“Sit, Nephew,” his aunt demanded, waving to a chair at the next table, which was empty because most of the sane people were inside the shop.
“I have an appointment,” he lied.
“And yet you will sit.”
Dragging a chair closer, he sat, hunching into his overcoat for no other reason than these three always made him feel like a boy in short pants.
Each wore thick velvet long coats and scarves. Bonnets were in varying colors and always had flowers or small woodland animals attached. They’d been friends since the day they stepped into society.
“Rumors, Nephew. They are swirling,” Aunt Lavinia said.
He’d known she’d learn about Sophie and his interest in her; his aunt may be old, but she was still sharp-witted.
“Are they?” He took a cake from the plate Mrs. Spooner nudged his way. She was the softest of the three and always carried lemon drops in her pocket, which she usually shared with him.
“I like her,” Lady Nigel said, patting the corner of her mouth after taking a sip of tea.
She was the oldest and therefore, in her opinion, the wisest. They had debated long and loud over this for years. Patrick knew because he’d been there while they were doing it many times.
“Who?” he asked.
“You are talking with your mouth full, Nephew!”
“Sorry, Aunt.” He swallowed.
“The Countess of Monmouth, as you very well know. Sound mind, and Letty loves her, which is enough for me to dismiss those rumors,” Lady Nigel said, patting his hand. She then handed him the sandwich plate.
“I don’t like vicious rumors,” Mrs. Spooner added, pouring his tea just how he liked it.
“They are usually perpetrated by small-minded fools with nothing better to occupy their time,” Aunt Lavinia said, picking a speck of something off his sleeve. “Anyone with two eyes can see that woman is noble.”
She wasn’t actually, but he kept that to himself. If these three were backing Sophie, then they would make sure those rumors were squashed and whoever had started circulating them dealt with.
“So we think she’s perfect for you.”
Patrick, who had just put an entire sandwich into his mouth—although admittedly small—choked.
“I have repeatedly told you not to put too much in your mouth,” his aunt snapped. “Chew, for pity’s sake.”
He did as he was told, then gulped down tepid tea.
“Ah… who is perfect for me?” he rasped when he could.
“The countess, of course. Keep up, boy,” Mrs. Spooner said. “She will be an excellent wife for you.”
“So make haste to secure her hand before someone else beats you to her, Nephew. I know that Dinsdale is sniffing around her skirts and has expressed his wish to make her his wife,” Aunt Lavinia said.
He stared at them, his insides suddenly burning with jealousy.She is mine.
“Well?” Lady Nigel demanded.
“Ah….”
“Oh, for pity’s sake. Do you or do you not like the Countess of Monmouth, Nephew? Because we’ve been watching you, and it certainly appears as if you do.”
“I-I’m not discussing this with you three,” he stuttered.Stuttered?Him, who always knew what to say. Patrick could feel heat flushing his cheeks.
“Do you know what your problem is?” Lady Nigel demanded. Patrick shook his head.
