Grasping Harriet’s gloved hands in her own, Patience said, “I’m so happy for you. You suit each other very well.”
“Yes, we do. I’m so delighted I haven’t stopped smiling since. The only thing that would make me happier is seeing you make a love match as well.”
Patience felt her smile falter and looked down quickly so she wouldn’t dim her friend’s joy. “That isn’t likely to happen.” Then, taking a deep breath, she looked up and smiled again. “But I am pleased that my dearest friend has been so fortunate. You mustn’t worry about me. Enjoy your time with your betrothed.”
“But what will happen to you after this party is over? I know your situation, and—”
Patience interrupted her. “Be calm. It isn’t as if I’m going to a debtor’s prison or a weaver’s hut. I’ll be well. Aunt Wendover says she’ll make a match for me before the end of this house party, and we both know how redoubtable she is.”
“Really? She hasn’t had the least regard for your prospects before now.”
“My uncle spoke with her. The thought of giving me another season has inspired her to make greater endeavors on my behalf.”
Harriet laughed and then pressed her fingers over her mouth to muffle it. “Well, perhaps I will endeavor, too. And we shall see which of us may have the most success. At least I have your future happiness at heart.”
Alarmed, Patience protested. “That’s very kind, but please, no matchmaking. It would be intolerable.”
“Well, we shall see. I heard Lady Blakemore say that Lord Stanton is coming.”
“Is he?” Patience asked, trying very hard to appear disinterested. Heaven help her though, her cheeks flushed under Harriet’s amused scrutiny.
“Yes, he is. And do not try to deceive me, even if you are deceiving yourself. You are not averse to him. He was certainly quite taken with you at Almack’s. You should at least consider him. Not only is he handsome and respectable, but he his wealthy enough to make up for his lack of title.”
“I have reason to believe that Lord Stanton would not consider me a proper match, so you may sweep that notion from your matchmaking mind.”
“No! What reason?”
Patience considered telling her about the incident in Hyde Park, but though she loved Harriet, she did not consider her to be discreet. “Never mind. Tell me who else will be here.”
Harriet was happy to list the guests, prattling on and on about them. “The Wyndhams shall be here with their son Charles. I believe the Emerys are coming but not for another day or so. Oh, some of Lord Blakemore’s old cronies are coming—Lord Anthony Gibbon and Sir George Hallister. But who cares about them? Mr. Viceroy and Lord Fortescue are coming, as well as Lord Aston.”
Lord Aston. Just hearing his name thrilled her. Not only would he be here, but he intended to steal her away. The anticipation of such a moment was almost as delightful as she was sure it would actually be.
“And where are all of these fine gentlemen?” Patience asked, looking about the drawing room, which held only scattered groups of gossiping women.
“Stanton and Aston are not yet arrived, but the others are being entertained by Lord Blakemore in his library. Something about how gentlemen would prefer a draft of ale to tea. Adlington is there now, but we have already determined to sneak away for a walk shortly. Tell me you’ll come with us. Otherwise Mama will send her maid to chaperone us, but I’d much rather have you along.”
“No doubt you would,” Patience agreed wryly. Walking with two newly affianced lovers was not her ideal way to spend the afternoon, but neither was sitting around in a drawing room. “I would be delighted to explore a bit, so I’d be happy to accompany you.”
Later, as they traversed the north side of the gardens, she was glad of her decision when she saw a rider taking a short cut across the hill behind the estate. She immediately recognized both the beautiful bay stallion and his rider.
“There’s Stanton,” Lord Adlington said, catching sight of the rider as well. “I’ll say this—he may be a bit stodgy, but by Jove, he’s a clipping rider. I doubt there’s a man with a better seat in all of England.”
Patience did not utter a word. She couldn’t. She was too torn between striking admiration for Lord Stanton’s mastery over his high-bred mount and rising panic that he was here. Panic because he could still expose her secret...and because her heart betrayed entirely too much enthusiasm at seeing him again.
Before she could make sense of this, Harriet grabbed her arm and shook it. “There, now, Patience. I told you he would be here.” She leaned closer and murmured. “Now you shall see that I was right about his interest in you.”
“Nonsense,” she whispered back sharply. “I am certain he’ll take no note of me. I’m certainly beneath his notice. And even if he did, well, I desire more in a husband than a man who doesn’t like to smile.”
Chapter Five
It was a hot, dusty ride for Stanton, and only the desire to arrive at Oakcrest in time to change before dinner kept him from stopping at a tavern along the way to rest and enjoy a tankard of cool ale. As he approached the estate from the north in the late afternoon, however, and saw Patience watching him from the gardens with Lord Adlington and Miss Percy, he was pleased with his decision to press on.
As he rode by them, he tipped his hat, and responded to Adlington’s shouted greeting by saying, “Join you shortly.”
Patience was as still and quiet as a garden statue. He wished he could have seen more of her expression, but the sun was high overhead and her face shaded by the brim of her bonnet.
As soon as he had found the stables and left Hermes with the groom, he made his way back to the gardens, despite being rather travel-worn. His father would have been floored to see his son approaching a lady in such a state, but Stanton found himself doing many odd things of late.
