by Esther Hatch
Chapter 20
Anthony placed the sealed letter on the table by the front door. This one was sixteen pages long. Excessive? Perhaps. But it wasn’t as long as one of the ones he had sent last week. He had been writing the duke for two weeks now and had yet to receive a reply. Each morning when the mail was delivered and there was no response from the duke, he promised himself he wouldn’t keep degrading himself by writing again. But by the afternoon, he would find himself in his study, writing up plans to make a courtship work and reasons why the duke should allow it.
It was the only thing keeping him from going mad.
He rubbed his thumb over the red seal on his letter. Or maybe this was all proof that he actually was mad. He had bought new sealing wax, not wanting to use the last of the wrecked pieces Patience had left him; it was the only thing he had to remember her by.
A commotion of hooves and shouts outside announced the arrival of a carriage. Anthony flipped over his letter, not wanting his father to see that he had been hounding the duke. But also not willing to bring the letter back to his study. He would have it sent.
Mr. Gilbert opened the front door in time for Anthony to see his father descend from the carriage. He was in uniform, his hat shoved tightly onto the top of his head. After hours in a carriage, nothing about him seemed creased or fatigued. He was, as always, a general.
Anthony didn’t wait for him to come inside but instead met him at the top of the stairs.
“Anthony, it is good to see you.” Father clasped his shoulders in his hands. “I heard the sale went through on the property in Kent. Well done.”
“Thank you.”
“Does this mean after two years we finally have an engagement to announce?”
“No.”
Father’s brow furrowed. “She still won’t have you?”
Anthony moved aside, allowing his father to enter the house. Mr. Gilbert immediately took Father’s hat. “I never told her about the property in Kent. By the time it was settled, we had both realized continuing a courtship was in neither of our best interests.”
“What?” Father practically ripped off his overcoat, then, schooling his surprise as he schooled everything, folded it in half neatly before handing it to Mr. Gilbert.
It was better to just tell his father the news right away. He would find out soon enough. “I’m no longer courting Miss Morgan.”
Father’s eyebrows furrowed. Anthony knew that look. As a child it had meant that he was about to receive extra chores, and not pleasant ones. Mr. Gilbert took Father’s stormy face as his cue to leave and did so silently.
“I’ve never once seen you fail to achieve something you set your mind to. I must admit, I find it hard to believe you weren’t successful in your pursuit of her.”
“Yes, well, I found my mind drastically changed on the matter.”
“Another thing I have rarely seen you do.”
Anthony had been miserable for the past month and a half, but the one thing he could not regret was losing Miss Morgan. “Trust me, Father. It was for the best.”
“I do trust you.” He narrowed his eyes at Anthony’s appearance. Anthony stopped short of pulling on his sleeves to assure himself his clothing was in order. It wasn’t in order. He hadn’t bothered with a cravat this morning. When his valet had brought it forward, he’d waved it off. While concocting his latest plan he had undone his top button and pulled on his hair enough to know he must be a sight. Father continued, “But it doesn’t look to me as if you are feeling your best.”
“No, I am not.” Anthony took a deep breath and glanced at his letter to Harrington. “But I will take courage in what you have said. I typically do get what I have set my mind to.” Patience wasn’t a property in Kent. She was like air to his lungs and just as impossible to hold. He had no business even trying to attach himself to her anymore, but he was, in truth, his father’s son and couldn’t back down even when the odds were stacked against him.
“If it is not a woman, what has gotten you into such a muddle? Another property? If you haven’t secured a marriage with Miss Morgan, I’m not certain it would be a prudent time to invest more.”
Invest more? He was barely keeping up with the investments he already had. How exactly was he supposed to explain his situation to his father? Patience in front of the fire with a bold flame lighting up her face flashed into his mind. Even then, he had been fascinated by her. Though he didn’t recognize it at the time.
“It is a woman, isn’t it? No plot of land has ever made a man look like that.” Father shook his head. “Mr. Gilbert,” Father roared. “Send tea and refreshments to the drawing room.”
There was no response but also no question that Father’s commands would be obeyed. He strode over to Anthony and fastened his top button for him, then placed his hands on Anthony’s shoulders. “I want to hear about this woman. I have yet to hear her name, but already she seems more promising than that Miss Morgan. Even after two years of courtship, I never saw your clothing or hair out of place. Some things should be won by stratagem and cool headedness. Women, on the other hand, should be won with passion.”
If the misery he had been in since she left could be considered passion, Anthony should have won Patience time and time again by now. Instead he was left without a way to contact her. He couldn’t write to her. Their social circles didn’t overlap. Father was almost never wrong, but in this instance, Anthony wasn’t sure his assessment of how to win over a woman was accurate.
