She supposed he simply did not like to have his choices dictated to him, and she could sympathize with that.
She considered the possibilities all of the night, then through the following morning. She dressed with care, fearing that Lady Beckham might have requested this interview because she intended to withhold her approval, and was in a state of great agitation by the time Mr. Beckham called for her. The burgundy dress was one of her favorites, and it looked well with her dark grey spencer. Prudence did her hair and they eyed the result in the mirror together.
“You might slay dragons in that dress,” Prudence said.
“For the blood would not show.”
They laughed together.
“She will adore you,” Prudence said, with a confidence Patience did not feel.
“Perhaps only because she shares our view of Miss Grosvenor.”
“He has chosen you and she dotes upon him. Everyone says as much.”
Patience straightened and smiled. “You are right, of course.”
“But do not lecture them upon trivia,” Prudence advised in a whisper and Patience looked up with surprise. “It is what you do when you are uncertain. You choose a topic and explain it in minute detail. It is rather tedious to the unwary, if endearing to those who know you best.”
“Endearing?”
“You are so inclined to hide your thoughts and it is a hint, at least, of what you feel.”
Did she do that? Patience recalled her comments about June weddings the day before and grimaced. Mr. Beckham and his sister had been disconcerted. She nodded agreement at Prudence’s counsel and left the room.
She descended the stairs to find Mr. Beckham in the foyer, his hat in one hand and his walking stick in the other. He looked marvelous, of course, in yet another perfectly tailored jacket she had not seen before, gleaming boots, and a perfectly tied cravat. He smiled at her appearance, a slow smile of appreciation that lit his eyes and launched a glow within Patience.
“I have a confession to make,” she said, after they had exchanged greetings and were descending the steps to his waiting carriage. She waited while he gave the inevitable penny to the boy who had held the reins for him, anticipating his action, then let him hand her into the carriage.
“A confession, Miss Carruthers. I cannot wait to hear what you feel deserves such a feat.”
She smiled, as she knew she was supposed to. “My sister reminded me that I am inclined to recite reams of trivia when agitated. I spoke of June weddings yesterday, which is an example of that trait.”
He nodded once. “And what troubled you, if I may enquire?”
“I find myself doubting the strength of your conviction to keep our terms,” she admitted and he glanced quickly at her.
“Why? I granted my word to you.” He was not insulted, to her relief, merely curious. Truly, it was simplicity itself to converse with the man. If she was not careful, he would know all of her secrets without even trying to discern them. She would simply offer them up.
“But it seems beyond your nature to embark on such an endeavor. Yesterday, I saw how adept you are at living in the style that you do.”
“Do you not believe that a person can willfully change his or her perspective?”
“What I doubt is that you have the will to do as much. Why would a man born to leisure choose to labor?”
He smiled. “You assume I was born to leisure.” He was watching the horses and the road, and she could not discern his thoughts at all.
Her annoyance at that showed in her reply. “What else would I conclude, sir? You are the grandson of an earl. You have a generous income and can expect a considerable inheritance, by all accounts.” She pressed on, determined to know. “Is Miss Grosvenor so heinous a potential bride as that?”
“Yes!” he said with surprising vigor, then laughed at Patience’s evident shock. He leaned toward her. “She was, indeed, to drive me to invoke the name of another. But it was not a mere whim to choose you of all the ladies I have met in recent years.” His gaze locked upon her, his eyes darkening as he looked at her. The corner of his mouth lifted in a most alluring smile, one that reminded Patience of his thrilling kiss. When his voice dropped lower in confidence, she felt the most curious and pleasurable sensation. “She might have been the impetus, Miss Carruthers, but now I cannot imagine taking another lady to my side. You are remarkable and I am honored that you have accepted me.”
Patience could have drowned in his eyes. She certainly could not easily avert her gaze. She flushed that he would speak so plainly to her, and saw his smile broaden as he watched her cheeks turn pink.
“More perfect than a sunrise,” he murmured and the heat rose yet more in her cheeks. He raised a gloved fingertip, touching her cheek with a reverence that made her catch her breath.
“How many sunrises have you witnessed, Mr. Beckham?” she managed to ask.
He laughed at that. “Far more than are respectable, Miss Carruthers.” He leaned closer to murmur wickedly to her. “Do you think marriage will tame my errant ways?”
