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She’d hoped Gerard would come to his senses, but she’d hoped in vain.
Would Aidan help her if she told him? Would he even believe her? Even if he didn’t, he would help, but how could she do that to him? How could she let him risk his family’s reputation by protecting her? And his own reputation . . . the business he’d worked so hard to build could be ruined if the world thought he’d become involved with a murderess.
She had a day or two to think. In the meantime, she needed to help herself, so she sat down to write her note to Mr. Cain, requesting more papers from Ceylon.
Chapter 21
Aidan descended purposefully late, eager to avoid spending a full six hours with the horde that had descended upon his brother’s home. The air buzzed with the excitement of the impending announcement, despite that half the guests had already guessed what it must be. They milled about, reminding him of a choppy ocean as he waded in.
He’d timed his arrival perfectly. The very moment a footman handed Aidan a glass of whisky, the orchestra played a flourish and the room went silent. He was in the middle of congratulating himself on his genius when he saw who stood at his side.
“Aidan.” Patience Wellingsly’s voice chimed like a bell, pretty and soft and free of any intimacy despite the use of his name. “How are you?” She stared straight ahead, not granting him a glimpse of her beautiful eyes.
“Patience. I’m well. And you?”
“I’m perfectly well, thank you. I saw your sister and Mr. Bertrand. They seem well-suited.”
“They are.”
Patience cleared her throat and he watched her throat work as she swallowed. Aidan turned away, looking forward again, and said a small prayer of thanks when his brother began to speak. Edward thanked his guests for coming, while Aidan tried hard to lose his awareness of the woman at his side.
It wasn’t the same shame he’d felt when faced with Lady Sarah. Patience Wellingsly was a widow, after all. There was nothing particularly shameful about what they’d done.
It wasn’t distaste or disgust that he felt. She was a lovely woman. Older than him by nearly ten years, but still beautiful. Still vibrant.
But his skin felt too tight as he stood inches from her body. He’d danced with her. Flirted. He’d lain in her bed and entered her body. And now it felt wrong.
He was in love with Kate, and whatever insatiable needs he’d had in the past, he wanted only her. Wanted to have only been with her. An impossibility at this late date, but he could do everything in his power to be sure that he was only hers from now on.
He turned to Patience, meaning to make a pretty farewell. “You look as lovely as always, Patience.”
Her eyelids fluttered and her gaze slid briefly to him. “I spoke to Jude Bertrand before his marriage. Or rather, he spoke to me.”
Despite his intention to excuse himself, Aidan cocked his head.
“I was lonely in London, and I apologize if you felt pursued.”
“Of course not. I daresay I could outrun a woman in dancing slippers.”
Her mouth curved briefly up. “I wanted to say that I’m not lonely anymore, and I’m only sorry we ruined our friendship.”
Surprise flashed through him. Did she feel just what he did? That it was different to use someone you actually liked? “I’m sorry as well, Patience.”
She smiled more genuinely then, and faced him fully. “You look happier, Aidan. Much happier. I’m glad.”
“Thank you.” And with that, she walked away, relieving him of the rudeness of excusing himself. Aidan felt a weight leave his chest and he drew a deep breath just as Edward announced Cousin Harry and the Honorable Miss Samuel. A brief murmur took the crowd, but they settled into silence quickly as Harry informed the mob that Miss Samuel had agreed to be his wife. “I cannot tell you how happy and proud this makes me,” Harry said, looking awfully happy and proud for a man who’d spent months trying to decide between Miss Elizabeth Samuel and her cousin, Miss Nanette Samuel.
But perhaps it would end with real love. Perhaps they’d be happy forever.
Aidan kept his sneer to himself. He’d been cynical for so many years that it seemed the habit had settled in to stay. He took a sip of his drink and tried not to feel like an arrogant ass. When Cousin Harry raised a glass of champagne, Aidan raised his glass as well, determined to play the part of an enthusiast.
And when he spied Miss Nanette Samuel easing her way through the crowd toward him, Aidan was glad he’d pretended enthusiasm. He did not like her, and he was pleased that Harry had chosen the other cousin. Nanette was a young woman, but her eyes had an edge of hardness he recognized from his years of debauchery. Unlike her cousin, Nanette was an heiress and a true beauty, but he could already see the years of her life spread out before her. An advantageous marriage, the requisite two heirs, and then the boredom. The ennui. The bitter affairs.
Looking at her made him tired, but Aidan offered a polite bow. “Good evening, Miss Samuel. You must be thrilled for your cousin.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s a lovely match for her.” Though she smiled prettily, the message was clear. Harry might be a worthy suitor for her cousin, but Nanette had set her sights higher.
She looped her arm through his, and Aidan slanted a wary look at the hand she spread against his sleeve. “We are to be cousins now,” she crooned, subtly turning him for a stroll around the ballroom. “Yet I feel I don’t know enough about your family.”
