Page 18 of Lady Impatience (A Series of Senseless Complications #3)

Patience felt as if everything in the world had stopped—time, the storm, her mind, and her heart. How was this? How was Lord Stanford standing soaked through from the rain in the middle of nowhere at an inn?

“Ah, it’s Stanford,” the duke said, sounding very jolly over it. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Lord Stanford?” Patience choked out. Why was he here? Why, why, why?

“Why are you here?” Valor asked. “Didn’t you get my letter?”

“Ho Stanford,” the marquess said, “I haven’t seen you in an age, what’s all this?”

“Yes,” Winsome said, “What is all this?”

“This is very upsetting, whatever it is,” Serenity said.

Verity sighed. “It’s an all too common thing—Lord Stanford broke Patience’s heart and now he’s come to stomp on it.”

“No I haven’t,” Lord Stanford said.

“Good God man, what have you been up to?” the marquess said, laughing.

Patience wanted to hit the marquess over the head to stop him from talking. Lord Stanford needed to be talking.

“I would rather ask you what you are up to,” Lord Stanford said to the marquess.

“He tells funny stories, and his pants are too tight,” Valor said, in a bid to explain what the marquess was up to.

Lord Stanford did not respond to the explanation. “I’ve come,” he said, his coat making the soft sounds of dripping water on the carpet, “to clear up some things. Lady Patience, when you approached me at the masque, it was not actually me.”

“Told you,” the duke said to Patience, “I said he was not in his right mind. He was spooked.”

“I was not spooked. I was not there, Your Grace,” Lord Stanford said. “I was attending Lady Monroe, an elderly relative in Kent, who required my assistance. Lord Radler wore my mask.”

As that news settled over Patience, Lord Stanford went on. “Lord Radler was taken by surprise, acted the idiot, and ran away. Had I been there, I can assure you I would not have gone anywhere. Now, I fully realize that all of this is my fault, with the exception of Radler being an idiot. I have been foot dragging to no purpose and that stops now.”

“Does it?” Patience whispered.

Valor said, “Well, now that I know more than I did, you could crumple up the letter from Mrs. Wendover. Which I wrote for her.”

Lord Stanford nodded at Valor. “Lady Patience, I have treated you abominably. I have resisted following my own heart, but if you will have me, I would be eternally grateful. If you can forgive how I have conducted myself so far. That is, if you can somehow look past—”

Patience had leapt from her chair and pushed past the marquess, who had at that moment been unfortunately leaning back on only two of the legs of that chair. As he went down in a crash, Patience threw herself into Lord Stanford’s arms.

Through her hair, which was fast coming undone, Lord Stanford said, “Your Grace, if I might have permission to escort Lady Patience to the snug to say a few private words?”

“Go on with you, took you long enough, after all.”

Lord Stanford swept her up in his arms and carried her out of the room. In the corridor, the innkeeper rushed forward. “Lady Patience! My lord, put the lady down at once. I cannot have a kidnapping in my inn. Put her down, I say!”

“Stanford, do not you dare put me down,” Patience said, laughing.

The innkeeper, hardly knowing what to do next, ran into the dining room. Patience presumed he went to tell the duke that one of his daughters was being carried off by a strange gentleman.

The snug, a small alcove in the back of the inn, was lit by just a few candles. Its primary piece of furniture was a gray velvet settee, which Lord Stanford promptly threw her on.

He was not long in following her there. He brushed her hair from her eyes and kissed them and then moved to her lips. He was so gentle, but strong too—exactly as she’d imagined him to be. No, better than she imagined him to be.

“I am sorry for Radler’s behavior,” he said quietly.

Patience giggled. “Do not be, I cannot imagine what else would have got you going in my direction.”

“I was always going in your direction; I was only moving at a snail’s pace. I have learned from my mistake, though.”

“You were very gallant to come chasing after me,” Patience said.

“I would have galloped all over England to catch up to you. It turns out, once I get going, I cannot be easily stopped.”

