“See,” Charlotte said, that one word more gloating than had she run around the room and waved her arms, yelling ‘victory’. “So, then we shall go for ices?”
Weston swiped a hand over his face. “Char—”
“But you said we would,” she cried. “You promised Lady Patrina, and gentlemen do not go back on their promises.” Her words rang damning and true in the space of his office.
He sighed. His seven-year-old daughter had the right of it. He walked over to his desk and pulled out the top drawer.
“What are you doing?” Charlotte asked suspiciously.
He was trying to figure out how in hell he was going to manage collecting three frozen ices from Gunter’s and discreetly carrying them to a more appropriate place. He withdrew a sheet of velum. “I’m sending an invitation to Lady Patrina.”
His daughter clapped her hands together in pleasure, the sound drowned out by Daniel’s groan of annoyance.
A gentleman did not go back on his promises. That referred to offers of marriages or ices where honorable gentlemen were concerned. Weston sat down to pen his note. It would seem they were to have ices. That was of course assuming Lady Patrina still cared to join him and his troublesome children.
CHAPTER 6
Patrina sat at the windowseat. She stared down into the white-covered streets below. Perhaps it had been the rather snowy weather to account for it. Or perhaps he’d merely been indulging his small daughter. Or even yet, mayhap he’d merely been teasing Patrina. But the Marquess of Beaufort had never sent ’round his invitation.
She touched her fingers to the frost-stained window and trailed her nail over the frozen flake upon the cold windowpane. And if she were to be honest with herself in this moment, she could admit to an overwhelming sense of disappointment.
Not because she dearly loved muscadine ices, which she did. Rather, too much. But because after months of being withdrawn from polite Society, she’d embraced the opportunity to go out, if even just for a bit and pretend she was still a respectable young lady with an interested suitor.
She considered the marquess’ usually frowning countenance and smiled wistfully. Granted, the marquess in no way could be mistaken for an interested suitor. Still… She’d enjoyed the dream of it.
Logic had driven home the very obvious fact. Young, respectable ladies did not join gentleman in closed carriages for ices at Gunter’s and sensible people didn’t ride in phaetons in the cold of winter.
A knock sounded at the door and she glanced over.
“May I come in?” Her sister-in-law hovered hesitantly at the entrance of the room.
Patrina swung her legs over the side. The rustle of her skirts filled the quiet. “Of course.”
Juliet ambled into the room, at an uncharacteristically awkward gait due to her swollen belly. She walked over to the window seat and lowered herself carefully onto the floral cushion. She grimaced.
“Are you all right?” Patrina made to rise, prepared to fetch her brother.
Her sister-in-law waved her off. “I’m fine,” she assured her. “Please, whatever you do, do not fetch, Jonathan.”
Patrina grinned. “He’s been unbearable?”
Juliet returned her smile. “He’s been unbearable.”
Yes, Jonathan seemed to be constantly hovering at his wife’s side. Who would have imagined her rogue of a brother would have fallen in love so hopelessly and helplessly with his wife? But then, with her kind heart and resilience, it was rather hard not to love Juliet.
Her sister-in-law placed her hand on Patrina’s, as if having sensed the direction her thoughts had traveled. “I don’t think I shall ever live a day without guilt and pain for what my brother has done to you,” Juliet said softly.
Patrina winced, hating any and every mention of Albert Marshville “It isn’t your fault, Juliet.” How many more times would she have to assure the other woman she didn’t hold her to blame? Oh, she would trade her right hand for the restoration of her good name so she might make a respectable match. But she’d never trade away any of her sibling’s happiness for that of her own.
“Your brother was so certain he could silence all hint of scandal,” Juliet said wistfully.
“Then, that is Jonathan.” He seemed to think he could assure each of his sisters’ every happiness.
“That is Jonathan,” Juliet murmured in reply.
Gentlemen possessed an arrogance far greater than the clear logic of a woman. Patrina had known with the same certainty Juliet surely had, that Patrina’s actions that day nearly a year ago would be the ruin of her.
“You deserve more than this.”
Patrina managed a smile.
Juliet gently squeezed her fingers. “Might I ask the question I’ve longed to, Patrina? You needn’t answer.”
She stared on expectantly and her sister-in-law continued on a rush. “You are so lovely, so vibrant and talented. Why, Albert?”
Her heart warmed at Juliet’s faithfulness. This was why she could never begrudge Juliet her relationship with that fiend. “He paid me attention.” She grimaced as she realized what an absolute ninny she’d been trading everything for someone who merely ‘paid her attention’. She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “I’d had two Seasons. In that time, do you know how many suitors I had?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “None. Not a single gentleman brought me flowers or wrote me sonnets or…” She allowed her words to trail off and looked out the window a long while in silence.
Then Albert had come along. And he’d teased her and flirted shamelessly with her. He’d snipped a black curl and tucked it close to his heart—his black, empty heart. And for that alone, she’d lost her pride and good standing in Society.
“I believe there is a gentleman who will be brave enough to overlook a youthful mistake.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Patrina said harshly. Her cheeks warmed. “Forgive me,” she said, immediately contrite.
Juliet waved her off. “I’m not too proud to admit I’ve been a fool more than once in my life.” She squeezed her fingers yet again. “This, however, is not one of those times.”
She was saved from answering by the sudden appearance of the butler. He bore a silver tray. “Lady Patrina, you have a letter,” he shouted into the room. Her heart paused and then resumed a hard, fast beat. She scrambled out of her seat.
“It was delivered…”
She all but sprinted across the room and accepted the missive. “Thank you, Smith! That will be all.” She gave him a pointed look.
The astute butler might be deaf, but he was still savvy. He glanced over her shoulder to where Juliet sat, surely staring with curiosity, clearly wondering who’d sent ’round a note to Lady Patrina Tidemore.
Patrina’s heartbeat sped up again. She could think of only one such gentleman.
Smith bowed and took his leave.
Unable to resist the almost painful curiosity, she looked down at the missive in her hands. She studied the black wax of an unfamiliar seal. Her fingers fairly twitched with a desire to unfold the note, but… She glanced up quickly. Juliet remained seated at the window, head angled, a question in her eyes. Patrina folded her hands behind her back and concealed the letter from her sister-in-law’s worried eyes. “None of this is your fault, Juliet,” she said, returning to the matter that had brought her sister-in-law here.