“I would see you happy,” she murmured.
The note fairly burned in her hands. The closest to happy intrigue she’d felt in a long while. “I am happy.” Now. I’m happy right now. Happy because with the arrival of a note, something uniquely different had happened to her in a world where everything had become so entirely the same.
Juliet placed her hands on the small of her back and arched it as though in pain.
Patrina frowned. “You’re certain you are well? I shouldn’t—?”
“No! You should not get your brother,” she said. She walked over and kissed Patrina on the cheek. She ran a searching gaze over her face. Concern radiated from the depths of her violet-blue eyes. “If you need anything, Patrina, if there is anything you require of me, you know you must simply ask.”
This offer referred to the note she still held out of her sister-in-law’s line of vision. It spoke volumes to the woman’s character that she didn’t flat out distrust Patrina following the incident with Albert… “Thank you,” she said softly.
The other woman looked as though she wished to say more, but then gave a nod and took her leave.
Patrina waited several moments after she’d gone and then turned her attention to the letter in her hands. She slipped a finger under the wax seal and opened the note. Her heartbeat sped up.
Lady Patrina,
Forgive the delay in my sending round this note. Alas, after your departure, I placed a good deal of consideration into the difficulty in coordinating a respectable trip for ices in the heart of winter.
Her heart slipped with disappointment and she paused mid-way through the missive. Of course, the marquess had surely realized the scandal in being associated with one such as her, after she’d left. She forced herself to keep reading.
After I discussed the logistics of such an endeavor, considering the rules of etiquette and weather, with my very insightful children.
Her lips twitched at the heavily emphasized word.
I ask that you brave the winter weather tomorrow afternoon at the edge of the Serpentine where we first met, so that I might repay your good deed (my dear Charlotte’s words) with ices from Gunter’s. If you, of course, do not wish to brave the cold, you just need send word. I’ll have to brace Charlotte for the disappointment….
She sighed, foolishly and wished some of that disappointment had been held by the gentleman himself—
And of course, myself
Your humble servant.
W
And, of course, myself. Those four words, so very important.
Patrina folded the note, an unwitting smile played about her lips. There had been no need to add that last ‘myself’, and yet he had. Perhaps she was reading more into those four words and a comma, but—
“What is that?”
She shrieked and spun around. “You scared me.”
Poppy stood, framed in the doorway, a suspicious glimmer in her eyes. “What is that?” she repeated.
“What is what?”
Her sister shoved away from the door and advanced on Patrina like she were Boney on his march through the frozen wilds of Russia. “Why did I scare you?” She screwed her mouth up. “The last time I scared you was when…” Patrina braced for the hesitantly spoken words about Albert Marshville. “You went and made a cake of yourself over that…man.”
A bubble of laughter escaped her lips.
Her sister started. She stared unblinking at Patrina. “Did you just laugh?”
“I did.”
The girl folded her arms across her chest, the suspicion deepening in her gaze. “You’ve not laughed in…” She tossed her hands up. “I don’t remember how long. And when you do laugh, well it’s not this…this…loud,” she said on a skeptical whisper. “It makes one wonder…”
Patrina stared at her expectantly.
Her sister let out a sigh of exasperation. “Must you and Jonathan always do that?” she mumbled. “You’re supposed to ask me.”
Patrina bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at poor Poppy’s indignant expression. “Ask you what, dear?”
Poppy pointed her gaze to the ceiling. “You’re supposed to ask what it is that makes one wonder.”
She took pity. “Very well,” she said, schooling her features. “What does it make you wonder?”
“Why you’re so happy. Not because I don’t want to see you happy,” she continued on a rush. “And not because you shouldn’t be happy, that is to say.” An uncharacteristically serious expression settled over the girl’s face.
“What is it?” she asked gently.
“I just…” Poppy’s gaze wandered to a point beyond Patrina’s shoulder, and then she returned her focus to her older sister. “I just want to make sure you aren’t a ninnyhammer again.”
God love Poppy for being direct with her when the whole world still tiptoed around the mistakes of her past. She stood there a moment and thought about the marquess, with his gruff demeanor but obvious love for his children. “I promise not to be a ninnyhammer,” she pledged.
Though, if she was being truthful with herself for the first time since Albert’s betrayal, Patrina could admit she still believed in and longed for her own true love.
Perhaps she really was a ninnyhammer, after all.
CHAPTER 7
As Weston’s carriage rattled along the quiet streets of London, but for the winter still, there was little else quiet about the day.
“I don’t want to go meet Lady Patrina for silly ices,” Daniel grumbled from the opposite bench.
Charlotte shook her head with a worldly-wisdom better suited a matron than a mere girl. “Oh, do hush. You’ll enjoy the ices immensely.”
“I won’t.”
“You will,” Charlotte shot back. “Papa, tell him—”
“Both of you, please, stop arguing.” Perhaps even at their young age they detected the thread of desperation in his words because brother and sister exchanged a look and fell remarkably silent. With a sigh, Weston sat back in the comfortable squabs of his seat. Charlotte burrowed against his side, with a total lack of regard as to how her shifting figure threatened the very existence of the sugary ices from Gunter’s.
He frowned. He’d never considered the mere three miles between Berkeley Square and Hyde Park an overlong carriage ride. However, with the precariousness of the ices in his and Daniel’s hands, he began to doubt he’d arrive with Lady Patrina’s ice fully frozen. A bit of cream dripped onto his hand.
Or even frozen. It seemed more likely melting was to occur.
His son frowned and appeared torn between tossing his ice to the carriage floor and licking it. In contrast, Charlotte’s eyes danced with excitement. She bounced up and down on the seat, in this instance the lighthearted child he remembered.
She clapped her hands. “I’m ever so excited to see…” She blushed. “Er…the frozen river,” she finished lamely.
Daniel glared in his younger sister’s direction. The look in his eyes suggested his thoughts had traveled the same path as his father’s.
Weston gave his head a slight shake. He’d not embarrass his daughter with the transparency in her plans for he and Patrina. Why, Charlotte could easily displace Lady Jersey and Lady Cowper with ease from their respected places as matchmaking Society hostesses.