A Proper Charade

by Esther Hatch

  “Nicholas, you know full well that is not what I am talking about. Since when are we hosting a ball honoring General Woodsworth?”

  “The truth is I’ve wanted to host a ball in his honor ever since becoming the Duke of Harrington. But we have been in mourning.”

  “Mr. Anthony Woodsworth will be attending this ball.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “Nicholas, do not tease me. I’ve spent three months out in society, and I thank you for them. They have shown me that there is no one else in the world like Mr. Woodsworth. But now I must know. Are you going to allow him to court me?”

  “The dunderhead hasn’t directly asked me.”

  “But assuming he has some interest in me still after all the deceiving I have done, would you allow it?”

  Nicholas made a strange face. He pulled his lips together and then covered his mouth with his hand. “If he has interest?” Nicholas mumbled through his fingers just before he burst into laughter. He bent over his desk and grabbed his side. Nicholas was laughing. It was beautiful but also confusing.

  “What is so funny?”

  “You don’t think he has an interest in you anymore?”

  Patience had worried about it. Mr. Woodsworth had seemed genuinely hurt by her deception, but she thought she could convince him somehow. Kiss him if she had to—that had moved him before. But Nicholas’s reaction had her feeling lost again.

  Nicholas stood up and went to a cabinet. He opened one of the lower drawers and started pulling out stacks and stacks of papers.

  “What are those?”

  “Your Woodsworth has been sending me plans.”

  Patience dashed to his side. He kept pulling out more and more papers. Sure enough, that was Mr. Woodsworth’s neat writing. Some of the papers had been divided into rows and columns, complete with dates, and others were written letter-style. “How long has he been sending these?”

  “The first one came a month after you had been home. Apparently he forgave you rather quickly. This Woodsworth of yours has a very active brain. You should see some of the ideas he came up with. Giving all of his servants large payouts to leave his employ; moving the two of you to Kent for ten years; claiming that you and Miss Mary Smith are cousins and explaining away the resemblance that way . . .”

  She slid her fingers along the stacks and stacks of papers. “May I have them?”

  “What do you want them for? You will be seeing your Woodsworth in a few short weeks at the general’s ball.”

  “It may seem like a short time to you, Nicholas, but for me it will be hard to bear.”

  “Take them. I was running out of room to store them any longer as it is.”

  Patience gathered as many as she could into her arms. She would have to come back for the rest later.

  On her way out the door, she stopped. “Did you ever answer him?”

  “Just once.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I told him once he had garnered an introduction, he would be free to come call on you.”

  She nearly dropped her precious load. Running back to her brother, she placed a kiss on his temple. “Thank you, Nicholas.”

  “Don’t thank me. My name had come up on the betting books at White’s as having a lover because one of the servants must have spread rumors about those letters. I had to put a stop to it somehow.”

  “If I ever find that servant, I shall thank him or her.”

  “You, of all people, should know that with that kind of indiscretion, the only thanks they would receive would be losing their position.”

  She smiled. He was right, of course, but she couldn’t be angry at anyone now. Patience had spent the last three months wondering if there was any chance Mr. Woodsworth could ever forgive her. Now she held proof in her hands that he would.

  Chapter 22

  Mama pinched Patience’s cheeks one more time for good measure. Patience returned the favor, and Mama laughed. Ever since their early morning together, it was as if Mama had come alive again. Patience knew she had felt extreme guilt over leaving her children, and finding a way to help Patience had eased some of that.

  “I’m so happy for you. This man you have found seems like a good one.”

  “You haven’t even met him.”

  “I learned more about him from those letters you showed me than I could have learned in months of morning calls and card parties.”

  Patience couldn’t argue with that. She had read from the letters every day. It was almost like being with Mr. Woodsworth. She wished so badly she could have returned a letter to him, but that had to wait. They weren’t engaged.

  She and Mama descended the stairs, and Nicholas kissed them both. He had warmed up to Mama in the past few days, and she had finally let down her walls enough to cry alone in the garden a couple of times.

  “I wish Papa could be here tonight,” Patience said.

  Nicholas held them each by one shoulder. “He will be.”

  Mama grabbed his hand and squeezed it. They all knew he was right.

  The footman announced that the first carriage had arrived, and they took their place in the receiving line as the first guests arrived.

  It was the Woodsworths, of course. The only family in London who arrived on time to a party.

  Patience had been prepared to meet Mr. Woodsworth in a room full of people, not just the two of their families. This felt too intimate and formal at the same time.

  General Woodsworth was the first to come through the line. Skipping formalities with no one else there, he and Nicholas shook hands and grabbed each other by the shoulders. Then the introductions began. First Nicholas, then Mama, and finally . . .

  “Lady Patience Kendrick, I would like to present you to General Woodsworth and his son, Mr. Woodsworth,” Nicholas said. “Also his daughter, Mrs. Jorgensen.”

  She curtsied to his father and then to him. Low and grand, like the awkward curtsy she had performed in his study when she was first introduced to Mrs. Jorgensen, only this time she didn’t stop halfway through. When she looked up, he was smiling.

  Just like a duck.

