“How do you get on, Patience?” Grace asked.
“I think I will know more after tonight. You know how I am—decisive. I do not dilly-dally around.”
“So you have made up your mind?” Felicity asked.
Patience nodded. “The instant I saw him. Lord Stanford, he comes tonight with his friend, Lord Radner. Lord Stanford is positively glorious, wait until you see him.”
Grace grasped Patience’s hand. “Do you suppose he might speak to Papa as early as tonight?”
And here was the sticking point. She might not wish to admit the sticking point to an outsider, but her sisters must know all.
“Well… no. You see, I have made up my mind, but things seem a little up in the air on his side.”
“Oh I see,” Felicity said, “he’s not said anything to you yet.”
“Nothing at all, really. I do get the idea that he finds me attractive; he looks at me when he thinks I won’t notice.”
“Very good sign,” Felicity said.
“But there is this idea going round about him. That he’s cautious, or careful, or something like that. And I have seen some signs of it. I fear he may not be a gentleman who will declare himself quickly.”
“But Patience,” Grace said, “would you really be happy with someone who… took their time on things. As you… do not.”
Patience was well aware of what Grace meant to say. Further, it was a matter she had given some thought to.
“I think I would. You see, Lady Alice, you will meet her tonight, she is looking for someone not as serious as she is. Well, she is not over-serious, she just seems so because she does not joke and jest. She is not skilled at witty repartee. She wishes for someone who is skilled in that direction—to balance her out. Might I not do the same?”
“That is a very good notion, actually,” Felicity said. “After all, if you were to wed a toe tapper, and you know you are one, the two of you would be rushing headlong through life.”
“That is just how I view it,” Patience said. She was gratified that Felicity saw her reasoning. She was not unaware of her impatient proclivities and that they might be modified. At least a little bit.
Just then, they heard the distinct sound of carriage wheels on the street.
Patience and Grace leapt up from the sofa in their cozy corner. Felicity attempted the same, but halfway up she lost momentum and crashed back down. Her sisters took hold of either arm and hauled her and her enormous middle to her feet.
Charlie had answered the door, as Mr. Grimsby could not be bothered. He led Lord Stanford and Lord Radner into the drawing room.
The duke made the introductions all round, though it seemed their guests were both known to Patience’s brothers-in-law. She was pleased to see that they all appeared to approve of one another.
She could not help but to notice that Lord Stanford looked exceedingly surprised at Felicity’s current condition. Nor that Felicity’s husband, Mr. Stratton, wore a somewhat apologetic look for it.
Lady Alice arrived not long after, and the duke once more made the rounds of introductions.
“Well I suppose we need not wander round the drawing room incessantly, eh, Grimsby?” the duke said. “Can we go through?”
Mr. Grimsby shrugged and said, “Sure.”
Patience could not quite fathom Mr. Grimsby’s current state of mind. It was no matter though, the dinner was set to begin. She had carefully arranged the seating with no nod to tradition whatsoever. She would be on one side of Lord Stanford and Lady Alice would be on the other side. She must confirm her ideas that there was nothing between those two people. And that there was something between herself and the lord.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Marcus had expected he would meet with some sort of eccentricity in the duke’s household from what he’d heard from Lady Patience and what he’d seen of the duke himself.
He’d not quite imagined a lady on the verge of delivering a child though. He’d never encountered a well-born lady in such a condition and it was alarming to say the least. He was well aware it was becoming the fashion to go anywhere and everywhere regardless of how expanded the lady might be, and he’d had a glancing and distant view of some examples at the opera or the theater, but he’d not seen it up close. He at once comprehended how so many women died in childbirth—it seemed impossible that it could be done without a mortal injury.
As if that were not surprising enough, the butler was downright careless. He’d already heard from the duke that the butler was not wanted and was to be driven out by the housekeeper. Well, if this was the sort of butler they employed, it was not a wonder that they did not want one. The man looked positively bored.
They had repaired to the dining room and noted pretty hand-drawn place cards in front of each setting that seemed to flout any ideas of rank. People were placed willy-nilly, husbands and wives sat next to each other, and the youngest, who really should not be there at all, was seated at the duke’s right.
