How delightful it had been to return to her bedchamber last night in rapturous wonder that Stanton still wanted her. If his words, which had fallen like healing nectar on her troubled spirits, had not been enough to convince her, then his heady, consuming kisses certainly had been.
Romance, it seemed, came much more naturally to him than he had any idea of. Had he not bathed her in kisses in a moonlit garden and then spent ages walking about with her, picking flowers to drop in her hair, simply because he could not bear to part with her? And what man could possibly be more passionate than Stanton had become in defense of her?
Dora came in, a pitcher of water in one hand and a smile on her face. “Oh, miss, you never did hear such an uproar as has been this morning. The servants’ hall is full of how Lord Stanton burst in upon the ball and stole you from the ogre’s snare.”
Patience went and bathed her face. “Sir George is most certainly an ogre.”
Dora went to the wardrobe and brought out Patience’s riding dress, which she wore for traveling. “And your eyes would pop to hear what they’re saying about your aunt. And where do you think they’re hearing it but from their masters and mistresses? And with Miss Amelia and Mr. Viceroy and Lord Aston all being gone this morning…well, no one wants to leave, you may be sure of that, not with so much to talk over.”
Patience smiled and stepped into the dress. “I, however, cannot wait to leave.”
“And no wonder, miss, what with your fine gentleman accompanying you and Lady Du’Breven to London. And we’re to go shopping for all sorts of London finery! And her dresser, Brimbsy, is to teach me all sorts of things I must know to be a lady’s maid for a baroness.”
“Are you happy, Dora? Will you like going to Morefield?”
“Oh yes, miss, ever so much. To hear that valet Owen talk, it must be near to heaven. And to think of the position I will have in such a household!”
Patience sat at the dressing table, but turned and caught Dora’s hand before she began brushing her hair. “I’m glad you are happy. You have been so kind and so loyal to me that it just adds to my joy to see you blessed as well.”
Dora’s eyes misted. She sniffed hard. “Now, don’t make me cry, or I’ll never get you ready to greet your betrothed, who I heard is anxiously awaiting you at the breakfast table.”
With a wave of excited urgency, Patience hurried through the rest of her toilette and hurried down to meet him.
Stanton rose as she came in, bestowing a brilliant smile on him. If she had her way, he would never again pass a day without smiling a dozen times.
They were not alone, of course, for Mr. Stanley and Mrs. Percy and both of the Emery sisters were already at the table, but beyond a greeting to them, the engaged couple kept very much to themselves. After the trauma of the evening before, Patience wanted as little interaction with other guests as possible.
“Will you be ready to depart soon?” Stanton asked her, filling her tea cup.
“I have very few belongings, and no doubt Dora will have them packed in a trice.”
“Excellent. I believe the Countess is prepared to set out soon. And I have a surprise for you.”
Patience smiled. “Oh, what is it?”
He gave her a small, secretive smile and shook his head. “Just wait.”
An hour later, after thanking the Blakemores and bidding them farewell, Stanton handed Patience into Lady Du’Breven’s carriage. It was a well-sprung and surprisingly modern equipage with thick cushions that no doubt would be exceedingly comfortable, but Patience could not help but envy Stanton for being able to ride.
Before the carriage door was shut, Patience asked, “Where is Tempest?”
“Silas will be along with him, never fear,” Stanton said, mounting his horse.
Patience had to be content with that. Someday soon, she promised herself, she would ride every day if she wished. She looked out the window to where Stanton rode alongside the carriage. Well, every day that she wasn’t being distracted by her husband.
She gave a hiccup of laughter, and the Countess raised an eyebrow and smiled at her. “What is so amusing?”
“Oh, I believe that was more of a happy laugh than an amused one.”
“My child, I only hope you may be able to handle all the pleasure you will soon find in your life. One of the qualities I have always admired in Stanton is the way he goes full force into any task he sets himself to, and now that the most important task to him is making you happy, well, my dear…I cannot help but envy you a bit.”
