A Christmas Dance (11 page)

Mr. Seager made some sort of scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “Nothing interesting about it. Horrifying, that’s what it was. To think of the attention I’ve devoted Miss Meldrin, only to find her family hasn’t the sense to toss Miss Byerly’s father in an asylum where he belongs. Wager you weren’t aware they kept a madman in the house, either.”

While Mr. Seager slurped at his drink, William let that bit of information sink in. There it was, then--the reason Patience had left him. Her father hadn’t been in his cups the night of Lord Welsing’s ball, and he wasn’t suffering from a physical ailment now. He was mad.

The revelation prompted several emotions at once—sorrow for Patience, hurt that she hadn’t trusted him enough to share her burden, and most prevalent at present, anger at the man who would so carelessly spill Patience’s most guarded secret.

Realizing his hands were curling into fists, William made a conscious effort to relax them. “It’s bad form to gossip about a family whose table you’ve only just come from, don’t you think? Bad form to gossip about a lady at all, really.”

Mr. Seager blinked slowly, as if trying to wrap his mind around a rather complicated puzzle. “Beg pardon?”

William resisted the urge to take hold of the man and shake some sense into him. Instead, he tried a more direct approach. “I believe you’re expecting a living from Viscount Wentwise in the near future?”

“Er, yes.” The man frowned and lifted his glass again.

William reached out, snatched it out of his hand, and set it out of reach. “Do I have your full attention, Mr. Seager? Because I should like to make myself absolutely clear on a particular matter.”

“I’m listening.” Mr. Seager’s voice came out perilously close to a whine. It was just irritating enough that when he reached out to reclaim his glass, William took some pleasure in slapping back his hand.

“Ouch! What the devil--?”

“If I hear a word,” William said slowly and, lest the oaf try to claim a misunderstanding, very clearly, “a single whispered word of what you witnessed tonight from anyone, you will lose your living. In fact, I’ll make it my life’s work to
see there is not a vicarage available to you in all of Britain. Do you understand?”

Mr. Seager gaped at him. “You can’t do that.”

“Really? Shall we put it to the test?”

“You. . .I. . .My grandfather is the Marquess of Bruckhaven.”

“I imagine if the Marquess had the inclination to support the third son of his second daughter, you wouldn’t be in search of a living. But I could be mistaken.”

“This is an outrage.”

“I prefer to think of it as coming to an understanding.” He held Mr. Seager’s gaze for a moment. “
Do
we have an understanding?”

The younger man dropped his eyes and nodded miserably.

“Excellent.”

With that ugly bit of business concluded, William returned Mr. Seager’s glass and took his leave. He walked out the front door feeling both grimly satisfied by the visit, and still painfully deflated by Patience’s news of an early departure.

It was the latter that prompted him to follow through with his idea of becoming foxed. Well,
that
and for the satisfaction of knowing he was still capable, if he really put his mind to it, of seeing at least one of his plans come to fruition.

His attempt was met with great success, much to his regret the following morning. He woke and dressed battling a tremendous headache, and lurched his way to the breakfast room determined to conquer the rebellion in his stomach with a proper meal. And fought his way through his first cup of coffee while contemplating the notion that his problem was not so much a recent inability to follow through with his plans, but the far more worrisome inability to devise a plan that did not lead to disaster.

Had he really expressed a desire for less order in his life? How did people
stand
it? Never knowing what to expect, what to do, what to
feel
? The uncertainty of it all was so damn. . .aggravating. The disorder was maddening. The disappointment was heartbreaking.

He paused in the act of reaching for his cup again.

Was he heartbroken? That seemed a trifle melodramatic. He rubbed the heel of his hand against the hollow ache in his chest. Bruised, he decided, perhaps a bit scuffed up, but surely not broken.

Which led to the question--did he plan for his usual, peaceful holiday at his estate in Staffordshire, where the heart Patience had managed to bruise, but not break, could heal in peace. . .or did he plan for a Christmas in London and hand her the opportunity to finish the job?

Chapter 9

One month later
.

