Page 111 of Rakes & Reticules
Allowing him to guide her body across the dance floor, she looked up into green eyes the color of fallen leaves, a teasing smile on her lips. “Are you not aware that a lady always has a choice?” she retorted, aware that the world didn’t see it that way.
When she was younger, she thought she had no choice, but being treated like nothing had opened her eyes to her choices. And she was choosing to live her life for herself, starting that night, after she delivered the reticule. Patience would begin a new life in Yorkshire, and there would be nothing anyone could do to stop her.
Fitz laughed at her comment, his grip tightening. “I thought you always had a choice,” he whispered as he leaned in closer, and if she was paying any sort of attention to her usual admirers, she would’ve distinctly heard what they were whispering. But she did not; she only heard the hushed quiet voices and assumed they were discussing her and Fitz.
For the first time in nearly five years, Patience did not care.
When he had first arrived in Brighton years earlier, no one cared about a struggling solicitor, but now he was the Earl of Killingworth.
“You’re the earl now, but you still prefer to be addressed as Fitz?” she asked, wondering how it came to be that he was now a part of the aristocracy.
She couldn’t imagine the same man she met five years earlier as an earl. Then he was carefree and charismatic, an easy smile on his face.
His eyes filled with a hint of sadness that did not look as if it should grace such a handsome countenance. “I am the earl now because my cousin John was killed last year in a duel. Three months after his wife and babe perished in childbirth.” She watched him swallow, his eyes glazing over with unshed tears. “I don't feel like the earl, I've always been just Fitz.”
A warmth settled in the pit of her stomach and the small butterflies that always took up space there when she was around him, flapped their wings repeatedly. “I’m sorry about your cousin.”
His hand tightened slightly around her waist, making her acutely aware of his strong muscled body.
She remembered him speaking fondly of his cousin and how he had assisted Fitz with becoming a solicitor.
He blinked for a moment, before he replied. “Thank you for saying that. Most people act as if I should be happy to inherit, but truly it feels selfish to celebrate when an entire family has been lost.”
Patience silently followed his lead on the dance floor, shocked by how easy it was to speak to him again. He was right: it would be cruel to celebrate the loss of his cousin and his family.
“Feel however you like, Just Fitz. If it pleases you, I’ll never call you the Earl of Killingworth,” she teased, enjoying the wide grin on his face.
Her hand was scorching hot in the confines of her gloves. Patience tried to ignore the tingle in her hand where they were connected, but there was no denying how he affected her.
He chuckled again as he swirled her around the ballroom floor. “I think that would please me very much, Miss Grant. I can only depend on Stonelake to address me as Fitz consistently, and I’m sure that is because he’s known me longer than anyone.”
“Of course, one can always depend on friends.” She smiled a true smile. Something she had not done in ages.
She quite missed it. A rare genuine smile that she did not force upon herself out of obligation. This one came freely because of a man she once knew.
“Have you been well?” he asked as they passed a scowling Mr. Reeves and his band of followers.
Her eyes shifted to Mr. Reeves, who was openly glaring. She chose to ignore him. Patience would no longer give him power over her. “Yes, I have been quite well. Thank you for asking.”
Fitz’s gaze shifted to Walter Reeves who was whispering in the corner like an old matron. “Is Mr. Reeves treating you well? He looks displeased.”
Patience tripped over her skirts. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Why would I care about Mr. Reeves and if he looks displeased?” She didn’t understand why Fitz of all people thought her and Mr. Reeves had a connection?
“When your grandmother informed me that there was no chance you would marry me—”
Patience stopped dancing, her mouth suddenly dry as it fell open in disbelief. “She… what?” Her voice carried over the hushed whispers and music.
Her grandmother was a lot of things—ambitious, deceitful, and downright unpleasant at times—but to tell Fitz such an inappropriate thing was simply disgusting.
“Perhaps we should not discuss this here,” Fitz told her, his voice gentle as his gaze peered around the ballroom.
“When would you like to discuss it?” she asked, her temper rising.
She was aware of how easily she allowed her grandmother to manipulate her then, but Patience had no clue what her grandmother was capable of.
“Later.” He squeezed her waist, leading her around the dance floor.
They danced in silence for several moments before he finally spoke. “The night of the ball here, I had intended to propose. However, your grandmother pulled me aside and informed me that you had agreed to enter an arrangement with Reeves—”
