The Truth about the Viscount (Whispers of the Ton #4)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

P atience smiled to herself as she set her pencil down, taking in the figure she had just drawn. It was just as she had seen him the previous evening, standing stalwart at the side of the drawing-room, his arms loose by his sides but his head held high, his eyes sharp and filled with an uncertainty that she had been able almost to sense from him.

The soiree had been enjoyable, of course, but Patience had found herself a little overwhelmed by the crush of bodies. To her mind, there had been too many guests for one townhouse and thus, she had stepped away for a few minutes, promising her mother that she would remain in sight of her and Christina. Christina had not suffered any of the difficulties nor the struggle that Patience had, seeming to relish being in the crowd of guests. Patience had smiled to herself, watching the way that Christina had laughed and smiled and conversed with various gentlemen and ladies, thinking to herself just how very different they were in their personalities… and it was then that she had seen him. Lord Hastings, as she now knew him to be, had made his way across the room to speak directly with Lord Milthorpe, whom Patience knew by sight rather than because they had been introduced. She had tried not to look, as the two gentlemen had conversed, hearing the two low voices and, to her mind, a note of concern in both.

When Lord Milthorpe had stepped away, Patience had expected Lord Hastings to do the same, but he had not. Instead, he had stayed precisely where he was, moving back just a fraction so that he stood with his back to the wall, looking out at everyone in the drawing room, just as she was. She had been uncertain whether or not he had known of her presence and, though she knew very well that she ought not to turn her head and look at him, something about his presence had encouraged her to do that very thing. The image had fixed itself in her mind and Patience had known at once that this was a gentleman she would have to draw, someone she would have to capture on paper. A brooding figure, mayhap, she had thought, tilting her head to take in his features a little better.

And then, he had turned his head.

A sudden flush of heat rushed through her as she recalled the moment he had turned to look at her, clearly aware that she had been studying him. It had been an awkward moment, one where she had felt herself more than a little embarrassed and yet, at the same time, feeling a flickering sense of interest in him. It was not something she had ever expected to feel and yet, it was there nonetheless, beckoning her closer. Part of her had expected him to roll his eyes and look away, or to turn his head away again and pretend that nothing of note had taken place but, instead, he had begun to speak. Their conversation had been brief, and Patience had been careful not to say anything that might be in the least bit encouraging, aware that they had not been introduced. But then, he had introduced himself and she had done the same. It had been a pleasure to know his title, to recognize who he was, in relation to Miss Spearton and to Lord Milthorpe also, though she had not said very much in that regard. He had chosen to step away from her, excusing himself in a genial manner, only for another gentleman to step into his path.

That was most confusing.

It was not in her nature to be forward, to push herself into conversations and situations where she had no right to be. She had not been able to make out any of the two gentlemen’s conversation, but she had been able to see the fury that had been building between them. It had been clear to her that Lord Hastings was doing his level best to stay as calm as he could, though she had seen the way that his hands had tightened into fists as he spoke – but Lord Newforth had been quite different. There had been anger in every single movement of his frame, from the way that he had filled the space between himself and Lord Hastings, to the tightness of his frame. When he had pulled back just a little, reaching out to grab Lord Hastings’ arm, Patience had found herself reacting without having ever intended to do anything at all.

“Though I am still glad that I did such a thing.”

“You are speaking to yourself now, Patience?”

Whirling around, Patience put one hand to her heart.

“Goodness, Eleanor, I did not hear you step into the room!”

“I did call your name thrice,” Eleanor teased, though there was a twinkle in her eye that made Patience question whether such a thing was true or not. “What is it that you are doing?”

“Drawing.” Patience held out her sketch of Lord Hastings to her cousin, knowing that she would be determined to look at it, even if Patience had tried her best to hide it from her. “It was from the soiree yesterday.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened.

“This is Lord Hastings, is it not?”

“It is.”

Eleanor beamed at her.

“And are you going to send it to The London Chronicle? I saw your drawing of Lord Milthorpe and Miss Spearton and thought it quite wonderful! I have been telling everyone that it was your work.”

Something seemed to shrivel inside Patience.

“You have been telling the ton that it was I who drew it?”

Her cousin nodded, still smiling.

“Of course I have! Why would I not?”

A low groan escaped Patience as she covered her face with both of her hands.

“Oh, Eleanor, I wish you had spoken to me first! I was not certain that I wanted people to know that I was the artist!”

“Why ever not?”

Patience threw up her hands.

“Because I do not know what they will think of me! I am here to find a match, am I not? What if the gentlemen of London think it dreadful that a lady should have her work published in The London Chronicle?”

Eleanor only sniffed.

“If there was such a complaint, then I would think those gentlemen were only jealous of your ability. After all, there is nothing wrong with a lady drawing and painting, is there? It is one of the things that gentlemen of the ton hope that we will excel in!”

“I suppose it is, yes.” Patience laughed and then shook her head. “You are quite incorrigible, Eleanor. No matter what kind of obstacle or concern I attempt to throw up, you always have an answer.”

