Then who sent the notes?
Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he made his way down a long drive, finally rounding out his stroll back near the falconry. He stopped a few feet away from the table and admired the view. Patience, head bowed over her work, blond tendrils of hair spilling over her face, had her brow furrowed in concentration as she painted. Such a vision of beauty. What would it be like to embrace her? Touch her skin? Kiss her? Heat spiked an arc from his face to his middle.
He longed to do just that, right then.
All in good time.
He didn’t want to wait.
You’ll scare her away. She still thinks you a rake.
He let out a sigh. Right. Patience was a virtue and all that. He snickered, truly hoping Patience wasn’t as virtuous as she’d always seemed. That she would one day welcome and return his affection.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, she jerked upright and stared at him. “What are you doing over there? Staring at me?”
He spread his hands as he moved toward her. “How can I help it? You’re a delight to behold.”
She shook her head. “Always quick with a comment, aren’t you?”
Walter reached the table and sat at the empty chair. “Can’t I give you a compliment?”
“Of course. But you’re rarely sincere.”
“Aren’t I?” He watched her intently and waited.
Her eyebrows lowered and she blinked. “I’m never sure when to take you at your word.”
“You can right now.” He winked.
She rolled her eyes.
Blast. I must stop winking. No wonder she didn’t believe me. He pointed to the painting. “How is the panorama coming?”
“I’m making good progress, I think.”
His heart fell. “It’s as I feared.”
“Why would you have that reaction? I’d assumed you would be glad to end your unpleasant duty of accompanying me here.”
Because I can’t get enough of spending time with you. He pointed behind her in the direction of the old house. “Our mystery. I’m longing to figure it out.”
“Oh.” Her face drooped, like that of a deflated balloon.
Hope ignited a tiny flame in his chest. Could it be? Had she been enjoying their time together too?
She stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders. “I’ve done all I can for today. Time to head home, I think.”
He nodded. “Certainly.”
“By the way, where did you run off to just now?”
She’d noticed his absence? That was something. “I took a walk.”
“See anything interesting?”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’m glad you asked.”
She raised her eyebrows, waiting.
“When I reached the old house, I saw a pigeon.”
Her eyes lit up. “Did you? Do you think—”
He held up his hand. “I don’t know if it’s our pigeon, but it very well could be.”
“Oh, Walter, isn’t this exciting?”
He grinned. “I certainly think so.”
“What happened next?”
“The pigeon flapped its wings around an open window, then flew inside.”
“Do you suppose someone was in there? Wait, you’d said before it had looked deserted.”
“True. But it could be possible that there was someone there. That it’s the same person who wrote the notes.”
She bounced in her seat, every bit like the young girl he’d first met. “I can barely stand it.”
He laughed. “Don’t get too excited. It may come to nothing.”
She made a face. “And here I am, nearly finished with my panorama. If I push myself hard, I might be able to finish in a day or so.”
“Is there a way to slow the progress?”
“Perhaps. I mean, Mr. Wycliff couldn’t possibly know how long it takes for complete a panorama, right?”
“Exactly.” A cool breeze kicked up, swirling leaves and twigs around at their feet. “I think you’re right. We’d best be on our way for today.”
“Certainly. Let me make sure this is dry.” She stood, pressed her finger on the paper in several places checking for lingering wetness. With a satisfied nod, she rolled the paper up carefully and placed it and her supplies inside her large bag.
Sadness at their adventure nearing an end warred with excitement at Patience’s reaction about the pigeon at the window. They rode home mostly in silence. Surely Patience was weary after a long day of such concentrated work.
Once back at home, they dismounted their horses, left them with the capable grooms and walked to the house.
They just entered the front door when waylaid by Kitty, who stepped closer. Walter and Patience had no choice but to stand pressed against the wall, side by side. “Why are you two so late again?”
Patience lifted her chin. In defiance? “We’re not that late.”
“You barely have time to wash up and change before dinner.” Kitty, eyes flashing and face in a scowl, reminded him of Lydia.
Walter, loath to cross the angry sister, still didn’t want Patience to be berated for something unimportant. “Patience was working on her panorama. Working very hard, I might add.”
Kitty speared him with a stare. “And just what were you doing all that time?”
He focused on anything but her, which was difficult considering there wasn’t much space between them. “I was… um…”
Patience touched his hand with hers. Briefly. “He took walks. Helped me set up my supplies. Spoke with Mr. Wycliff. Quite a few things, in fact.”
Some of the irritation seemed to drain out of Kitty. “Oh. Well…” She frowned and then stared at Patience again. “I assume you’re nearly finished with your panorama? You’ve have enough time.”
“I…” Patience’s throat moved as she swallowed. “You see…”
“What?”
“I’m… I’m in the painting stage.”
“Good. And…”
Patience sighed. “And, that’s it.”
“But how soon will you be finished? Mr. Wycliff—”
Patience straightened her spine. “I don’t understand why everyone is so concerned about placating Mr. Wycliff.”
“What do you mean?”