Father put his hand on Anthony’s back and led him to the drawing room. They sat near the tea table and waited for Mrs. Bates to bring in the refreshments. How could he explain Patience to his father? She was a noble. And not just any noble—the daughter of a duke. A lady in her own right. If he was in some miraculous way able to marry her, she would be Lady Patience, and he would be Mr. Woodsworth. Their mismatched status would never leave them.
After tea was brought and poured, Father asked the question Anthony had been waiting for.
“Who is she?”
There was no getting around it. A direct approach was often the best one. “Lady Patience Kendrick.”
To his credit, Father didn’t move. To his discredit, he held his teacup frozen in midair.
Father placed his cup back down on the table. “Harrington’s sister.”
“Yes.”
“I thought their family was in mourning.”
“They were until about three months ago.”
“And in less than three months, you have become so besotted with the woman you have forgotten your cravat? When did you have the time?”
Here it was, the moment his father lost all respect for him. “She lived here.”
“What?” Father leapt out of his chair. In two strides he had crossed to Anthony’s chair. Grabbing Anthony by the lapels, he pulled him to his feet. Father was getting older, but the strength he had originally been scouted for was still in his arms and fingers. He curled his hands into fists around Anthony’s lapels. “You brought a lady into this house? And not just any lady—the sister of the Duke of Harrington?”
“I didn’t bring her here. She came. I think she was looking for you.”
“And since I wasn’t here, you allowed her to set up camp for three months?”
“It was only a month. She has been gone now for almost two.”
“And that makes it acceptable, does it? Because it was only a month. By the lands, Anthony, what have you done?”
Anthony placed his hands over his father’s. He could feel the anger coursing through every tense finger. “It wasn’t like that. She came as a maid. I didn’t know; Mrs. Bates didn’t know; no one knew who she was. She slept in the servants’ quarters and did housework. Rather badly, actually.” Anthony couldn’t help the smile that lifted one side of his mouth. Even still, after being gone for weeks, no one made him smile like Patie
nce did.
Father dropped his lapels and pushed him into his seat. He strode over to the fireplace, shaking his head. “That explanation makes no sense. Why would she do that?”
That was a question Anthony had asked himself over and over. What in the world had possessed Patience to come to his home in the first place? “I think she wanted to work for you. That is as much as I gathered. She hadn’t told her brother about it, and when he found out, she was taken away.”
“But not before you had formed an attachment to her.”
“Correct.”
“And how much of this attachment has to do with the fact that she is Lady Patience Kendrick?”
“None of it. I wish she weren’t.”
Father raised one of his thick, bushy eyebrows. After pursuing Miss Morgan for two years precisely for her position in society, of course his father wouldn’t believe him.
“I proposed to her believing she was a maid.”
Father dropped once again into his seat. “You proposed to Harrington’s sister while she was acting as a maid and living in your house?”
He still didn’t know the worst of it. That Anthony had paraded Lady Patience around in a wig and borrowed dresses, that he had also made her act as a governess, that Stewart was half in love with her after one short meeting, or that Lord Bryant had declared her dead. Some things were best taken in increments, and based on his father’s reaction to what he had learned so far, now was not the time to tell any of this. Anthony had disappointed Father enough for one night. “Strictly speaking, this is your house.”
“That is hardly the biggest concern in this scenario. What did she say?”
“She refused me.”
“Well, I’m glad to see that after acting as a maid and deceiving her brother, at least she has a brain in her head.”
“I won’t have you speaking of her in that manner.”
Father stood. “I will speak of the two of you however I want. I’m going to change. I suggest you do the same, or at least put on a blasted cravat. Have Mr. Gilbert ready more tea. It sounds as if we have much to talk about.”
Father opened the door, then paused and looked back at Anthony. “When you proposed to her, do you think she was tempted to say yes?”
“What?”
“Do you think she cares for you?”
Anthony swallowed and closed his eyes. He could still feel her hands shaking in his own. He had thought then that she had wanted to marry him. He had been almost certain of it. What they had was no one-sided infatuation. Together they became whole. It was the reason he couldn’t give up on her. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life broken, and he didn’t want to see her married to a single one of the men on that list. None of them would see her for who she was, not like he did. “Yes, I’m quite certain she does.”
“Did you compromise her character in any way?”
How could his father think that of him? He would never . . . A blonde wig and a beauty spot came to mind. Why in heaven’s name had she agreed to his plan?
“Anthony, answer me this instant.”
“It is a hard question to answer.”
“Did you accost her in any way?”
“No, of course not.” She had accosted him once. But he added that to the list of things better left unsaid.
Father shook his head. “Well, it is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into. I’m not sure what our next step should be.” He marched out the door and closed it behind himself.
***
Anthony returned home from another unsuccessful ride in Hyde Park. He was worried his father might be growing weary of the drives, but if they were to happen upon the duke, he would need his father there to introduce them properly. And other than running into Harrington or his family on accident, he had no other way to contact them. He had asked Father multiple times if he would arrange an introduction with the duke, but he only ever answered, “Not yet.”
