The whole evening had been exceedingly odd. And yet, he was drawn to Lady Patience. As for her family, they were entirely eccentric. And yet, there was an underlying something to it. An ease, a confidence in one another as if none of them could step too far wrong in the others’ eyes.
Even when Lady Valor had a complete breakdown in civility and thrown the tickets at them, the duke had not been angry. Rather, he’d laughed and said she was overtired. The housekeeper had bustled in and took the young lady to bed with all sorts of soothing words and the promise that Mrs. Wendover, the stuffed rabbit, was already waiting for her.
If his family had been all hard angles and sharp glass, the duke’s household was an eccentric feather pillow.
The teasing that went on between them, the daughters all denouncing their father a fibber for claiming he wished to be rid of them… that was a different sort of relationship than he’d ever imagined existed. It was as if they all stood on the solid ground of understanding and could therefore venture into teasing without fear.
Would he be the sort of father who could tease his children, or just laugh when one of them lost all manners from being overtired, or who did not blink when a three-legged dog suddenly turned up?
He did not know. But he was beginning to think he might like to be. He’d been a deeply unhappy child, but the duke’s children all marched round as if the world must surely approve of them. There must be something in that.
Should he take the risk of pursuing a lady like Lady Patience? Or rather, should he take the risk of pursuing Lady Patience herself, as he did not suppose there was another like her.
He wanted to. He wanted to since first laying eyes on her. His caution had done its best to steer him away.
“I only say,” Radner said, “the heart will rule the head.”
Marcus did not answer. Radner might be right, but he was loathe to admit that Radner might be right.
In any case, no immediate decisions need be made. If he were to pursue Lady Patience, and he began to think he would, he could still proceed carefully and moderately. There was no need to transform himself into a different person. Despite Radner’s opinions, the heart would do well to take a dose of sense from the head.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kendrickson stared at his two friends. Stanford and Radner had come to see him on Bedford Square to discuss how he might be let into White’s without the fees associated with the membership. Stanford was willing to front him the fees, though he was reluctant to agree to it.
However, that was not at all what he wished to talk about this moment. He’d seen from his drawing room window Stanford dismount at Lady Alice’s house while Radner rode on to his. Then Radner arrived and explained that Stanford was returning a left behind fan from the evening before.
Stanford had been inside the lady’s house for a quarter of an hour.
“First,” he said to Stanford after he’d finally arrived, “did it not occur to you to bring the fan here and then I could return it? You know I have an interest there.”
“That idea is absurd,” Stanford said. “You weren’t there last evening. How would you explain how you came into possession of it?”
Kendrickson waved his hands. “Simple enough, I might have said no end of things. I might have said you were planning to walk it over from here, but you twisted your ankle.”
“I twisted my ankle?” Stanford said, sounding mortally offended. “I am not an old lady, I do not twist ankles.”
“Something could have been devised.” Kendrickson narrowed his eyes. “But perhaps you did not wish to devise anything. Perhaps you have an interest in Lady Alice yourself.”
“He does not,” Radner said. “He’s all in for Lady Patience.”
“I am not all in, as you so charmingly term it,” Stanford said. “Furthermore, I offered to return the fan, which is what I set out to do. I was not planning on going in, but Lady Kembleford heard the door and insisted I come in and then she was having tea with Lady Marchfield, and they are both talkers.”
“Ah,” Radler said, “Lady Marchfield is Lady Patience’s aunt. I hope you made a good impression.”
At this, Stanford suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I did not mean to make any impression, as I did not plan on going in. As I was forced in, I attempted some pleasantries and mentioned the dinner last evening. Lady Marchfield appeared positively irate about it. She did not seem to know anything of it, and I suspect she is furious with the duke for failing to invite her.”
“Gad, you put your foot in it,” Radler said.
“But you really do not have designs on Lady Alice?” Kendrickson said.
“I do not havedesignson anybody,” Stanford said.
“Yes, he does,” Radler said, “Lady Patience. He’s just not admitting it yet.”
Kendrickson could care less what the state of Stanford’s feelings were at the moment, as long as they did not drift toward Lady Alice. Even if she were not well funded he would wish to pursue the lady. However, if that had been the case, he would not pursue her. Not to shield himself from financial ruin, but to shieldher. He would not for the world injure her. He would also not for the world look upon another lady as he did Lady Alice.
“Has she given you any hint that she might favor you?” Radler asked him.
