Patience (15 page)

“After Henri,” Patience interrupted, “I still left myself open to love. You know I did. Lord, how many suitors and marriage proposals did I entertain?” She shook her head. “There comes a time when one must realize that one is on the wrong quest. And once I gave up that quest, I felt free. I’ve been able to give my whole self to my instrument, and I have been content and happy in my decision.”

“Have you been happy? Are you still?” A small frown creased Passion’s brow. “Because you never tell me so.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No.” Passion shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

“Well, what is there to say? If I weren’t happy with my decision, I wouldn’t have made it. And if I weren’t happy with my life, I’d be living it differently.”

Passion regarded her for a long moment. “It’s just that you haven’t seemed happy—not truly. Not in a very long time. And I blame Henri for that.”

Patience stared at her sister. “Do you?”
He’s not the only one to blame.
Her eyes suddenly stung and she lowered them as she put aside her cello and bow. A deep pain throbbed in her heart—the same pain from her dream.

She hated this discussion. She hated the feelings it was inspiring. And she hated thoughts of her own adolescent foolishness. She stared down at the violet silk of her skirt. “Why must we keep speaking of Henri? I thought this conversation was about Matthew.”

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry.” Passion moved toward her, and then Patience was forced to look into her sister’s eyes as Passion tipped up her chin. “I know you’re accustomed to making your own path in life, and to following it alone. I know you’re strong, and I know you can make your own decisions.” The pad of her sister’s thumb felt soft against Patience’s cheek. “I just—I love you—and I don’t want anything to go wrong. And you know what Father always says, ‘When God’s laws are broken—’ ”

“ ‘—the world suffers.’ ” Patience finished the sentence that was their father’s regular refrain. She clasped Passion’s hand and lowered her eyes. She felt sad, and she didn’t even know why. She wished Matthew were near. Where was he?

She traced the bones on the back of her sister’s hand. “I know this affaire seems ill advised. It seemed so to me, too. But I can also tell you that it was inevitable. As you said, there is something between Matthew and me—something that cannot be avoided or denied.”

“Is that what this is, an affaire?”

Suddenly the word sounded wrong. Patience searched for another, but none came to mind. All she could think of were dark lust-filled eyes, strong, unyielding hands—and engraved butter, and marmalade. She looked at her sister. “I don’t know what this is.” She shook her head. “But what would you have us do? Marry for the sole purpose of finding out? I do not love him, nor he me. And I would rather commit the sin of fornication than defile the sacrament of marriage with a lie.”

Passion studied her for a long moment then smoothed her hand over her own rounded stomach. “You know, Father will never forgive me if you return home looking like me.”

Patience touched her sister’s belly and, for the briefest of moments, wished she hadn’t denied Matthew her virginity. But as quickly as she registered the thought, she pushed it away. “I’m not going to let that happen.” She allowed a small smile. “As you are aware, there are other roads to pleasure.”

Passion’s smile was soft. “He pleases you then?”

Patience flushed at Passion’s choice of words. Her skin tingled as she thought of Matthew—the taste of him, the wild lust in his gaze as he’d forced her second release. She felt warm as she raised her eyes to her sister. “He pleases me wonderfully.”

Passion pushed a stray curl back from Patience’s forehead. “Then obey your heart, be as your Lord intends you, and do not be deterred by the doubts of others.” Passion pulled her close.

Patience rested her cheek against her sister’s full belly and sighed as her tensions eased.

“I love you, darling.” Passion’s soft voice stroked Patience’s heart. “I’m here if you need me.”

Patience’s eyes stung again, so she closed them. It was so rare that she availed herself of her older sister’s embrace. There had been a time when they’d been inseparable. But that had been a long, long time ago. Before—

“Girls! Wherever are you?” The familiar but inharmonious voice of their aunt sang out from the adjoining room.

Patience drew back from her sister with surprise.

Passion smiled. “She arrived this morning—a day early, as usual. Will you still be leaving with her in two weeks?”

London and her new music training would take her far from Matthew. She shoved down the regret that reared up in her. “Of course I’m still leaving with her.” Getting to her feet, she hurried to the door. “Aunt Matty!”

