by Esther Hatch
He covered that broad, outspoken mouth of hers with his own. Her lips were just as he remembered them—soft and responsive, moving along the top of his. He reached for her waist and pulled her closer to him. She sighed and collapsed into him, throwing her arms around his neck. He would have waited three years for this. His hands travelled up her back until his fingers found her hair again.
Patience pulled away just enough that she could speak. “Don’t mess it up—I have to face my brother after this.”
He nodded and kissed her again, breathing in her scent. It was lavender and sunshine. Never in his wildest dreams had he considered that he might marry so well, and it had nothing to do with Patience’s rank. She had brought him joy and showed him he was more than enough. His eyes slid to the clock once more.
One minute. He closed his eyes and pulled her closer to him.
They were going to be late.
Chapter 24
“Should we light the fire in the music room?” Patience sat on the edge of Anthony’s desk, waiting for him to balance one last ledger. They had been married two weeks already, and he claimed he had never been so far behind on his work. But he always said it with a smile, so she didn’t worry about it much. “Mama might want to sing for Harry and Augusta when she gets here.”
Anthony nodded, but he didn’t look up from his paper. “I will tell the maid to do it once I finish this one”—he struck a line though one long number “last”—he jotted down a different one—“thing.” He slammed his pen down and stood. His hands were immediately at Patience’s waist, pulling her off the desk. He took one look at her, then buried his face in her hair.
“But I thought we could do it together.” Patience tilted her head to one side to give him better access to her neck. She bit her lip and made a soft noise in her throat. It only encouraged him.
“What about your dress?” he asked, his breath warm on her ear.
“I’ll wear an apron.”
“I don’t want your brother to think I can’t keep you respectable.” He moved to the other side of Patience’s neck.
She laughed and pulled away from him. “He wasn’t able to, so he can’t judge you for the same problem.”
“Still, your family will be here so soon . . .” he lowered his head back down to the side of her neck that had received the least amount of attention and traced kisses up her jawline.
“I like how your face looks when the flames first flare into life.”
He stopped trailing kisses, took a step back, and caught each of her shoulders in his hands. “Go get your apron.”
Patience jumped up, placed a kiss on his cheek, and then turned to fetch her apron. She didn’t even get a step away before she was pulled back by a hand about her wrist.
“Two weeks of marriage and already I am reduced to only receiving kisses on the cheek? At this rate, by next month we shall only be shaking hands.”
“You know that isn’t true,” she said.
“Prove it.”
Patience laughed and placed an even shorter kiss on his mouth, then jumped away.
“That hardly counts.”
But she was already halfway out of the room. “Come help me with the fire, and when your face is lit up and the fire is going, I will kiss you more thoroughly.”
Half an hour later, the fire heated the music room. Patience had delivered on her promise to Anthony. His usually sharp features still held the dazed glow of a man who had spent the last ten minutes being kissed by his wife. It was her favorite look on him. Her apron was gone, her face and hands cleaned from any soot. She was completely respectable and presentable. Anthony had nothing to worry about.
Then Nicholas and Mama were announced.
“What have you done to your hair?” Nicholas said as soon as Mr. Gilbert showed him into the music room.
Anthony and Patience exchanged a glance. She had been so concerned about the soot that she hadn’t thought to check the condition of her hair, and Anthony never minded a few loose curls here and there.
“Oh, Nicholas,” Mama said. “She isn’t your responsibility anymore. And if you would like to be invited to newlyweds’ homes in the future, you would do better off not to notice such things.”
The slight tinge of pink along Nicholas’s neck was almost worth his earlier reprimand.
Anthony gestured toward the four chairs set up for them. Mama moved to her seat first. “Harry and Augusta will be here shortly. They have prepared some songs for you.”
“How are their parents enjoying Kent?” Mama asked.
“They only left the children here yesterday, and we haven’t heard from them yet. But they looked very happy as they left,” Patience said, taking a seat with a smile. Sophia had looked radiant. The month with her husband home had done her well.
Berta, their new maid—who was forty-five years old with a stern face—brought the children in.
“Miss Patience,” Harry said as he ran across the room to give her a hug. They hadn’t had much time to see each other yet. Harry had only mumbled that they had been practicing some songs before being carted off to bed. “You met Father.”
“Yes, I did, and he is a wonderful man. No wonder you missed him so much.”
“Now Mama smiles like a duck all the time.”
“And you and Augusta are also smiling like ducks, I see.”
“Really?” Harry beamed.
“Truly.”
“Lady Ottersby,” Nicholas barked from the seat next to her.
“What?” Patience turned to ask him.
“Young man, that woman whose skirts you are holding is not Miss Patience. She is Lady Ottersby, and before she was Lady Ottersby, she was Lady Patience Kendrick. She has never been a miss.”
