***
For a first waltz, Patience thought it had gone very well. She hadn’t danced since her father passed away, but her years of lessons in preparation for coming out had returned soon after taking the first step. It didn’t hurt that Mr. Fairchild was an excellent dancer and conversationalist.
She glanced toward Mr. Woodsworth and his sister. Neither of them was smiling, and she didn’t know why. Truthfully, it had gone quite well. In fact, she would have to thank Mr. Woodsworth for the opportunity of coming to this ball after all. He had seemed so excited about the dress and the chance for her to live like a lady, and she hadn’t fully appreciated it. She did now. Having that first dance in society over with, and with someone who had nothing to gain from her position, was a gift she would have to find a way to repay.
They reached the spot where the siblings were waiting, and she gave both of them her largest smile. “Thank you for bringing me here. Mr. Woodsworth, you were correct. I believe some of my dreams have been fulfilled this evening.”
“You promised her dreams would be fulfilled?” Mr. Fairchild asked. His eyebrows rose, and a comfortable grin spread across his face. “Why have you never mentioned Miss Smith before? She is delightful.” He turned to Patience “I hope you have returned to London to stay. Surely you have more dreams to fulfill.”
“She hasn’t.” Mr. Woodsworth spoke up before she could answer.
“I can speak for myself.”
“Of course you can, but you probably shouldn’t, now should you?”
Oh dear. Mrs. Jorgensen had told him about her inability to lie.
Mr. Fairchild’s smile faltered, and he narrowed his eyes in Mr. Woodsworth’s direction. “Why shouldn’t she speak for herself?”
She laid her hand on Mr. Fairchild’s forearm in reassurance. Both men’s eyes followed the gesture. “Mr. Woodsworth doesn’t trust me to say the right things. But despite what he might consider a flaw, I almost always manage to say the right thing.”
“Is that right?” Mr. Woodsworth asked. The lines about his eyes were deeper than usual, as if all the movement in the ballroom was painful to him. “Then answer this question. Are you in London to stay?”
Patience turned to Mr. Fairchild and smiled. “Whoever stays in London when the air is so unpleasant?”
She turned back to Mr. Woodsworth triumphantly.
“And where do you go for fresh air?” asked Mr. Fairchild. “When you are away from London, where would I be likely to find you?”
Oh drat, a second question. No matter, she could handle that as well. Mr. Woodsworth stepped forward to answer the question for her once again, but she waved him aside.
“I’m afraid when I am outside of London, you are not likely to find me at all. However, if Mr. Woodsworth knows my location and would like to tell you, I will give him my full permission.”
After this was all over, she wouldn’t know Mr. Woodsworth at all. There was little chance he would ever know her location after she left his family’s service.
“So it will be up to Anthony to allow our acquaintance to continue after all.” Mr. Fairchild narrowed his eyes at his friend. Patience shrugged her shoulders. Mr. Fairchild was kind, but there was no way her brother would allow an attachment between the two of them. It was better he knew right away where she stood. She could remain a friend as long as he knew that at some point very soon, she would be gone. Mr. Fairchild glanced back and forth between her and Mr. Woodsworth. “Has Anthony introduced you to Miss Morgan yet?”
“No.” Now here was a subject she was quite ready to speak on. She searched the ballroom even though she had no possible idea what Miss Morgan looked like. “Is she here?”
“She came in just after you and Sophia did,” Mr. Fairchild answered. “I would have thought he would introduce you or at least point her out.”
“I would have.” Mr. Woodsworth’s voice was low and steady. “But you asked her to dance almost immediately after we arrived. I never had the chance.”
“Well, you have the chance now. She is just on the other side of the ballroom speaking with Lord Bryant. Shall we go over and introduce them?”
Lord Bryant? The room suddenly stilled, and people seemed to be falling in toward her. Lord Bryant was here? Her eyes flew to Mr. Woodsworth’s in a panic. He had told her no one of rank would be attending the same social functions as he. What was Lord Bryant doing here?
Mr. Woodsworth glanced between her and the group across the room. His head tipped to one side as he examined Patience’s face. “We don’t need to introduce you if you would rather not,” Mr. Woodsworth said. The deep furrows in his brows reflected concern.
“Oh, now you give her a choice.” Mr. Fairchild shrugged. “Are you certain it isn’t that you don’t want these two charming women to meet?”
“No,” Mr. Woodsworth said. “Can’t you see she doesn’t want to go over there?”
“Mr. Woodsworth is correct.” Patience stepped away from their small group slightly, trying to put Mr. Fairchild in between her and the group on the other side of the room. “I do not. In fact, I would rather not stay any longer.”
“Not stay any longer?” Mrs. Jorgensen asked. “Whatever did we come for? You haven’t even danced with Anthony.”
“And I do want to dance with Mr. Woodsworth. Truthfully I do.” Patience’s heart was reacting funny to Lord Bryant being across the room. She hadn’t seen him since she was a young girl, but he was unmistakable, even from across the room. She scooted so she was slightly behind Mr. Fairchild. “But more than that, I would like to leave.”
Mr. Woodsworth rubbed his temples. She didn’t blame him. She wasn’t helping at all. After he and his sister had gone to so much trouble.
“Miss Smith—” Mrs. Jorgensen began.
“No, it is fine,” Mr. Woodsworth interrupted his sister, dropping his hands to his sides and resuming his serious nature. He spoke softly, perhaps so Mr. Fairchild wouldn’t hear. “We can leave. There is a decent chance we should never have come. We will leave together, and perhaps that will be good enough.”
Mr. Woodsworth glanced over to Miss Morgan, and for the first time, Patience truly looked at her. She was beaming at Lord Bryant. Her hair was perfectly styled and her mouth turned up in a pleasant bow. She wasn’t militaristic like Mrs. Jorgensen. She seemed soft and sweet. This was the woman Mr. Woodsworth had spent two years faithfully courting. Mr. Woodsworth seemed to be the type of man that would be happier married than unattached. The deep lines in his face made more sense now. What would it be like to try for years to convince a family you were worthy of their daughter?