Patience thought his words were very nice indeed. But she thought his lips were even nicer. She kissed him until he forgot all about what he meant to say. He was soaked through from the rain and soon enough she was soaked too, but who cared for that? She began to be very bold about tracing the outlines of his chest and kissing his neck and, as far as she could tell, it was very much approved of. He also became rather bold, and ran his hand up the side of her dress, which was thrilling in the extreme.

They were coming to know each other, very personally.

In situations such as these, it is always a complete guess as to how much time has passed. Time very gracefully bows out and takes itself elsewhere. There were moments when she detected the innkeeper nervously pacing just outside the snug. Sometimes he even loudly cleared his throat. Other moments, the dining room door would briefly open, and she would hear her family’s chatter and laughter. She did not pay too much attention to any of it though. How could she when she had Stanford, her Stanford, right here before her, leaning against her, kissing her.

He'd wrestled himself out of his greatcoat and covered them with it, though Patience could see that only made them even more drenched than when they started. She appreciated the sentiment though; it was lovely to have somebody care for her person.

She’d known he was for her, and then she’d faltered. But she’d been right all along. A month ago, she might have flattered herself over her supposed keen understanding of the situation.

Now, though, she simply gave thanks to God for seeing her through so happily. She really was blessed.

He pulled away from her just a little and peeked under his great coat to survey her dress. “I know your father is liberal, but this might be pushing it far even for him. Though, I do find it rather delightful.”

Patience glanced down and instantly perceived his meaning. Now that the front of her muslin dress had been thoroughly soaked through, it did not conceal much.

“We’ve got to do something about it and rejoin the others,” Stanford said. “I would much rather stay here all night, but out of respect for your father…”

“I will go upstairs and get a shawl. I have a large India shawl that will cover me sufficiently if I wrap it properly.” She kissed his forehead and disentangled herself.

Aside from the innkeeper looking as if he would fan himself if he had a fan, it was all done with little fuss. After returning looking more modest than she had done, including adding back some pins to her hair that had been irretrievably lost, she and her betrothed went into the dining room.

“I assume it is settled between you, eh?” the duke asked. “Otherwise, I will need to have a word with you, Stanford, about exactly what you’ve been doing in that snug.”

“They look like they’ve been fighting, Papa,” Valor said. “Their hair is all messed up.”

“It is well-settled between us, Papa,” Patience said, laughing. “With no fighting whatsoever.”

The duke nodded. Since that gentleman was ever willing to make everybody comfortable except those for whom he cared little for their discomfort, he promptly moved the marquess out of his seat so that Stanford might take his place. A waiter brought over a chair and the marquess found himself squeezed in between Valor and Verity. The marquess was questioned ruthlessly about his clothes on the one side and advised of various usual cases on the other side. Fop though he might be, it was to his credit that he managed to keep a smile on his face for most of it.

Though she and Stanford were in a room full of people, Patience turned her chair toward him, and he turned his chair toward her, and they went forward as if they were the only two people there.

“Tell me of how you came to chase after me,” Patience said. “You see, when I was told you had departed the town, I imagined you were heartsick over Lady Alice.”

Stanford wrinkled his brow. “Lady Alice? Why should you think so?”

“Because of the fan,” Patience said. “Why did you buy her a fan? Did she hint she needed one?”

“I did not buy her a fan. I returned the fan she left behind after the duke’s dinner. Your footman seemed overly alarmed about it and I was going to be in her neighborhood, so I said I’d take it to her.”

Patience sat back. “Gracious, when she said she was obliged to you and it had become a favorite…”

“I think I see. After the misunderstanding about the fan, you spoke to Radler, who ridiculously ran away from you. Then you thought I left Town when I was in fact already gone and you thought—”

“Yes, I did think.”

“I had to attend Lady Monroe as I began receiving alarming things that I was certain she was sending—a clock, a note to hurry up, a bottle of molasses, other things.”

“Oh dear, my Papa sent the clock and the molasses. He does like to jest when it suits him, and he thought you might take it as a hint to go a bit faster.”

