“But you are decisive?”
“Very. I cannot bear to hem and haw over a thing. Why does anybody do it? It’s maddening.”
“I suppose another sort of temperament might call it careful consideration?”
Patience shrugged. “I call it not knowing one’s own mind. When I consider any matter, my mind instantly informs me of its opinion and I go forward with it. I have begun to feel that not knowing one’s own mind must just be a lack of confidence in it.”
“Perhaps for more serious and consequential endeavors, slow and careful analysis might convey some benefit,” Lord Stanford said.
“I am not so certain that it does, though. It seems like it should, but have you noticed that when people go all round the world on a decision, they almost always circle back to the first idea they had? It’s almost as if they so little trust their own mind that they must consider all possible decisions before acknowledging that the first one was right all along.”
Considering the lord’s expression, Patience wondered if she’d gone too far in expressing her long-held and rather strong opinions on the matter. Lady Marchfield often commented that she did. Lord Stanford appeared positively gobsmacked.
“Do not you fear you may make a mistake if you hurry a decision?” Lord Stanford asked, staring at his untouched plate.
Patience shrugged. “Our housekeeper says that most mistakes will not kill a person, so I do not suppose I ought to spend much time afraid of them.”
“Well, my girl,” the duke said behind her chair, “you’ll never guess—my flask has run dry. How did that happen? Well, I supposed I played a significant part in it. That makes me think the moment has arrived for us to make our way out of this cathedral of stuffiness. Stanford, I invite you to dinner on Tuesday next and I assure you that you will get more than bread and weak tea.”
“That is very kind, Your Grace. Allow me to check my calendar.”
Patience stared at him. Check his calendar?
“Check away, send me a note on the morrow,” the duke said.
Patience rose and curtsied to Lord Stanford, doing her best not to appear too frowny. They made their way out to the carriage and once inside, Patience said, “Check his calendar? It feels… insulting. What if there is something on his calendar? Why would he not drop it to come to us?”
The duke laughed. “Stanford strikes me as a fellow who does not jump into the lake without testing the temperature. He’ll want to consider it.”
“I do not like it.”
“I see, you’ve made up your mind on him already, have you?”
“No.”
Her father folded his arms and smiled. He could always see right through his daughters.
“Well, perhaps I do feel some inclination,” she said.
“Give him a minute. I do believe he will accept for dinner. Then we’ll subject him to Fact or Fib afterward and we’ll see what he’s made of. Oh, and I’ve invited Lord Radler too—he’s Stanford’s houseguest, didn’t seem right to leave him out.”
Patience would very much like to see what Lord Stanford was made of. She certainly hoped he was made of stuff that would accept an invitation without unnecessary delay. He’d already hesitated in putting his name down on her card, was he to hesitate long before accepting a dinner invitation? Was he a hesitating sort of person?
She hoped not, as there was something arresting about him. Her decisive mind was telling her that he was of the highest interest, and her mind generally knew which way the wind was blowing.
Further, there was the consideration thatpeoplehad been pushing forward Lady Alice to Lord Stanford. Should she not see with her own eyes if there was anything going on in that direction? Her mind told her there should not be, but she must see it confirmed. Sincepeoplehad raised the question with Lord Stanford.
“Papa, can I extend an invitation to dine to Lady Alice?”
“Invite anybody you like, but for Lady Misery. And this time round, do not let my sister know that there is to be a dinner at all. The last time she found out was rather harrowing. Hilarious, but harrowing.”
“Oh goodness, yes. That was when Mr. Button made his dramatic exit from the house. My aunt says he does well for himself these days.”
“Good for him,” the duke said. “As to the dinner, Felicity and Grace should be in Town by then—we’ll have a regular family party.”
Patience nodded. It seemed ages since she’d seen her two married sisters. As for Lady Alice, Patience would call on her and make the invitation. She’d only been briefly introduced to the lady when Lord Radler had taken her to the floor, but that must be sufficient to call.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
