“Fine! She isn’t fine. Now every one of these servants knows who she is.”
“They were going to find out eventually,” Patience said. “Let me introduce you.”
With each introduction, Nicholas calmed down by increments. Patience knew he would be that way. It was one thing to condemn servants you didn’t know for spreading gossip. It was quite another to see them as real people, and Mrs. Bates and Mr. Gilbert were some of the best.
“You need to stop running off.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Once I am married.”
Nicholas eyed the servants once again. “Nothing has been settled.”
“It is being settled right now. I found the letter.”
As if on cue, the drawing room opened. Mr. and Mrs. Morgan’s frowns were as deep and as prickly as the bushes on the side of the Woodsworths’ home. Miss Morgan followed quietly behind them, her shoulders hunched. Patience wasn’t sure what Anthony must have told her, but it didn’t look as though she liked it.
Miss Morgan’s eyes caught on Nicholas’s boots and then slid up his frame. Immediately she went through a miraculous transformation. She pulled on her parents’ arms. “Your Grace,” she said while performing an elegant bow.
“Ah, Miss Morgan, wonderful to see you again.” Gone was Nicholas’s stormy attitude. He was actually smiling at the woman.
Miss Morgan positively simpered.
After greeting both of her parents, Nicholas bid them farewell. “I hope you shall be great friends with my sister. She is just entering society and could use a companion with your sense of decorum.”
Miss Morgan blushed and nodded her head. “Of course, Your Grace.”
“Wonderful. I’m glad we had a chance to chat.”
The door closed behind the Morgans.
“A chance to chat?” Patience said. “You can’t be serious.”
“I told you before she is a handsome woman. Aren’t I right, Woodsworth?”
Anthony didn’t answer his question. Instead he stepped forward and took Patience by the hand. “I’m not certain I should remark on any woman’s appearance while your sister is in the room.”
“See, Nicholas,” Patience said. “I told you he was intelligent.”
“I would never doubt a Woodsworth’s intelligence,” Nicholas said, reaching for Patience hand. “Now let’s go home. Mr. Woodsworth, I will expect you to call on us in a few days’ time. After things have settled down.”
Anthony cleared his throat. “Actually, I wonder if, perhaps, you would give me permission to speak with your sister alone.”
“What? Now?” Nicholas asked.
Anthony stood tall. His eyes snaked over to Patience’s. “Yes.”
“Already? You are going to skip courting completely?”
“I’ve had enough courting to last a lifetime. I’m ready to have the woman I love back in my home.”
Mama sighed heavily, and Nicholas raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Mother, they are speaking of marriage. This is a serious matter.”
“It is,” Mama said. “But it is also so very exciting.”
Nicholas shook his head, but he didn’t argue.
Patience stepped away from her brother and leaned forward, toward Anthony. Their private conversation couldn’t come soon enough. Everyone, including Mrs. Bates and Mr. Gilbert, kept their eyes on Nicholas, waiting for his response.
“Oh fine.” Nicholas threw his hands up. “Take her to your study.”
Anthony reached for Patience’s hand. “Thank you,” he said.
“Oh, and Mr. Woodsworth,” Nicholas stopped him just as they were about to walk away. “You have fifteen minutes before I come in there. I will not have my sister’s reputation marred.”
***
The study was still a disaster. They hadn’t even bothered to lay the rug back down properly. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother Anthony at all.
He hadn’t planned to do this today. Most of his well-thought-out plans were scattered about the room. In fact, now that his father was to be a marquess, most of his plans would need to be revised. In the meantime, Patience stood there waiting for him to say something. What would be the best way for them to proceed?
“Lady Patience,” he began but stopped when she sighed heavily. “What?”
“Patience.”
“Patience your name? Or you wish I would be more patient?”
“My name. The last thing you need is to be more patient. We have been patient enough. What were you doing? Formulating a plan?”
She knew him so well. “I might have been.”
“I have a plan this time,” she said, stepping closer to him.
“I would love to hear it.”
“My plan is for you to propose at least seven minutes before our time is up, so we can use those last minutes alone as an engaged couple before my brother comes barging through the door.”
“But what if word gets out about you living here?”
“We will laugh it off, and you may tell anyone you want about how young and silly I was. The worst thing someone could do is demand we get married. I won’t begrudge them that. Even should the queen forbid me to attend some of London’s high-society events, you know I won’t mind that either.”
“So . . .” It was taking his mind a moment to wrap around what she was saying. “There is to be no plan.”
“No plan.” She looked at the clock on the mantle. “Except the one where you quickly propose.”
“Are you certain you want me to do it here? Would you rather go to the library and stand behind the curtain?”
Patience laughed, and it was bells on Christmas morning and wind chimes in summer. He would never tire of her laugh. He would have to work on his humor, so he could hear it more often.
“Here is fine. Or over by your desk, where you proposed to me last time.”
“How many times must a man propose to a woman before she takes him seriously?”
“Three,” she said. And then she took his hand and led him to the desk.
He pulled her in the direction of his chair and motioned for her to sit. He knelt in front of her, not because it was expected of him, but because standing didn’t reflect his sincere feelings of underqualification.
“Lady Patience Kendrick, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”