“For I respect your opinion so much, dearest Patience,” Lorna’s mama had confided to her by way of a letter before Lorna’s arrival in London. “You are so sensible about things. If you approve of a young man that Lorna likes, then her papa and I will certainly consider his suit.”

  Lord Blackwood was much older than one would expect the bridegroom of a fresh, young debutante to be. However, many parents were not averse to their daughters marrying older men, more mature and established than some frivolous and spendthrift young coxcomb who would not prove to be as much of a steadying influence on their daughter. A wealthy older man with a title offered a bride the noble weight of historical grandeur behind him, as well as the pinnacle of social achievement any self-respecting mama desired when she announced to her cronies (and the world at large) that Lord Such-and-Such had offered for and been accepted by her darling. If Patience gave her approval to the prospect of Lord Blackwood as a suitor for Lorna, then no doubt Lorna’s parents would look even more kindly upon him.

  Patience did not feel at all sensible when she thought about Lord Blackwood. In fact, too much time devoted to thinking about his lordship could possibly render her insensible in a very short space of time. She felt ridiculous because, of course, he did not give her a second thought after bidding her adieu. Patience vowed to desist from any yearning thoughts about him. However, she owed it to her young friend and her parents to do all she could to encourage Lord Blackwood’s suit if he truly loved Lorna and she loved him in return.

  “Do you think he would make a kind and loving husband?” asked Lorna. “I mean, it’s hard to say, when one does not know someone as well as one should before making a judgement, but what do you think?”

  Patience replied with complete sincerity, “I think he is deeply considerate of others, and always shows such unfailing courtesy to everyone that he appears to have the kindest of hearts. I think he will make some lucky woman very happy.”

  Lorna clapped her hands in delight. “I am so glad you think this way. And you don’t think he’s too old? Some people might say an older man will be in his dotage soon.”

  Patience had a brief vision of Henrietta’s disapproving expression as she voiced her strong opinion that a man of forty would not want to dance the night away to the whims of a mere twenty-year-old. Lorna and Lord Blackwood would indeed be the despised May-December match she had described. Would it work? Possibly, if both parties truly loved each other. Love could overcome most, if not all, obstacles.

  “I don’t think so,” she responded in a weak tone. “He seems to be so healthy and active from the reports I have heard. One can be young and behave like a dotard, or else one can have a few extra years but still be as athletic as ever.”

  “That’s my opinion as well,” said Lorna with an approving nod. “I heard Lady Carrington complain the other day that her eldest daughter’s new husband is like an old man. He never wants to do anything more than is necessary and prefers being closeted in his club with a cigar, a bottle of brandy, and his newspaper.” She made wide eyes at Patience. “And he is not yet thirty! Imagine when he is forty.”

  “The same age as Lord Blackwood,” said Patience, unable to prevent the image of his lordship materialising in her mind. His strong, capable hands, as expert with the whip and rapier she imagined as with holding a lady’s dainty gloved fingers while leading her into a dance. His strong shoulders were perfect in either evening or country attire. Imagine being enfolded in those arms and resting one’s cheek against his manly chest. The corners of his eyes creased in laughter and his eyebrows drew together when he gave something or someone his deepest thought or utmost attention. How did she know so much about him when they had spoken on so few occasions? It was shocking!

  “Yes,” Lorna said with a happy chirrup. “The same age as Lord Blackwood. I don’t think his lordship is too old at all. He seems so youthful. He dances well; he knows all the latest news and on-dits. And you can ask him anything about the theatre and music and books.”

  Patience suppressed the unkind thought that this was hardly conducive to a deep and meaningful relationship with a woman who considered reading the Lady’s Monthly Museum and La Belle Assemblée quite enough intellectual activity. Then Lorna surprised her.

  “He told me all about Mrs. Shelley’s Frankenstein, and I was so intrigued by the story that he promised to lend me his copy. Imagine writing a story about recreating a person after death and bringing him back to life!”