Her cousin chuckled.

“I thank you. So you will have it published, then?”

“This one?”

Eleanor nodded.

“Yes, that one. I think it is quite magnificent, and I am sure many in the ton will think well of it.”

Still uncertain, Patience looked at her drawing again. There was something that held her back inwardly, though she could not say what it was. It could not be that she wanted Lord Hastings’ approval, surely? She did not even know the gentleman very well and yet, all the same, she felt herself uncertain as to whether or not she wanted to share this with the ton .

“You cannot think to hold this back, surely?” Eleanor smiled at her, questions in her eyes. “It will be well thought of, I am sure.”

Patience sighed and then shrugged lightly.

“I suppose I can have no reason to refuse, then. Lady Tolerton – the one who first published my drawing in The London Chronicle – has already written to me stating that they are now requesting another drawing to put into it and thus, I suppose I can send her this one.”

“Excellent!” Eleanor clapped her hands and then beamed at Patience. “I shall wait until you have sent it and thereafter, we can take our walk through the park.”

With a quick roll of her eyes, Patience looked at her cousin and then spoke with a mock weariness in her voice.

“You are going to insist that I do so, are you not? You will not let me wait to send it until I return?”

Eleanor grinned, her eyes dancing.

“Of course I must insist. How else can I be sure that you will do it?”

With a laugh, Patience promised that she would do so just as quickly as she could and, still with a lingering trepidation, set to preparing her drawing.

“I do not know much about Lord Hastings.” Eleanor glanced at Patience before returning her gaze to the path ahead of them. “Might I ask what made him your focus?”

Patience considered her answer.

“Truth be told, Eleanor, sometimes I only need to see someone for them to make a distinct impression upon me. It was strange, in a way, seeing him standing as he did, for the soiree was in full swing and yet, he came first to talk to Lord Milthorpe and, thereafter, to stand alone. He has a striking profile, and there was also a heaviness in his expression which caught my attention.” Seeing Eleanor’s eyebrows lift, Patience wondered whether she ought to tell her about what else had occurred and, after a moment, chose to do so. Eleanor’s eyebrows lifted high as Patience spoke, her eyes rounding, but she did not interrupt even once, waiting until Patience had finished. “So I do not know what it was that upset Lord Newforth, nor Lord Hastings, in that manner, but I was glad that he was not angry with me for intervening as I did.”

“Good gracious, it sounds as though Lord Newforth was attempting to intimidate Lord Hastings in some way, though I cannot imagine why he would do so! How very strange.” Eleanor linked arms with Patience. “I have heard the ton say of late that Lord Hastings has begun to pull away from those in society, almost as though he does not wish to be known by any of them. It is somewhat strange, for the announcement of his sister’s betrothal is meant to be a wonderful thing, is it not? The invitations for her betrothal ball are due to come out later this week and yet, Lord Hastings seems to be pulling back, pulling away from all of us. I cannot imagine what it is that troubles him, but it appears that he is quite determined to step back, as you witnessed at the soiree.”

“I do not know.” Rounding the corner of the path, Patience was met with a few gathered crowds of ladies and gentlemen, though the fashionable hour was still not quite begun. She began to walk more slowly, her gaze darting over each and every face, though she was not sure who it was she was looking for. “I do not claim even the smallest knowledge of Lord Hastings’ character and–”

“If I might interrupt, I should tell you that Lord Hastings has the most excellent character.”

A flush of heat rushed into Patience’s cheeks as she turned her head to see a young lady looking at them, her chin tilted upwards, and a flash of fire in her eyes. She recognized her at once, though they had never been introduced.

“I ought not to interrupt your conversation, I know,” the young lady continued, taking a step closer to Patience and Eleanor, “but if someone is to speak of my brother, then I will do all that I must to defend him.”

“You quite mistake our intentions, Miss Spearton.” Patience inclined her head by way of greeting. “It is not our intention to speak poorly about your brother. Rather, I was simply saying that I did not know anything about him as yet, given that we were only just introduced the previous evening… and that was not even a proper introduction! Please forgive us for upsetting you.”

Miss Spearton’s eyes flashed and, for whatever reason, she did not appear to believe Patience.

“I have heard a few of the whispers about my brother only this afternoon,” she snapped, tossing her head. “I would not like it if there were others who intended to speak ill of him even more. You may say that your intentions were not to injure him but–”

“Ah, Lady Patience. Good afternoon.”

Patience swallowed hard as she dipped into a curtsey, the warmth in her face intensifying.

“Lord Hastings.”

Miss Spearton’s gaze darted between Patience and the gentleman.

“You are acquainted with this lady, brother?”

“Of course I am. I would not have greeted her otherwise.” Lord Hastings looked from his sister to Patience and then back again. “I do hope that there is nothing of concern here?”

Miss Spearton’s eyes narrowed just a little.

