Chapter 21

21

The following day, Dorian stood in the doorway of a room he hadn't set foot in for twelve years.

The outlines of furniture covered with white sheets were visible thanks to the sunlight peering through the narrow slits between the heavy curtains.

As Patience's delicate hands grasped the edge of a curtain, panic surged through him, his heart racing at the thought of the light that would soon flood the space. It was easy to hide the pain of losing his mother in the darkness. The light would expose everything, and something akin to terror clawed its way through him.

"What room was this?" she asked.

He took a few steps into the darkness. Surprisingly, the floor didn't open up under his feet. "Mama's sitting room," he croaked.

She shouldn't be touching anything here , roared the beast inside him. No one should touch anything of his mother's.

But this was the only room on the ground floor with a good view of her precious roses. He'd foolishly blurted out this morning that perhaps she'd like to visit it.

"Your mama?" she asked and turned to him, her eyes big with understanding.

Good God, what was this woman doing to him? Rage licked the inside of his rib cage like a lion. How dare she enter this room, touch anything here?

How dare she make changes in his house…and in him?

"Yes," he said, marveling at the ease with which the word left his mouth.

One after another, he'd lowered his defenses and broken his rules just for the pleasure of seeing her brilliant smile, her sparkling eyes.

"And you haven't been here since…"

"Since the day I asked Mrs. Knight to close this room. It was the day of my papa's funeral. I had just got back from Oxford. Twelve years ago."

Twelve years ago… There was that number again. It was also twelve years ago that John had died, and he saw the significance of the date flicker in her eyes.

The room, once filled with light and the laughter his papa had disapproved of, had become a dungeon to Dorian's pain and anger.

On the day he returned home twelve years ago, all he knew was that he would never see the garden, never come to this room again. And so, the furniture had been covered, the curtains drawn together, and the doors locked.

Until today.

Patience shifted the curtain a little and peeked into the sunlight, her face immediately alight with enthusiasm—and he knew the view of her rosebushes was spectacular from here.

She turned to him, her eyes seeking his permission. "Are you certain you won't be distressed by allowing me to use the room?"

Dorian found himself nodding, almost imperceptibly. There was something about her, a quiet strength and a gentle understanding, that made him want to trust her, to let her into the parts of himself he had long kept hidden.

With a deep breath, Patience pulled the curtains all the way open, and the room was instantly bathed in sunlight. She gasped in awe as she looked at the garden and around the room, and something shifted in Dorian, as though the very floor had careened.

Dust motes danced in the sunbeams. Dorian blinked, adjusting to the brightness. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, the darkness that had shrouded him for so long suddenly dissipating in the face of Patience's radiance.

"This room is so pretty!"

As she walked about the room with its paneled walls painted in gentle pastel lavender, her fingers trailing over the furniture and the bookshelves, Dorian realized he would never have entered this room without her. She was like a breath of fresh air, a burst of sunshine in the gloom of his existence.

Patience pulled the drapes of the next window open and looked at the garden. "I love this room, Duke," she whispered. He ached to tell her to call him Dorian once again but said nothing. "Thank you for showing this to me. You're right, the view of my roses from here is superb. I have been working on them since I was just a girl."

Dorian moved to stand beside her. "Tell me about them," he said, his voice gentle.

She looked at him and chuckled softy. She was so pretty he couldn't breathe. "Are you certain you want to hear about cuttings, soil, artificial fertilization, and such?"

"There's nothing I'd like to hear more."

And so, bathed in the sunlight of the newly opened room, Patience told him of the long hours spent experimenting and tending to her roses, of the joy she felt as she watched them grow and thrive.

Like a fool, he had forbidden her to use the garden. Had he known on their wedding day that she'd brought plants with her and how important they were, he'd have said yes right away. He remembered the look of awe as she stood in the garden for the first time, and the look of complete devastation as he'd told her she couldn't even step inside it.

The longing gaze she cast at the glasshouse every time she saw it.

When she finished, Patience looked up at him, her eyes shining with hope, and her cheeks reddened a little. "I've been working on a paper to publish my findings," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's a secret. Anne and Chastity knew about the research. No one knows about my paper…except for the botanists I've been corresponding with."

His chest tightened. "It's safe with me."

"I suppose it is. You're an excellent keeper of secrets."

He swallowed hard as he expected this to be a jab, a criticism, but she smiled softly at him.

"You see," she continued, "there is not much research on artificial fertilization at all. And not many roses are both exquisitely beautiful and resistant to disease as mine. I think if I publish it, more botanists and even farmers will try this technique more deliberately, and I think it can help with a variety of plants, including crops. But…I'm just an eighteen-year-old woman who never had a governess or went to university. I've been too afraid to submit it. I don't know if it's good enough."

Dorian took her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "It is," he said, his voice firm with conviction. "You are quite brilliant… How did you learn botany? I can't imagine your papa could afford many books."

"No, he could not. And with our family being such a poor connection for the local community, the only library I had access to was the vicar Mr. Menon's. When I was ready to move beyond the book John had brought home, the vicar loaned me several books on botany. He also borrowed books from the Marchioness of Virtoux and other wealthy parishioners and passed them to me." She chuckled. "If those people only knew what a scandalous person read their books…"

She was determined…but he already knew that about her. Determined, intelligent, and tenacious. He was in awe of her.

"So you created a new rose hybrid on your own, starting from the time you were twelve? Your work must be out there for others to see. I will help. What do you need?"

She was seemingly at a loss for words, her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth open. "Duke…"

"Call me Dorian," he said.

Like last night, when he'd heard her gentle voice calling him Dorian, pulling him from the terrible nightmare, he didn't feel wrathful, didn't feel like smashing anything or exploding with rage. He wanted her to call him by his given name always.

She slammed into him, with her arms wrapped around his neck, and her flowery scent in his nose. It was his turn to be surprised. He pulled her closer, bathing his face in the silk of her golden hair. It tickled his skin so pleasantly, he didn't even feel the thin cuts on his skin.

"Both the garden and the glasshouse," he murmured before he could stop himself. "They're both yours. Use them for your research, for your experiments, or simply for your pleasure. Let it be a place of growth and discovery, just like your roses."

What are you doing, you fool? screamed the voice inside his head. First you gave her your bed, then part of your garden, then your mama's room, and now…everything?

Because she has my heart already.

Great. Are you going to tell her about John, too?

He jerked at the thought and, with regret, pulled out of her embrace as he imagined the pain, the fury on her face. The heartbreak in her eyes.

He couldn't bear it.

He'd rather break his own heart hundreds of times than break hers once.

And perhaps he was selfish, too, because all he could think about was that she'd never wrap her arms around him like that again. Never give him that brilliant smile that was sunshine itself.

Patience's eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. "Truly?" she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

Dorian nodded, his heart swelling with pure, unadulterated love for this woman who had brought light back into his life.

As they stood, bathed in the warmth of the sun, Dorian knew that something had irrevocably changed within him. She had opened the curtains, let the light back in. In doing so, she'd given him a glimpse of the happiness he could have with her.

But only if he could keep his secret from her forever.