“And does this friend have a name?”
“I…well…I didn’t think to ask.”
“You didn’t think to ask?” he repeated. “Where is this person now?”
“He’s sitting in the drawing room.”
“Really.” He fixed her with a glare. “And are you in the habit of letting strangers into your home?”
“I let you in, didn’t I?” she replied sweetly.
“You think that’s funny?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
“I don’t think it’s funny when you let a stranger in the house, a stranger who might be connected with our stalker or may be the stalker himself,” Nathaniel fumed.
“Oh, I hadn’t considered that. He looks harmless.”
“You hadn’t considered… No, of course not. Now I will have to deal with him.”
“Nathaniel, lower your voice. He’ll hear us. You’re being rude. He’s just given me roses. No one has ever given me flowers, except Grandfather. I need to get them into water.” Her voice nearly broke, and he thought he detected a tear in her eye.
Damn it all! Why hadn’t he thought of giving her flowers? Women loved flowers. And there was a whole garden of them right outside the door. The least he could have done was pick one of them for her. Imagine that. No one had ever given her flowers before.
Nathaniel strode into the drawing room, spoiling for a fight.
The man he was ready to do battle with stood up from the couch.
“Who are you?” Nathaniel demanded, sweeping the man with a glance. Damn, the man was…pretty. That was the only word for it. He had the kind of dreamy looks women swooned over.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, offering a hand that Nathaniel refused to shake. “I’m Hamilton Farnsworth, from London.”
“What are you doing here?” Nathaniel asked gruffly.
“I’m here to call on Patience,” he answered, unflustered.
“Why?”
“I’d rather discuss it with Patience. It’s a private matter.”
“Private?” Nathaniel was steaming. “I’m her cousin, and you can discuss it with me.”
“Nathaniel!” Patience protested, sailing into the room with the vase of flowers. “Get away from my guest and try to control yourself.”
“I’m perfectly in control of myself. I was just about to show this man to the door.”
“Just take a seat and let me handle this.”
Nathaniel grumbled as Patience placed the flower arrangement on the sideboard.
“Allow me to introduce myself, again,” the man said pointedly, turning on his charm as he reached for Patience’s hand. “I’m Hamilton Farnsworth of the London Farnsworths.”
She held out her hand, and he kissed it. Patience blushed.
“You’re even more beautiful than your grandmother led me to believe.”
Nathaniel sat down on the couch, slouched, and rolled his eyes. This guy is a major bullshit artist.
“How did you know my grandmother?”
“We corresponded for a time, and then she invited me for a visit. But by the time I could get here she had already passed away.”
A cloud of sadness passed over Patience’s face.
“What was your business with my grandmother?” she asked.
“You,” he stated simply.
“Me?” she asked, confused.
“We corresponded about you. Didn’t she tell you about me?”
“No. I don’t understand.”
“I knew this was going to be difficult,” the man said. “You see, your grandmother intended that we…I mean… How shall I put this delicately…”
“Just spit it out,” Nathaniel growled from his place on the couch. “We don’t have all day.”
“Nathaniel, please!” Patience pleaded. “Behave yourself.”
Nathaniel crossed his arms and glared at Hamilton.
“I think she had in mind some sort of arrangement,” he began.
“An arrangement? What sort of arrangement?”
“A flower arrangement, obviously,” Nathaniel sputtered.
“You’re such a juvenile,” Patience said.
“An arrangement of a more permanent nature,” Hamilton said, interrupting their sparring.
“You’ll have to speak plainly,” Patience said. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“You see?” Nathaniel barked. “That’s what I was trying to tell him. Speed it up. We’re not getting any younger.”
Patience shrugged at Nathaniel and turned back toward Hamilton Farnsworth.
“Kindly get to the point, Mr. Farnsworth, if you have one.”
“That is exactly the point, Miss Whitestone. We’re not getting any younger. Your grandmother realized that, and she…hand-picked me for you.”