Anthony had attended more card parties, operas, and balls in the last two weeks than ever in his life. If he had worried about the difference in their social status before, it became even more apparent in the last few days that his circle and the duke’s circle were very different circles.
“I know what you are doing.” Father handed his hat and gloves to Mr. Gilbert. “And I’m not sure you are going about it in the best manner. Did you really think she would be gracing the drawing room of Mrs. Belfast?”
“I knew that was unlikely, but what was I to do? Sit at home?”
Father turned to Mr. Gilbert. “Has any mail come today?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Gilbert went to the side table and handed Father a few envelopes. Without looking too carefully at most of them, Father handed Anthony a dark tan envelope. “Quit wasting your time on the Belfasts. I’m quite certain that lady will be at this gathering, as it is hosted by her brother.”
He snatched the invitation. The paper was fine, and the seal was one he would recognize anywhere. Not because he had actually received a correspondence from the Duke of Harrington, but because Anthony had made it a point to look it up.
“Thank you, Mr. Gilbert,” Father said.
Mr. Gilbert bowed and left them in the foyer.
Anthony quickly opened the envelope and pulled out the card. He scanned the contents of the invitation, ignoring the personal note that was folded and sealed—also with the Harrington seal—underneath it. Father was already walking away to his study.
“This says it is a ball in honor of General Woodsworth.”
Father didn’t turn around. He just waved his left hand behind him.
“How long have you known about this?”
He turned and spoke over his shoulder. “Long enough that if I had told you about it, we could have skipped our last two rides in Hyde Park, but I actually enjoy those. Even if you spend most of your time scanning the carriages for a certain young lady.”
“Why is the Duke of Harrington throwing you a ball?”
“He served under me for two years. It isn’t as though I don’t know him.”
“And you have met with him recently?”
Father finally turned completely around. “Yes.” His face was bland as if the news shouldn’t have affected Anthony at all.
What had the two of them talked about? There was no chance Anthony’s name hadn’t come up. “Did he ask about me?”
“He asked much about you.”
The foyer was quiet for a moment. Did Anthony want to know what was coming next? He stepped closer to his father. “And what did you say?”
Father stepped forward and put one hand on his shoulder. His hand was heavy and warm, the weight of it there unfamiliar. “I told him the truth. That there is no better man in England than my son. Even if he didn’t recognize a lady when she was right under his nose.”
With a squeeze, Father dropped his hand from Anthony’s shoulder, turned, and left.
Anthony’s foot fell backward a step, and he fought the urge to sink to the ground. The house was silent enough for him to hear the clock ticking in his study even though the door was closed. He took in its steady beat.
Anthony hadn’t joined the army, nor had he managed to marry a woman with a title that could elevate the Woodsworth name. He hadn’t truthfully cared about those things for a long time. But his father still did, didn’t he?
He was no longer certain.
In his hands he still held the invitation and the sealed correspondence that had come with it. He took them both to his study, laid the invitation down on his desk, and then turned the note over in his hands.
What if, after this note, he was forbidden to write the duke any longer? Making those plans was the one bright moment of his day. Each one gave him a spark of hope. If he had to live without that, how would he survive?
He sat in his chair, remembe
ring—as he did every time he sat there—how Patience had read over his proposal while sitting in this same spot.
He took a deep breath and broke open the seal.
It was short.
Very short.
Mr. Woodsworth,
I have read over your multitude of detailed proposals. If you are interested in courting my sister, the proper channel would be to wait until you are introduced (I believe the posted invitation should be a good opportunity for that) and then ask permission to come to call. No need to send further correspondence.
H.
The clock on his mantle ticked away the seconds as he scanned the note a second time.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have sent the duke quite so many letters.
He shook his head. It didn’t matter what the duke thought of him. Well, perhaps it did, but the most important piece of information from the letter was this: he was finally going to see Patience again. He had followed the papers and had not seen her name listed in connection with any gentleman, but in the time she had been gone, she very well could have formed an attachment to someone else. She had liked him, but she hadn’t really known anyone else but Anthony. Now that the world was at her feet, would she even want to remember the man who had dressed her up, ruined her soft hands, and made her take care of Sophia’s children?
He was finally going to be able to find out.
Chapter 21
Patience held the card in her hand. Was she reading it correctly? Sixteen similar cards stood in a pile on the table in the foyer, waiting to be opened. She assumed they would say the same thing. She grabbed the lot of them and ran to Nicholas’s study.
She threw open the door, nearly out of breath. “What are these?”
Nicholas looked up from whatever paper he had been looking over. “From here it looks as if they are cards.”
“Lady Shirley has accepted our invitation to the ball in honor of General Woodsworth in two weeks’ time.”
“Oh, that is good news. I rather enjoy Lady Shirley’s company, even if all she ever speaks of is her cat.”