CHAPTER TWELVE
After three hours in Patience’s London house, Harriette told her that the girls were rag-mannered colonials who would never be ready to face English Society.
Patience threw her hands in the air. “I knew you would say I couldn’t do it.”
Her aunt looked stricken, then contrite. “Perhaps I spoke too soon. It will be difficult, but we will try.” She sighed as if bracing herself. “And we will succeed.”
Patience saw progress in the concession. Besides Aunt Harriette was right about the girls, but she would never admit it. “Aunt, I expect if anyone can teach them proper manners and repair the damage already done, ‘tis you.”
“Thank you dear.” Her aunt made to pat her hand but Patience pulled it away so fast, regret stabbed her at her aunt’s hurt.
Two strained days passed before they were able to share a normal conversation after that uncomfortable episode. “Are you aware,” Harriette whispered, “That Rose is likely in the family way?”
Patience all but wilted. “I have thought of nothing else for the past week, ever since returning from Arundel. And I could weep for thinking of the consequences. She was ill the day we were gone and then again the next morning. When I went to see if I could help, she told me she suspected as much and cried in my arms. I am at my wits end as to what to do. She will give me none of the particulars and how else may I help her?”
Harriette examined Patience’s face with distress. “No blushes child?”
Patience had no control over the heat that made a slow journey from her neck to her forehead. If she were to touch her ears, she knew they would be warm. “Aunt.”
“Thank goodness, there are blushes left.”
“I can’t imagine why my blushes matter one way or the other. Rose is the one with the problem. Did she confide in you?”
“With her room so close, I could hear she was quite ill and went to her. Though I helped her and she cried, she never spoke of it and I did not ask. I believe she realized I understood.”
The ironic image of her Aunt as warm and understanding pushed aside, Patience worried about Rose. “She has done nothing but cry since the day she boarded the Knave’s Secret and now it is worse. I have asked her if expecting a child out of wedlock is the reason she cried so much when we left, but she says she was not breeding when we departed if, in fact, she is now. I suspect the father is Shane, Grant’s brother, yet I considered him such an honorable man. But then, Grant is honorable and he—” Patience knew her blush rose once more but she refused to respond to the worry on her Aunt’s face. “Everything will come about.”
“I’m not certain about this problem with Rose, Patience. But I have considered it and I do think we’ll get your other young ladies settled creditably.”
“Thank you, Aunt Harriette,” Patience said, and she meant it.
After a week of observing her new charges, Aunt Harriette assembled the girls. She stood before them, and looked from one face to the other before speaking.
All her years of practice had Patience mentally preparing for battle.
“A more stunning group of women, I could never imagine,” her aunt said.
The breath Patience had been holding, escaped.
“To think that you all look to me for help. It is quite daunting, but I vow, it is an honor I will try very hard to earn. I cannot begin to do justice to the unique beauty I find before me. I must confess that after speaking with and observing you, I cannot find one thing I particularly dislike. As a matter of fact I have discovered extraordinarily wonderful facets among you and I feel I must begin our much-needed lessons by pointing out your good points first, if you will indulge me.”
Though Aunt Harriette was probably not a stone taller than her, Patience never considered her of small stature. She’d always seemed imposing and in complete control. And the day she’d brought her from Arundel, Patience saw that the children Aunt Harriette taught, and those who employed her, held her in high regard. Now, in a short time, she had become more than the girls’ chaperone.
Though for the sake of their lessons, Aunt Harriette insisted each girl call her Lady Belmont, they took to her as if she were aunt to them all. These things puzzled Patience even as her Aunt spoke.
“What I am about to say is the absolute truth,” Aunt Harriette said. “Please keep it in mind at all times as you go out into society. More to the purpose, you mustn’t forget these points later as I indicate the errors you display in preparation.”
She turned to the quietest. “Grace, I shall start with you. You are graceful, caring and giving. A warm young woman with much love to share, your beauty is like a soft beacon that draws people to you. It is evident as it shines in your lovely large eyes and within your radiant smile. Any man who gets you will win a prize beyond measure. Never forget that and hold your head with pride.”
Patience had never been so surprised. It must be a trick.
Aunt Harriette spoke to each in turn. She said Sophie’s exuberance and optimism in any situation seemed to infect the people around her as did Angel’s happiness and natural charm.
Patience opened her mind and heart and began to see her aunt in a new light.
Rose, with the classic beauty admired by any man, was far and above the most beautiful of face and figure, yet in disposition she suffered great deficiency, yet her aunt made Rose glow with praise so that everyone tended to forget the other.