  “Lady Patience?” Mrs. Jorgensen was looking back and forth between her and her brother. “Anthony, what have you done?”

  Anthony didn’t take his eyes off of Patience. Patience supposed he would have to explain things to his sister later. First the general bowed to her, then Mr. Woodsworth reached for her hand. If there had been a desk between them, she would have climbed over it. He was just as handsome as she had remembered him.

  “Lady Patience,” he said and then took her hand in his. His finger traced the simple pattern on her gloves. They weren’t her best pair. They were the pair she had found under her door one night when she had only been at the Woodsworth home for about a week. She had always wondered if it was Mr. Woodsworth or Mrs. Jorgensen who had left them. Based on his reaction to them, it was he. “It is wonderful to finally meet you.”

  She pulled him closer to her and smiled broadly. “That it is.”

  Another carriage was announced. Mr. Woodsworth kissed her hand slowly and then let her go, but the look in his eyes told her it wouldn’t be for long. Their time apart was coming to a swift end. “Will you save me the first dance?”

  “I will save you any dances you would like.”

  “The first one, then. I fear my patience for being without you has long run out.”

  He moved away from her but glanced back at her several times before Mrs. Jorgensen stepped in front of her and gave her a swift curtsey. “Lady Patience, is it?”

  Patience nodded.

  “How long has Anthony known?”

  “Three months.”

  “Since you left,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes grew even wider, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my
lands, the things Anthony made you do.”

  Patience had never seen Mrs. Jorgensen surprised or perplexed even. This evening was even more entertaining than she had imagined.

  Mrs. Jorgensen’s cheeks were red. “And you must speak French.”

  Patience stifled a laugh. “Oui.”

  “I hope we never said anything disparaging in front of you.”

  “On the contrary, all I ever heard were compliments.”

  After the Woodsworth family left, a steady stream of guests was introduced. Midway through welcoming guests, she noticed Lord Bryant giving Mama a bow. She ignored it and instead pulled Lord Bryant into her arms. Nicholas groaned, and Lord Bryant’s suave demeanor fell for a moment until he returned Mama’s embrace. Mama pulled away and held Lord Bryant by both shoulders. “It has been much too long, Lord Bryant. We haven’t seen you for years.”

  “Yes, well I have been quite busy.” Lord Bryant still looked dazed at Mama’s reception of him. That was Mama, always surprising people. “I was sorry to hear about His Grace.”

  “And I about Lady Bryant,” Mama said. “She was such a quiet, sweet young lady.”

  Lord Bryant’s smile changed. He was back to the man she had seen at Green Park—aloof and charming.

  Mama continued. “Please come visit us sometime. It has been far too many years.”

  As if in response to Mama’s overexuberance, Nicholas barely managed a nod and a sparse “Bryant.”

  Where did that leave Patience? She couldn’t embrace him like Mama had. Nor did she feel comfortable with only a short bow after all he knew about her.

  “Lord Bryant, what a pleasure.” She held her hand out to him.

  “Lady Patience.” He took her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact with her. She should have known that even though Lord Bryant might not have known how to respond to Mama, or even Nicholas, he would take control while speaking to a young lady.

  A mischievous grin flashed on his face that for some reason made her face feel warm. He hadn’t gone through all the trouble of helping her only to announce to the whole room that she had been a servant in the Woodsworths’ home, had he? “Ah, seeing you has made my evening. The only other thing that could have made it better would be to have a few more Whigs present.”

  The sly devil. Her face was on fire now. She had to change the subject before he made any more maid references. “Will Miss Paynter be here this evening?”

  Lord Bryant gave a short laugh. He knew exactly what she was doing. “You haven’t heard? She is married.”

  She hadn’t heard. That was unexpected. She traced the lines of Lord Bryant’s face to find any signs of sadness. There were none. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Lord Bryant furrowed his eyebrows. “She married an earl. And a decent one at that. Nothing to be sorry for.” His face still showed no concern, but his stance—more stiff and formal than was typical of him—made her wonder if he was more wounded by Miss Paynter’s marriage than he let on.

  Then, to her surprise, the Morgans were announced.

  “That would be my cue to leave,” Lord Bryant said with a final bow and an eye on the Morgans entering the ballroom. “I like most women, but not that one.”

  “Did you invite everyone to this ball?” she hissed to her brother after Lord Bryant left.

  “The Morgan family has been linked with the Woodsworth family for years. I thought it prudent to invite them,” he replied between guests.

  “Well, we had better hope she doesn’t recognize me.”

  Nicholas shrugged his shoulders. “If she does, I suppose I will have to force Woodsworth to marry you. Would that be so bad?”

  Patience straightened her shoulders and looked down the line to where Miss Morgan was curtsying to a guest in front of her. “Maybe I should just confess everything. I’m surprised that wasn’t in one of Mr. Woodsworth’s plans.”

  “Let’s save the confessing for a last resort, shall we?” Nicholas responded. “Believe it or not, this evening isn’t about you.”

  That was true. It was General Woodsworth’s ball. At least her impetuous charade had led to something good for Nicholas as well. She hadn’t seen him this happy since Papa had passed away.

