Page 17 of The Truth about the Viscount
“Is it?” Lady Patience tilted her head. “I do not think so, I confess. I assume that any young lady would show care and consideration for others, knowing that we are all in the same position here in London.”
“Position?”
A slight smile touched the edges of her mouth, her eyes brighter now.
“We are here to wed, just as your sister’s purpose was,” she said, making Daniel flush with a sudden embarrassment. He ought to have understood what she meant. “I am glad that she has found happiness with Lord Milthorpe. That is why I interrupted your conversation with Lord Newforth’s, though I hope that I did not do wrong.”
“No, no, not in the least,” Daniel assured her, quickly. “You are very kind to have done such a thing, Lady Patience. Most considerate of you, assuredly.”
Her eyes smiled up into his and for a moment, Daniel’s heart swelled with something other than relief over being taken from the anger of Lord Newforth. Then, it was gone, fading just as quickly as it had come, as he turned his head away.
“Ah, Patience, there you are.”
“Here I am, Mama.” Lady Patience released his arm and then, after a quick smile at him, stepped towards her mother, leaving Daniel behind. There was no requirement, no expectation for him to step forward and introduce himself, he realized, and for that, he was grateful. Suddenly, the only thing that he wanted to do was find Isabella and make certain that she was safe. With Lord Newforth present and in such an angry frame of mind, Danielhadto stay close to Isabella. It was the only way that she could be protected though, he feared, thethreat would not dissipate for some time, mayhap only after Isabella was wed and he was far away from society.
Though I have seen that not everyone in society is as cruel, nor as eager to gossip as others,he thought to himself, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. Lady Patience was laughing at something that someone had said, and that bright, joyful moment made him smile. Despite Lord Newforth’s threat, it was clear to Daniel that Lady Patience, at least, was quite determined to protect Isabella, someone she had not even been introduced to! That was a kindness indeed and, for just a moment, it made Daniel feel a little better about society.
Though it was only for a moment.
Chapter Six
Patience smiled to herself as she set her pencil down, taking in the figure she had just drawn. It was just as she had seen him the previous evening, standing stalwart at the side of the drawing-room, his arms loose by his sides but his head held high, his eyes sharp and filled with an uncertainty that she had been able almost to sense from him.
The soiree had been enjoyable, of course, but Patience had found herself a little overwhelmed by the crush of bodies. To her mind, there had been too many guests for one townhouse and thus, she had stepped away for a few minutes, promising her mother that she would remain in sight of her and Christina. Christina had not suffered any of the difficulties nor the struggle that Patience had, seeming to relish being in the crowd of guests. Patience had smiled to herself, watching the way that Christina had laughed and smiled and conversed with various gentlemen and ladies, thinking to herself just how very different they were in their personalities… and it was then that she had seen him. Lord Hastings, as she now knew him to be, had made his way across the room to speak directly with Lord Milthorpe, whom Patience knew by sight rather than because they had beenintroduced. She had tried not to look, as the two gentlemen had conversed, hearing the two low voices and, to her mind, a note of concern in both.
When Lord Milthorpe had stepped away, Patience had expected Lord Hastings to do the same, but he had not. Instead, he had stayed precisely where he was, moving back just a fraction so that he stood with his back to the wall, looking out at everyone in the drawing room, just as she was. She had been uncertain whether or not he had known of her presence and, though she knew very well that she ought not to turn her head and look at him, something about his presence had encouraged her to do that very thing. The image had fixed itself in her mind and Patience had known at once that this was a gentleman she wouldhaveto draw, someone she would have to capture on paper. A brooding figure, mayhap, she had thought, tilting her head to take in his features a little better.
And then, he had turned his head.
A sudden flush of heat rushed through her as she recalled the moment he had turned to look at her, clearly aware that she had been studying him. It had been an awkward moment, one where she had felt herself more than a little embarrassed and yet, at the same time, feeling a flickering sense of interest in him. It was not something she had ever expected to feel and yet, it was there nonetheless, beckoning her closer. Part of her had expected him to roll his eyes and look away, or to turn his head away again and pretend that nothing of note had taken place but, instead, he had begun to speak. Their conversation had been brief, and Patience had been careful not to say anything that might be in the least bit encouraging, aware that they had not been introduced. But then, he had introduced himself and she had done the same. It had been a pleasure to know his title, to recognize who he was, in relation to Miss Spearton and to Lord Milthorpe also, though she had not said very much in that regard. He had chosen to stepaway from her, excusing himself in a genial manner, only for another gentleman to step into his path.
That was most confusing.
It was not in her nature to be forward, to push herself into conversations and situations where she had no right to be. She had not been able to make out any of the two gentlemen’s conversation, but she had been able toseethe fury that had been building between them. It had been clear to her that Lord Hastings was doing his level best to stay as calm as he could, though she had seen the way that his hands had tightened into fists as he spoke – but Lord Newforth had been quite different. There had been anger in every single movement of his frame, from the way that he had filled the space between himself and Lord Hastings, to the tightness of his frame. When he had pulled back just a little, reaching out to grab Lord Hastings’ arm, Patience had found herself reacting without having ever intended to do anything at all.
“Though I am still glad that I did such a thing.”
“You are speaking to yourself now, Patience?”
Whirling around, Patience put one hand to her heart.
“Goodness, Eleanor, I did not hear you step into the room!”
“I did call your name thrice,” Eleanor teased, though there was a twinkle in her eye that made Patience question whether such a thing was true or not. “What is it that you are doing?”
“Drawing.” Patience held out her sketch of Lord Hastings to her cousin, knowing that she would be determined to look at it, even if Patience had tried her best to hide it from her. “It was from the soiree yesterday.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened.
“This is Lord Hastings, is it not?”
“It is.”
Eleanor beamed at her.
“And are you going to send it to The London Chronicle? I saw your drawing of Lord Milthorpe and Miss Spearton and thought it quite wonderful! I have been telling everyone that it was your work.”
Something seemed to shrivel inside Patience.