  “Would you be interested in such a book?” she asked. Lorna, although hardly feather-brained, tended to be attracted to the activities that most young women of her age found entertaining. Intellectual books were not generally high on the list of pleasures desirable to a vivacious debutante enjoying the London Season. Since her arrival, Lorna had flicked through a few popular novels, yawned over a couple of volumes of poetry, and expressed a half-murmured desire to see the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum after reading about them in the newspaper. Beyond that, nothing too scholarly.

  “But of course, one would need to learn about someone’s reading habits if one is to consider sharing a life with him,” Lorna said with a sly smile. “In fact, one should learn as much as possible about that person. I think you and Lord Blackwood share so many of the same intellectual tastes that getting to know him would be much easier than you think. And as I said, it would make me so happy.” Her tone was pointed.

  “I will try. However, I feel shy when I am in his company. He seems so…above me.”

  Lorna burst out laughing. “Oh, not at all. He has the greatest admiration and respect for you. Even more so, now that he has learned of your wonderful artistic talents.”

  Patience blushed. “No, my dear, you do exaggerate.” She longed to ask Lorna about this supposed respect and admiration but dared not do so. She needn’t have worried. Enthusiasm bubbled from Lorna like a woodland brook as she expounded further on the subject.

  “Why, just the other day, he quite wore me out with asking all about you.”

  Patience caught her breath and then dismissed the notion before it even blossomed in her mind. Naturally, any prospective groom would wish to become acquainted with his intended bride’s social circle to feel more relaxed when meeting her friends and associates. Details supplied in advance could be very helpful in assisting when a tête-à-tête dried up. If one already knew that Lady So-and-So was an amateur lepidopterist then conversation should never flag.

  “I can’t imagine why,” she said as drily as she could. “I am sure his lordship is far more accustomed to beautiful and glamorous women such as Lady Gwendolyn Iverson and Miss Annabel Cartwright. They move in the same exalted circles as Lord Blackwood, far above lesser mortals such as me.”

  “I know why,” said Lorna, wide-eyed with innocence. “Because when you care about someone you want to know everything about them and the people around them.”

  “Exactly,” said Patience, “so I hope his lordship considers himself very well versed on the subject after your discussions with him.”

  Lorna looked puzzled. “Why are you being so harsh? Lord Blackwood is such a nice man. Everyone likes him. You can hardly accuse him of being high in the instep just because he knows a few arrogant persons.”

  She folded her arms and pouted. “I have seen him speak kindly to the lowest of people. Why, just the other day in the park, the carriage stopped next to an old soldier. Well, I am sure he was once a soldier. He was sitting on a bench, and he had on the most dreadful shabby uniform that I think was originally scarlet. His beard was long and his hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed and combed for years. He had lost one leg and there was just a stump sticking out with a pair of crutches lying next to him.”

  She stared at Patience who felt obliged to prompt her to continue. “And?”

  “Well, his lordship asked his groom to get down and take the man some money. The man wanted to refuse it at first, but then his lordship got down, went over to him, and spoke to him for a few minutes. Then the man took the money. He started crying, as well, when Lord Blackwood shook his hand. The man must have been so dirty, but his lordship did not flinch one bit. He got back into the carriage and said, ‘We owe our lives to brave men such as him.’”

  Patience looked away. Lord Blackwood’s gesture had been truly magnanimous. She should not utter sarcastic words just because her own dreams were unfulfilled.

  “I am sorry, Lorna dear. You are right. He is a wonderful man. ‘The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm and burgonet of men.’”

  Lorna frowned. “Is that from a book? It sounds like something one would read in a very clever book.”

  Patience smiled. “It’s from a play. Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra. The greatest love story ever told.”

  “I have also read Shakespeare,” said Lorna, with a touch of loftiness, “even though I do not possess such a well-informed mind as yours. I should say, not as knowledgeable as Mama and Papa would like, but when Miss Babcock instructed my sisters and me in literature, we read Romeo and Juliet.”

