Chapter 29

Spring in Brushbend was a sight to behold. Nicholas had spent far too much time in London since Father died, and the massive gardens here had remained well kept but unexplored. Patience stood beside him on a path overlooking the lake.

"A house party was a good idea, Nicholas." Patience smiled. She seemed at rest here; it was hard not to be. "It has been too long since I've boated in the lake or felt the cool damp air in the grotto. We should come more often. You were a different person while growing up. I've always thought it was because of your time in the army, but maybe London has been the problem all along."

"Patience." The tone in his voice must have shown his emotion. Patience tipped her head to one side and put a hand on his arm. He'd been so ashamed of what had happened between him and Lady Plymton that he'd never told Patience. "It wasn't the army. It was what happened before the army. You were young then, so Mother and Father protected you, but I was sent there for a reason."

"Father wanted you to become more serious, like him."

Nicholas shook his head. "No. I'd made a mistake, a foolish one, and I needed to gain some perspective on life in order to see that. Father saved me from myself by buying me a commission."

Patience's fingers tightened on his arm. "I don't understand what you mean."

So he told her. Everything. All about Lady Plymton, her fiancé, his heartbreak, and the realization about how naive he'd been. Four months ago, he would have done anything to keep this secret from her, but he was tired of always trying to portray himself as upstanding, and of all the people in the world, Patience should be able to see him as the imperfect man he was and still love him despite it. "I thought I was protecting you by not telling you this at the time. But I see now I was only trying to protect myself. I built walls around us, and when you made mistakes, I allowed you to think we were different. But we aren't. We've both been fools for love."

Over the course of his story, Patience's expressive face had shown rage, sorrow, frustration, and understanding. She reached for his other arm and clamped both of her hands tightly on him. "Don't disparage yourself. You were young, and I'm sorry I didn't know. I was so angry at you."

"You'd lost the carefree brother you grew up with. I don't blame you for that, not one bit."

"And I never blamed you either. I knew you had to grow up quickly after Papa died. I missed you though. I think we were both lost. But I never saw you as a fool, and I don't think what you had with Lady Plymton could be classified as love."

This was the terrible part, the truth that burned and raged inside him, more painfully than his secrets about Lady Plymton. "I wasn't talking about Lady Plymton."

Patience stilled, but she didn't say anything. She didn't have to. They both knew exactly what he meant.

"I know I've been more serious, and honestly, I miss the boy I was when we lived here too. But he had to grow up and face the world as it is, not a romanticized version of it."

Patience pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around him. He took a deep breath and allowed himself to sink into her embrace. He felt more whole in this moment than he had in three years. When Patience finally released him, she put both of her hands on his shoulders. "The world is still beautiful, Nicholas, even if it disappoints us sometimes."

Later, when he was alone again, he would have to fight to trust her on that, but for the moment, with the late sun shining over the lake and his carefully crafted walls demolished, he believed it.

Patience pulled him back toward the house. "The guests should be gathering in the music room, and I'm not certain that is the type of social gathering we should leave Mama to host on her own."

Nicholas chuckled. Definitely not. They strode arm in arm down the path. "Thank you for handling all the invitations and coordinating travel. It is good to have the house opened up for guests again. I've been alone so long, I'm even looking forward to Mother's singing."

"Perhaps you shouldn't thank me just yet." Patience's voice held an odd quality, one he was all too familiar with. She'd done something.

"What do you mean?"

"I was considering surprising you. However, after our talk, I've reconsidered the idea."

"Patience . . ."

"Have I ever told you I love it when you use my name that way? It sounds almost as if you are speaking to yourself. And I think today I would advise exactly that—patience, with me."

"What did you do?"

"I've invited Lord and Lady Driarwood. They should be arriving today."

A chill swept up from the lake, and Nicholas stopped. "Only Lord and Lady Driarwood?"

"I believe Lady Mercy will be coming as well." She placed a quick kiss on Nicholas's cheek and then dashed forward. Once she was a safe distance away from him, she turned her head. "I'm sorry!"

It took Nicholas a lot longer than it should have to reach the music room. He hadn't heard any carriages arrive while he and Patience were walking, but still his eyes surveyed the room before he stepped in. It was still the same group that had been here since the day before. Patience, Ottersby, General Woodsworth, Lord and Lady Bryant, Lord Bryant's brother-in- law, Mr. Nate Barton, and his wife and child were in attendance, as well as Lady Marion and her parents—the catalysts for the house party.