Before Patience could think how to respond, the carriage came to a stop. Surprised, she leaned forward to look out the window and saw Stanton approaching. He threw open the doors, put the step down, and held up his hand to her.
“Would you like to ride for a while?”
Patience looked at him with wide eyes, desperately wanting to say yes. “Oh, but I shouldn’t. It would be so improper.”
“But we are now a most improper couple, my love.”
She grasped his hand and let him hand her out. Silas came up to them, leading Tempest, who had a sidesaddle on his back. “This was your surprise?”
Stanton just smiled and took her by the waist. Hidden behind the horse, he took the chance to kiss her tenderly before helping her up into the saddle. Silas even had a crop ready for her use, and he handed it to her along with the reins while Stanton mounted again.
“Shall we?” Stanton asked.
In answer, Patience gave Tempest the signal the gelding been waiting for, and they were off, riding across the countryside under a clear blue sky.
Epilogue
My Beloved Wife,
I find myself in the unenviable position of being called to remain in London another day to attend to the sale of the barley harvest. Had you not been in a delicate condition, I should have been selfish enough to bring you with me, even on so short and mundane an errand. Perhaps then I should not now be thinking how gloomy and unrestful the city has become. All the world’s sunshine seems to shine only in Morefield, or wherever else you may be.
Mr. Viceroy and your cousin took pity on me last evening and invited me to their home for dinner. Many of society’s most sparkling gems were seated at the table, and it appears that Mrs. Viceroy has become a sought-after hostess in political circles. Whatever ambition her husband holds in that direction, there is no doubt that she will help him attain it. They appear to be happy and almost as much in love as you and I.
Of Lord Aston, I have heard it whispered about that he has joined himself with an Italian heiress who is as tyrannical as she is plump, so you need have no further concerns about his welfare, though I have always thought your generosity too extreme in that direction.
I shall pay a visit to your uncle before I leave for home tomorrow. He assured me that I would not meet your aunt there, as she now lives permanently in the country. He hopes that we will soon come to visit him, and since he feels as strongly about his wife’s actions as I do, I have found myself to be quite in charity with him.
You will be pleased to know that I have been able to acquire the sheet music you asked for. I have taken the liberty of purchasing several other pieces that I believe you will be quite happy with, including several nocturnes by John Field, whom I know you prefer above all else. I look forward to hearing you play them. There is no lovelier sight than watching you at the pianoforte, caught up in the music you play, and no greater pleasure than walking past the house in the afternoon when the windows are open and the draperies are fluttering in the autumn breeze while such delightful music pours out on a listening world.
My darling one, this letter is surely a disappointment to you as I have not yet mastered the art of the love letter. However, I hope that by now I have convinced you of the sincerity and ardent nature of my feelings for you, which no word or rhyme ever devised by man could articulate. No, those are best expressed by look and touch—as in those quiet morning hours when I have you in my arms. Such moments fill my mind now as I writ
e this, and it sparks within me such longing for you that you will likely see me before ever you see this letter. Perhaps I shall leave my man of business to settle things and rush home to your side. If that indeed is the case, my love, you may laugh if you wish, but you must also come and kiss me as a reward for being ever,
your loving husband,
—S
***
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Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my family, as always, for their love and support.
Thanks to my critique partners:
Jen Johnson, Mindy Strunk, Heidi Kimball, Sara Cardon and Amy Wilson.
I love working with all of you talented, amazing writers.
Your support and help has been immeasurable.
Special thanks to my editors Cara Seger, Arielle Bailey, LeNore Merritt, and Tabitha Kocsis
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About the Author
Michelle Pennington writes clean, heart-pounding, sigh-inducing romance across multiple genres. Her books include Young Adult, Contemporary, Regency, and Fantasy. The genre might change, but her characters will always be falling in love.
She spends her days quoting movies with her husband and making messes faster than her four kids. She also has two cats, Boots (who is really Hessian Boots, the perfect Regency gentleman, complete with a snowy white cravat) and a new rescue kitten, Coconut. She loves to make magic by stringing words together, but she also creates designer sugar cookies, sings loud in church, and kills too many house plants.
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