by Esther Hatch
His hand went to his forehead, and he rubbed the skin there between his fingers and his thumb. “I didn’t mean . . .”
“No, it is quite fine. I wasn’t looking for compliments.”
His eyes took in Patience’s wild hair and tattered clothing, pausing for a moment at her boots and then sliding back up to her face. “I’m sure you must be aware your looks are above average. You are just not who I expected. That is all.”
“So I gathered.” Patience gave him a smile that would have upset her brother. Broad and wide and caused by someone else’s mistake.
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t succumb to her teasing like Nicholas would have: with frustration and a sigh or, more rarely, a laugh. This man’s face seemed to become serious in a very calculated way. The deep lines around his mouth and between his eyes stayed there, but the rest of the muscles in his face were relaxed and stoic. What would it take for her to get another reaction of surprise out of him? He was much more handsome when he was shocked than when he was reserved.
“Did I interrupt something? Is this Miss Morgan going to be here soon? I will leave. Just let me gather up my things.” Patience reached for her stained cap and what was left of the block of wax she had found in that other study. People did wax furniture, right? She was certain she had heard the servants speaking of it before.
“Those aren’t your things.”
“I was just cleaning with them.”
“Regardless, that wax is mine, and it belongs in the left corner of the second drawer of my writing desk.”
“Oh.” She reached out to hand it to him, but he only furrowed his brows and stared at the pieces in her hand. There was still one rather usable large one. The other two small pieces that had broken off were most likely no good to him now.
“It has been completely ruined. What exactly were you trying to do with it?”
“I was polishing the furniture.”
“With sealing wax?” The frown lines along his mouth deepened, and a line on a slight slant between his eyebrows appeared. His features would have been sharp and depressing if it weren’t for a pair of icy blue eyes. His eyes were shocking, and she was afraid he would catch her staring at them.
“Sealing wax is wax, is it not?”
“Yes, but you are polishing the furniture, not finishing it. There is no need for wax, and there is certainly no need for my personal sealing wax.”
Oh blast. “Please don’t tell Mrs. Bates.”
He stood straight, as if he finally knew he had the upper hand. “You value your position here?”
“Very much.” She couldn’t lose her place in only one day. She would be stuck at home listening to her mother’s singing and would have nothing to throw in her brother’s face when he returned home.
He sighed. “The wax is ruined, but if you return it to my desk and refrain from mentioning to anyone what just happened, I will not mention it to Mrs. Bates.”
“Your proposal to Miss Morgan? You don’t want anyone to know you are pursuing her? Is she unsuitable?”
His head drew back, and his hands went to his sides. “Is she unsuitable? She is the most suitable woman I could possibly marry. Trust me on this. There is no other woman like Miss Morgan for me. She even has a cousin who is a duke.”
Did Patience have any cousins named Morgan? No. The Duke of Penramble was the mostly likely relative to Miss Morgan. She didn’t know his family well. “And that makes her suitable? Having a cousin who is a duke?”
“I would think that even a servant would understand that.”
“Is she beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“And accomplished?”
He let out a sigh and shook his head. “Yes. I tell you I have a list of every eligible woman in the ton. I went over it countless times two years ago. Trust me, she is the most suitable woman for me.”
“You have a list?”
He swallowed, the muscles in his neck cording. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”
“And every eligible woman is on it?” Would her name be there? She wasn’t out in society, but she nearly had been two years ago. He seemed to be the type of man who would have been thorough.
“Every woman within reason. I have no title, and although my father’s estate is growing, it hardly makes me suitable for some of the highest-ranked women. Cousins of titled gentlemen was as close as I dared try for. Although why I need to answer these questions to you, I don’t know.”
Her name wouldn’t be on his list then. Her shoulders relaxed. This man had to be one of the strangest gentlemen she had ever met. Having a list of every possible match he could make seemed to peg him as a social climber. But was there such a thing as climbing within reason?
“You don’t need to answer. I was just curious. Gentlemen are hard to read sometimes, and I would like to understand them a bit, so I don’t make mistakes while in their company.”
“Mistakes like robbing them of their wax and then hiding behind curtains?”
The lines around his mouth were still there. Patience tried to keep a straight face, for he was being serious. But she failed. Her lips quivered despite being pressed tightly together.
“Mistakes like interrupting said gentleman before he had a chance to finish his proposal.” She leaned forward, encroaching upon his space. “Do you think I could have held you to it?”
His mouth dropped open, and he put a hand to his hip. “I called you Miss Morgan. It was an obvious mistake.”
“But the way you caressed my wrist and finger—” She raised her eyebrows suggestively, and his reaction was instantaneous. His immense chest filled with air, and he leaned forward. She regretted her earlier movement forward; he was now only inches from her. This man’s shoulders were broad and thick, his neck much wider than Nicholas’s. Provoking him to this extent might not be the best of ideas.
