Page 24 of The Truth about the Viscount
“I…” Lord Hastings had suddenly gone very pale, the upset that had ballooned in him instantly deflating, making him appear a little smaller than he had initially seemed to Patience. “Yes, of course. The waltz.” He cleared his throat, looking about. “It is to be announced, yes?”
“It has only justbeenannounced!” Lady Osterley beamed at him, though Patience felt herself sinking inside. “Thank you, Lord Hastings. This has made Patience’s ball a truly excellent one, for she will have danced every dance this evening now!”
Lord Hastings forced a smile, though Patience could still see the shadows in his eyes. Inclining his head, he offered her his arm.
“Lady Patience, shall we?”
She took a breath but, aware that she had no choice but to accept, placed her hand on his arm and, thereafter, fell into stepwith him. She could practically feel the tension radiating from him, the strength of his frame overwhelming her. Soon, she was to be held in his arms, and what would that feel like? Would his anger burn through her then also?
“I know that you do not wish to dance the waltz,” she whispered, a little hoarsely. “You must forgive my mother. She was a little forward, I know, but–”
“Shall we dance, Lady Patience?” Lord Hastings interrupted, his jaw jutting forward as he looked directly into her eyes. “Mayhap what it is that I have to say can be spoken during our dance.”
Without warning, Patience was swept into his arms, having not realized that the music had begun. She gasped, struggling to find her composure as Lord Hastings began to lead her around the floor, his arm firm at her waist, the other hand grasping hers with a strength that she had not expected. It felt like an age as they danced together, without a word, and Patience fought for every breath, trying to find a sense of balance within herself but struggling all the same.
“The drawing.” Finally, Lord Hastings spoke, his voice low and grating. “That was your work.”
Patience tried to look into his face but found the dark intensity of his gaze to be a little overwhelming. Instead of answering him, she chose to remain silent, feeling it a little foolish to answer a question that he already knew the answer to.
“What made you think that to do such a thing was wise?” he asked, pulling her a little closer as her breath tumbled out of her chest in a rushed, hurried fashion. “Did you seek to make me a laughingstock?”
Patience’s eyes flared.
“Of course not.”
“Then why would you do such a thing?”
Confusion raged within her as Patience looked back at him, finding it easier now to hold his gaze, her steps managing to be in time with his without any real difficulty, which surprised her.
“I only drew you, Lord Hastings. I did not think that you would be in the least bit upset by it.”
His hand tightened on her for only a moment, a flush of color in his cheeks as he turned his head away sharply, seeming to not know what to say in response to what she had said. Patience’s heart quickened, and she was utterly confused about why he appeared to be so deeply upset with her artwork. Yes, she had been concerned that not everyone would appreciate her artwork and yes, she had been a little worried over what thetonwould think of her drawing being published in The London Chronicle, but Lord Hastings was speaking as though she had personally insulted him in some way by doing so.
“It was only a drawing, Lord Hastings,” she said, managing to lift her chin just a little. “It was not my idea to have my work printed in The London Chronicle, it was the thought of another, though, if my drawing of you has been truly upsetting, then I shall mayhap think carefully about offering up another for printing.”
Lord Hastings said nothing. Instead, he continued to dance, but in complete silence, looking down at her and holding her gaze with a steadiness that confused Patience a great deal. Why was it that he appeared so very upset? What was it about the drawing that had caused him to think of it as an insult? It was not as though she had drawn him in her usual style, exaggerating any of his features. Instead, it had simply been as she had remembered him.
What could be so insulting about that?
“I am truly sorry.” As the music came to a close, Patience stepped back from Lord Hastings, relieved to be free from him.“I had no intention of upsetting you. My only hope was that theton– and you– might appreciate what I had done. That is all.”
Lord Hastings snorted and shook his head, making Patience flush with embarrassment, looking away as she bobbed a quick curtsey. Evidently, he did not believe her, though she could not understand why that might be. What was it that she had done which caused him such disbelief?
“Thank you for dancing with me and for tolerating my mother’s determination,” she murmured, making to step back. “I think that–”
“You must know that I cannot believe you.”
Patience turned back to face Lord Hastings, who ambled towards her with his hands behind his back, forcing her to fall into step with him rather than make her way away from him.
“You could never have had such a thing printed without intention,” he said, his eyes narrowing just a little. “As I have said, Lady Patience, I cannot believe that there was no ill intent.” His shoulders lifted and then fell. “I do hope that you will find a way to be truthful with me as to your motivations, Lady Patience, for I simply cannot understand it. We are barely acquainted, we have shared only one or two conversations and yes, I will admit to being a little brusque, but you cannot use that as a reason for such dark words.”
“Words?” Nonplussed, Patience stopped and turned to look at him, but Lord Hastings only snorted and then stepped away from her, leaving Patience to stare after him. It took her a few moments but, eventually, she made her way back to the other guests, hurrying to find her mother, sister, or cousin in the hope that she might stand with one of them.
Words?Patience bit her lip, her thoughts going round and round in her mind with a frantic haste which made her stomach twist sharply.What words does he speak of? I have said nothing of him.
“Patience? Are you quite all right? I saw you dancing with Lord Hastings and–”
“Have you seen The London Chronicle since it was printed?” Grasping Eleanor’s hand, Patience threw up her other hand. “Youmusthave seen it. What else was there?”