A long-forgotten contentment in regards to Aunt Harriette entered Patience’s soul and she was not a little surprised by it. Had she, at some point in time, been loved by her aunt? Had she realized and accepted it? Before her parents died, perhaps?
Patience opened her heart.
To her absolute amazement, Aunt Harriette found the unique golden core of each girl and brought it out for them all to exclaim over and examine. She expected Aunt did it so each girl might have pride in herself.
The self-confidence Aunt Harriette handed out was precise and perfectly suited to the individual. Self-assurance shown on the girls’ faces and happiness for them bubbled within Patience.
“Now for my niece.”
Patience jumped as if the sound of cannon shot cracked the air. The moment of reckoning. The criticism.
“You, young woman—” Aunt Harriette paused, as if considering her words. “My flame-haired, freckle-faced niece, are too bold, too impatient and much too forward and impetuous for your own good.”
Just as she’d thought. This was the harridan she remembered. The girls’ faces reflected dismay. Patience gave them all a smug, I-told-you-so look.
A trill of laughter surprised her. Aunt Harriette, laughing? Patience had never seen the like. Gaiety suddenly gone, eyes filled with tears, her aunt whispered, “And I love you, my dear child, so very much.”
Oh. Oh no. She was not prepared for this. She couldn’t meet this, to admit she might care, when she’d hardened her heart so long. It was impossible.
Patience bolted, and just as quickly stopped at the bottom of the stairs, indecision rending her in two. Dashing tears from her eyes, she reluctantly returned to the drawing room. Head down, she stopped to stand mutely before her Aunt’s chair. When she finally looked up, Aunt Harriette’s look begged for love.
Pain shot through Patience. How well she knew that particular, desperate need. She knew it so well that a sob broke and she knelt, skirts settling, to throw her arms around her aunt. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Aunt Harriette pulled her into an embrace and rocked her like a small child with a big hurt, shushing her, consoling her, both their faces wet with tears. Patience could smell her aunt’s Lavender and with it came the memory of other hugs, other such moments.
Patience smiled when her aunt cupped her face and looked deeply into her eyes. “You have done nothing wrong, child,” she said. “I should have told you I loved you a long time ago. Can you find it in your heart to forgive a selfish old woman many, many mistakes?”
Patience swiped at her eyes. “Only
if you’ll forgive a silly child many more?”
The girls dabbed at wet eyes one second and laughed the next.
Male laughter intruded. “You look like Bedlamites gone over the wall in someone else’s finery.” Shane! Smiling, shaking his head, he leaned on the door frame, arms crossed, his big brown eyes trained on one person. Rose.
All activity stopped. The girls stared in surprise. Not a sound could be heard save the ticking of the clock on the mantle.
When Rose’s bodice ruffle tore, as a result of her nervous twisting, the tear was so loud, everyone breathed again.
Patience welcomed Shane with a hug.
The girls ate up his witty greetings, but he never stopped watching Rose, or she him. It was obvious he wished nothing more than to take her in his arms. Patience wondered why he did not.
Finally he moved toward the object of his warmth. “I missed you, Rose.” He said it more in the way of a friend than a lover, and Patience was disappointed, as Rose seemed to be.
“I brought you a present from America,” he said. “Wait here and I’ll get it.”
He’d finally singled Rose out, and it was obvious from her blush, she was pleased.
Though everyone was eager, quite fifteen minutes passed, and yet Shane did not return.
Patience stepped toward the doorway. “I’ll go find out what’s keeping—” She backed from the door so Shane could enter the room.
Rose screamed.
Frightened by the scream, the baby in Shane’s arms began to wail.
“Amy! My baby, my beautiful girl.” Rose took the child from Shane and planted kisses on the little one’s face. “You brought Amy. Oh, my God. Oh, Shane.” Rose held the infant close as she sobbed openly, joyfully.
Shane led Rose to the settee, his arm about her shoulder. He sat and pulled her and her child against him, burying his face in Rose’s hair. Patience wanted to turn away at the look of love on Shane’s face, at the single tear on his cheek. When he closed his eyes in near-ecstasy, she did turn from a scene too intimate to witness.
She gazed out the window. The baby in Rose’s drawings had been her daughter, Amy. Rose had traveled with a broken heart, because she left her baby in America.
Harriette herded the girls from the room.
Patience turned to leave with them when a familiar arm came around her shoulders. She found herself looking up at Grant, at those crinkle lines and that irresistible smile. Her heart opened like a bud coming to flower. The drawing room door closed softly. Patience turned and melted into his embrace.
