He rounded the corner and continued down the long hall. Surprisingly, he found the whole and absolute truth to his promise. He’d told himself he’d sought Patrina out and offered her marriage following his children’s deplorable behavior in the park and his sister’s constant reminders of their need for a mother. In truth, the lady’s effervescent spirit had become a flash of light in his oftentimes dark, lonely world. Oh, he loved his children. Yet, every day he lived with reminders of his wife’s faithlessness and the heartbreak he’d known after her treachery. He’d convinced himself all women were duplicitous, faithless creatures. Ah, God…he’d pledged to never love again. Only, with Patrina’s goodness, spirit, and convictions, she’d forced him to acknowledge just how very different she was than all others.
Weston paused beside the doorway of the drawing room. He braced his palms upon the walls and pressed his forehead against the cool, silk wallpaper. In this short span of time, she’d slipped past his defenses, shattered his ugliest perceptions of women.
He shoved himself from the wall and took a steadying breath. So, Sinclair and the world would see any union between Weston and Patrina as nothing more than a match of convenience. They’d not see a woman who’d shown him that not all women were title-grasping, indulgent creatures who’d place their own happiness before all else.
They’d not see how much she already meant to him. That thought in itself should terrify him…and yet…
He smiled and stepped inside the parlor. “Amanda,” he greeted.
His sister sprung to her feet, a stiff smile on her lips. “Weston.”
He strolled over to the sideboard and reached for a glass and decanter of brandy. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” He turned to face Amanda.
Her lips flattened into a tight line. “Oh, do hush. I’d identify your sarcasm from across a crowded ballroom at Almack’s on the first event of the Season.” He arched an eyebrow, studying her over the brim of his glass. She planted her arms akimbo. “Is there anything you’d care to mention?”
He silently cursed. She’d discovered his interest in Lady Patrina. There was no other accounting for the glare of disapproval in her eyes or the pinched set to her mouth. Weston took a sip and knowing it would infuriate her, he drawled, “Nothing immediately comes to mind.”
“Your children were forthcoming.” She folded her arms at her chest and drummed her fingertips upon her forearms. “Very forthcoming.”
A little, curled head peeked in from the doorway. Sorry, Papa, Charlotte mouthed. Daniel yanked her backward.
Amanda ran her gaze over the room. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Couldn’t his children remain abovestairs and attend to their lessons but once?
“Er, nothing. I’d thought I’d heard a…” she waved a hand. “It matters not. Charlotte mentioned that you took ices with that woman.”
Rage thrummed through him at the icy disdain in his sister’s tone. “I’ll not defend my actions,” he bit out.
“She is a scandalous creature who’ll never be welcomed back into polite Society, Weston. A young lady does not simply elope and then return to the folds of the haute ton. Your reputation—”
A cold, mirthless chuckle cut into his sister’s fiery diatribe. “Do you imagine I’m over-concerned with my image after…?” His gaze strayed to the doorway. Two heads quickly withdrew. He crossed over and closed the door with a soft click then strode back to his sister’s side and dropped his voice to a near silent whisper, mindful of his children’s presence. “Do you imagine I’m over-concerned considering the scandal of having a wife who took a lover and abandoned her children?”
Lady Patrina’s only crime had been to give her heart to an undeserving cad. And yet, a woman of her strength, loyalty, and courage would be forever cast out by the haute ton when shameless mothers incapable of love were welcomed within the cold embrace of the glittering ton.
Amanda gave her head a pitying shake. “I understand you were hurt by your wife’s…proclivities.”
His jaw tightened reflexively. So, that is what they were to call disavowing one’s marital vows and parting her thighs for lover after lover, and then forsaking all others for one bastard?
“But you must think of your children. The scandal in even being linked to that woman.” Amanda shuddered as though repulsed by the very thought of his intended.
“Patrina,” he said, gruffly.
Her mouth fell agape. “I b-beg your p-pardon?” she sputtered.
“Her name is Lady Patrina Tidemore and she does not owe Society any type of explanation.” Patrina should be made an outcast while that bastard Marshville was free to move about, unscathed by his own ignoble deeds; the unfairness of it knifed at Weston’s insides.
The color leeched from Amanda’s cheeks. She touched a trembling hand to her throat. “Oh my goodness. You’ve come to care for that wo—” He glared. “Lady Patrina,” she wisely amended. She pressed her fingertips along her temple. “Weston,” she began slowly in the tone she reserved for his troublesome children. “I understand you are lonely but—”
“This isn’t about loneliness. Lady Patrina has far more strength and courage than all of the Society’s peers together.”
“Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear.” The nervous mantra an indication of his sister’s thinly held control.
He took pity. “Amanda,” he said quietly. “I appreciate your concern and the love you’ve shown my children. But be assured, I’ll not make any unwise decisions where Lady Patrina is concerned.” He hadn’t. “I’ve been rational and logical and carefully considered the implications of a relationship with the young woman.” And ultimately arrived at the inevitable truth—she’d be a good wife. When most ladies would never be good wives. And what was more, he wanted her. Wanted her smile and her laughter and even her deplorable pianoforte playing—he wanted that endearing part of her, too. He swirled the contents of his glass, staring into the amber depths, the rich brown shade putting him in mind of her eyes. “She has been good to the children.”
“She shouldn’t be around your children,” she said bluntly.
He took a steadying breath. Then, when he still felt like having her turned out, took a sip of his drink. Now that the lady had agreed, she’d be around his children every day. “Patrina saved your niece from certain harm.”
“Patrina?”
“And such a woman should be treated with the utmost respect.”
His sister’s eyes slid closed. She mouthed what appeared to be a silent prayer and then gave a slow nod. “You know, my concern merely stems from—”
“I know,” he assured her.
She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
“Is that all?” he said dryly, taking a sip of his brandy.
She drummed her fingers together, contemplatively. “Why, yes. I do believe it is. We leave for the country in two days and I didn’t want to leave without …” She blushed.
Meddling in his life. He arched a brow at her unfinished thought.
She gave a toss of her curls. “Er, Happy Christmas, then Weston,” his sister said softly.