“Kitty, look around. We’re not…” She angled a sideways glance at Walter. “We aren’t poor anymore.”
“Thankfully, no.” Kitty crossed her arms.
“Then why the push to keep a customer happy? We don’t have Robert breathing down our necks anymore to keep making more money.”
Kitty’s expression softened. “It’s not about the money, Patience. It’s about doing the best work you can.”
“I do my best.”
“I know you’re a very talented artist. You always have been. But part of doing your best is pleasing the person who is paying you, putting his trust in you, to give him a good product.” She chucked Patience under the chin. “That’s something you’ll learn when you grow up.” She gave them both a wink and walked away.
Patience fisted her hands at her sides. “I hate when she does that.”
“Does what, exactly?”
“Berates me. Chucks me under the chin. Tells me I’ll know something when I’m grown up.” Her face reddened. She stared at Walter. “Do you think I’m grown up?”
His breath hitched. He cleared his throat. “Why, yes. There is no doubt in my mind. You are no longer a child. Not at all.”
She let out a breath and relaxed her hands. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “My pleasure.”
She shook her head. “Now that Kitty has confronted me about it, I have no choice but to finish the panorama. Tomorrow.” She shrugged and headed to the stairs. Over her shoulder she said, “Guess I’ll see you at dinner.”
Walter inwardly groaned as he watched her climb the steps. Why did this have to happen just when he and Patience had agreed on her trying to lengthen the project so they could spend more time near the o
ld house?
Chapter Fourteen
Patience sat at the table, waiting on the final touches of paint to dry. She pressed down on one side of the roll of paper to keep it flat. For the other end, she’d placed her book on the very edge. Now to wait a few minutes until everything was ready. With a critical eye, she studied her work again. The falcons, their glossy feathers, dark eyes, sharp, hooked beaks. The shady enclosure with perches and straw beneath. One bird was sitting sideways, its wings flapped in agitation. Another, eyes closed, had nestled down for a nap. A third stared right at her from the page, as if wishing to say good day.
Would Mr. Wycliff approve? She had to admit that even with her delays caused by the mysterious notes, this panorama was one of her best works. Perhaps because she’d enjoyed capturing the individual personalities of each bird as she sketched and painted. The way they acted, and interacted with each other. Definitely more fun to paint than say, the Tower of London or even Hyde Park. Any kind of creature was preferable to her as opposed to places or objects.
A shadow fell across her work and she jumped. Peeking over her shoulder, she relaxed. “Walter, you must stop startling me like that. I thought perhaps you were Mr. Wycliff.”
“Pardon.” He moved and sat opposite her. “It wasn’t my intention.”
“It wasn’t? Since when?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. For once it didn’t enter my mind to tease you.”
She nearly laughed but stopped short. He seemed in a serious mood, which was something quite foreign to him, as far as she knew.
He glanced down at the table. “Are you finished?”
She nodded, hoping he liked the final product. Somehow it meant more if he approved than even Mr. Wycliff. Odd. When had Walter’s opinion come to mean so much?
He shook his head slowly.
Oh no… Her heart plummeted. He didn’t like it? “What? Why are you—”
“It’s amazing. Simply fabulous. Your talent in unparalleled.”
She blinked. “Thank you.”
He smiled and gazed directly into her eyes, the blue of his own were mesmerizing. Two perfect oceans of calm, clear water, beckoning her to come closer, Explore. Take a chance. She couldn’t look anywhere but there. A tremble began at her toes, spread up her legs, around her midsection, up her arms and ended at the tips of her fingers. Patience fisted one hand and kept it on the edge of the paper. The other hand, she moved below the table to her lap. Why am I nervous around Walter?
When he reached out his hand and covered hers, she watched in near disbelief. He was being so kind, so solicitous. When had he changed? Or had she just not taken the time to notice the difference in him lately?
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, but only once. When he released her, disappoint covered over her instead. At that moment, having him touch her in any way was all she wanted. The only thing she could think of. Feeling like not having him near would mean the end of the world. The end of everything pleasurable or enjoyable.
“Good day.”
She jumped again. This time she knew who stood behind her. Turning, she shaded her eyes as she peered upward. “Good day, Mr. Wycliff.”
His eyes gleamed. “My goodness, the panorama looks marvelous. Can I hope it’s now complete?”
She moved her hand so he could view it better. “It is indeed.” The question, what do you think of it hovered on her lips, but she didn’t give it voice. Because if for some reason he wasn’t satisfied, she might have to begin the whole process again. She eyed Walter. Although, if that would mean more time with him would it really be so bad?
Waiting, Patience sat very still, almost afraid to breathe, while Mr. Wycliff leaned over her shoulder, peering down at the picture.
His shadow shifted when he stood up straight again. “Miss Sullyard, I love it. Fine work. I can’t wait to show it off to my friends.”
She let out a long, slow breathe. “I’m so glad you’re pleased.”
“Oh, indeed. It’s exactly what I’d wanted.” He moved back a little and Patience stood to face him.