Patience smiled as her father’s older sister, Mathilda Dare, rushed forward with arms extended. Her lace cap fluttered and her plump cheeks jiggled. She took Patience in her embrace with a strength that was always a little unexpected from a woman of her years.

“Look at you!” Aunt Matty exclaimed, holding her at arm’s length. “Good Lord, the gentlemen must be running over each other to get to you, my dear.” She looked to Passion. “Isn’t it so, Passion? They must be just wild for her.”

Passion smiled ruefully as she poured a cup of tea for their aunt. “I’m afraid it’s true.” She looked at Patience. “At the ball, a number of gentlemen and lords inquired after you, darling. And Lord Montrose seems particularly enamored.”

Aunt Matty grinned excitedly and patted Patience’s arm as they crossed the room. “There, you see!”

“Of course,” Passion continued, “I told them all that you were completely devoted to spinsterhood, and that they needn’t bother you with useless proposals.”

Aunt Matty pressed her hand to her breast with a gasp. “Good grief, you didn’t really?”

Patience exchanged a broad grin with her sister. “And why shouldn’t she, Aunt Matty? It is the truth, after all.”

“Oh!” Aunt Matty took a seat at the tea table. “Don’t start, Patience. I’ve only just arrived. It’s far too soon for you to begin vexing me.”

Patience held back her smile and dropped a kiss on her aunt’s forehead.

“And don’t try to butter me up with affection.” Aunt Matty stirred her tea vigorously as Patience and Passion took their seats. “Tell her, Passion. Someone’s simply got to tell her. Oh, very well, I’ll tell her.” She stopped stirring and turned to Patience. “Patience, my dear, you’re getting rather high on the shelf.”

“Am I?” Patience sipped her tea.

“Yes, I’m afraid you are. And if something isn’t done about it soon, you’re going to turn into—well, you’re going to turn into rotten peaches.”

Patience choked on her tea as Passion laughed behind her hand.

Aunt Matty drew back. “This is no laughing matter. Do you want to turn into rotten peaches?”

Patience gasped and tried not to laugh. “Well, no. But . . . well . . . you never married, Aunt Matty. And you don’t look anything like rotten peaches to me.”

Passion made a muffled noise as her eyes shifted to their aunt.

Aunt Matty’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t try to divert attention away from yourself, Patience. Of course I’m not rotten peaches.” She wagged her finger. “But that’s because I never was a peach to start with. You, on the other hand, are a peach through and through.” She nodded as if to say
so there
and then sipped her tea.

Patience exchanged a bewildered glance with Passion, who just raised her brows and shook her head.

“Besides,” Aunt Matty continued as she put down her cup, “you have a responsibility to our great nation to bear children.”

“I do?”

Aunt Matty shot a whatever- is-the-matter-with-her look at Passion, and then turned back to Patience. “Well, of course you do, my dear. You owe it to Queen and country to pass your beauty to the next generation. Will you allow one of the most perfect compilations of British features ever born to pass into dust? Shocking, that’s what that is. No, traitorous!”

Patience leaned her chin in her hand and looked at her aunt. She had no notion of what to say to her. A brief silence ensued. “So”—she raised her brows—“how was your trip from London?”

“Oh!” Aunt Matty clapped her hands together. “I must say that the accommodations on the train were a wonder. I told Mr. Hawkmore so myself.”

Patience sat a little straighter. “Mr. Hawkmore?”

“Well, yes, my dear. We rode all the way from the station together. Quite coincidentally, he was there forwarding several letters with a young messenger. He was kind enough to offer me a ride in his coach so that I might have some reprieve from my luggage and my maid. You know how Frannie taxes me with her incessant silence.”

“Yes, Frannie’s silence would wrack anyone’s nerves,” Passion commented with a smile.

Aunt Matty nodded. “It’s true. But I did so enjoy my time with Mr. Hawkmore.” She smiled almost tenderly. “I like him, I really do. Such a shame about his father not being his father.” She shook her head but then lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “Oh well. We don’t care about that anyway, do we?”

“Certainly not,” Passion agreed.

“You know,” Aunt Matty continued, “I hear from the Misses Swittley that he is one of the richest men in the realm. Not that we care about that either, mind you.”