Lady Marion stood from the seat next to her parents and joined him at the back of the room. "Do you sing, Your Grace?"

With a musical mother, obsessed with singing? More than he cared to admit. He glanced around the room one more time. Mercy definitely wasn't here. "I do."

"I have ‘What Are the Wild Waves Saying' prepared on the piano. Do you know the words? We could sing it together." She looked almost terrified of him, as if he would run her off if he disagreed.

Nicholas had left London without a farewell to her or anyone else but his family. He owed her a song, at least. Plus, it would give him a direct line of sight to the door. "Of course I would. In fact, that would be an excellent way to start the evening."

Lady Marion smiled at him, and he held out his arm and led her to the pianoforte. She sat, placed her slender fingers on the piano keys, and glanced back up at him with a nod before she expertly plucked out the tune.

Nicholas started the first verse, and Lady Marion finished the second half. They sang the chorus together, and Lady Marion's sweet voice was such a stark contrast to Mother's that he was surprised at how well the notes melded together.

There were no surprises in Lady Marion's singing or playing. Everything was done exactly according to plan. Where was the enjoyment in that?

While Lady Marion finished her part, Nicholas strode to the front row of chairs and grabbed Mother's hand. She gave no protest as he pulled her in front of the pianoforte. In fact, she turned and faced her small audience with a flourish, finished the last bar of Lady Marion's part with her, and then rambunctiously launched into the chorus. Nicholas chuckled and belted out his part as well.

Lady Marion's fingers floundered for the first time as she tried to adjust to Mother's unsteady rhythm, and Nicholas gave her a lopsided grin. It was hard to keep up with Mother, but life had always been more exciting when he tried. He turned to catch Patience's eye, only to see her welcoming someone into the room.

His note faltered. Standing at the back of the room were Lord and Lady Driarwood. They walked in with their heads down, whispering softly to Patience. Nicholas rejoined Mother, schooling his face and voice into paying no heed to what was happening at the back of the room.

Were they alone?

Lord and Lady Driarwood stepped to the side, and behind them, in a deep-red gown, Mercy walked into the music room of Brushbend. Her head was lowered, and she did not meet his eye. Her neck was bare. No emeralds, and certainly no simple silver chain. Of course there wasn't. If she was ever going to wear that gift, it would have been two months ago.

What the devil had Patience been thinking?

He steeled his nerves and retreated to a place of safety in the back of his mind. He simply needed to get though one more chorus, and then he could drag his sister out of the back door and—what? Scold her? How exactly did one discipline a grown, married woman?

He would strip Ottersby of his title. He had managed to convince the Queen and Parliament into giving it to him in the first place. Surely he would find a way to rescind it. He did his best to keep his eyes from following Mercy as she sat down on the second row of seats with her parents.

What would have possessed her to accept Patience's invitation? Had her parents convinced her she'd made a terrible mistake letting a duke slip through her fingers? He forced a smile as he finished the last word of the song.

Nicholas kissed Mother's cheek and gave a prodigious smile to Lady Marion. He thanked her and made a show of taking her arm, leading her back to her seat and sitting down next to her. Mercy had been as careful as he had to not meet his eye, but now that he was seated, facing away from her, it was as if he could feel her eyes on the back of his head.

Mother announced that she would sing another song and asked if anyone would accompany her. Mrs. Barton volunteered and played so beautifully that Mother sang another song after that. Nicholas's neck ached from the force of keeping his head forward and resisting the urge to look back. Lord Woodbury then pulled Ottersby up and made him sing "Cheer, Boys, Cheer!", and if Mercy hadn't been there, Nicholas would have joined them. He could never hear the military tune without thinking of Donald.

Mr. Barton came to the pianoforte and offered to play for his wife while she sang. Mr. Barton didn't play very well. He stumbled over a few notes, and the piece was very simple, but once Mrs. Barton lifted her voice to join him, his playing was completely overshadowed by his wife's voice.

For the first time since Nicholas had sat down, he allowed himself to turn his head and look back at Patience. He raised his eyebrows at her. Had she known she had invited a woman whose voice might make angles weep?

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply rest and let the music wash over him. The house party would only last three days. He could be in Mercy's presence for three days. It would be over before he knew it, and he could start working on stripping Ottersby of his title next week.