Lord and Lady Hartwell’s Christmas ball was, by all appearances, a tremendous success. The house was filled with beautiful music, savory refreshments, and best of all, the laughter of a hundred delighted guests. Patience did not number among them. She was in attendance, certainly, she just wasn’t delighted.

What she
was
, was weary from the trip, still heartbroken from when she’d last been in London, and now worried about her father. She shouldn’t have come to town without him. He’d overheard her discussing her trip to Hartwell House for the Christmas ball, and he’d been agitated before she’d gone—arguing with the staff, complaining bitterly of being left out of the holiday festivities.

What if something happened while she was away? What if she was needed and couldn’t be reached in time?

What if Mr. Seager appeared at the ball and made a fuss about her father? The Meldrins had assured her that he’d left town without saying a word to anyone, but what if--

“This isn’t at all like you--to be so resolute not to enjoy yourself.” Caroline handed her a glass of lemonade. “It’s really more like me. Have we decided I’m fashionable?”

“I’m not miserable. I’m concerned.”

“Well, you look miserable.”

Patience turned and blinked at her friend. “Was that comment meant to improve my mood?”

“It was meant to alter it, at the very least.” Caroline scrutinized her face. “It worked as well. Your lips are twitching.”

For the first time in too long, Patience felt the beginnings of a real smile. “I missed you, Caroline.”

“And I you. So much, in fact, that after your departure, I danced at every ball I attended, simply because I knew you’d want me to.”

“Did you really?”

Caroline nodded. “At least twice at each.”

“That’s wonderful. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“No. I was quite miserable.” Caroline shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “But I did dance.”

Patience laughed and winced simultaneously. “I do wish you could find a gentleman who appealed to you.”

“As it happens, I did. Just not while dancing.”

The sound of Virginia Higgs’ cheerful voice kept Patience from responding. “Miss Meldrin, Miss Byerly, how lovely to see you both again.”

Patience turned, swallowing past a dry lump in her throat. She hadn’t expected to see Mrs. Higgs at Hartwell House. She’d hoped, very much, not to see anyone or anything that reminded her of William, which was a hopeless wish, really.
Everything
reminded her of William. Even the trees outside the house made her think of the day she’d spent with him in the park.

But the appearance of his sister was more than she could have prepared for, as was the realization of just how much the woman resembled her brother. They had the same shaped eyes. Patience couldn’t stop herself from staring as Caroline and Mrs. Higgs exchanged polite greetings.

She’d thought of William’s eyes for weeks, along with his smile, his laugh, the sound of his voice, the way he rocked on his heels when he was thoughtful, and the way his jaw tensed just a hair when she’d upset one of his plans. She thought of the way his gaze so often dipped to her mouth, the feel of his strong hands as they gently pulled her close, and the heat of his body pressed against hers as they kissed.

Oh
, how she missed him. She’d never known it was possible to actually hurt with missing someone, and hurt even more knowing she had only herself to blame. What a hypocrite she’d
been, pushing herself and Caroline to enjoy everything life had to offer, and then cowering away when life offered the greatest experience of all: the chance to love.

If only she could go back and do things differently. She’d tell him the truth. Surely the pain of being jilted could be no worse than what she felt now. She rather doubted it was any better, but at least it wouldn’t have the added weight of cowardice attached.

Perhaps there was still a chance to fix things
now
. Perhaps she could write him a letter. On second thought, that seemed terribly impersonal, and it would be far too easy for him to dismiss her. Perhaps she could sneak away someday soon and visit his estate in person. It would be scandalous behavior, but she ached enough to simply not care. If scandalous would garner her a chance to win him back, scandalous she would be.

As long as she could be it without getting caught. There was still the Meldrins to consider, after all.

“Miss Byerly? Miss Byerly.”

Patience blinked, the sound of Mrs. Higgs’ insistent voice pulling her from her musings. “I beg your pardon?”

“I asked if you might accompany me for a brief tour of the house.”

“Oh. I. . .” A tour of someone else’s home? What was one to say to such an odd request? “Of course. . .um. . .You’ve visited before?”