“Yes, I guessed as much eventually, and of course he was right. And then, when I was convinced that Lady Monroe was not in any particular danger, I received Radler’s letter. I decamped to Town and went to your house, but you were already gone. I had a rather enraging conversation with your father’s caretaker to shake out of him where you’d gone.”

Patience nodded. “I could not bear it, the idea that I could have been so wrong in my feelings.”

“You were never wrong, and I should have known the rightness of it the very first time I saw you flying by atop your Dales pony.”

“You know the rightness of it now, though?”

“I know it through and through.”

“When we first danced, when you hesitated to put your name on my card and went on about people suggesting you be introduced to Lady Alice—was that because your home life as a child was not happy? You thought someone like her would suit you best?”

Stanford laughed. “You have put me on the back foot, again. Please do not remind me about people . I knew it sounded ridiculous as soon as I said it. But yes, that was the reason.”

“I think we will get on very well. I am not a shouter. Are you a shouter?”

“Never.”

“There now, it will be all right. If we have a disagreement or argument, it will be very quiet.”

Stanford laughed over the idea. “I intend to disagree with you very little. As for practicalities, I will speak to your father on the morrow. My hope is that we can return to London and get the marriage contracts out of the way and wed as soon as possible.”

“I adore your impatience,” Patience said. Then she paused. “I should probably tell you that the burden of all this misunderstanding is not to rest solely on your shoulders. I have a very great fault—I am a terrible toe-tapper.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why you approached Radler. You thought to throttle me into action and reveal my inclinations.”

“I had to know; I could not wait longer. Though, I am determined to correct the habit.”

“Do not go too far in the correcting, I rather like it and have found it instructive.”

Patience smiled. “I suppose when we are married, we will go to your house in Town?”

For some reason, Stanford looked a bit concerned to be asked that question. Perhaps they would not go there? Perhaps they would set off for his family seat at once?

“There is a small problem with my house in Town. Somebody, who I have been informed was your housekeeper, sent a case infested with moths to me. I thought it was from Lady Monroe, and I foolishly left it in my dressing room and now it seems my entire house is invaded by them.”

Patience’s gaze drifted to Mrs. Right, who was just now having a fine time entertaining the duke. “She has been like a mother to me, and well, when she thinks somebody has hurt one of her girls, she… can be forceful.”

“But what did she think? I received the case long before the masque.”

“I imagine it must have been the fan we all thought you bought for Lady Alice.”

“Oh, I see. Then I will not hold it against her, though I will not say the same for my butler and valet. In any case, a certain Mrs. Crumdek has been called in on the case. Apparently, she is the only person living who can manage it.”

“I have an idea,” Patience said. “Why go back to London when we are so close to the Dales? You cannot even go to your own house. Your solicitor could make the journey and Papa’s man is in York.”

“I would be agreeable as I would very much like to see the house that has produced Lady Patience Nicolet, but I could not impose on the duke in such a manner. As well, though perhaps I should not care about such things, it would appear unseemly for me to stay in your house before we are married. If it were a house party and I was one of many, perhaps…”

“If you will not stay in the house, there is a gardener’s cottage that is not being used at the moment. Our current gardener maintains a small farm nearby. I’ve been inside the cottage—it’s not large but it’s comfortable.”

“I would sleep in a tent if your father were enthusiastic about the idea. Really, I think he’s been very indulgent of me so far. I would not like to push him past his indulgence.”

Patience leaned forward and whispered, “Let me tell you something about my Papa—he is the kindest man living. To his daughters, at least. If it makes me happy, he will not mind it.”

“Then we will see,” Stanford said. “By the by, your hair looks utterly charming in its rather mussed state.”

And so they went on, Patience confident that they would proceed to Yorkshire and Stanford making a list of everything he found charming regarding her person.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Marcus had set off on a wild goose chase to catch up to Lady Patience, explain the mix-up with Radler, express his inclinations, and propose a marriage. Somehow, he’d accomplished it all.