The last strain of Mrs. Barton's voice faded away, and the room went silent.

The musicale was over. No one, save perhaps Mother, would dare to follow that performance, which meant he would have to stand up and greet the last of his guests.

First he stood and congratulated Mrs. Barton. She blushed becomingly, her large blue eyes beaming at her husband. "Nate deserves the credit. He has been working tirelessly on the pianoforte for the past year."

Mr. Barton laughed and planted a kiss on top of his wife's head. "True. I am certain no one even noticed your singing, thanks to my excellent playing."

Nicholas managed to exchange a few more pleasantries with the pair before turning around. Mercy was gone. She and her family must have bid Patience good night and retired for the evening.

He strode to his sister, grabbed her arm, and propelled her out of the room and into the adjoining corridor.

"How could you have invited her, Patience?" he hissed. "How dare you?"

Patience's face fell. "Not you too, Nicholas. I know she hurt you, but I thought you might be willing to forget your resentment to help their family."

He dropped her arm as if she had burned him. "What do you mean, help them? Why would they need my help?"

Patience blinked and narrowed her eyes. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?" His heart stumbled. The look on Patience's face was desolate. Was Mercy sick? He had only gotten the one glimpse of her when she walked in the room, but she was mightily changed. "Is someone unwell?"

Patience shook her head. "No. As far as I know, everyone in the family is healthy. But they've been shunned from all good society. No one of quality will have anything to do with them."

Nicholas rubbed a hand on his forehead. Shunned? Why would Lord and Lady Driarwood be shunned? "What do you mean? Lord Driarwood is well respected."

Patience put a hand on his arm. "You really haven't heard?"

"No. I haven't been listening to gossip from London. I've been here."

"Sulking."

"Not sulking. Ignoring Society." He brushed aside Patience's sardonic assessment of his character. What could have happened to Mercy's family? Had Mercy run into trouble? Memories of Mercy leaning toward him, pulling off his cravat, flashed before his eyes. She had been so forward and trusting. "She hasn't had trouble with a man, has she?" His hand fisted, the thought making him ill, and then another thought made his stomach churn. What if he was the problem? Did Lady Plymton or Miss Morgan say something about the two of them? They had ended their courtship abruptly, without any explanation, and if any wind of what had transpired between them in the drawing room had reached gossiping ears...

"Not Lady Mercy. Her sister."

Nicholas blinked. He knew almost nothing of Mercy's sister, except that she was married to Donald's brother and Mercy adored her. "What happened to her sister?"

Patience took a deep breath, as if what she was about to say gave her no pleasure. "It seems she has run off with a composer. And not a significant-enough composer for Society to forgive her for leaving her husband behind. The whole family is disgraced."

Nicholas ran a hand down his face. What a mess, and Nicholas hadn't heard anything about it. He should have reached out to Donald's family. Blasted woman. How could she do that to her husband? And to her family?

Patience eyed the corridor, making certain no one was within earshot. "It's been quite the ordeal for everyone. The Driarwoods have spent most of the last month secluded, partially by choice, but also by lack of invitation. I know they've hurt you, but I saw a chance to ease them back into a good social circle, and I took it."

Nicholas gritted his teeth together. "And you couldn't have invited them to your home?"

"I have. But there was only so much I could do. You're a duke, Nicholas. This visit could be a turning point for them."

It would have been easier to be mad at Patience, but he couldn't fault her reasoning. He took a steadying breath. "I appreciate you trying to help them. It is kind of you." The words were hard to produce. He'd looked forward to an opportunity to rejoin Society on a small scale during this house party, but his reintroduction would have to wait. There was no possible way for him to participate in festivities with Mercy so near. He was ready to be around people again, but he was not ready to be around Mercy. "I won't do something ridiculous like make them leave."

"Thank you, Nicholas." Patience beamed up at him. "I'm quite fond of Lady Mercy. It is a pity for her your courtship didn't turn into an engagement. If she'd known what was coming, she would have held on to you for protection's sake."

Nicholas smirked. His sister didn't know Mercy as well as she thought. There was nothing that would make Mercy marry for anything but love. "No, she wouldn't have. If anything, the practicality of that arrangement would have sickened her. And if she'd loved me, she never would have hidden behind—" Nicholas froze. Patience furrowed her eyebrows at him, but he ignored her. Snippets of his courtship with Mercy played through his mind. Their first meeting when she was trying to find out what her father was speaking about. Her parents' excitement about their courtship. He'd assumed that had been because of his title, but what if it had been more than that? What if they'd known what was coming and had planned the whole thing hoping to save Mercy from disgrace? And if so, when had Mercy learned of their plan? She'd been so blasted naive; he doubted she could have been a part of it. "How long ago did you say this happened?"