  She made a discontented pout. “However, you know how old-fashioned and boring Mama can be about romantic matters. We could not read any more of Shakespeare once Mama found out Miss Babcock had allowed us to read a passionate play about lovers, but Miss Babcock also mentioned Shakespeare’s love poems and sonnets. She sighed a lot and clasped her hands when she spoke about his poems, so they must be worth reading. Perhaps one day I will read some of those now that I am older.”

  Patience hastened to reassure her. “My dear, everyone reads and absorbs information according to what interests him. Please do not think I was criticising you.”

  “Cleopatra really loved Anthony, didn’t she?” asked Lorna. “It makes one want to do noble and selfless things for a loved one.”

  “Oh, yes, but Cleopatra was quite a selfish woman. She betrayed him in his fight against the might of Rome, and then after he died in her arms, she committed suicide.”

  Lorna let out a horrified shriek. “How dreadful! Did she take poison?”

  “In a way,” said Patience. “She pressed a poisonous snake to her breast and died from its venomous bite rather than submit to being paraded as a trophy of war through the streets of Rome.”

  Lorna frowned. “Well, I think that is extreme behaviour for any woman. She would have done better to marry someone else and simply mourn her lost love.”

  She jumped up, her natural ebullience restored in a trice. “All this talk of romance has convinced me you will make a wonderful Valentine for Lord Blackwood. Perhaps a sprinkling of Shakespeare will impress him because he is so learned that I am sure he knows all the plays just about by heart!” Her eyes sparkled as she leaned towards Patience and said, “And you shall have plenty of time to observe his lordship at closer quarters because he has asked us both to accompany him and a few friends on an expedition to Richmond Park on Friday. The weather has been so uncommonly fine that it is the perfect outing. Please say you’ll go because I have already accepted for both of us!”

  With that, she danced out of the room, flinging a last remark over her shoulder about looking for a suitable gown for Patience to wear. Her voice echoed as she ran up the stairs, calling for Doris to come help her unpack another trunk.

  Patience gave a wistful sigh.

  “‘His face was as the heavens; and therein stuck a sun and moon, which kept their course, and lighted the little O, the earth,’” she whispered to herself. “What a fool I am. He could never love me. Lorna has already captivated him.”

  Four

  The day was turning out much better than Patience had anticipated. Far from feeling awkward and socially inept, she had not had a chance to worry about how she might sound or appear to others. Although she found a larger crowd easy to merge into in an anonymous way, she disliked small, intimate gatherings where she might be singled out for attention or criticism, even if silent.

  Lord Blackwood’s carriage arrived to collect her and Lorna for the expedition to the largest of the Royal parks, Richmond Park, situated in south-west London. The group included Miss Sophie Sutcliffe, Lorna’s ceaselessly giggling friend, another attractive young lady who turned out to be one of Sophie’s childhood friends, and Mrs. Sutcliffe, Sophie’s vigilant mama as chaperone for the young people. Sophisticates such as Lady Gwendolyn Iverson and Miss Annabel Cartwright might scorn the very idea of a chaperone, but they were not above social censure, and Mrs. Sutcliffe was welcomed as part of the group. Her round face, surmounted by a heavily beribboned bonnet, bore the satisfied—some might say smug—smile of a woman who knows she is an indispensable part of any social gathering involving single, eligible persons intent on furthering their acquaintance.

  The gentlemen comprised Lord Blackwood and Captain Lyndon, as well as a goggle-eyed, callow youth named Mr. Adonis Capshaw, who persisted in making sheep’s eyes at Sophie. Lorna marvelled in a whisper to Patience at Mr. Capshaw’s starched shirt points, so high they nearly reached his ears. Swelling the number of gentlemen were a Mr. Samuel Smedley, whose astonishingly large fortune made him eminently desirable at any social event with unattached young women, and Viscount Birdwell, a young man whose pleasant face, quiet charm, and good manners cast him as an instant favourite.