His words were slow and distinct. “There was wax on your wrist and finger.”
She should be careful, but something about his stoic attitude just made her want to reach under his carefully guarded shell. “So you wouldn’t have caressed Miss Morgan’s fingers?” His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps that is the reason you are not yet engaged.”
His shoulders dropped, and all the exasperation she had seen building in him left. He paced back and forth between the window and the fireplace. He groaned softly and then craned his neck to look at her. “Do you think that would help?” He pulled at the bottom of his sleeves. “You have asked me about the inner workings of a gentleman’s mind. Now I would like to ask you about the workings of a woman’s. If I were to push the line a bit . . . touch her cheek, caress her fingers like you said, do you think she would be more likely to push her parents to agree to an engagement? I know she wants to marry me, but she seems to be in no rush.”
He looked desperate. Her interest in gentlemen was just that—interest—but he was sincere. His strange, piercing eyes looked at her with hope, as if a few touches of his lady’s hand could finally give him his heart’s desire. What would it be like to be longed for like that? Patience’s earlier ideas of this man being a social climber faded. Despite his methods, he seemed to truly care for this Miss Morgan.
She wasn’t looking forward to entering society and pushing away the men who were interested in her for her position. But what if one of them was earnest like this man was? A man who was led to her because of her title but who cared for her nonetheless? “Who are you?”
He shook his head and straightened his back. His features were once again schooled in that serious way, with lines around his mouth and eyes. “Didn’t I ask you that first?”
“Yes, and I answered. I am the maid.”
“Well if you are a maid here, you should know who I am, for I will be the one paying for your service.”
“But I thought this was General Woodsworth’s home.”
&
nbsp; “Oh, it is, but he is in Brighton for the next month, and since I never have to go anywhere, I take care of the finances.”
“And that makes you . . . ?”
“You are quite bold for a misbehaving servant on her first day. But as long as you are willing to not spread rumors, I will introduce myself. I’m Mr. Anthony Woodsworth. General Woodsworth’s son.”
Chapter 4
Anthony laid his card down, taking the final trick. He raised an eyebrow at Miss Morgan, and she gave him her pleasant, simpering smile. They had won again. Mr. and Mrs. Hibble excused themselves from the table. Apparently they could only tolerate losing for so long.
“Well done, Mr. Woodsworth,” Miss Morgan said. “You always play so well.”
“Yes. If only my father cared for cards, I would finally have a way to impress him.”
Miss Morgan laughed. The bell-like quality echoed throughout the small Hibble drawing room. It wasn’t often he had the opportunity to converse with Miss Morgan and her family in such an intimate gathering. She was no different today than she had been last week. Their relationship was still stuck in the same standstill that it had been for over a year. After getting his hopes up that she had come to visit him yesterday, it was hard to move backward into their familiar routine.
“Have your parents said anything of late about my pursuit of you?”
Miss Morgan’s eyes widened. “No.”
“They must know my interest.”
“Well, yes, but we don’t talk about it.” She leaned forward with a pout on her small, bud-like lips. “Especially not in public.”
Anthony barely managed to suppress a groan. Instead he made a short, almost growl-like noise that couldn’t have been any better. “We only ever see each other in public. Where else would you have me talk about it? If your parents would allow a private meeting, I would invite you for one today. Now.”
She shook her head, the blonde curls around her face bouncing in a way he usually found endearing. “They would never allow it, at least not yet.”
“It has been two years. How much longer must we wait?”
Her chest rose and fell as she sighed and placed her petite hand on his. How had he mistaken that maid’s stained hands for hers last night? He should have known immediately that Miss Morgan would never allow her hands to get dirty.
“In truth, Mr. Woodsworth, I have started to believe it may be time to try a different tactic.”
“You have?” The fact that she was worried enough about him to think of a tactic at all brought back some of the hopefulness that had filled his lungs just yesterday. For too long he had been the only one keeping their relationship strong. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure you will like it.”
“If it allows us to marry sooner than two years hence, I am quite certain I will like it.” He also had the land in Kent he was hoping to tell her about soon, but he wanted to make certain the deal was done before he told her. With land transactions, you never knew what could go wrong.
She squeezed his hand and released it, placing both of her hands in her lap. Her brown eyes were vibrant, much more vibrant than they usually were. He should have pushed her to come up with plans more often. The corners of her lips turned up mischievously. She had never looked more beautiful.
“I feel like our problem is that my parents are so used to you. They feel no rush to have us married when you are always around.”
The nervous energy he had felt building while watching her eyes light up crashed to the ground. This was not the type of plan he was hoping she would come up with. “You want me to stay away from you?”
“Well of course I don’t want you to stay away from me. But I wonder, if perhaps you did . . .” She blinked her eyes and then once again placed her hand on his. It was an innocent gesture, but it was the second time tonight she had done it. The gentle pressure of her hand brought him hope. Perhaps her plan might have some merit.