The crunch of his footsteps on the gravel path alerted his quarry to his approach. They turned and waited for him.
“Stanton, it’s good to have you here,” Adlington said, shaking his hand. “You may wish me happy.”
Stanton looked between him and Miss Percy, not at all surprised but pleased to see the happiness on both their faces. “I do wish you happy. And you as well, Miss Percy.”
Miss Percy gave him her hand to kiss. “Why, thank you, Lord Stanton. Nothing pleases us more than the well-wishes of our friends—except perhaps to have them to find such happiness as well.”
Stanton nearly smiled at the silent communication that then transpired between Patience and Miss Percy, but forbore when he saw her glaring daggers at her friend.
“Miss Wendover,” he greeted her, keeping his voice calm and easy.
“Lord Stanton.” She gave a small curtsey.
There was a moment of silence before Miss Percy broke it, “There, Patience. I was just feeling sorry that Lord Adlington and I were neglecting you, but now Lord Stanton may keep you company.”
Again, he intercepted a meaningful exchange of looks between the friends. Not sure if he was amused or annoyed that Patience resented this overt attempt at matchmaking, he offered his arm. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Wendover. If you’ll forgive my current state of dress.”
She smiled politely and placed her gloved hand on his forearm with a featherlight touch. “I am not at all concerned, being an avid horsewoman myself.” Upon which, her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened. She bit her lip and turned her face away.
Lord Adlington and Miss Percy were already some distance away, very much due to the resourceful Miss Percy, he was sure.
Finding himself relatively alone with Patience for the first time, he determined to take advantage of the opportunity to ease her mind about the incident at Hyde Park, perceiving that it was the source of awkwardness between them. “Miss Wendover, I wanted to—"
“Oh dear,” she interrupted. “I’m afraid I really cannot go around again. The heat and all this bright light are giving me a headache.”
Accepting this rebuff with good
grace, he said, “Then let me take you inside at once.”
“But Harriet’s mama wouldn’t approve of her being left alone with Lord Adlington.”
“Alone? With gardeners working diligently around every corner and fifty or so windows overlooking the garden? I think we can leave them to enjoy their walk with perfect decorum. Besides, I’m sure they are wishing us at the devil.”
“Well, if you say the proprieties will be satisfied, who am I to object?”
Stanton stopped. Since her arm was still in his, the movement tugged on her, and Patience turned to see why, her brows drawing together in an unspoken question.
“Ah yes,” he murmured. “I understand. The starched-up Lord Stanton. Of course.” Why did it sting so much more coming from her? He began walking again, leading her back toward the house.
“I didn’t call you so.”
“Not out loud,” he agreed gently.
“Does it bother you to be thought of that way?”
“Not normally, but at this moment, yes.”
“I assure you…” She paused and then began again. “Truly, I…”
Stanton held up a hand to forestall her. “Please, never mind. It was wrong of me to make such a point of it. I pray you will forget it.”
She frowned and pressed her lips together. “I’m afraid I cannot. Please believe that I think very highly of you. Of all the gentlemen I know, you are the most…”
When she did not finish, he could not resist prompting her to continue. “The most what?”
“Pleasant.”
He sighed. Clearly, he had a task before him. As they reached the front door of the house, he paused a moment. “Well, do not worry, Miss Wendover. There are several gentlemen invited to the house party that are certain to be much more exciting than I am.”
“I…” But at that moment, a watchful footman admitted them inside, and she could say no more in front of the servant.
The cool interior was welcome, despite the stuffy air. Stanton felt the prickle of sweat beneath the brim of his hat and removed it with relief. He looked about for the footman, hoping to be directed to his room. At that moment, however, Patience untied the ribbon of her bonnet and pulled the lovely confection of ribbon and silk flowers from her head. With a jolt, he realized that she was indeed overheated.
“Lord Stanton, I…”
He shook his head and interrupted her. “Please, Miss Wendover, do not waste another moment of concern on me. Rather, think of yourself. You’re quite pale though your cheeks are flushed from the heat.”
“I do feel poorly,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment. “I believe I will retire to my room.”
“Yes, do. Will you be all right to walk there, or do you need assistance?”
“I shall be quite all right, though if you could have someone send my maid to me?”
“Certainly,” he said, still trying to determine if she was alright to go alone.
She nodded and went two steps up the grand staircase and then turned and held out her hand to him. “Thank you. I look forward to seeing you at dinner.”
He bowed and received her hand in his. “I hope you will feel well enough to join us. Please do not overtax yourself.”
She chuckled, surprising him. “Oh, I am stronger than you realize. Do not give me another thought.”
Impossible.
Their gazes held for a long moment, her hand still in his. Seeming suddenly to realize this, she pulled it back as if startled and fled up the stairs.
***
Was he flirting? Surely not.
But that look in his eyes—his hand clasping hers in more than a polite handshake.
Patience’s thoughts tumbled and fluttered as she hurried down one long corridor and halfway down another to the bedchamber she had been allotted. As she stepped into the dim coolness of her room, she still felt a tingling sensation in the fingers of her right hand. She looked down at them with a frown, as if they would show some outward sign of the odd reaction they were having to Lord Stanton’s touch.