Virginia took her arm and led her away at a brisk pace, before Caroline could comment. “Oh, yes, many times.” She threw a glance over her shoulder as they exited the ballroom. “And I don’t really mean to give you a tour. There is something in one of the rooms I should think you’d like to see.”

“Like to see? At Hartwell House?” She felt a small bubble of laughter form in her throat as they moved quickly down the hall. “What is it?”

“A surprise.”

Patience rather thought that was a given, but she held her tongue until she was led into the private family portion of the house. “I must say, Mrs. Higgs, this seems rather--”

“Do call me Virginia.”

“If you like, but--”

“Here we are.” Virginia stopped suddenly and motioned to a wide set of doors.

Bewildered, Patience pushed through one and stepped into a spacious room with a few bookcases, a large fireplace giving off a warm glow, and a scattering of comfortable seating arrangements. A family parlor, or a outsized study, Patience mused. She moved inside, fully expecting Virginia to follow.
Instead, the woman paused in the open door and smiled at her. “Do you know, I believe I neglected to inform my poor Edward where I was going. Do excuse me. I shan’t be long.”

“But. . .” Patience stared, wide-eyed and open mouthed as Virginia briskly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

“What on earth?”

Reeling, she gaped at the door for a moment, then tossed her hands in utter disbelief and turned to seek a place to sit and wait. She’d taken no more than three steps into the room before the astonishment of being left alone in a strange room in the middle of a ball was replaced by the shock of discovering she wasn’t alone at all.

William was there.

She didn’t quite believe it at first,
couldn’t
believe that it was really him stepping out from the shadow of a bookcase near the fire. She was overtired, heartbroken, dreaming. She closed her eyes slowly and opened them again, fully expecting to find him gone.

“Hello, Patience.”

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. He was real. He was there. “You. . .I. . .”

“You’re well, I hope?”

She wanted to run into his arms. She wanted to run away. She wanted to cry and laugh and demand to know what he was doing there. Most of all, she wanted the courage to do the things she’d thought of only minutes ago in the ballroom.

* * *

William watched the play of emotions on Patience’s face. Even from afar he could see the shock, the delight, and the hurt.

The need to touch her, to comfort, to breathe her in was nearly overpowering. He’d never missed another human being so much in his life. Every hour, every bloody hour, had felt like an eternity. The emptiness in his chest he had felt the night she’d left him had become a heavy weight soon after. And it had grown in size with each passing day.

Regret, that’s what the heaviness was. Regret that he’d let her go, that he hadn’t set aside his need to follow his bloody plans long enough to admit his need for her.

He pushed aside instinct honed by years of training and admitted it now. “I’ve missed you, Patience. . .I need you.”

He walked toward her, slowly at first, terrified she would turn and leave. But when she stepped toward him instead of away, he closed the remaining distance between them in three long strides and pulled her into his arms.

“I missed you.” He bent his head and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her brows. “I missed you.”

His lips wandered restlessly over face. He couldn’t keep still, couldn’t stop himself from tasting her jaw, her chin, the tip of her nose. “Missed you.”

He wanted to cover every inch of the face that had haunted his dreams, night after night, for the last four weeks. He wanted to kiss her until her body recognized, as his did, that they were made for each other. And he wanted to do it before she pulled away. He waited for that, for the painful moment when doubt and fear overtook her once more and she pushed him away.

That moment never came.

She trembled and sighed, clutching at his shoulders. “If we’re caught. . .I haven’t told you--”

“Shhh. Door’s locked.” Virginia had seen to it, and that a maid kept watch down the hall, expecting her impossibly reserved brother to do little more than talk to Patience.

But William wasn’t at all inclined to be reserved at present, and his interests went beyond talking. Taking gentle hold of Patience’s face, he silenced her with his mouth. She was just as she’d been in the orangery--an intoxicating mix of sin and innocence. He wasn’t sure which he craved more, but he ached to take his fill of both.

His mouth moved hungrily over hers, even as his mind told him to stop, to pull away before it was too late. The plan he’d outlined had involved kissing, a marriage proposal, and a promise from her never to leave him again. It did not involve taking her virtue.