She was pleased as well, though still felt the panorama was unfinished. She’d really wanted to add the pigeon, since it seemed to be a regular part of falconry even though it wasn’t a falcon, nor did it share the same living quarters. Something about it fascinated her. Maybe it was the mystery surrounding it. The fact that it delivered messages, even though she and Walter didn’t know to whom they were intended. “I’m delighted you’re happy with the painting. I…”
“Yes?”
“I know you hadn’t wanted the pigeon included, but—”
His pleasant countenance fell. “Why are you so interested in that old pigeon? It’s only a stray. A vagabond. Something that happened along. I feel it was magnanimous of me to even give it shelter. Something to eat.” He scratched his head. “Though it doesn’t always seem hungry, which is odd. I suppose someone else may be feeding it too…” His eyes looked at something over Patience’s shoulder. His sharp stare cut into her again. “Nevertheless, I’ll not have you disparaging my prized falcons over a nondescript pigeon of the ordinary variety.”
Panic shot though her. “I didn’t mean anything about your falcons. They’re beautiful. Magnificent.” She twisted her hands together at her waist. “There’s just something about that pigeon.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That will be enough of that.”
She gasped. He appeared angry enough to strike her.
“You’ll be paid for your work, but I’ll thank you not to mention that pigeon to me ever again.” He turned abruptly and stalked away.
Patience slumped back against the table. “What have I done?”
Walter rounded the table and put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Haven’t I?”
“Of course not. You did beautiful work for the man, gave him exactly what he’d wanted. All you did was express your interest in another of the birds.”
“Somehow, I don’t think he sees it that way. And neither will my sisters.” When Walter removed his arm from around her, she was disappointed again. His arm had felt even better than his hand on hers had earlier.
“Why don’t I help you pack up?”
“Thank you.” She turned to check the pigeon’s roost. “Look, he’s back again. Mind if I say a last goodbye?”
Walter leaned toward her and kept his voice low. “You don’t need to say goodbye.”
She huffed out a breath. “Why not? I’ve come to really admire that bird.”
“No, I mean, we can come back.”
“I don’t see how. You heard how displeased Mr. Wycliff was when I mentioned the pigeon just now.”
“Who says he has to know when we return?”
She pointed to his head. “Walter, have you been in the sun too much? How do you propose we do that?”
“We come under cloak of darkness.”
“At night?”
“Not so loud.” He glanced around them and back to her. “Yes. At night.”
“Won’t we get into some kind of trouble?”
He stepped closer. “Why are you concerned about that? Aren’t you dying to know who’s behind those notes?”
“Of course. But—”
He placed his finger over her lips. “No buts. Let’s go say farewell to Hervey. For now.”
With a nod, they hurried to where Hervey sat, content and a little sleepy on his perch. She grabbed Walter’s arm. “There’s another note. Hurry, before someone sees.”
Slowly, gently, Walter used a calming voice as he untied the note from the bird’s leg and pulled the foolscap free.
“What does it say?”
“Come to me. Quickly!”
“Oh my goodness. Here.” She dug into her bag and gave him a scrap of paper and her pencil. “Write something in return.”
He bit his lip in concentration and quickly wrote something down. Then, he re-tied it to Hervey’s leg and gave the bird a ligh
t pat on the head.
She leaned against Walter’s arm. “What did you write on the—”
Walter glanced up. “Wait. Mr. Wycliff is glaring at us from over there. Let’s be on our way.”
They all but ran to the stables and retrieved their horses from the groom.
Chapter Fifteen
Walter gave a light knock to Patience’s door. Hopefully she was still awake. They’d planned to leave the house at midnight but she might have succumbed to tiredness.
Her door opened with a creak as Patience winced at the sound. She motioned Walter to wait. When she disappeared behind the door again, he started to tap his toe on the hardwood floor, thought better of it as his boot was poised a couple of inches above the floor and silently lowered his foot. Better not make any noise to alert the rest of the household to their nighttime adventure.
Hurry… We don’t want to be caught in the hall.
Once again, the door opened. Again with a creak. Walter imagined his expression matched the pained one Patience wore.
He grabbed her hand, whispering, “Come along. We’ve no time to waste.”
She nodded and tugged her dark pelisse around her shoulders. “Do you have the lantern ready?”
“I decided not to bring one.”
She stopped, jerking him back by their joined hands. “Why not?”
“I don’t want Mr. Wycliff to see us coming from a mile away, our lantern flashing through the dark like a beacon.” He tugged her hand and they continued down the stairs.
“Then how will we see where we’re going?”
“Surely we can see our way by moonlight.”
She shrugged. “If there is a moon tonight.”
“Good point.”
They reached the back door at the servants’ entrance and silently slid out into the night. Walter let out a breath. There was a moon. And it was bright.
Patience looked up too and grinned. “Perfect.” She started toward the stables.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
“I… I got to thinking about it. If we try to get the horses ourselves, we might wake a groom. Plus, the noise…”
Color of Danger (Sullyard Sisters Book 3) Page 9