“She hand-picked you? You mean like you would pick a flower in a garden?” Patience was still trying to comprehend his meaning. This man was making no sense to her.
“No, Miss Whitestone, Patience. You see, your grandmother knew she was dying, and my grandmother, Lady Carolyn Farnsworth, was a longtime family friend, and your grandmother was deathly afraid of leaving you alone. She wanted someone to care for you when she was gone. So she sent me your picture and wrote me about you and arranged for us to be, I mean…”
Nathaniel began howling with laughter. “I don’t believe this!”
Patience looked at Hamilton and back at Nathaniel in confusion.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?”
“For God’s sake, Patience,” Nathaniel said. “You don’t get it, do you? Let me translate. Your grandmother arranged a match for you. She intended for you to marry this man. It’s a done deal. Signed, sealed, and delivered. She bought him for you, lock, stock, and barrel. Your gentleman caller is a suitor, isn’t that right, Farnsworth?”
Patience was rendered speechless for a moment.
“You can’t be serious,” she stammered. “An arranged marriage? Is this true, Hamilton?”
A whoosh of air escaped from Hamilton’s lungs. “Precisely. But I assure you, no money changed hands.”
Patience took a step back. “This was what Grandmother meant when she predicted someone would come for me? Not serendipity? She decided to give fate a helping hand, did she? Well, I don’t need any handouts. I’m not a charity case, so I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” Hamilton said, hopefully.
“Are you crazy?” Patience spit.
“Crazy about you,” Hamilton said. “I know this is a bit unorthodox. But when I saw your picture and read your grandmother’s letters, heard the way she described you, I thought you were an angel. Now that I have seen you, I know she wasn’t exaggerating. Your picture doesn’t do you justice. Patience, do you believe in love at first sight?”
Her response came with a touch of impatience. “Well, yes, I mean, it happened that way for my grandparents.”
“Patience, can’t you see he’s a fortune hunter?” Nathaniel objected.
“I am most assuredly not a fortune hunter. I am very wealthy in my own right. In fact, I’m in line for a title. I am looking for a wife, more precisely, a wife who can produce an heir. And you need a husband. We’re both alone. Your grandmother thought we would have a lot in common. She simply reasoned that if she put you in my path, events would proceed according to plan.”
“According to whose plan?” Sarcasm hardly suited Patience.
“Did I mention that I have excellent references? My credentials are impeccable. Would you like to see them?”
“Do you have a bank statement?” Nathaniel posed seriously, eyes narrowing.
“As a matter of fact, I do. I brought my entire portfolio.”
“I don’t believe this is happening,” Patience muttered.
Nathaniel choked and tried his best not to laugh. He thought this man seemed familiar. He was a male version of Patience, a clone. They looked alike, both with the same blon
d, angelic features. They talked alike. They were both dreamers, both prim and proper. Her grandmother was exactly right. They did have a lot in common. And the man she had selected for Patience was exactly the wrong man for her. How did he know this? Because he was the right man, the only man, for her. He would just have to convince her of that.
He noticed Hamilton trying his best not to leer at Patience’s legs and failing miserably.
“Patience, go and change into something less—revealing,” Nathaniel ordered.
“You liked what I was wearing a few minutes ago.”
“Well, I changed my mind. Go cover yourself with something more respectable-looking.”
“You’re nuts, Nathaniel Morgan. I’m perfectly comfortable in these clothes. They’re entirely appropriate for working in the garden.”
“Uh, Patience,” Hamilton interrupted, trying to get her attention.
“Are you still here?” Nathaniel remarked.
“Yes, and I’m going to stay here until I claim the woman I am going to marry.”
Patience turned on him. “I can’t believe my grandmother thought she had to find a man for me. I’m perfectly capable of finding a man on my own, if I want one. As a matter of fact, I have a perfectly fine man living right here in my house.”
Hamilton’s eyes bulged.
