—Voltaire,Seven Discourses in Verse on Man
Elizabeth watched Collin’s retreating back as he disappeared out the door. Slowly, she turned to face Patricia, whose stare had been burning through her.
“Explain.” Patricia sat and leaned across the table, her eyes sparking with interest.
“There’s not a lot to explain—” Elizabeth began.
“I don’t believe you. He called you by your Christian name, easily, like he’s done it a million times…” Her eyes widened. “Are you betrothed? Do you have a secret romance—?”
Elizabeth gasped. “No, no.” She waved her hands. “We’re…” She wasn’t sure how to explain it. They weren’t exactly friends, or enemies, and certainly not lovers, but they were…something. Something new that she’d never experienced, however she craved and recognized and needed it.
Patricia leaned forward more, as if the movement would coax the words from her friend. “You’re…”
“Complicated,” Elizabeth answered.
Patricia blew out a sigh. “That was not helpful.”
“It’s true. I…Lord Penderdale and I…have not tried to kill each other yet, which is a success.”
“This is decidedly less romantic than I was expecting,” Patricia stated flatly. “Do you think Michael gave him another black eye?” she mused.
“Would he?” Elizabeth turned in her chair to study the door, as if it would hold the answer.
“Maybe, I don’t know. He’s not been shy about his interest in you. But you’re one to be direct, yet still kind, so for you to remain his friend is answer enough for me. I’m just not sure it is enough for him.”
“Your brother made his intentions known, and I am visiting today in hopes of talking to him. I…I’m unable to return his sentiments.” She sighed. “It’s a little late now, I’d assume. I feel terrible. My father always said my temper would be my downfall. It seems he was right.”
Patricia winced. “It’s a bit of a mess, is it not?”
Elizabeth turned back to her friend. “When did your brother leave?”
Patricia traced the grain of the wood table with her finger. “Well, when you called Lord Penderdale by his Christian name. I wasn’t sure if it was a mistake. Your temper can be impressive,” she clarified. “But when he called you ‘Elizabeth,’ it was clear it wasn’t a slip of the tongue. I glanced at Michaelthen. His expression clouded over quickly, and then when you two continued fighting, forgetting both of us were present, he left.”
“I see.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I need to apologize to him. I may not have encouraged him, but I didn’t discourage his affection either, and that was…weak of me.”
“He’ll forgive you.”
“I hope so, but it’s still important to ask and be humble about it. I’m sure what just happened hurt him, and that wasn’t right.”
Patricia nodded, then tipped her chin. “I wonder what they are talking about. I rather expected it to be an abrupt conversation.”
Elizabeth glanced to the door once more. “Heaven only knows.”
“Other than you as the main topic, you mean?” Patricia asked. “But in all seriousness, he hasn’t asked to court you? Lord Penderdale?”
Elizabeth shook her heard. “No, nothing like that.”
“Odd,” Patricia mused, tapping her chin.
“Why?”
“Because it’s clear he’s mad for you. I wonder what’s holding him back.”
Elizabeth didn’t answer. She was certainly attracted to him, and they sparked like flint and steel whenever they were in close contact, but that wasn’t enough, was it?
“He’s not mad for me,” Elizabeth whispered, keeping an eye on the door. The last thing she wanted was for the two men to overhear the conversation.
“Believe what you want, but I have the distinct feeling if you applied the same principles you spoke of the last time we were in class, you’d find that your assumptions are based on emotion and not fact,” Patricia surmised.
