* * *
Once Aunt Harriette filled the girls with self-confidence, she barreled into them with a vengeance. Everything they thought they knew must be re-learned. Walking. Dancing. Greeting. Eating. Speaking—not speaking! Rules. Rules. Rules!
Patience’s head ached.
“There are more rules to behavior in society than minutes in a day,” Sophie complained after a difficult day of lessons.
“Sometimes I don’t think we can do it,” Patience confessed to her aunt as they took after-dinner tea with the girls.
“Nonsense. There are only two weeks to go. With all the sparkle you have among you, you’ll be ready to set the town ablaze. But remember, the things you must not do, are every bit as important as those you must. Perhaps more so. And, while we are speaking of what we must and must not do, Patience, dear, I hate to bring this up. But I do think it’s important.”
Here we go again. “Certainly, Aunt. What is it?”
“It’s that naughty Captain, dear.”
Oh, dear. “Naughty?” Patience chuckled to hide her agitation. “That’s a good description. Don’t you think so, Sophie?”
Sophie frowned suspiciously. “Why do you ask me?”
“Because I knew you would comprehend the word better than anyone.”
Sophie pursed her lips. “Hmm.”
The girls laughed.
“Patience you must face the fact that your Captain is not of your social standing.”
“And?”
“You must not see so much of him. Not see him at all, I should say.”
Patience crossed the room, her back to the group. “Why ever not?” Her aunt’s words disturbed her more than she liked.
“You are seeking titled husbands for your girls. You should move in only the most elite social circles. Your Captain is not of that company.”
Patience turned back to her aunt unable to mask her distress. “Why must you call him my Captain? He is not my anything.”
“Of course, child. Whatever you say.”
“You don’t need to be patronizing. I was merely stating a point about which I feel strongly.”
“Clearly, I’ve distressed you. I hoped we could discuss—”
“This discussion is at an end, Aunt. I will see you in the morning.”
Midway to her room, Patience changed her mind. She went down the stairs, called for her cape and made a quick escape out the door, the doorman calling dire warnings should she venture out so late unescorted. She flagged down the first hack she saw and made her way to the Captain’s London quarters.
After pounding on the door for several moments, she confronted a sleepy-eyed Shane. “Patience what’s wrong? Has anything happened to Rose or Amy?”
“Calm down, papa bear. They are as healthy and happy as they were when you returned to live here yesterday. Where is that ogre of a brother of yours? I need to speak with him.”
“I’m afraid he’s at his club. But I expect he’ll be back shortly. I’ll just send a note round to summon him, shall I?”
Relief filled her. “Please. Thank you, Shane.”
“Come into the library. The fire’s lit.”
Sitting in a cozy chair inhaling the spice of Grant’s cologne, Patience eyed the brandy Shane left for her, wondering why the Garrick men had such a penchant for the bitter stuff. Then she curled up in the chair to wait.
And wait.
When Patience opened her eyes, her first sleepy sight raced her heart. Back-lit by the blaze in the hearth, frowning down at her, Grant looked like Satan. And he must have her in his clutches, because Aunt Harriette’s edict that she end their friendship scared her to death.
“What a sight,” he whispered before he kissed her. “I like finding you asleep in my favorite chair, though it’s not the thing, Patience, to visit a man in the middle of the night.” He lifted her and sat with her on his lap, their favorite position.
He grazed her cheek with his lips. “What are you doing here at this hour? Not that I really mind.”
Awake now, Patience remembered her alarm at Aunt Harriette’s words and she began to tremble. “Oh, Grant.”
Grant rubbed her back. “God’s truth, sweetheart, you’re frightening me. What on earth’s the matter?”
“Aunt Harriette said we shouldn’t, shouldn’t.... ”
Grant feared her aunt suspected that they had been intimate.
“She said we shouldn’t . . .be friends any longer.”
“What?” He sat her away from him so he could see her face.
She fiddled with his cravat. “She said to go on correctly, I must only mingle with the elite of English Society, and that you aren’t.”
“Elite?”
“My social equal.”
“Are you certain she’s not trying to push us together. Remember, she tells you, you can’t, if she wants—”
“Stop it,” Patience said annoyed. “I fail to see what’s so funny, unless you don’t see our friendship as anything for which to care overmuch?”
“Of course, I care about our friendship. But you must admit that I shot myself in the foot with that one. I’m the one, don’t forget, who made you bring her to London so everything would be done properly. Don’t you see? She is exactly correct. We shouldn’t be friends.”
“You don’t wish to be my friend any longer?”
She looked like a sad pup. A damned cute one. “That’s not the point. We need to do what’s best, so the girls will find titled husbands. Your own chances, Patience, could suffer. A sea Captain for a friend is not conducive to reeling in a titled husband.”
“I don’t want a titled husband, you dolt. They do. I want—and I can’t believe you can’t remember such a little thing, because sometimes you seem to be so very intelligent—a house, a white kitten and a rose garden. Remember?”
“Listen to me.” He took her hands in his and rubbed her fingers with his thumbs. “You don’t know what you want. You are too passionate a woman to live without a husband. You must marry someday.” He squeezed her hands. “Patience, you’ll never know of love. Never have children, if you don’t.” Grant wondered for the hundredth time why her hands in his felt so perfect and he tried to recapture the logic in giving her up.
“You know,” Patience said. “You are also too passionate to live without being married. Yet, you say you will not.”
“I’m a man. With a man, it doesn’t matter. He can always—” He searched her face for the dawning of understanding. Surprisingly when it came, there was no accompanying blush. He was sorry he had done that to her—taken away her blush.
“Oh yes. Ladybirds. Men may have them but it is frowned upon for a woman to take a....” She tilted her head in question.
“Lover.”
“But for a man it is not called a lover?”
“No. Well, yes. Sometimes.”
“The rules are very different for a man than for a woman, are they not?”
“I’m afraid they are. But the fact remains that a passionate man can exist very comfortably outside of marriage. A woman with passion, the kind you have, Patience, cannot.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“Because society will not allow it. Oh, occasionally wives of very wealthy, very influential men have discreet affairs. These are overlooked because their husbands are important. But everyone knows, and though the women are not ostracized, they are frowned upon.”
“I certainly have lived a good part of my life being frowned upon. Aunt Harriette was once very good at it, you know, so I shall not care for the usual.” She nodded her head as if coming to a satisfactory conclusion. “I expect I’ll fly in the face of convention and take a lover.”
Fury exploded inside Grant’s head. He damned near dropped her on the floor when he stood. Grabbing her by the arms, he held her in place. “Dammit, Patience, don’t be a fool. A nobody like you would never get away with it.”
“Let go. You’re hurting me.”
Shocked, Gr
ant let her go.
Patience rubbed her arm, her look rebellious. “I don’t need your permission to take a lover, Captain. We’re only friends after all.”
For the life of him, Grant couldn’t understand these warring urges to beat Patience one minute and make love to her the next. He stood rooted, his fists clenched, waiting for her stubborn jaw to firm in determination, certain it would.
It did. She nodded. “I shall take a lover. I will.”
Even though he expected it, the shot landed like a fist to his gut. He grasped her arms again. “You little hellcat. If you are so willful that you will throw society’s rules in its face by taking a man to your bed then that man had damned well better be me!”