“For heaven’s sake, Patience, this man is your cousin! He’s hardly suitable. Have you looked at the man? He’s a bloody pirate, for God’s sake, and a rather hairy one, at that. I think what your grandmother had in mind was a gentleman, someone refined, with the right sensibilities.”
“What’s wrong with my sensibilities?” Nathaniel demanded with a mock-injured look.
“You’re missing the point. This was your grandmother’s dying wish. She only wanted your happiness. I’ve even written a poem to you. I call it ‘Ode to My Beloved.’”
Nathaniel could see that Patience was about to fold. She was a sucker for romance. “I’m sure we don’t want to hear it,” he piped in.
“Mr. Farnsworth, Hamilton, this really isn’t a good time,” Patience said. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. And I’m sorry you had to travel all this way for nothing. I know my grandmother meant well, and I know your intentions are honorable. This just comes as a shock. I’ll need some time to process it.”
“I completely understand,” Hamilton conceded.
“Maybe you should come back later,” Patience suggested. How long will you be in Bermuda?”
“I’m here for as long as it takes. I’m prepared to wait. I waited for what I thought was a respectable period of time before I approached you, in consideration of your feelings. I see it is too soon. Once you get to know me, I’m sure you’ll find us quite compatible in every way.”
Nathaniel bristled at the less than subtle message.
“I’m sure,” Patience said mildly, blushing.
“And you’re going to love London,” Hamilton assured her. “Your grandmother especially wanted you to see England. She said you’d never been off the island.”
“England?”
“Well, yes. That is where we’d be living. That’s my ancestral home.”
“And Bermuda is my home,” she reminded him. “I’m perfectly content here.”
“Sounds like a dealbreaker to me, Ham,” Nathaniel interjected, a grin pushing at the corners of his mouth.
“We couldn’t possibly live here,” Hamilton protested. “Bermuda is so—remote.”
Patience sighed, and Nathaniel beamed.
“Hamilton, this whole notion is utterly ridiculous. I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. I’m not going anywhere with you, now or ever.”
“If she wants to go to England, she can call a travel agent,” Nathaniel said smoothly, tasting victory. “Or I could take her. Patience, why don’t you meet me in the garden? I will help Mr. Farnsworth find the door.”
“But Patience, we have a lot to discuss,” Hamilton pleaded. “Our marriage, all of our plans…”
“It was lovely to meet you, Hamilton, and the flowers are beautiful, really,” said Patience as she backed out of the room into the kitchen. “Thank you. We’ll talk later…much later.”
“You heard the lady,” Nathaniel said, hustling Hamilton to the front door. “It’s time for you to go.”
“Now see here,” Hamilton said angrily. “Patience needs me.”
“No, you see here,” Nathaniel growled, grabbing Hamilton’s suit jacket by the lapels. “You don’t know a thing about what Patience needs.”
“I resent that.”
“You can resent it all you want—on the other side of the door,” Nathaniel said, releasing the man. “I’ll bet you don’t even sail.”
“Well, no, I…I have chartered a yacht before.”
“Let me guess. Golf is your game.”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Just lucky. Now you listen to me. You can’t have Patience.”
“Why not? Who’s going to stop me?”
“I am,” replied Nathaniel, fixing Hamilton with his most menacing glare. “How’s your swing?”
Hamilton looked puzzled. “My golf swing?”
“I’m going to start practicing mine in about ten seconds if you’re not gone,” Nathaniel challenged, pounding the knuckle of one hand into the palm of his other.
The man looked unsteady on his feet. “Perhaps I should come back when emotions aren’t running so high.”
“I think that would be a smart idea,” Nathaniel said, slamming the door shut right after adding, “Better yet, don’t come back at all.”
Who does the man think he is, barging in like that, trying to steal my girl? His girl? Did he just call Patience his girl? But that’s how he thought of her. He was beginning to feel comfortable in this home, in his surroundings, with this woman. She would fit perfectly in his home at Fair Winds. He could almost imagine her there.