“Harry, you are welcome to call me whatever you like.” She pointed to Nicholas. “This is my brother, Nicholas, the Duke of Harrington. He will probably want you to call him ‘Your Grace.’”
“It isn’t that I want people to call me that.” Nicholas cleared his throat. “It is, however, customary.”
“Your Grace.” Harry made a very serious, very low bow. Augusta tried to imitate him but got off balance and had to straighten up abruptly.
“A pleasure to meet you, Harry, Augusta,” Nicholas greeted them as formally as he would a peer.
“I hear you are going to perform some music for us,” Mama said. “Would you like me to accompany you on the piano?”
Harry and Augusta nodded.
Mama left her seat and went to the piano. The children walked to her side, Augusta skipping a little. Harry leaned forward and whispered in Mama’s ear. She nodded and started to play a child’s tune. The children started to sing. Augusta’s voice faded in and out depending on which words she knew, but Harry sang strong and well.
After about twenty minutes of children’s songs, Anthony pulled out his pocket watch. It must be almost time for their walk in the garden. They clapped extra loud on the children’s last song and then begged to be excused.
“Just a few more?” Harry asked. “Your mother plays the piano very well.”
“What if Nicholas stays to listen for a bit, and you can practice something special to sing to us when we get back.”
Anthony placed a hand on Patience’s arm. “We don’t need to walk today. It is fine.”
“Nonsense, it is 11:15. It is our habit to walk in the garden at 11:15.” Truthfully, they had missed a few days since marrying, but Patience had learned a few things since she had left home, and one of them was that although Nicholas may have been right and it was time she took life more seriously, he didn’t have life figured out either. Nicholas needed to find some time to relax and remember the young man he used to be. What better way to do that than by spending time with Harry and Augusta? Patience wished she could make it a weekly occurrence. “Nicholas, we will be back in fif
teen minutes.”
Nicholas eyed the children first, then stood and followed them to the door. “Lord Ottersby, may I have a moment with my sister?”
“Of course.”
Nicholas and Patience stepped into the corridor outside the music room.
“You are going to leave me here alone with those rascals?”
“They are not rascals, and you won’t be alone. Mama is there.”
His look did nothing to convey comfort in her words.
“It is just for a few moments while we go for a walk.”
“Shouldn’t I come with you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“For the same reason you shouldn’t have mentioned my hair when you entered the music room. Anthony and I enjoy being alone together. The last thing you would want to do is be on a walk with the two of us. You were the one who made us wait three months to be married; you can’t begrudge us our time now that we are.”
That quieted him. Who would have thought that being married would have given her so much power over her brother?
He went back in the room, and Anthony came out. “Should I ask His Grace to join us?”
“Please don’t.”
“I feel strange leaving in the middle of a visit. We really don’t have to walk today.”
“I want to, and what is more, I think Harry and Augusta will be good for Nicholas.”
Anthony shrugged his shoulders and put his arm out so Patience could take it. They went to fetch Ollie first so he could join them on their walk. She had debated leaving him with Nicholas when they married, but Nicholas didn’t care for Ollie the way she did. When she’d asked if they could have him, Nicholas’s response was “He has always been yours.”
“You know, when you first told me of Ollie, I hadn’t thought he would be quite so large.” Anthony laughed as he gently lowered Ollie’s front legs back down to the ground. Ollie only jumped up on people when they greeted him enthusiastically, and Anthony had made the mistake of leaning down and speaking to him just as soon as he was out of his kennel.
“Well, I did say he reminded me of you.”
“That is the reason? Because of my size?”
“That and other things.”
Anthony laid a hand on Ollie’s head, which calmed him immediately. There was a brisk wind in the air, but the sun was shining. He turned to Patience, and his eyes reflected that light. “What other things?”
Patience shook her head. “I’m not you; it isn’t as though I have a list.”
“I would almost never tell someone they should be more like me, but in this one instance, I am quite disappointed. That is one list I would love to see.”
“I suppose I could tell you a few of the reasons.”
Anthony dropped his hand from Ollie’s head and stepped toward Patience. His eyes traveled from the curls at the nape of her neck to her lips.
“Don’t tell me.” His face was only inches from her own, and his breath tickled her cheek. “Write it down in a careful column, and I will read it anytime you are cross with me.”
Patience pursed her lips together. His substantial chest was directly in front of her, teasing her. She knew what it felt like to be crushed into his embrace, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with that last sentence. “No,” she said.
“You won’t do it?” He stepped back the slightest amount, creating space between them. Unacceptable.
“Of course not.” She grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him back to her. “Why would I write something you would never get a chance to read?”
Patience pulled herself up on her toes, using her grip on his coat as leverage. His arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her the last few inches until her toes only skimmed the ground. “You honestly think you will never be upset with me?” he asked.