Rose’s agony of the past months was clear, and Patience’s soul was touched. With the surge of emotion on Rose’s behalf, as well as her own inner rejoicing, no other haven would be perfect.
Grant sighed in contentment and held Patience tight. He’d stayed away for a week, since their trip to Arundel. He’d even sent his carriage for her to fetch her aunt alone. He’d managed two more days away, and, thank the Lord, Shane returned last night. The perfect excuse offered, he grabbed it like a lifeline and accompanied his brother here to Briarleigh this morning. He kissed the top of Patience’s head, neatly tucked under his chin. Between his real need to hold her, and his brother’s reunion with Rose, and Rose’s with her child, he was vulnerable and frightened. But Patience had this uncanny ability to calm him, and for a time, he would let her.
After a long embrace, Patience stepped away and turned toward Shane and Rose leaving him bereft.
Lost in a passionate kiss, they were oblivious to anyone else in the room, even to the tiny hands patting them. Grant reached for his lifeline once more.
“Let’s leave them alone,” Patience whispered.
“No, wait.” Shane’s husky voice stopped them.
Little Amy began to whimper. Rose tried unsuccessfully to calm her. Grant did not consider that a good sign. Even he could see it hurt Rose that her daughter did not respond to her. When Shane took Amy on his lap, the child settled down and stopped fussing. “We’ve been on a long voyage, Rose, where I was her only nursemaid,” Shane said.
Rose smiled wistfully. “I understand.”
“She’ll get to know you, again. She’s all yours now. After living with your mother, it’s a wonder she has such a sweet disposition.”
Rose placed her hand in the child’s. When Amy grasped her mother’s finger, Rose smiled.
“Patience, this is my daughter,” Rose said. “I thought I would never see her again, which is why I cried so much.”
“I’m so happy you have her back, Rose,” Patience kissed Rose on the brow.
Rose looked into Shane’s eyes. “I can’t believe she’s here. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for bringing her to me.” Rose and Shane got lost in each other.
Grant cleared his throat. “We’ll leave you alone.”
“No, Grant,” Shane said. “Patience and Rose should know.”
Grant chose to ignore Shane’s words. He took Patience’s hand and headed for the door.
“For once in your life, big brother, sit down and listen!”
With a sigh and a raised brow, he turned back toward his pesky little brother. They glared at each other for a minute then Grant gave up. He indicated Patience should sit and placed his chair beside hers. After he sat, he took her hand. That he planned to go about his life without this hand in his, disturbed him; that he would then be empty-hearted as well as empty-handed, alarmed him, but he ignored the warning and tightened his hold, nodding for Shane to proceed.
Shane looked at Patience, then Rose. “Our mother left unexpectedly some years ago. We were young, but old enough to understand we’d been abandoned. It seemed as if she didn’t want us, which is very difficult for little boys to accept. After Rose confided that she left Amy with that puritanical mother of hers, I told Grant—”
“I had no choice! Mama sent me away and kept her.”
“We understand, Rose,” Patience said. “It was obvious to all of us you were being forced to leave. No one would think for a minute that you chose to leave your daughter behind.”
“Thank you, Patience.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear,” Shane said, squeezing her hand.
“I think this can wait.” There was an agitated edge to Grant’s voice.
“Wait forever, you mean. I want them to know.”
“You’re upsetting Rose,” Grant said, none to calmly.
Rose smiled, nearly a first. “I’m fine, really.”
“See?” Shane’s look was smug. “Now, as I was saying, I told Grant about Amy. When Captain Davenport said he was on his way to Rhode Island, Grant got it in his head I should return for Amy. You have to realize that in giving up a splendid first mate,” Shane boasted, “a Captain makes more work for himself and the rest of his crew. So it was a sacrifice for Grant to be without me, but send me he did. He said Amy shouldn’t spend her life wondering why her mother left, wondering what she did to make her go. You see, we always thought it was our fault our mother left. That’s a big burden for a child.”
Grant knew Shane expected to be upbraided later but his brave brother didn’t seem to care.
Shane kissed Rose’s hand. “I’d seen enough of your mother to know she wasn’t what a baby needed. I know she’s your mother, but you didn’t make out in the mother area any better than we did.”
“My father left her for another woman. She turned hard and hateful. I have good memories.” She kissed her daughter’s downy cheek and took the sleepy infant from Shane’s arms. Sighing, she leaned back into his warmth and encouraged him to continue his story.
“I worked on the Connecticut on the way to get Amy. Grant paid for the voyage back. A sailor doesn’t have time for a baby and a nursemaid has less time for sailing.” He looked at Grant. “Which reminds me. I have a few complaints about what passengers have to put up with on one of those ships, and a few ideas on how to make a passenger’s voyage more comfortable.”
