Chapter Ten
Patience watched Lord Stanford intently to see how he would answer about a lady receiving a fan.
He seemed to consider the question. “I think in general, the nature of the gift might communicate the intent of the message,” he said. “Flowers, of course, send their own meanings. As for other things, a book, or something like it, would not say as much. A fan is perhaps more significant as it is meant to be held in the lady’s hands.”
“I see, yes, that does sound right,” Patience said, putting her attention on her pastry.
“But then, who knows?” Lord Stanford said.
Well if he did not know, whowouldknow?
“I suppose it depends on the particular situation and the parties involved.”
“No doubt,” she said quietly.
“I wonder,” Lord Stanford said, “what might be your impression upon receiving such a thing. Would it be a welcome sort of thing, I wonder?”
Was she meant to speculate on Lady Alice’s feelings? Was she meant to put herself in Lady Alice’s shoes and say how she would feel about it?
“I suppose it would be entirely dependent on how I viewed the gentleman who sent it,” she said.
“Yes, I suppose so. It is just that sometimes it is difficult, for a gentleman, to understand how one is perceived or where one stands.”
So he did not know what Lady Alice thought about him. He certainly did seem concerned over it. Was she to discover it for him? Did he imagine she would play some sort of matchmaker?
There was something wrong here. There was something wrong withhim. How could he not see that Lady Alice was not right for him? How could he not see what was right in front of him? How could he not see that he was right for Patience Nicolet? He was, she could feel it in her bones.
He was misguided in some way. But what way? The only thing she could imagine had steered Lord Stanford toward Lady Alice was her outward and very staid-seeming demeanor. He’d said as much at Almack’s.Peoplehad suggested they meet, though Patience did not believe thosepeopleeven existed. And then he’d hinted that type of lady might be something he looked for.
“Lord Stanford, may I ask a personal question that probably ought not be asked?” Patience said. She knew she should not press so far into the lord’s personal life but she knew not what else to do!
He nodded, though he had a distinct look of trepidation.
“When we first met, you did not say it directly, but I got the impression that your childhood home was not… everything it could have been?”
“It was not,” he said flatly.
Patience longed to say something, to press him forward, but she knew it would be better to allow the silence to linger.
“My home was chaotic. Very chaotic.”
“I see,” Patience said. Her own household might be named chaotic. It was a happy chaotic, but perhaps Lord Stanford was put off by it? “I suppose then, that you hope for a future household that is… not chaotic.”
“I very much hope for it.”
That must be it. Lord Stanford looked toward Lady Alice because the last thing anybody would accuse her or her household of was chaos. He looked for calm, even if the calm did not come with happiness.
It was wrong. She knew in her heart it was wrong.
“My intent is that my children experience quite a different household,” Lord Stanford said. “I have made it a requirement to my future plans.”
That was it. That was the problem. He was so determined to avoid replicating his own childhood that he’d taken aim but drawn the bowstring too far. He was so worried about it that he overcompensated. He was willing to put aside his own happiness for the sake of his future household, but it was all wrong.
Patience could not imagine what sort of household he’d experienced. Only that it must have been dreadful.
Lord Kendrickson and Lady Alice approached them. “Might we join you?” Lord Kendrickson said. “Lady Alice had a wish to spend time with her particular friend.”
Lord Stanford had risen and given his chair to Lady Alice, while the two lords took the other empty chairs.