“I overheard you mentioned in conversation and thought to come to your defense. I have heard the recent rumors about you, and I certainly do not wish anyone to add to them. Therefore, though it was a little rude I admit, I did interrupt to state quite the opposite of what might have been being said.”

“Though it was not needed, I assure you,” Eleanor put in as Patience nodded fervently. “We were not saying anything derogatory.”

Lord Hastings, rather than smile and state that he quite understood, immediately scowled.

“But you were speaking of me, Lady Patience?”

A trifle unsettled at his response, Patience cleared her throat and then lifted her chin.

“You are mistaken if you believe that I am in any way inclined towards gossip or the like, Lord Hastings. My cousin was asking me about the soiree, and I told her of our less than perfect introduction to one another, that is all.”

“I see.” The scowl did not lift from his face. “Yes, it was not as it ought to have been, I suppose.” His gaze then turned towards Eleanor, who only smiled at him. “And we have not been introduced as yet, I do not think.”

Eleanor bobbed into a quick curtsey.

“Lord Hastings, I was just saying to my cousin that I did not know you or your character, so I am very glad to be able to make your acquaintance.”

The defense that such words brought made Patience’s heart skip a beat as she hid a smile. Eleanor had, in her own clear and distinct way, stated that she had not been saying anything untoward about Lord Hastings and, from the way that his lips flattened, Patience was quite sure that he understood precisely what it was she had meant by such words. It seemed, however, that he was not in the least bit pleased.

“How very good to make your acquaintance.” His voice had dropped low, a slight darkness about his expression now. “I do hope that the impression I made upon you, Lady Patience, might have given you a slight indication as to the sort of gentleman I purport to be.”

“Indeed, it did.” Patience smiled warmly in the hope that this would bring an end to the conversation, that there would be nothing now to concern him. “Did you enjoy the soiree last evening, Lord Hastings?”

“No.”

The short, sharp answer took Patience by surprise, and her smile dropped from her face. Lord Hastings now appeared to be in something of a dark mood, not even smiling at them any longer. Could it be that he believed what his sister had suggested they had been doing, even though both herself and Eleanor had stated, quite clearly, that they had done nothing of the sort? After what Miss Spearton had mentioned about the rumors, mayhap he too had come to hear of them and was now concerned.

“You must forgive my brother.” Miss Spearton, her bright expression appearing forced rather than in the least bit genuine, smiled tightly. “Last evening did bring something of a trial with it, but you cannot say that there was no true enjoyment, Hastings!”

Lord Hastings shrugged and turned his head away, making a flush of embarrassment rush through Patience.

“There may have been a moment or two of enjoyment – when I was in your company and Lord Milthorpe’s also, Isabella – but I cannot say there was much if I am to be truthful.”

Patience closed her eyes, the tension she had felt in their conversation thus far now changing into one of sheer mortification. She had thought that he might feel something akin to appreciation over what had taken place last evening, for that was what he had expressed, had it not been? She had not thought that he would speak so darkly about the soiree, as though even their brief conversation and the incident she had broken into thereafter had meant nothing. Her stomach twisted and she swallowed tightly, before opening her eyes and forcing a bright smile to her face.

“It has been a pleasure to see you again, Lord Hastings.” She did not look at him directly, quickly moving her gaze to Miss Spearton. “And Miss Spearton, though we have not been formally introduced, it has also been my delight to speak with you. I do hope that you enjoy the fashionable hour. Do excuse us.”

Eleanor sniffed, her chin lifting.

“A delight,” she murmured, echoing Patience’s words. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” Miss Spearton answered, though Lord Hastings himself said nothing.

As Patience walked away, her face grew hot with embarrassment and a flicker of anger, frustrated that the gentleman had spoken in such an unkind manner.

“Goodness, Lord Hastings is either cruel, inconsiderate or unthinking!” Eleanor linked her arm through Patience’s again, tugging her lightly. “You are quite all right, are you not?”

Patience blinked quickly and then turned her head away from Eleanor so that her cousin would not see the tears that had suddenly sprung into her eyes.

“I am quite well.”

“You are upset.”

Patience’s shoulders dropped.

“A little. After what took place last evening, as I told you, I would have thought that Lord Hastings might have expressed appreciation, rather than stating how little he had enjoyed the evening. The way that he spoke was most unfair, and it made me feel deeply embarrassed.”

“Which I think his sister felt also,” Eleanor said, gently. “It is quite clear to me that she did not think well of what her brother said. After speaking of these rumors – which, no doubt, Lord Hastings is well aware of also – it seems to me that he does not care whether or not they are spoken about him or not! Though Miss Spearton is more than a little concerned.”

“Yes, I could see that.” Trying to push the conversation from her mind, Patience bit her lip, suddenly now a little worried about the drawing that she had sent to The London Chronicle. What would Viscount Hastings think of her drawing? Would he be displeased? Or would he consider it innocuous, perhaps even be a little delighted that she had chosen him as her subject?

Her misgivings continued to grow as she made her way through the park, and Patience now began to wish that she had not agreed to send that drawing into the newspaper.

But now, it was much too late.