by Wendy Vella
“No!” She wrenched free, stumbling backwards.
“Patience.”
He tried to follow, but she turned and ran from him, across the room, her heels flicking the hem of her skirt, until she reached the doorway. Once there, she turned to look at him once more.
“Please don’t do that again…please.”
Before he could answer, she’d left the room.
Mathew stood looking up at his ancestors, letting his body cool down after the inferno Patience had created inside him. She asked too much of him, asking him to stay away from her—especially now, when for the first time in a long while he was interested in a woman. And not just any woman. The woman who had been his childhood friend.
He made himself walk slowly across the room and back as he marshaled his scattered thoughts.
His memories of Patience Allender had always been warm and sunny, and many had included both her and Anthony, all wrapped up in a warm, painful bow. She had been a part of Mathew’s life that did not hold responsibility, but fun and laughter and the carefree days of childhood. It saddened him that he had allowed those memories to become twisted with his grief, yet he had no way of separating them.
She had challenged him about Anthony and her belief that he had not grieved, but Mathew did not think he would ever be ready to acknowledge what was inside him. He couldn’t, because he feared it would destroy him.
He knew that getting close to her was going to open a floodgate of emotions inside him, he realized as he made his way back to their families—emotions that had been dormant for so long, yet the thought of walking away from her again was no longer an option.
Simon and Louis had arrived, he saw when he returned, and he found Patience across the room, greeting his brother-in-law. She did not look his way, but gave Simon a polite curtsey as if she had not a care in the world, and as if he had not kissed her thoroughly beneath the portraits of his ancestors.
“Uncle Mathew!”
Mathew smiled as his nephew ran across the room to his side. Bending, he held out his arms and accepted the hug that Louis offered him. Giving him a squeeze, he rubbed his chin over the soft hair that resembled his father’s, and was thankful yet again for his sister Claire’s persistence.
Louis’s mother and Anthony had had an affair in France, and Louis was the result, which the Belmont family had only found out when the boy was six years old. To his everlasting shame, Mathew at first had not believed he existed and had refused to investigate further when they received a letter from Louis’s uncle. It had been Claire who delved deeper, and who had gone to see if the boy really did exist. Mathew would always be eternally grateful that she had done so.
“Have you eaten all the cake, Nephew?”
“Non, but Charlie has.” His smile was wide and always made Mathew’s stomach clench, as that expression too was Anthony’s.
“And have you made the acquaintance of Charlie’s eldest sister, Louis?”
The boy shook his head and held his hand up to Mathew so he could take him to meet Patience.
“Miss Allender, please allow me to introduce you to my nephew, Louis.”
His nephew executed a perfect bow and Patience offered him a curtsey.
“I am very pleased to meet you, Louis. May I call you that?” she said, smiling, a soft genuine one, unlike the kind Mathew received. “Charlie has just told me your interests are similar to his.”
“Yes, I would be happy for you to call me Louis.”
“And I am Patience.”
Mathew didn’t precisely gnash his teeth, but the thought was there. It seemed everyone but him was allowed to be on informal terms with her.
“He is Anthony’s son, Patience,” Mathew said softly once the boy had left to go to Charlie’s side. She would be curious as to the boy’s parentage, that was only natural, and he and his family had never made it a secret.
“Yes, Claire told me. The likeness is strong,” was all she said before turning away from him to take the seat next to her sister.
The conversation was general after that, with the focus around the two boys, who were already chatting like old friends.
“My wife talks often about the yearly visits your family and hers spent together, and that you used to read to her when she was a child. She tells me that you have the storytelling voice of an angel, Miss Allender.”
“I am afraid you have been misled, Lord Kelkirk. There was only myself or Lord Belmont to read the evening story, and as I did not skip words or pages, the Belmont and Allender siblings chose me,” Patience said.
Mathew watched her as she and Simon talked. She was on edge, her hands smoothing her skirts or reaching for her tea. Her eyes constantly found her siblings as if checking to see if they were all right, and then returned to whoever was speaking, and he knew it was his presence alone that had made her feel this way.
“Perhaps you can read us a verse or two, and I can see if my wife is mistaken in her memories, Miss Allender,” Simon suggested.
She laughed and her blue eyes lit briefly. “I fear I shall put you all to sleep, Lord Kelkirk. And now I think we must leave. Lucy, Charles.” She regained her feet. “Thank you, Lady Belmont. It has been a pleasure to see you and your family again.”
They all said goodbye, then Mathew and Louis escorted them down to the carriage. Patience, he noted, kept as far away from him as she could.
“We are to go to the velocipede exhibition, and may even get a chance to ride one,” he said. “Charlie, perhaps you could come with us?”
“I would love that above all things.”
Mathew rubbed his nephew’s head as he and Charlie looked expectantly at Patience.
“We shall see, Charlie. I will need to see what other engagements we have before I make a decision.”
Moving to her side, Mathew spoke softly so only she would hear. “If your reservation is due to me, Patience—”
“No, of course not,” she said quickly, much to his relief.
“I shall send you a note, Charlie,” Louis said as the young boy climbed into the carriage, followed by Lucy.
