You abandoned my love in his most dire hour of need, and then you stood by whilst your father continued to slander him. How, in a thousand years, could you ever believe that he would trust you, let alone love you?” She watched Rosalind’s angry eyes fill with tears, but the only sympathy she felt was for Matthew and the pain Rosalind had put him through. “You’re engaged to Lord Danforth now. Why don’t you go back downstairs and begin to show him the loyalty you failed to show Matthew. Perchance, there is hope there for your happiness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my love is waiting.” Brushing by Rosalind, she reached for the door.

“We’ve met secretly.”

Patience froze. Self-proclamations were one thing; implicating Matthew was quite another. “I don’t believe you.”

“At approximately five in the morning on the day of the hunt at Hawkmore House, he came for me. I was staying at Gillyhurst, the neighboring estate. We met at the old mill. It was a young servant by the name of Mickey who brought me to him.”

Patience turned back to Rosalind, a tremor of fear moving down her back. That was the morning Matthew had left her early. The morning she’d met Mickey in Matthew’s office. But it couldn’t be. “I said I don’t believe you.”

Rosalind’s chin was lifted and her eyes were shining. There was no trace of equivocation in her. “He admitted he loved me, and he asked me to go with him to Gretna Green.”

Pain pierced Patience’s heart. It couldn’t be true! Matthew loved
her
. Her knees began to shake. “No.”

“When I turned him down, he confessed how jealous he was of my engagement. That’s when we agreed to become secret lovers—forever.”

Forever
. Small white dots began to skitter before Patience’s eyes. “No.”

“Ask him—ask
your love
,” Rosalind sneered, her eyes flashing behind her tears. “You may be engaged to him, but
I’ll
always be his first and forever love.”

No!
“You’re a liar,” Patience managed, her voice cracking.

“Actually,
he’s
the liar for not telling you.” Rosalind leaned close. “Of course, I’ll forgive him for that.” Her head tilted. “But will you?”

 

 

“You must admit, she is like some great barge, dragging behind her a flotilla of smaller barges,” Fitz Roy commented in reference to Lady Humphreys and her hangers-on. “Each one of them more decorated than next, but none so much as the great vessel at the front.”

Matthew laughed. They did rather resemble an armada.

“And who ever told her she could wear ostrich feathers of all things? My God, the woman is an absolute monstrosity.”

Matthew laughed again, and several people glanced his way. He didn’t care. Let them see him laughing. He felt on top of the world. Despite the Benchleys’ presence and a fair number of detractors, he was certain he’d won the evening. Gwenellyn was his and coal was slowly feeding GWR. He and Lord Wollby had spoken, and GWR’s second largest shareholder had no intention of selling his shares and was, in fact, interested in investing in the mine. Several of his old crowd had approached him,
almost
as if nothing had ever happened. He had Fitz Roy and Rivers at his back and, to a lesser degree, Farnsby and Asher. And, at his side, he had Patience.

Despite the constant scrutiny and the unrepressed censure of the other side, she’d held up nobly. He’d known she would. But to see her, so elegant and gracious, made him intensely proud. As soon as she returned, they would have a dance or two more, if she wanted, then prepare to leave. He’d accomplished what he needed to, and it was time to give her what
she
wanted—home.

“Will you be ready to go soon?” he asked Fitz Roy.

The man’s black brows lifted and his pale eyes rolled. “I am so far past ready to go, that I’m already into tomorrow.”

Matthew chuckled and turned toward the stairs. “As soon as Patience and”—his smile faded—”Aunt Matty . . .” He frowned.

Fitz Roy looked up. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yes.” Matthew headed for the stairs. Patience was descending, her gait slow and her chin high, but her eyes were suspiciously shiny and her expression was fixed, almost as if she moved it, she would crack. Aunt Matty, less able to hide her emotions, was frowning with concern and kept glancing worriedly at her niece.

What had happened? If someone had hurt her . . .

Matthew quickened his step and met her before she came off the last stair. He looked almost directly into her eyes as he took her cold hands. “My love, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Patience looked down and turned her shoulder away from the guests milling the foyer. “I need to speak with you privately.”

Propriety disallowed them privacy, and they were watched every moment. He needed a public private place.

“The ‘tenants nest,’ ” Fitz Roy offered.

Matthew pulled Patience’s arm through his. “Come with us,” he said to Fitz Roy and Aunt Matty. Then he led Patience to the high, deep alcove beneath the stairs. Some former earl had carved it out so that when he was required to meet with his tenants, his wife needn’t be offended by their rough presence in her immaculate foyer. At balls, it tended to be an oft-occupied wallflowers’ retreat. But fortunately, a group of matrons was just exiting it.

They all stepped in, but Aunt Matty and Fitz Roy paused by the entrance whilst Matthew pulled Patience to the rear of the space.

“What is it, my love?”

Patience lifted her gaze to his. Her eyes were swimming with tears.

He tensed with anger. “Did someone hurt you?” Pulling out his handkerchief, he pressed it into her hand. “Danforth? Benchley?”

Patience twisted the linen in her hands. “I hope you’ll forgive me for this question, but I have to ask it.” Her voice was breathless.

A question?
“What? Ask me?”

Her lips trembled. “The morning of the hunt, did you meet secretly with Rosalind?”

Ice crept down Matthew’s spine.

Patience’s face crumbled. “Oh, God!” she gasped. Her tears spilled.

“Patience.” He tried to take her hands, but she jerked back.

Her eyes were full of anguish. “You asked her to go to Gretna Green with you?”

Matthew’s heart began to pound. “No.”

“No?” she breathed, disbelieving. “Your face tells me otherwise.”

Fuck!
He grabbed her wrist. “I said the words, Patience, but not how or why you think.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “But you said them, Matthew.” She shook her head and tried to peel his fingers from her wrist. “Secret lovers? God, I trusted you. I trusted you! Let me go,” she pleaded on a broken gasp.

“No!” Matthew said fiercely. He clasped her other hand. “You’ve got to listen to me, Patience. None of this is what it seems.”

“Seems? What do I care for
seems
?” she choked. “You lied to me!”

“Damn it,” he growled, “let me explain!”

“Hawkmore.” Farnsby’s voice intruded.

“For the love of God, let me go,” Patience begged on a whisper.

“Hawkmore!”

Matthew snapped his head toward Farnsby. He was standing between Aunt Matty and Fitz Roy. “Leave us,” he hissed.

Farnsby drew back, but he looked completely distraught. He glanced at Patience, then back at Matthew. “Forgive me, but I cannot. Something has happened.”

Patience twisted her hands from his and turned.

“Patience, wait!”

She hurried into Aunt Matty’s embrace.

“I love you,” he said strongly. “
You know
I love you.”

Patience looked at him over her shoulder, and his heart tore for the pain in her eyes.

Aunt Matty’s face was etched with tortured bewilderment, and Fitz Roy’s pale gaze was shadowed.

Matthew looked into the eyes of his love.
Please don’t leave me.
“Patience . . .”