  The idea was for the group to enjoy a nuncheon al fresco and then stroll about the park, admiring the floral displays for which the park was celebrated. Carpets of daffodils and bluebells, and bowers of magnolias and camellias tempted the discerning visitor. Supplied with rugs and large cushions from Lord Blackwood’s carriage, as well as several baskets of delicious food, the group made themselves comfortable on the rugs and embarked upon the task of eating and drinking. Under the mellowing influence of balmy sunshine, fresh air, Lord Blackwood’s excellent wines, and a lavish selection of tasty food, it did not take long for everyone to relax and for various alliances or romantic interests to become apparent.

  Mr. Smedley enjoyed the attentions of both Lady Iverson and Miss Cartwright, who some said were desperate to marry, or at least secure a respectable proposal, before the Season ended. However, he seemed to be deeply enamoured of Miss Sutcliffe’s friend, whom Patience learned was a Miss Priscilla Wicklow, a dark-haired, green-eyed Irish beauty. Adonis Capshaw, whose parents must have been sadly disappointed that he in no way resembled his famous namesake, shot pleading and mournful looks in Sophie’s direction. However, her mama, mindful that Sophie should make a good match above Mr. Capshaw’s position, discouraged these melting glances by sharply adjuring her daughter to sit up straight and pay attention to the conversation. Giggling, Sophie cast a final encouraging glance at her doleful admirer before turning her back on him to talk to Lorna.

  Patience observed the unfolding of these interactions with an artist’s eye and mentally outlined various sketches she would make when the moment presented itself. The ladies made a charming picture with each dressed in keeping with the pastoral nature of the excursion. Light muslin dresses in pastel shades, charming country style hats, feather-light wispy shawls that threatened to escape in a strong breeze—in their own way, they all looked extremely pretty. Even Sophie, who tended towards clumsiness, had a graceful quality about her. Needless to say, Lorna outshone them all as the sunlight lit up her fiery curls and illuminated her beautiful face.

  The 2,500 acres of parkland had so much to offer the discerning lover of nature, animal, and birdlife, or the amateur artist bent on capturing an idyllic vista that Patience’s hands itched to begin sketching. Lorna had insisted on including the sketchbook and charcoals in their picnic basket, and once they had arrived at the park, Patience was grateful she had done so. They did not lack amusing entertainment. Mr. Smedley, although not particularly handsome, did not rely only on the size of his fortune to win female admirers. Besides his amiable nature, he possessed a quick wit and a gift for parody. His comical tales and droll caricatures of well-known society figures and politicians soon had the group laughing until tears rolled down their cheeks. After nuncheon, most of the group wandered off. Patience remained with Mrs. Sutcliffe, ensconced on her rug, her back against a tree and her bonnet tilted down to shade her eyes. Two glasses of sweet wine had softened Mrs. Sutcliffe’s watchfulness, and after struggling to keep her eyes open, she finally succumbed to the arms of Morpheus with several loud snores.

  Amused, Patience noticed Sophie and Lorna stroll off arm in arm and “accidentally” join up with Captain Lyndon and Viscount Birdwell. The viscount’s murmured compliment as he took Sophie’s arm brought a pink tinge to her cheeks. He did not seem to mind her giggles, judging by the smile on his face as he tucked her hand into the crook of one arm.

  Patience reflected on these romantic interactions with a small pang of heartache. Why did she always feel on the periphery of social activities? Was it her fault? Her natural timidity made it difficult for her to join in with the others. Determined not to wallow in self-pity, she brought out her sketchbook and began drawing the charming picture presented by Lady Iverson and Miss Cartwright as they leaned towards the swans jostling for morsels of bread. Mr. Smedley assisted by breaking the rolls into bite-sized fragments and providing a source for the ladies’ generosity. The breeze whipped their skirts and lifted their curls. Miss Cartwright looked extremely pretty as she laughed and caught her hat as it threatened to fly away. A few swift strokes of the charcoal captured the movement of her body, the angle of her head, and the startled swans that half rose in the water, their snowy wings batting the air. It would make a beautiful painting.

 

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