To Love, Honor, and Obey... (Fated for Love) (13 page)

Chance glowered at her. “Obedience is of age. Neither she nor I need your permission. I will marry her whether you wish it or not. My apologies, Miss Patience, I hope you find every happiness in life, but it was never my intent—nor will it ever be—to marry you.”

Patience's mouth dropped open. She glared at Chance, and then at Obedience. “It seems the having has already been had, Mother.”

Obedience felt her face
redden in what she hoped would be likened to anger and not guilt, though she didn't believe she had anything to feel guilty over. Either way, her sister’s implications stung with the force of a slap.

“That is enough
,” the duke said quietly, but his voice was hard as granite, and it demanded silence. “I knew you both were cracked, but I had hoped we could come to a peaceful conclusion.”

“Sir?” Her mother brought a shaking hand to her mouth.

“You are a most wretched woman, and you've passed it on to your youngest daughter. But Obedience is wonderful. She is brave, humble, kind, and considerate. It is true I suggested her to my son, and he—of sound mind and intelligence, is able to see all her fine attributes as well and agreed. There will be no more discussion. There will not be another harsh word spoken against her. Since you are incapable of being an appropriate mother to her, I will remove her from your abrasive hands. Due to my failing health, the wedding will take place immediately. Whether Obedience finds it in her heart to invite you is up to her, but I will have nothing to do with you.” He turned to Obedience. “Go get your things, we are leaving immediately.”

Obedience looked around in shock. Just like
that, the vitriol from her mother and sister was silenced, but they still stared at her with undisguised hate. Chance stood and came around to pull out her chair. Obedience slowly stood. Her knees were shaky and weak. She left without looking back, climbing the stairs in a daze and upon reaching her room she rang for Myra.

She blinked as she looked around the room and tried to absorb what was happening. She was leaving this moment, and it was most likely she would never return. She stared at the walls, papered in cream with little purple flowers. These four walls had been hers from the moment she out grew the nursery. She looked at the trinkets on the mantel, the stacks of books on her
nightstand. She sat on her bed and stared at the vanity where only earlier Patience had dreamed of her future with Chance. A wave of heartache fell over her, and she started to cry. She wished it were all different. She wished she could have known the kind of friendship and love she'd witnessed between sisters. She wished her mother could have cared more for her and been tenderer. That's all she had really wanted.

Now she was leaving. She looked around the room,
at the memories it held, and decided she didn't want to take any of it with her. Myra knocked on the door and entered, her eyes wide and uncertain.

“You rang?”

“I... I need you to help me pack a trunk. I'm leaving tonight.”

Myra stood by the door. “You're leaving?”

Obedience nodded and wiped at her tears. “I'm leaving, Myra, and I'm never coming back.”

Obedience stood angrily and pulled a trunk form under her bed. As Obedience opened her wardrobe and started digging through dresses, Myra went to her dresser and began to pull out her necessary undergarments. Obedience pulled out dresses and tossed them haphazardly in the trunk, scooping up
armfuls of garments and dumping them in without care. A box at the bottom caught her eye and she froze.

Slowly bending down, she picked up the box and returned to sit on the bed. It was an old music box, the painted design of flowers against white faded and chipped. She slowly opened the lid, a little flower springing up and spinning on its brittle stem as a tinkling song began to play. She was flooded with memories of her father. In the hallowed out space below the dancing flower
, Obedience pulled out a folded piece of paper. She opened it—a drawing of her and her father sitting under a tree on a sunny day. He had drawn it for her, a memento of their walks in the countryside, a love of being in nature that they shared. Those walks had been so special to her. It was the only time she had his undivided attention. She stared at the likeness of his face, now faded with time.

“Is that your father?” Chance startled her.

Obedience looked up and gave him a watery smile. “Yes.”

Chance sat down beside her and ran a finger over the faded paint. “Childhood memento?”

“You could say that. I hadn't opened it in so long that I forgot about it.”

“Are you all right? Things got rather
tense down there.”

Obedience looked down at the sketch and ran her finger along the edge. “Yes... I don't know.”

Chance put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his side. “I promise it will all be all right.”

“I just...
I don't understand why they hate me. What have I done?” she said bleakly.

“I find it very hard to believe you've done anything to deserve such treatment. You deserve so much more than this. All I can do for you is
to take you away from here. If they choose to mend fences with you, then I will not stand in your way, but I'm leaving the decision up to you. I know this must be a terrible shock, but if you can be brave a little longer, I think it will smooth its self out.”

Obedience scoffed. “It all seems so bleak. I'm leaving the only home I've ever known. My mother and sister think I've disgraced m
yself and my family to prevent Patience from marrying you. It's like some horrible novel. Will I ever come back here? Will they cut me in public or spread lies about us?” She shivered. The roiling emotions inside her made her feel nauseated and cold.

Chance was quiet. He didn't know what to say to make her feel better. All he wanted to do was
to hold her and ask her to trust him. He would do anything in his power to make everything that hurt her go away, even if it were her own family.

“I'm finished, Miss Obedience.” Myra stepped before them. “I rang for Edward to carry it down.”

“Just the one trunk?” Chance looked around in puzzlement.

“There isn't time for more. I just want to leave.” Obedience stood and walked to the door.

Chance stepped closer to Myra. “See that everything she needs is packed tonight, and I will send for it as soon as we reach the house. You will be rewarded handsomely.”

“Thank you, my lord, but there is no need. I will do as you ask because Miss Obedience has always been kind to me.”

“Thank you.” Chance nodded and followed Obedience from the room. Obedience waited outside her door. When Chance appeared, he took her hand and led her down the hall.