Sighing and shaking her head, she pulled off her gloves and tossed them, along with her bonnet, on the bed. Sitting down at the vanity, she looked in the mirror and pulled the pins from her hair, hoping to relieve the strain. She truly did have a headache blooming between her eyes.
As her dark curls tumbled down her back, she saw that she was indeed pale with two bright spots of color burning high in her cheeks. Certainly she was flushed, though not just from the heat. But surely this feeling couldn’t be attraction for Lord Stanton. He was so…stolid. And more to the point, her heart already belonged to Lord Aston. Didn’t it? She thought of her note, the one she had saved and treasured, and was reassured. She would have taken it out and read it to further ease her mind, but her maid Dora came in just then, carrying a tray.
“Oh, miss, I heard you were feeling poorly.” She sat the tray down on the table next to the settee and came toward her, still talking. “That nice Lord Stanton asked for lemonade to be sent up for you. So thoughtful, don’t you think?”
“Yes. Very,” Patience answered faintly.
“May I help you out of your dress, miss, so that you can lie down?”
Patience stood, and Dora got to work. With her day gown off, Dora hung it in the large wardrobe and came back holding out a light, embroidered dressing gown. Patience slipped her arms through the sleeves and wrapped it about herself before sitting on the settee to sip her lemonade.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, miss? Would you like a headache powder?”
“No, thank you, Dora. I’ll just finish this and lie down to rest until it is time to prepare for dinner. Will you let my aunt know, so she doesn’t wonder when I miss tea?”
Dora bobbed her head as she straightened the mess of pins on the vanity. “I will, miss. Right away.”
“Thank heavens this room is on the east side of the house so that it’s cool in the afternoon,” Patience said. Being a country girl, she had gotten in the habit of talking with her maid, who sometimes chattered in return when they were alone.
“Yes, miss. It is very hot today. The kitchen staff all look like boiled lobsters.”
“Oh dear. How horrid for them.”
“Yes, miss, very. The scullery maids have their skirts tucked up in their garters to cool off, and the footmen are finding every excuse to visit the kitchen. I’ll leave you now. When would you like me to wake you?”
“Not until you absolutely have to.”
Dora curtsied and said, “Yes, miss,” in a perfectly demure and respectful voice, but Patience caught the grin on her face as she slipped out the door.
As soon as the door closed behind the maid, Patience stood and returned to the vanity, where she searched through her little trinket box. She pulled out the folded piece of paper she was looking for and carried it to the window. After unfolding it, she held it up to the light coming through the parted drapes. She knew the words by heart, but she loved to see the careless, masculine letters of Lord Aston’s handwriting.
Patience sighed, barely able to breathe for the swelling of her heart. Lord Aston was terribly dashing with his teasing smile and seductive eyes. Well, she had overheard Lady Wyndham say that Lord Aston could seduce a woman with his eyes alone, and indeed, though Patience only vaguely understood what she meant, Lord Aston’s blue eyes were terribly beautiful and wicked.
He had not approached her at all since the note had been delivered. Well, of course he couldn’t, she reassured herself. That was why the note had said he would steal her away at the house party. How exciting that would be. She had imagined it over and over again. Perhaps he would lead her down a secret path in the garden and kiss her beneath a rose-covered arbor or arrange a secret meeting in the conservatory where he would hold her in his arms and rail at the fates that they could never have more.
For Patience was not a fool. As much as she might want to marry Lord Aston and enjoy a lifetime of thrilling romance, it could not be. Neither of them
had any fortune, and though she might be willing to try it, she knew Lord Aston could never live in reduced circumstances.
No, they would love from afar, knowing that they could never be more.
Sighing again, this time with resignation, Patience folded her letter. At least she would see him at this house party and, perhaps, even steal a moment away with him to exchange vows of constancy, whatever their situations held in store for them.
The pain that resulted from these imaginings was so sweet and exhilarating that instead of returning the note to her trinket box, she tucked it safely into the bodice of her stays. Yes, perhaps she would be forced to marry against her will, but for the next week, she would find what joy she could.
Chapter Six
With Patience’s opinion resounding through his memory, Stanton made his way to the drawing room that evening, more determined than ever upon his course of action.
A quick survey of the room showed him that she was not yet among the company. Never one to neglect his manners, however, he greeted his hostess and moved toward Lady Du’Breven, who was seated in grandeur at the far end of the room in a gilt Queen Anne chair.
He bowed over her hand. “So, Countess, what mischief shall I expect from you while we are here?”
“I don’t intend to do anything but seek my own entertainment,” she said sharply, but with bright, twinkling eyes.
He smiled down at her, deeply amused. “Since you are never more entertained than when you are meddling, and since you’ve confessed as much to me already, you may dispense with these whiskers.”
“And you quit your teasing, handsome sir. I never have understood why you smile so seldom. It even makes me flustered, and I’ve been loved by much more charming men than you.”
He sat beside her. “I am sure of it and insist you tell me about all of them.”
But at that moment, Patience entered the drawing room, stealing his attention away with no more than a glance of her eyes in his direction.
To Love a Lord Page 4