Mathew held his hand out to Patience, and she accepted it reluctantly.
“I shall see you again, Patience,” he said, and by the twitch of her fingers, he realized that she heard the determination behind his words. He then stepped back from the coach to watch it roll away.
“I like the Allender family, Uncle,” Louis said as they walked back into the house. “And I hope that Charlie will accompany me to the velocipede exhibition.”
He let his nephew chatter as they returned to the family. When they arrived, Claire and his mother were discussing the Allenders.
“They have changed so much,” Claire said.
Mathew sat and reached for his tea as he listened to what his sister was saying.
Claire had grown up closer to Anthony than Mathew because he had come into his title soon after the death of his father and did not have a lot of time for a little sister. When their brother died they had both been devastated, and she had turned to their mother for comfort because Mathew had become cold and emotionless, his way of dealing with Anthony’s death. Louis had been the catalyst to change that, and even though Mathew still had what Patience had accurately diagnosed as unresolved grief for his brother, he and his sister were now very close.
“I have to say, Brother, that Patience was quite happy until you walked into the room,” Claire said.
“I treated her badly during her debut, and although she says she is not angry with me, I believe she still is,” he said, looking around the room.
Simon’s eyes narrowed, as did Claire’s, and his mother’s cheeks flushed with color. All reactions from the people who loved him unconditionally and found it hard to accept that another person did not.
“I had not realized that had occurred, Mathew. What did you do to her?”
“More what didn’t I do, Mother,” Mathew sighed. “I barely spoke to her, never danced with her, and it was probably w
hen she needed my friendship the most.”
Lady Belmont looked sad. “I never wrote to Emma, even though she wrote to me constantly to see how I was faring after Anthony’s death, and asking if she could visit. My grief was so consuming I pushed everything else aside.”
“Grief for my father?” Louis moved to his grandmother’s side and she gave Mathew a concerned look. His family knew that he did not like to speak about Anthony.
“To heal, one must first accept Anthony’s passing, and acceptance does not come by removing all traces of that person from your life, Mathew.”
Was Patience right? Was it time to bring Anthony back into their lives?
“Shall we play chess, Louis? And this time I will not let you beat me,” Claire said quickly, and Mathew felt relieved. No, now was not the time. Perhaps it never would be, Mathew thought, rubbing his chest.
“Yes, playing Simon is no challenge, as he is far too reckless.”
“Charming,” Simon said. “Remember who taught you, brat.”
Mathew watched as the game began. He couldn’t stop the feeling that something inside him had been opened slightly, and emotions were leaking out while he struggled to force it closed.
“Damn you, Patience Allender,” he muttered. Damn you for making me think again.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Mr. Stanhope, may I introduce you to my sister, Miss Allender.”
Lucy’s eyes sparkled as she made the introductions, telling Patience that her sister was quite taken with Mr. Stanhope. He was a few inches taller than Lucy, with blond hair and brown eyes and a boyishly sweet smile. However, Patience knew people could hide a great deal behind just such a smile.
“Mr. Stanhope,” she said, acknowledging the man with a curtsey.
“Your sister has told me a great deal about you, Miss Allender. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Has she?” Patience frowned. “Well, I have been with her most evenings, and as yet have not heard your name.”
“If you will excuse us, Patience, I have just promised this dance to Mr. Stanhope. I shall see you later.” Lucy glared at Patience, obviously not happy with her response.
“Of course, I shall find a seat should you need me.”
“I won’t,” was the snapped reply.
Sighing, Patience made her way to the edge of the crowd. This was her fourth night out this week, and she was exhausted, especially as she was used to rising early and had not adjusted to the late hour she retired.
Avoiding Mathew had not been easy, either. It was like a constant game of cat and mouse. She always looked for him upon arriving at any social gathering, and then moved as far away from him as she could. Most evenings she had managed to avoid him, but on the few she had not, he had asked her to dance. When she refused, he had simply taken her arm and led her to the dance floor, and unless she wanted to make a scene, she had to comply. She was polite to him, but distant, believing this her best strategy for maintaining a divide between them.
Being close to him, remembering the kiss they had shared was all playing a part in rekindling the feelings that had lain dormant inside her. She did not want to feel anything for him again. Liar! a voice inside her cried. You never stopped. Ruthlessly stomping on that thought, she knew she could not be his friend again. She knew that if she did, she would lose her heart once more, and if he turned away from her this time she would not recover.
She had not told him all of the details about her disastrous debut and had lied when she said she had forgotten about it. She still felt the humiliation and pain, and was not completely sure she could move on from that. Then there was the matter of Anthony and that being with her reminded Mathew of the brother he was doing his best—if unsuccessfully—to forget. Did she want to spend time with a man who looked at her and saw the pain of memories of his past? No, dreaming of any kind of future with Mathew Belmont was futile and she must remember that.
“May I have this dance, Miss Allender?”
Bother. Had she been paying attention, she would have seen Mr. Dundrill coming toward her, but she had not, and it was Mathew Belmont’s fault. The man occupied far too many of her thoughts.
“I had not thought to stand up this evening, sir.”