When he walked down the back steps to the garden, Patience was beaming.
“What are you looking so smug for?”
“You were jealous,” Patience said.
“Of Lord Byron?”
“Of Hamilton Farnsworth.”
“Even his name sounds pompous. He wasn’t right for you, and you know it. He’s just a boy. You need a man. We could always introduce him to Cecilia. He wouldn’t last one round with her.”
“He brought me flowers,” Patience said simply. “And he composed a poem for me.”
“You want flowers?” Nathaniel said. “Look around you, you have a garden full of them.”
“Yes, but he brought them to me, for me. It’s different.”
Resigned, Nathaniel turned away to roam the gardens. He stopped when he noticed a single yellow bloom standing in a carpet of green. It was delicate, graceful, glorious, just like Patience. Its aroma invaded his senses; the smell overwhelmed him like her fragrance. The blossom’s vivid color was the shade of the sun, but it didn’t come close to matching the luster in Patience’s hair. He bent down to pick it.
“Here,” he said, thrusting it toward her unceremoniously, almost knocking her over. He didn’t have the flowery words. “I draw the line at poetry.”
“Thank you,” she said as tears glistened in her eyes.
“Damn it, Patience, if I had known how much you would get off on a simple flower, I would have picked one for you sooner.” It didn’t take much to make her happy—or not, he thought as he noticed the tears starting to flow.
He looked alarmed. “If you don’t stop, your tears are going to flood the ocean,” Nathaniel pleaded. “No more tears, please. It’s just a flower. What’s wrong? What did I do?”
“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “It’s not you. It’s everything. It’s my grandmother thinking she could organize my life from the grave, that she had to find someone to take care of me. Thinking that no one would want me, that I could never find someone on my own.”
“You found me, now, didn’t you?” Nathaniel said gently, as he pulled her into hi
s arms, holding her close. “We found each other.” She deserved special treatment, he thought. She deserved a title. But not if it meant taking Hamilton Farnsworth in the bargain. In fact, the thought of Lord Byron’s hands on Patience, his mouth claiming hers, was suddenly very disturbing.
After a while Nathaniel kissed the tip of her nose possessively and released her.
“Why don’t we start digging?” he suggested.
“I think there might be some shovels in the garden shed,” Patience said, leading the way. They discovered several large shovels there, and Patience handed the most sturdy one to Nathaniel. She removed her grandmother’s gardening tools from the shelf.
“I’ll watch, but I will not participate,” she said. “I’m going to weed the garden.”
“That’s fair.”
He worked half the morning, sweating profusely, shoveling dirt, trying to dig around flowerbeds while he was digging up her family secrets.
She sat close by, pulling weeds, adding nutrients to the soil, lovingly tending the garden while she watched Nathaniel out of the corner of her eye. She remembered her grandmother’s firm hands on her little ones when she was small, helping her pat the soil, plant the seeds, and nurture new life in her favorite place. She had lavished the same special attention on her family. Patience and her grandparents were close. They found everything they needed on the island with each other. She wanted to feel that closeness, that true happiness, again and was afraid she would never find it. She felt her grandmother’s presence most in the garden. She could feel herself regaining strength among these living things. For the past week she had existed in a ghost world, summoning up fleeting shadows of the past.
She wanted to turn toward life, toward Nathaniel. He could be controlling, demanding, even arrogant, and he posed a very definite threat, but she wasn’t intimidated. Instead, she was drawn to him. Her head told her to be cautious, but her heart was painting a different picture. She was responding to his kindness, the way he seemed to care for her and sense her every mood, meet her every need. She was falling in love with him. It was happening so fast. But hadn’t it happened exactly that way for her grandparents? The way her grandfather told the story, it had taken only one look and he belonged to Diana forever. They were engaged within a week. But that was the 1940s, and there was a war on. Naturally, events proceeded at an accelerated pace.
Under the Moon Gate Page 18