She expected to see her mother waiting for her down stairs, but there was no one. No final words of spite or any sort of
goodbye. She felt as cared for as a flea bitten dog. “Where is the duke?”

“He's already in the carriage. I thought it best to remove him from your
mother’s presence as soon as possible. I can tell he is tired.”

“My family was appalling
. Most would find it exhausting.”

He handed her into the carriage where the duke was waiting, he patted the seat next to him
, and she sat beside him. Chance took the seat across from them and the door closed. Obedience looked out the window as the carriage lurched forward and hoped this wouldn't be the last time she saw her home.

Patience wandered through the halls, her eyes gritty and swollen. She searched for her mother—or anyone really, so she wouldn't feel so alone. That was how she felt now, alone. She wasn't upset Lord Willowton chose her sister over her
. Truthfully, she didn't care. Her biggest fear was being alone, being shunned by family and friends. What would she do now? Where would she go? She needed comfort, she needed a shoulder to cry on, and a steady voice to tell her it would all be all right. She hoped she would find that in her mother, but with trepidation, she searched for her, unsure of the welcome she would receive. After Lord Willowton had aided the duke to his carriage, her mother had stormed from the dining room. Patience had retired to her own room and dressed for bed, but the oppressing weight of her predicament got the better of her, and so she searched for her mother.

She heard the shattering of glass from somewhere below and went down stairs to
investigate. Turning down the darkened hall, she saw a shaft of light coming from the door of her father’s study that was open just a crack. She could hear mumbling, and as she moved closer, the voice was recognizable as her mothers. She approached the door and pushed it slowly open. Her mother was sitting on the edge of her father’s old desk, a tumbler of liquor clutched tightly in her hand.

“Mother?”
Patience entered slowly, weary of the scattered pieces of glass on the floor from what used to be a crystal decanter. Her mother didn't move as she entered, only continued to stare at the empty hearth. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing? I'm lamenting the loss of my respectability. I will never be a respected matron in town, and I will never be welcome in the drawing rooms of the matrons here as well. I've lost everything.”

“But... what about me?”

Her mother turned and sneered at her. “What about you? To think of the fortune I spent on governesses and gowns to turn you into a proper young lady
, and this is how you repay me? At least Obedience had the foresight to whore herself to a duke for the hand of his son. You let your greatest attribute be stolen. It was all for nothing. You are ruined, wasted goods that no man wants to touch.” Her mother turned to the portrait of her husband that hung behind the desk. “Why did you burden me with such daughters? Harlots! Good for nothing but falling on their backs.”

Patience cringed and stepped back. Her heel stepped on something sharp and she yelped. She sank to the floor and looked at her foot. A shard of glass was wedged in her heal and it was bleeding profusely. She looked to her mother pleadingly, but the woman who looked back at her had no softness or compassion.

“You're pathetic. When I was a girl of your age, my mother told me something very important. I thought it extremely harsh at the time, but now I realize I've been too soft with you. My mother told me that if I ever shamed her, or disgraced my good name, that I should take my own life to absolve myself. It’s because of her that I was everything a young lady should be and married well. I don't know what I did to deserve a daughter like you, but I will pass my mother’s wisdom on to you. I wash my hands of all of it.”

Patience sat on the floor, stunned beyond her years. Her mother thought she should kill herself? She sobbed, her throat aching with the force of it. “I'm so sorry,
Mother,” she pleaded.

Lady Wickenham turned to her, her lip curling. “
You’re dead to me now. Do not address me as mother again. I want you out of this house. Your company is unfit for even the pigs in the mud.” She strode past her and left the study, her skirts swishing violently.

Patience wrapped her arms around herself and cried. This was her greatest fear
—rejection, abandonment. She had expected it from society, but not her own mother. She had nothing now, and no one to turn to. The baby in her womb was a curse, the end of everything she had loved in her life, and yet, in her deepest thoughts, she had almost wanted it, but not at the cost of everything she loved, the life she had once deserved. Her chest swelled with anger. She could no longer feel the bite of the glass in her foot and reaching down, she yanked it from her flesh, and a new gush of blood followed it.

She pushed herself to her feet and stood, hobbling to the door and down the hall to the main stairs. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, but she took deep steady breaths as she opened the front door and went out into the night. Hobbling across the drive to the side lawn, down through the shrubbery that bordered
the rose garden and down the gravel bath to the paddock. She pulled open the doors to the stables. It was dark inside. Everyone had already gone to bed. She found a lantern hanging by the door and a box of matches placed on top. Lighting the lantern, she squinted at the sudden brightness and hobbled her way down the stalls to the tack room. She pushed open the door and looked at the wall of saddles in confusion. She was an experienced rider, but she'd never saddled a horse before. She frowned, her anger pumping through her blood like scalding water. She turned away from the tack room and found her horse, Thistle. The mare nickered in greeting.

Patience hung the lantern by her stall and opened the gate. “Come here, girl.” She held out her hand like she had treat. Thistle came forward slowly. Patience picked up the lantern and led the horse outside
. She blew out the lantern and rehung it before closing the stable doors. Turning back, she was pleased to see her mare had patiently waited for her. She shivered, the cool air penetrating her determination and thin nightgown.

She was scared, terrified really, but she was also resolute. The burden of her life was now lifted and it pushed her on. She walked over to the mounting block and Thistle followed her. Thistle looked at her expectantly, her hide twitching in the cool night air. “Don't worry, Thistle, I know you will find your way back home, but I don't have a home here anymore.”