“Nonsense. A woman with your beauty should not be confined to the edges of the room, my dear lady, but showcased on the dance floor.”
Patience had felt sorry for this man when they’d first been introduced, but her sympathies had changed to annoyance on closer acquaintance. Mr. Dundrill was a man who believed himself a touch above everyone else, which was quite a feat, considering he dressed as he did. Not much taller than she, he had a round face, two small, beady eyes and a rotund body. Tonight’s lemon satin waistcoat was strained across his large stomach, the buttons close to popping. His coat was pale blue satin, his breeches matched, and his hair was styled so that two curls lay flat against his cheeks, making him look silly.
“Come, now. Do not feel shy about it, my dear Miss Allender. Not many can compete for my attentions, but you, sweet lady, are one of them.”
“I beg your pardon.” Patience looked into the man’s eyes to ensure he was not experiencing a moment of madness. “But I have no wish to compete for your attentions, nor anyone else’s for that matter. I am here merely as a chaperone, as I have told you repeatedly, Mr. Dundrill.”
“My mother, you know,” he said, waving his hand about as if her words were of little consequence, “told me when I was old enough to understand that some may be unsettled by my magnificence.”
Dear Lord, he was serious.
“Now come along, dear. Do not be shy with me, as I foresee many such dances in our future. There is much between us that is yet to be explored.”
Not bloody likely, Patience thought. But just like Lord Belmont, she could not stop the man as he started walking toward the floor with her hand now on his arm. Why did men insist on making decisions for her? Patience was independent; she made her own choices and had been doing so for many years. Running her brother’s household, juggling the finances, and ensuring he stayed safe and out of their cousin’s reach had been no easy task, yet she had done it.
“I really have no wish to dance,” she protested, this time with a little more force. As they had arrived on the dance floor, she had to comply, but this was last time. Next time she’d set him and that arrogant Lord Belmont firmly back on their heels. Joining their group, her heart sank as she saw Mathew smiling at her. Dragging her eyes away from his handsome face, she looked at the woman he was partnering. Elegant and beautiful, with soft brown curls and a petite figure, she looked the perfect match for a man like him.
“Good evening, Miss Allender.”
“Lord Belmont,” Patience said as they passed.
“My dear Miss Allender, I will call upon you tomorrow, and we shall drive through the park in my new curricle. I had it sprung especially to accommodate my needs, and I daresay you have never seen such a beauty.”
Patience shot Mathew a look to see if he had heard Mr. Dundrill’s words. Honestly, the man would not have been able to speak in hushed tones if his life depended upon it, and if he did not watch his step with her, it might just come to that.
“I am busy tomorrow, Mr. Dundrill, and as I have told you, I am here in the capacity of a chaperone, not to go driving in the park.”
Mr. Dundrill’s lips formed a thin line at her refusal, which did nothing to enhance his already homely features.
“Did I detect a note of annoyance in your tone, Miss Allender?”
Men are fools, Patience thought, ignoring Mathew’s words.
“I am not rebuffed, my dear Miss Allender, merely determined that one day I shall turn to see your magnificence beside me upon the seat of my curricle.”
“Oh, do be quiet, Dundrill. You are embarrassing the poor girl and making me nauseous.”
Patience could do nothing to stop a snort of laughter at these words spoken by an elderly lady to her right.
“Best way to tre
at the man, my dear. Laughter shrivels ardor, I’ve always found, the woman added before dancing away.”
Mr. Dundrill sulked through the remainder of the dance, but was back to his obnoxious self when he returned her to Lucy’s side. Lucy was not happy to see her.
“You were rude to Mr. Stanhope, Patience.”
“And you are too trusting,” Patience replied.
“I merely introduced you, nothing further,” her sister snapped. “He did not speak out of turn, nor ask for my hand in marriage. He merely complimented you by saying I had spoken of you, and you were rude!”
“I do not trust like you.”
“That is no excuse for ill-mannered behavior.”
Lucy rarely got angry, and especially not with Patience, so it stung that she was attacking her when her crime had simply been that she was looking out for her sister.
“I was merely endeavoring to gauge the man’s personality.”
“No, you were not. You gave him no opportunity to engage. You simply attacked.”
Looking at the anger in her sister’s eyes, Patience knew that there would be no reasoning with her at that moment, and was relieved when Lucy’s next dance partner arrived to take her away. Needing some fresh air, she headed for the French doors, uncaring if it was wrong or right of her to be going outside unaccompanied.
There were plenty of people about. Most were wandering along the flagstones or had made their way down the steps and were walking the gardens. They looked magical as the torches flickered shadowed light over them. She longed for the privacy of a secluded path to wander down.
“Cousin, how wonderful to see you here.”
Patience swallowed a gasp as a man excused himself from a group of people to her left and made his way toward her.
“It has been over long.”
Brantley Winston was the eldest son of her father’s brother. He had a handsome face, curls the color of wheat that were usually rumpled, and gentle grey eyes. He spoke in a pleasant, well-modulated voice, and always appeared to be a man who cared about others. However, Patience and her siblings knew this was not true. In fact, behind that boyish façade was a cold, calculating man with a soul of pure evil.