Grant chuckled. “So do I, litt
le brother. I’ve been thinking about building a line of passenger ships. We’ll talk.”
“Good,” everyone said together.
Rose kissed Amy’s dark curls. “Though words are so very insignificant, Captain, I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart, for sending Shane for my daughter. She’s the most precious gift imaginable. I’ll be grateful all my life for what you have done for us. Amy will thank you someday.”
Uncomfortable with Rose’s gratitude, Grant stood and made for the brandy. Pouring a glass he asked if anyone else wanted one.
Patience hated that he sought brandy when he was upset; she’d seen him do it often enough. Though he drank little other than that, as far as she could see.
“We’ll all have one,” Shane said.
Like Patience, Rose set her glass aside without drinking. “How did you convince mama to let you have Amy?” Rose asked.
Shane looked at Grant. “You were right about persuasion, Grant. She took the gold willingly enough and handed Amy over.”
“She sold my baby?”
“Not quite. I carried a letter with an official seal from the Knave’s Secret, signed by Captain Grant St. Benedict, outlining the reasons why she could go to jail for stealing your child. A list of American officials, friends of our illustrious Captain, added weight to the document. She was so mad, I thought she’d say no just to be difficult.” He squeezed Rose’s hand. “You know how she can get. But the gold turned her resistance. I took Amy and re-boarded within a day.”
“I didn’t know a Captain carried any official weight with the law,” Patience said.
Shane and Grant chuckled. “It was a bluff, pure and simple. But it worked. I must say brother, you have a mind for deception.” Shane saluted. “I would never have realized.”
Grant shoved his hand through his hair and went to gaze at the winter-sparse garden outside.
Rose stood. “As much as I hate to let go of my precious girl, I think I should put her down.”
“Shane, since Amy is so comfortable with you, why don’t you stay here until she gets to know her mother again,” Patience suggested. “The room next door to Rose is empty and you’re welcome to stay.” She hoped it would give Rose a chance to tell Shane there was going to be another.
“I think that’s a good idea, if Rose doesn’t mind?”
Rose’s slight blush was evident, as was her pleasure. Together, they took Amy upstairs.
Patience looked at Grant, his back to her. “How many barrels of good French brandy did you trade for Shane, Captain?”
His reluctant smile appeared.
“You made me so mad when I thought you sent him away. Did you want to make me hate you?”
He captured her hands. “I looked forward to the day you would show your appreciation. Now, be a good girl and thank me properly.”
Patience wondered what he would consider a proper show of thanks. Perhaps a kiss. A quick brush of the lips and a thank you. Or one of those lovely long kisses that filled her with a surfeit of need.
Emotion played across Patience’s face, as if he could see the thoughts dancing in her lovely head. He wondered what she considered proper thanks but decided to make things more interesting. Sliding his hands into her hair, he pulled out every last pin until the carefully coifed mass tumbled to her shoulders in a disarray of seductive copper curls.
Patience took him by the hand and brought him to the large bay window fronted by a green velvet window seat. She urged him to sit with his back against the side pillow and lifted his legs to rest along the seat. He crossed his ankles and arms and waited to see exactly what she would do next.
Perched primly at the edge of the bench, facing him, one knee raised for balance, she leaned forward. Sliding her hands under his waistcoat to his shirt and wetting her lips, she leaned forward and examined his face. Coming nearer still, she paused close enough for him to lick her lips, himself. “Is a kiss sufficient thanks for such a noble deed?” she whispered.
“Thanks be damned, kiss me before I perish.” He captured her and her lips. Starved for more than a week, Grant gloried in the reunion, and if Patience’s response was any indication, so did she.
Voices outside the door caught his attention, hers too from the look on her face when she pulled away. They waited to see if they should jump from the spot. The voices faded, so did his forbearance. He mumbled an oath, hauled her on top of him and slid the curtains closed, effectively sealing them in a cocoon. He settled Patience on her knees straddling him. “I like you just here,” he said, sitting straighter. Winding his arms around her, he kissed her with greedy enthusiasm.
Patience relaxed and settled on his lap. She pulled from the kiss and wiggled against him. “You want me.” Her smile was smug.
“Always have. You simply didn’t know. You’ve had this effect on me since the beginning.”
“I have?” She looked delighted. “In the beginning, when? I know; after the storm.”
“Definitely after the storm.” He trailed a finger down her chin to her neck. “Sooner than that, though.” He grazed his knuckles lower and stopped where skin met bodice.