“I suppose I could visit my father in Brighton this month. I do have some business to arrange.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t mean like that. They would know you were busy.”
“If you don’t think I should leave, then what do you mean?”
“Stay here in London. I will too. We will attend all the events we usually do, only you will spend time with other women, and I will spend more time with other men.”
“You want to spend more time with other men?” Two years. He had spent two years courting Miss Morgan, and now she wanted to spend time with other men? Was he that tiresome?
“I already said that I don’t want to do this. I just think it is time we tried something different.”
“You want to be courted by another man?”
Her eyes got large, and again they were lit to a brightness beyond her typical bland expression. “Yes.” She tightened her grip on his hand as if to reassure him. “But not just me. You would also get to court other women.”
“I can’t just go around courting other women; they could take my intentions seriously.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t say it would be easy. I suppose you should try to find a woman who wouldn’t take you seriously. That is what I’m planning to do.”
This plan was growing worse by the minute. How was he supposed to know if a woman would take him seriously? Even the one woman he was serious about didn’t seem to care. “You have gone so far as to decide what type of man you are going to pursue?”
She leaned forward and raised her thin, faint eyebrows. “Not just the type of man. I know which man.”
A bitter taste invaded his mouth. Miss Morgan had never called him a man like that. With her voice low and her eyes sparkling.
“Who is it?”
“Lord Bryant.”
Anthony stood up from his chair so fast it fell to the floor. Every eye turned to him. He closed his eyes and forced himself to show no outward emotion. Pulling on his sleeves one at a time, he regained his composure. “Lord Bryant,” he hissed low enough that no one else would hear, “will ruin your reputation in a week.”
“Don’t you see? That is why it is perfect. My parents will worry so much about me, they will want to throw me back into your arms. And if you happen to be showing interest in another young lady,” she shrugged, “they won’t want to waste any time telling you how much they approve of you.”
Anthony rubbed his face with his hand. When he had told his father years ago that he would find a way to make him proud, even if it wasn’t by joining the army, he hadn’t realized he would need just as much stratagem as a general. But Miss Morgan truly was perfect. Her family had great social standing and wealth. She was just the type of woman his mother would have chosen for him. And the Scottish title was the final straw. He had searched all over London for a woman like Miss Morgan. He couldn’t give up on her now.
He bent over and picked up the chair that had fallen to the ground. Miss Morgan’s parents were looking at him with furrowed brows. He bowed an apology and then sat back down and leaned forward. As frustrating as it was, Miss Morgan’s plan did seem to make sense. No well-meaning parents would want their daughter dawdling about with the likes of Lord Bryant. He took a deep breath and pulled on his sleeves once again. His attire was in order—it always was. “When do you propose we execute this plan?”
“I happen to know that Lord Bryant will be at the Simpsons’ ball on Friday night. I will make certain to speak to him there.”
“And you think he will . . .” His face scrunched. How could he ask it? “. . . show interest in you?”
She lowered her pale lashes. “You know Lord Bryant. He is happy to converse with any pretty face. Do you not think me pretty enough to interest him?”
With her light golden hair and rosebud lips, she was petite and agreeable, but she didn’t exactly have the fire of most of the wome
n he had seen Lord Bryant spend time with. But there was no way to explain that to the woman he was hoping to marry.
“Of course you are. That isn’t what I’m worried about.”
“You are worried he will fall hopelessly in love with me?” She giggled, and for the first time, he thought it wasn’t a very pleasant sound. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind that Lord Bryant, the notorious rake, would stop his wayward ways for the likes of Miss Morgan. But based on that giggle, it seemed the thought must have crossed hers.
“No, actually, I was just worried about finding a woman whom I can pretend to court without hurting.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. It won’t be for long. A few weeks at most.”
“A few weeks? I thought you said for the Simpsons’ ball.”
“One ball won’t be enough to convince my parents. I’ll let you know when they begin to grow worried; then you may start to show interest again. They will be happy to have you back. I’m sure of it.”
And in the meantime, she would be spending time with a detestable man that made her face light up like it never had with him. He checked his posture, rubbed his hands down each of his sleeves, looking for imagined dust, then gave Miss Morgan a nod. Her plan was sound. He was surprised at how sound it was, and truthfully, he wasn’t sure that property in Kent would have moved them forward that much. “Let’s proceed with your plan.”
She squealed and clapped her hands. It was the exact reaction he had been hoping for from her last night when he’d thought she was hiding behind the curtains. Who would have thought all he needed to make Miss Morgan this happy was to agree for both of them to pursue other partners?
Chapter 5
Anthony hung his head down on his desk. He had just finished going over the last of the numbers from his father’s estate in Essex. It had been gifted to his father after Bonaparte surrendered. Father spent a lot of time there but never actually cared to see how the income from the property affected their lifestyle. He only ever worried about the regiments under his command.