He’d slept in the snug, which had been a rather damp and cold situation. Therefore, he did not sleep long. He was up with the dawn and found some almost dry clothes in his panniers to change into. As his valet was not with him, he could not say that he presented a particularly dashing figure, but it was all he could manage.

His Grace had descended early, and Marcus suspected it was ungodly early as far as the duke was concerned. He would have known, though, that Marcus would be eager to make arrangements.

They made those arrangements in all efficiency, and they would leave the solicitors to do the rest. The duke claimed he generally made a fuss and caused delays at such a juncture, mostly for his own amusement. Mr. Stratton’s father had nearly been driven mad over his ludicrous demands, but he would not amuse himself this time. His daughter had already experienced enough drama and suspense for the moment.

“Well now,” the duke said, “I understand we’re to continue on to the Dales and you’re to take the gardener’s cottage until the wedding.”

“Only if it suits you, Your Grace.”

“Fine by me, I have no wish to turn round with this circus when we are so close to home. Send word to your man in London, we’ll put him up somewhere. He won’t mind the butler’s quarters? They are commodious and they are gloriously empty.”

“You really do not ever wish for a butler, then?” Marcus asked out of curiosity.

“Why should I? Mrs. Right runs my house smoothly and everybody seems happy with it. Why should I upset the apple cart with some stiff fellow who will be pursing lips and raising eyebrows every other minute?”

Marcus nodded. He really did not understand how one got on without a butler, but as seemed to be usual, the duke went his own way with things.

Fortunately, his solicitor was a good-humored fellow. He suspected good humor would be very much required in his dealings with the duke.

The rest of the day passed very pleasantly. The marquess was urged to set off so that might free up his room for Marcus, which he did after the duke hinted he would not be invited into the duke’s dining room that night. He left with Valor advising him to think seriously about his tailor and urging him to do better.

Marcus and Patience claimed that they both needed something or other from the village shops and walked off together. Anybody who paid attention might have noticed that Marcus carried a wicker hamper for this shopping that was so urgent.

As it was, they needed nothing at all and used the excuse for a picnic in the countryside where anybody looking might have been shocked by the goings on. Patience was never shy to begin and Marcus had thrown off the shackles of caution.

He'd not thrown off the shackles of his lady’s reputation however, so he used all his self-control to avoid taking things irredeemably far. His betrothed had not helped him in that effort, but he had prevailed and she’d said she adored his care for her.

That evening, he got a full dose of the Nicolets. It had been a jolly party with nary a lag in the conversation.

Winsome told him she was surprised he’d come through for Patience, as she’d already decided that if he ever needed anything from her, she would not help him. Now she would have to revise her opinion and carefully consider any of his future requests.

Marcus was not certain what he ever would have needed from her, but thanked her all the same.

Valor informed him that she’d had a stern talk with Mrs. Wendover over the letter that had been sent. As that stuffed rabbit had spent much time being dragged around by both Valor and Nelson, it did in fact look dejected.

Serenity dabbed at her eyes and waved her handkerchief at him, which he supposed meant she had given up whatever resentment of him she’d had.

Verity claimed she had all along supposed everything would come right, as she understood it was usual in these cases. Winsome called her a liar. In retaliation, Verity told Marcus not to bother asking Winsome for any favors, as he would not get any.

The housekeeper, that diabolical Mrs. Right, had even seen fit to vaguely say to nobody in particular, “One does make small mistakes from time to time. One would not be human if one did not. It’s best to simply view it as just water under the bridge.”

Marcus refrained from pointing out that infesting his house with case moths was hardly a small mistake. He found it very convenient that she named it water under the bridge, as if it were something that just happened on its own and could not be accounted for. However, he did not wish to get on the wrong side of the lady, as he’d been informed that he would be permitted to ride in Lady Patience’s carriage, with only Mrs. Right acting as duenna.

He really did not wish for that plan to change. One, because he wished to ride with Lady Patience. And two, because he did not wish to find himself in close quarters and being questioned by her sisters all the way to Yorkshire.