“Oh, no,” Patience quipped, “
we
don’t care about that at all.”

Aunt Matty shot Patience a disdainful glare, and then her expression turned adoring. “He’s so handsome and charming. And, you know, he really listens. He does.” Aunt Matty nibbled her cucumber sandwich. “A more delightful companion I could not have had. We talked and talked”—her eyes shifted briefly toward Patience—“and talked.”

Patience gulped her tea. God forbid that her aunt had spoken to Matthew about her. “And what did you and Mr. Hawkmore talk about?”

Aunt Matty leveled her gray eyes upon Patience. “Why, we talked about you, my dear.”

Oh, no.
Patience cringed inwardly. “What about me?”

Aunt Matty beamed. “I sang your praises, my dear. I catalogued your beauty, I remarked casually upon your culinary talent with scones, and I informed him of your truly remarkable penmanship. Oh, and I let drop the fact that while you had rejected a vast number of marriage proposals, that now that your sister was a countess you would, no doubt, be deluged with requests more worthy of your consideration.”

Patience felt her face flaming. “Is that all, I hope?”

“Well, no. I suggested that if he were looking for a wife, he should ask you immediately before he lost his chance.”

Patience groaned and dropped her face into her hands.

“Well don’t worry, my dear”—Aunt Matty patted her arm—“I didn’t say a word—not one word—about rotten peaches.”

SONG OF SOLOMON 7:10

 

 

 

 

Patience pulled on her dressing gown and hurried from the bathing chamber that adjoined her room. A startled gasp escaped her, and she clutched her gown closed as she registered a dark figure in the chair before the fire.
Matthew!

Relaxed and with his legs set wide apart, he leaned against one arm of the chair, his head supported in his hand. A snifter of brandy dangled from the fingers of his other hand. His beautiful dark eyes captivated her. She saw admiration in them—and desire.

Her heart tripped and then began to pound.

“Send your maid away.” His voice was low but firm.

Patience’s skin warmed. “But I need to dress for . . .” Her voice faded at the lowering of his brows.

“Send your maid away.” He repeated his command slowly, enunciating each word.

Patience shivered even though she wasn’t cold. Moving quickly to the door, she opened it only partway and released her maid. After the girl had bobbed a curtsy and moved off, Patience closed the door and locked it. She turned to face Matthew. Her skin tingled as she leaned against the door and met his dark, beautiful gaze.

“How did you get in here?” she asked. “The door was locked.”

He set his brandy on the small table beside the chair. “Does my presence offend you?”

“No.” She’d been waiting for him all day!

“There is a hidden panel in the wall just behind me. It lets out behind the tapestry in front of my room. If you don’t want me to use it, you may lock it by pressing the cupid carved into the fireplace mantel.” He paused. “
Will
you be locking it?”

Would she? Whatever for, when she wanted him so badly? “No, I don’t believe I will.”

He reached down and adjusted himself in his trousers. “Come, Patience.”

Her breath quickening with excitement, she paused only a moment before crossing to him.

“Closer.”

She had stopped only a pace or two before him. Taking a step forward, and then another, she stopped again when she stood in the vee of his open legs. Feeling bold, she gazed down at him. The gold in his hair glinted in the firelight.

“Take off your dressing gown and put your arms at your sides,” he ordered.

Oh God.
Though her clitoris throbbed with excitement, her daring immediately slipped a notch. Why was that simple directive so difficult? After last night, it should be easy. Yet, it wasn’t. And he offered no kind word to set her at ease.

Forcing her arms to move, she slowly let the cream-colored velvet slip off her shoulders. It landed with a soft
thwump
at her feet. Patience clenched her jaw as she pressed her reluctant hands down her sides and against her thighs.

She could see the rise and fall of her own chest as she looked down at Matthew. His nostrils flared as his eyes moved over her. Beneath his intense scrutiny, her nipples hardened and her cunt quivered.

He swept his fingers over his tongue and, leaning forward, slipped them between her legs. Patience gasped and shuddered as he rubbed her vigorously. She could feel the warm wetness of her own body as he reached between her folds and touched the opening of her quim. Then he moved his hand forward again, his slick fingers plying her quickly swelling bud.