Blast. Nicholas had long since told Anthony of the reasons for her forced honesty. There was no getting around an answer. “Well, I suppose at some point you may frustrate me a little.”
He bent at the waist as he leaned toward her ear, allowing her feet to stand firmly back on the ground. She was expecting a kiss, but instead, he only whispered. “Make me a list, darling. I will read it whether you are upset with me or not.”
She had no quick reply, no flippant remark. When Anthony was this close to her, it was as if her mind was in a haze. “All right.”
He smiled, and Patience was brought back to the first time she’d met him in the garden, so stiff and formal. She never would have thought that young man would someday find himself in that same garden with his arms around her. He leaned down and kissed her, his mouth warm despite the chill in the air. He cupped her face in his hand and explored more and more of her lips. Her shoulders relaxed as she fell deeper into the kiss. In the distance, she could hear Mama singing. Not one of her recent French ballads, but instead a fast-paced children’s song.
A nudge at her knee brought her mind back to focus. She opened her eyes to find Ollie pushing his nose between the two of them. She shoved him a bit with her leg, but it only made him more insistent.
Anthony firmly pressed one last time on her bottom lip and then pulled away.
He narrowed one eye at the Great Dane. “Ollie may remind you of me, but I’m afraid he isn’t ready to give up his position of power yet.”
“He will have to get used to it.”
“Yes, he will. Is that your mother singing or one of the maids?”
“No, that is Mama. I’m surprised you haven’t heard her sing yet.”
“Her voice is . . .” Anthony paused. It was difficult to devise a word to describe Mama’s singing. “Energetic. The children must be having a wonderful time.”
“They might be, but I’m certain Nicholas is barely tolerating it. He has probably run out of lectures for Harry about proper forms of address.” Their home was so full and alive with the children here, and even before they came, it had never felt empty. Nicholas and Mama would have to return to an empty home this afternoon. She wished there was something she could do to help. Even the music room window looked darker than the others in their home, as if it knew her family had brought their problems with them. “I worry about how I left the two of them alone. Our house used to be filled with happy moments. Now I fear it isn’t filled with anything.”
Just then, the music changed, and Mama started a soft, slow love song. It was one Patience had only heard her sing twice since she’d returned from France. She hadn’t been able to sing it through either time, always faltering and then stopping halfway through when it mentioned the man always being there.
Her voice was strong and resolute now though. Perhaps this time she would finish. With only one line to go before reaching the one she could never sing, her voice started to falter. The keys on the piano kept playing, but her voice came in and out.
Like the strains of a finely tuned cello, a soft but deep baritone joined in with Mama. It started off quiet, but by the second line, the volume matched what hers had been. Mama’s innocent soprano joined back in, and together, they sang two more lines. And then Nicholas broke from the melody to harmonize. Patience hadn’t heard him sing for at least four years. The sound wafted into the garden, coating the trees and shrubbery with music.
Patience fell forward into Anthony’s coat and breathed in his scent to stop the tears forming in her eyes. He placed his hand on the top of her head and held her close to him.
He cleared his throat. “Nicholas has a fine voice.”
She could only nod against him.
“They are going to be all right.”
Her voice finally started to cooperate. “I know.”
“Should we go in and join them?”
“Not yet. I want to listen for just a few more minutes.”
The music coming from inside the house changed to one of Papa�
�s favorites. This time, Nicholas sang the opening notes of the ballad. Mama’s voice started, faltered, and then started again. Each time she lost her voice, Nicholas would sing with more enthusiasm until Mama’s voice was strong again.
The music room window no longer looked dark. Music had changed it somehow. Perhaps Mama had always known that was what was going to bring her family back together. At least for a little bit. At least for this moment. And what more was life than powerful moments strung together to create a vibrant melody?
Anthony laced his fingers through Patience’s and pulled her back toward the house. The gravel crunched under their feet, and the wind had stopped blowing enough for the sun to warm their backs.
“You know, you never gave Nicholas that letter of recommendation,” Patience said. “I worked very hard to earn that.”
“I also owe you twelve shillings.”
“When are you planning on fulfilling your promises?”
They had reached the door that led into their home. Anthony placed his hand on the knob and then turned to Patience and kissed her on the nose.
“As soon as you make me that list.”
About the Author
Esther Hatch grew up on a cherry orchard in rural Utah. After high school, she alternated living in Russia to teach children English and attending Brigham Young University in order to get a degree in archaeology. She began writing when one of her favorite authors invited her to join a critique group. The only catch was she had to be a writer. Not one to be left out of an opportunity to socialize and try something new, she started on her first novel that week.
Facebook: facebook.com/authorestherhatch
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Website: estherhatch.com
Other Books By Esther Hatch
Roses of Feldstone
A Proper Scandal
All Hearts Come Home for Christmas (contributor)