She watched, and looked up at him, wide-eyed.
He took her mouth again.
After a while, she sought breath. “When you gave me your clothes?”
A fond memory, he thought, teasing below her breast then he treated the palm of his hand to its gentle swell. Passion darkened her emerald eyes. They closed. He hardened. “When I took Paddy’s clothes off you, I wanted you badly, but sooner still.”
He teased a nubbin as she touched her brow to his and breathed deeply. “Danced, when we danced?” She shuddered. “Did you want me then?”
“No, yes. Sometime in the beginning.” He couldn’t remember now. He was too busy tormenting her as he throbbed beneath her. “The first week, maybe the first day.”
“When I pulled your face into my skirts?”
“Between your legs, you mean? But it doesn’t matter, I can’t think for wanting you.”
“I want you too.”
This was the first time she admitted it. “Do you now?” He could do something about that.
The door creaked, jarring him to alertness.
“Patience, are you in here?”
They stopped breathing and stared at each other, stunned, alert.
“God’s truth I can’t imagine where that girl’s got to with that devil of a Sea Captain in tow.” Harriette’s voice faded, but the door did not close. They heard servants chattering in the hall.
Grant put a finger to his lips and quietly unlatched the window. Throwing the casements wide, he slipped outside. Hands at her waist he lifted Patience out.
“It’s freezing out here,” she whispered on a shiver. The wind tossed her hair wild, a blaze of fire amidst the ice of winter.
“Cool air will do us good right now. It was getting downright hot in our nest. We’re lucky we didn’t do something foolish.”
“I know,” Patience said.
Though he’d like to stop and soothe, and inquire as to what she thought foolish, he thought a brisk walk round the house best. “There’s the ballroom. One of those French doors should get us inside.”
“Hurry. My feet are freezing.”
“Be patient.” He shook his head. “Never mind, I should know better.”
She elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ouch. Stop that!” After rifling three multi-paned doors, he found one unlocked and pulled her in behind him. He chafed her arms, kissed her cheek, and combed his fingers through her hair, making her look more like she needed seeing to than ever. He sighed and ordered his eager body to calm. “Follow my lead and agree with whatever I say.”
He could tell by her expression, Patience was about to argue.
“Just do it!”
Voices and footsteps got closer. He placed her arm on his and moved forward, giving them the appearance of a couple on a leisurely stroll.
The gilded ballroo
m’s doors were thrown open to reveal Harriette and the girls.
“Lady Belmont, girls! Just in time,” Grant said. “Patience has decided that the next ball you attend shall be your own.”
Aunt Harriette beamed. “Why, Patience, what an absolutely delightful idea. It will be a terrible crush, I’m certain. Everyone will come just to see what these minxes will do next. A grand show we’ll give, with our society manners and proper deportment. Let’s see, we’ll need three, no, four weeks to prepare and send invitations. Grace, dear, do go and get your writing things. You can help with the lists. Patience, fix your hair; you look like a street urchin.” She swept the air with a shooing motion. “Come along, girls, we’ve plans to make.”
“Let’s go, Urchin,” Grant said, taking Patience by the hand. “We’ve got to get to the drawing room and remove the evidence.”
When they got there, they found the curtains open and the window latched, everything as it should be. Shane leaned against the mantle, smiling. “On my way home to pack a bag for my stay here,” Shane said, “I discovered the ladies on a search.” He nodded toward the window. “I covered your tracks.”
“There is absolutely no way you could know—”
“Grant,” Patience warned.
Shane laughed. “I peered out the open window in time to see your skirt, Patience, as you disappeared ‘round the corner. Here...” Shane opened Grant’s hand, and dropped Patience’s hairpins into his palm. “You might want to try putting them back where you got them.”
Grant left with Shane.
Patience’s face had still been pink as he and Shane bid her farewell, Grant remembered as their carriage rumbled along the square. He thanked heaven Aunt Harriette had intervened. One of these days, her spitfire niece was going to muddle his good judgment beyond repair. It had been close too many times.
Not for the first time, he wondered why Patience was able to accomplish, with no noticeable intent, what so many other women had tried and failed.
No woman had ever enticed him into a compromising predicament, yet he’d come close too often with Patience. Damned if he wasn’t the one at fault half the time for setting up the bloody situations. He must try to think more clearly where Patience was concerned. He couldn’t let himself get caught. Ever.
Well, the ball would take care of everything. Patience would meet the Marquess of Andover and be finished with him after that.
Four more weeks and he’d go back to sea. He could do it.