"The scandal?"

How many nights had he relived their time in the drawing room, certain she had felt for him what he had felt for her? But then she'd changed so drastically after speaking with her parents. He'd gone mad searching for a reason, any reason she'd rejected him, besides not wanting him. "Yes."

"A month ago. Which is why I thought you would've heard by now."

A full month after she had spurned him at the ball, then. The tiny sliver of hope he'd had vanished like a puff a smoke.

"Where is her sister now?"

"In Austria."

"With the composer?"

"Yes. Her sister lived with them for a month without her husband, and then the composer came to London and whisked her away."

"Her sister lived with them before the scandal?"

"Yes. Nicholas, it isn't a very hard story to follow."

"Was her sister at the ball?" He should have been more specific. There were hundreds of balls in London every year, but Patience would know which one he was speaking of. The ball that had changed everything. The one that had him leaving Town faster than Mother had left for Paris after Father had died.

"I left when you did. She may have come late, I suppose. Why? Do you think her sister had something to do with the fact that Mercy rejected you?"

Nicholas rubbed his forehead. "I have no idea."

"Why would her sister coming to London make her feel like she needed to reject you?"

"I don't know. Perhaps I'm a man dying in the desert who has just been given a glimpse of a mirage. But also, I told her that avoiding scandal has been my number one goal since Father died. I told her the most important thing to me was protecting the family name."

"Oh, Nicholas." Patience put a hand on his elbow. "You told her that without also telling her you have a mother that ran off to Paris instead of properly mourning Papa and a sister who has added nothing but shame to the family name and you still love us? Ideals are well and good, but none of us have lived up to them."

"In hindsight, I see that, perhaps, I should have mentioned that as well."

"Perhaps you still can."

Nicholas closed his eyes. He wanted to believe this mirage. He could taste the cool, clear water of believing Mercy had rejected him not because she didn't love him but because she did. But the reality was that he was dragging himself through the desert for sand.

Mercy hadn't simply rejected him. She'd manipulated him into meeting with Lady Plymton. If her reason for rejecting him were to save him from disgrace, then the last thing she would have done was arrange for him to meet Lady Plymton in the library. "No, I don't think I can. I've thought of a thousand reasons why Mercy might have rejected me, and when I follow the logic of them to the end I always come up with the same answer. She didn't want to marry me. And if I think too hard about it, I think she may have even wanted to hurt me. So it's best for everyone if I don't think about it and move on with the rest of my life. If there were any logical reason Mercy would've had to end our courtship, while still wanting to marry me, trust me, I would have found it."

"But if she'd known about her sister's scandal—"

"No, Patience. When you mentioned it, I thought perhaps for a moment, but no. The scandal doesn't actually explain anything, and I'm not even certain I'd want it to. She'd spent a large part of our courtship trying to arrange meetings with other women for me. A healthy relationship could never develop from one built on deception."

"Nicholas..." Patience's voice had an odd ringing quality to it.

"What?"

"You do know my relationship with Anthony developed while I was deceiving him, don't you?"

Nicholas gritted his teeth. Patience throwing her happy marriage into his face was far from helpful. "The two of you are different, and Ottersby spent months pining over you after you left. I'm not pining over Mercy. I have no interest in her, not anymore."

Patience raised an eyebrow at him.

He took a deep breath and schooled his features. "I don't."

"You've called her by her Christian name twice in this conversation, Nicholas. You, the man who won't leave his house without his stockings starched."

Blast. He had. "I don't starch my stockings." His valet did. "And I have no desire to rekindle a relationship with Lady Mercy."

Patience sighed and nodded. He could almost see her filing away this conversation and moving forward. Which hopefully meant she hadn't noticed his lie. His body screamed at him to pull Mercy right back into the moment of their stolen kisses in her drawing room. He simply had to clamp down the thoughts that ran through his head every time he saw her. The news of her family's scandal almost gave him a reason to hope. But unless he had an explanation of how she could have given him that letter from Lady Plymton after he'd told her about his fear of bringing shame to his family's name, his hope was as delusional as drinking sand.