Page 18 of A Reticule for Scandal

“I was to be your companion, see to your home. Care for your children so that he and you could live freely, but you had to ruin it all.” Her grandmother gazed at her with hatred in her eyes. “You went and fell in love with a poor solicitor.” She flung her cane in the air toward Fitz like a weapon.

“I’m no man’s whore! How dare you?” Patience asked, looking at her grandmother in horror.

“How dare I?” Her grandmother pointed to herself. “Was I to continue living this mediocre life because my daughter married a poor soldier? No you were to change it all. But thenhecame, and I knew I had to do something.”

“You wanted me out of the way, so that Miss Grant would accept Reeves’ offer.” Fitz’s arm went around Patience’s waist, securing her to him. “But her strength and morals surpassed both you and Reeves’. You should be ashamed of yourself, madam.”

Her grandmother held her head high, ignoring Fitz’s comment. “I am not, and I have another granddaughter?—”

“You do not!” her mother shouted, stepping in front of Patience and her grandmother. “I want you gone. I want you out of my house and away from my family.”

Patience stared at her mother, wondering where the sudden burst of strength had come from.

“Doreatha be serious. I’m your mother.” Her grandmother spat the words, but the tremble in her voice revealed her fear.

“No, I’m a mother. You are nothing but a manipulator, and I could not see it… until n-now.” Her mother’s voice broke as she looked at Patience. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Patience could not find her voice. It was everything she wanted—for her family to believe that what happened five years earlier was not her fault.

“Doreatha! Be reasonable, I needed funds! I’m not meant for this life! You married a bastard son of a plantation owner who barely inherited a farthing,” her grandmother screeched, becoming hysterical.

Patience had heard enough of her vile nonsense. “If you want Reeves’ funds so badly, you be his whore!” Patience released Fitz’s hand, rushing past her grandmother and out of the library.

“Patience!” her mother called after her.

“I need air, Mother. I can no longer stay in the same room with her.” She looked over at her grandmother, seeing the small, weak woman she really was.

Patience would never be like her. Alone and desperate.

As Patience walked out of the library, Fitz caught her, taking her by the hand, and suddenly she knew that her grandmother’s fate would not be hers.

Perhaps she did not have to be alone after all.

CHAPTER9

Fitz followed Patience out of the library, taking her hand in his. He couldn’t comprehend the level of deceitfulness Mrs. Miller had used against her own granddaughter. The nerve of that woman behaving in such a way.

He was disgusted and angered that she would willingly assist Reeves in making Patience his whore. Fitz could not believe she preferred that future for her granddaughter over the one that Fitz had willingly offered five years earlier.

Patience stopped right outside a small alcove away from the ballroom. “Fitz,” she said, “the thought of staying in the same home as Grandmother, makes me ill.”

Hope filled his chest as he pulled her body to his. Fitz didn’t care who saw them together. It didn’t matter anymore if being seen with him in an intimate position would ruin her. She was his now and forever, and could never be ruined in his esteem.

“Come with me tonight,” he said, trying to hide the desperation in his voice. “We’ll return to London in the morning.”

“I won’t marry you because you think it’s your duty to save me from ruin.” She chuckled, the moonlight casting a glow on her smooth skin. “I was already ruined, so you’re free Fitz.” She removed her hand from his, leaving him suddenly feeling cold and alone.

“No.” He wrapped his free hand around her waist, pulling her closer to him. They needed to be strong together if they were to survive this time. “I don’t want to be free. Not from you, not now or ever again.” The words burned through him. He needed her to know exactly how he’d always felt.

Nothing had changed for him. Fitz had known it as a young solicitor of twenty-seven years, and he knew it now as a man well into his thirties. Patience Grant was meant to be his wife.

His lips descended on hers, her pliable body molding to his. This is what he had imagined all those years ago, and he would have it. If he had to beg her every day for the rest of his life to be his, he would.

She placed a small hand on his chest, her breathing coming out in pants. “I can’t think when you kiss me.”

“Good.” He kissed her again, slow and steady, his entire body alive. Her lips were soft and pliant; the taste of champagne still lingered on her tongue. Giving her one last gentle peck, Fitz leaned back, staring into her eyes. “I’ll see you home. We leave tomorrow for London.”

“We both know this is what you really came for, Fitz.” She took the reticule out of his hand, opening it and pulling out the neatly folded papers.