Page 104 of Rakes & Reticules
“Fortunately for us, you’re not a mind reader, grandmother,” Patience said with as much calm as she could handle. Such conversations were the main reasons she avoided her family.
“No if I were, you would’ve never been caught with Mr. Reeves, you fool of a girl.” She bore into Patience with a cold black gaze.
Patience’s blood went icy in her veins, her body stiffening at the mention of the Honorable Walter Reeves. He was the heir to a barony and made it his life’s mission to ruin Patience. All because she refused to be his mistress.
This was why she avoided her family at every opportunity. Every confrontation with her family was the same, and Patience was tired of arguing. Tired of how each woman allowed her grandmother to rule them. Her mother did nothing as her grandmother insulted and demeaned Patience and her father. Her sister would sit in silence, worried about her own secrets, looking like a poor helpless animal, a rabbit perhaps.
After the insults, her grandmother would go on and on about their current state of finance while her mother eagerly agreed that someone must do something.
Patience glanced over at Mary-Anne, finding her eyes cast down, and hands clasped. Yes, she definitely looked like a helpless rabbit.
“Why have I been summoned?” she asked, wanting to be anywhere but there. “I will be late for work if I do not leave immediately.” It wasn’t exactly true. She had at least forty-five minutes to spare, but she would never reveal the truth to her mother or grandmother.
“The viscount is having a ball in a sennight, and Lord Hightower has written that a duke will be in attendance along with some earl of no fortune. You must escort your sister and ensure she catches the duke's attention.” Her mother pointed at her, leaving no room for argument.
It was times like this that Patience longed for her father. She was nothing but a burden to both her mother and grandmother, a fact they constantly felt the need to remind her of.
Forcing herself not to show any signs of emotion, Patience held her head high, pushing away the prickle of tears that threatened to fall. She hated Brighton society; it was difficult to endure it, especially when you were the sole subject of every whisper in the room.
Her godfather, Viscount Hightower, and his wife had been longtime friends of their family. The viscount and her father were more like brothers than friends. He was the only reason that they were still accepted in Brighton society.
“I have to work that night.” Her voice sounded small and weak, as it often did when she was being badgered.
“Make an excuse. This is your opportunity to make up for your foolish behavior.” Her grandmother lifted the cane again, wielding it more like a sword than a walking stick.
Eyeing her sister, Patience waited for Mary-Anne to say something, anything really. But as was her usual custom, she did not. That was the one thing she disliked about her sister, her cowardice. If it were Mary-Anne constantly being demeaned, Patience would stand up for her.
She also knew now years later that if she ever found love again, she would never allow her grandmother to intervene. She had allowed the older woman to dictate life once, and it had cost her everything.
“Very well. Is that all?” she asked, wanting to flee the room before her grandmother or mother began listing her sins again.
Letting out a loud grunt of dismissal, her grandmother flung the cane toward the door, officially releasing Patience from the torture.
Not waiting another second for one of them to throw a careless insult at her, Patience rushed out of the parlor. Her booted feet made a thunderous sound as she pushed her legs to move as fast as they would go. Though her thighs ached with the speed at which she was moving, she dared not stop until the fresh air kissed her skin giving her sweet relief. Gasping, she let it soothe her as she breathed deeply. Closing her eyes, Patience allowed a few tears to fall for her father as always.
Behind her, the door to the house creaked open.
“I’m sorry,” her sister said, her voice small and filled with sadness.
She turned to look at her sister. “You’re always sorry Mary-Anne.”
They had the same brown skin and high cheekbones, but that was where their likeness ended. Mary-Anne favored their mother and grandmother while Patience was told she was the spitting image of her father’s mother.
“What would you like me to say? I’m not strong like you.” Her sister wrapped her arms around Patience placing her head on her shoulder.
“If strong is enduring constant ridicule and whispers for five years, then I am the pillar of strength,” Patience jested.
Mary-Ann leaned back, peering at her sister. “You are, you should be a bare-knuckle fighter.”
Patience stepped out of her sister’s embrace. “And you should tell both grandmother and mother that you do not want to marry a duke. That you are in love with a footman—”
“Keep your voice down!” Mary-Anne eyes went wide, her head turning to ensure that no one had overheard Patience.
Mary-Anne had no inclination of marrying anyone their mother or grandmother chose. She had long been secretly engaged to Philip Lewis, a footman of Viscount Hightower’s for a year. The two had formed a connection, and eventually fell in love.
Patience would be happy for her sister, if Mary-Anne ever really planned to defy her family and marry Philip. But it seemed that would not be the case. Besides, their mother and grandmother would be mortified to learn that Mary-Anne was engaged to a footman.
“Very well, but they will continue to pressure you and soon you will find yourself with a husband that is not Philip Lewis,” Patience reminded her sister, understanding just how precarious Mary-Anne and Philip’s situation was.