  Miss Morgan looked at her strangely but didn’t say anything as they were introduced. Patience was careful not to do anything more than nod. Even still, Miss Morgan would have most likely recognized Patience if her eyes hadn’t kept straying to Nicholas.

  “Stay away from her,” Patience said under her breath after they left.

  “She is quite pretty.”

  “Nicholas.”

  “I jest. Trust me, my only romantic concern at the moment is getting my sister married off.”

  The guests finished arriving, and Nicholas turned to Patience. “I have an announcement to make just after the dancing starts. You are welcome to stay here with Mama.”

  “Wait.” She pulled on Nicholas’s sleeve. “It isn’t . . . I mean he hasn’t even asked me yet.”

  He just laughed. “I already told you, this ball isn’t about you.” Then he left, disappearing into their crowded ballroom.

  ***

  “The woman we paraded about parties and Green Park was Lady Patience Kendrick?” Sophia hissed near Anthony’s ear.

  “I am aware.” Anthony was across the ballroom from Patience, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off her since their introduction. She had seemed happy to see him. But she had smiled at everyone who greeted her since as well.

  “I’m surprised she wants anything to do with us.”

  “Did she seem like that to you? She seemed happy to see us, I think.”

  “Yes, she did. And to think at one point I had thought . . .”

  “What had you thought?”

  “Well, I had thought you had formed an attachment to her. But of course, now that is impossible.”

  Anthony straightened. Ever since hearing from the duke, he had allowed hope to form. Not just form, but thrive. It was strange to hear Sophia speaking about his situation like this. It was like visiting an older version of himself. A darker version, one without the bright light of possibilities shining in front of him.

  “An attachment to a maid would be acceptable in your mind, but not one to Lady Patience?”

  Sophia had never looked sterner. “It isn’t about acceptability. I had assumed Patience the maid would be happy to marry you, but the sister to the Duke of Harrington? She has so many other options.”

  “You don’t think I could deserve her?”

  “It isn’t about being deserving, Anthony. She is the sister of a duke.”

  “Yes, you have mentioned that.”

  “And it doesn’t look like she has a shortage of admirers.”

  Sophia had distracted him, and he had misplaced Patience’s position in the crowd. But the turn of Sophia’s neck pointed him to a pack of six or seven young, and some not so young, lords hovering about Patience. And she was smiling at all of them, just as she had smiled at him.

  Some of his old doubts crept out of the dark hole where he had buried them. He shoved them back down. This evening was his one chance to speak with Patience. Who knew how long it would be until their paths crossed again? “I love her, Sophia. I didn’t even know I was capable of loving someone like I love her. It is painful and wonderful all at once. I have to try.”

  Her face softened. “Of course you do.”

  “Am I really reduced to pushing myself into that pack of wolves so I can receive some attention?”

  “Only if you want to speak to her.”

  He and Sophia pushed through the gathering crowd and reached Patien-ce’s circle of young men. Her eyes lit up when she saw them approaching. But perhaps they did for each one of these men as well. He didn’t know this Patience.

  “Mr. Woods
worth and Mrs. Jorgensen, it is such a pleasure to see you again.”

  Anthony gave a her a smile and a short bow. Isn’t that exactly what she had said to him before? Was it a practiced line?

  “You know old Woodsworth?” one of the young men asked Patience. Lord Nortfield. He was a baron but not one of particular wealth. Anthony hadn’t bothered to put him on Patience’s list because, in addition to being a peer, he was a notorious rake.

  “I know Mr. Woodsworth quite well, actually,” Patience said, her smile never faltering.

  “Really? I’m surprised anyone could know Mr. Woodsworth well. He reminds me of nothing more than a brick wall.” Lord Nortfield snickered, as did a few of the other gentlemen nearby. “How does one get to know a brick wall?”

  Anthony did his best to ignore the stylish young man. He wasn’t here to impress him. He needed to know if Patience cared for him. “If I recall,” Anthony said, “Lady Patience Kendrick seemed to feel I was more like a duck than a wall.”

  Lord Nortfield outright laughed at that. “I’m not certain that is any better.”

  “Oh no, Lord Nortfield, you are quite wrong about that.” Patience blinked and stepped toward Anthony, leaving half of the young men behind her. “Being compared to a duck is much better than a wall. Not to mention, he doesn’t just remind me of a duck.” Her smile grew even broader, like it did when she was about to do something mischievous. “He reminds me of my Ollie as well.”

  “Who is Ollie?” Lord Northfield asked.

  Patience and Anthony turned to him. “Her dog,” Anthony said at the same time Patience said, “My dog.”

  Lord Nortfield snorted, but Anthony’s ears barely took in the sound. His eyes returned to Patience’s shining ones. What woman tells a man he reminds her of a dog and a duck in a ballroom? Only Patience. She was the same whether in a ballroom or covered in soot. The pull that he had felt toward her ever since she was just a pair of boots in the library tugged at him once again. It wasn’t infatuation; he could see the intensity in her eyes. She felt it too. He just needed to figure out which of his plans would work the fastest to make her his. Living his life without her wasn’t an option; it would be much too dull.