She had come to this household to prove to herself and to Nicholas that she didn’t need anyone to plan her life for her. And in the end, she needed Lord Bryant’s help as well as her brother’s.
Patience took the broom back to the kitchen. Cook was there, already preparing the noon meal. She should say something to her—thank her for the times she had shown Patience things in the kitchen. But she didn’t. She quietly set the broom in the broom closet and washed her hands and face in the sink next to the stove. The water was cold. Warm water was one thing she could look forward to. Tomorrow she would most likely have a hot bath.
She ran her cap and apron to her room, straightened her dress as well as she could, and left.
It was time to say goodbye to Mr. Woodsworth, if he dared appear in his study this morning.
She knocked softly.
“Come in.” His answer was immediate.
She opened the door, and for the first time since joining this household as a maid, Mr. Woodsworth stood at her arrival.
Then he sat down. Then stood again. He finally gave up and strode over to where she stood. His face was strange. He pulled at his sleeves in the way he did when he was nervous or wanted to compose himself.
Oh heavens, Lord Bryant had told him. Her stomach felt tight. It was a wise choice to skip breakfast this morning. Her stomach couldn’t handle Mr. Woodsworth knowing she was the daughter of the Duke of Harrington. He would treat her differently. He already was.
“You don’t need to stand when I enter a room. I am just your servant.”
Mr. Woodsworth had reached her side. His strength and solidness calmed her breathing and slowed her heart rate a bit, as it always did. But not enough.
With his eyes still on her, he reached behind her and slowly closed the door. His arm brushed the top of her shoulder. He was so close and in a closed room. Was there a chance that he did not know? He smelled of ink and morning tea, and when he brought his hand back to his side, he didn’t step away from her.
He leaned in, and her heart didn’t steady. It went wild. “You have never been just my servant.”
She closed her eyes slowly. Lord Bryant had told him. She threw her hands over her face and ran over to the club chair where she had read the last time she had been here with him.
“You must think me ridiculous. How long have you known? It must have been since Lord Bryant’s visit.”
She didn’t dare look at him, but a small sound like a laugh came from his side of the room. “Oddly enough, that is exactly when I knew. He told Stewart you died by snake bite, by the way.”
“What?” She looked up at him then. He was smiling. Sweet mercy, he was smiling at her. That tentative smile that changed all the lines in his face into works of art.
“He told Mr. Fairchild that you died. Well, to be more specific, that Mary Smith had died. So one problem has been taken care of, anyway.”
“You don’t need me to act as her anymore?”
“No, that would hardly suit my purposes any longer. We need a different plan.”
“A different plan to help you convince Miss Morgan’s parents? Surely you must see that I can no longer help you with that.”
“What?”
“It is why I came here this morning. I wanted to tell you, but it seems as though Lord Bryant has beat me to it.” Her hand started shaking, and her eye twitched. That wasn’t necessarily true.
“I don’t want you to help me with Miss Morgan any longer. I don’t want to marry Miss Morgan any longer. The very thought of it makes my blood run cold. She and I would not make a good pair.”
Sun broke through the window, and the room brightened. Specks of dust floated about Mr. Woodsworth’s face, making him appear like a dream. “You are no longer courting her?”
“No.”
Patience lifted her shoulders. Perhaps her time here had not been a complete waste. Mr. Woodsworth wouldn’t marry Miss Morgan. It was a relief. It was right, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was partially responsible. Her grin grew broader.
“I see that makes you happy.”
“Very.”
“I must admit I hoped it might.”
“Of course it makes me happy. That woman only wanted to use you. And she didn’t even commit to using you. She just strung you along like Cook’s collection of potato skins. She keeps them, thinking someday she might use them, but in the end, they just get thrown out after going bad. There are other people that might like those. Molly would happily take them home to her family, but Cook just waits and waits until they are no longer good for anyone. Good for you, Mr. Woodsworth, for not waiting on a woman who has no real use for you when I am certain there is another out there who would be grateful to have you.”
Mr. Woodsworth walked over to her chair, reached for both of her hands, and pulled her up to stand next to him. The sunlight reflected in his pale-blue eyes, casting a gleam across them like none she had seen before.
“Patience.” The way he said her name sounded different. Reverent, even, but he shouldn’t be calling her that anymore. Not now that he knew who she truly was. His thumb traced each of her poor, cracked fingers. She should step away. Lady Patience should not be alone in a man’s study. Especially not in this man’s study. It was one thing to be impressionable and thoughtless when she was a maid, but now that he knew she was Lady Patience, she no longer had that luxury. She needed to find a place somewhere between Mama and Nicholas. Today seemed like a day to act like Nicholas. She wouldn’t be swayed by fancy. But Mr. Woodsworth continued, “Is there any chance that woman could be you?”
Every nerve in her fingers felt as if they were on fire. She pulled her hands away from him. Mr. Woodsworth had fended off all of her advances, and yet now that he knew of her position in life he was suddenly pursuing her? Had he only given up Miss Morgan for the chance to marry someone several ranks above her? “You must know how inappropriate that would be.”
She had done this to him. She had taken him in while a maid and confused him. “The difference in our stations is unsurmountable. You must see that. Not to mention, I have lived in your home, acted as your servant. Can you imagine the scandal?”
“I’ve thought of that. Would you hear me out? I have thought of all of it. It isn’t a perfect solution, and it will require some waiting on our parts. But I am willing to wait if you are. I don’t want to rush you. I’m not asking you to marry me. But I am asking you to consider allowing me to court you and allowing me to court you in perhaps an unconventional manner. At any time, you may tell me you don’t want me, and I will allow you to continue on the path we pave for you. You will have a much better chance of marrying someone of your choosing and living a full life if you agree to my plan. So I hope you will listen to it.”