The observation got them all moving, lighting fires, making up beds, and preparing and serving a hot, sustaining dinner. Grisham, Duggan, and the two maids assisted, but everyone, bar only Alice and Whitticombe, readily contributed their share.
As no fire had been lit in the drawing room, the ladies remained at the table while the port did the rounds. The glow of common experience, of camaraderie, was evident as they shared thoughts of the past weeks.
At the end, as yawns started to interrupt their reminiscences, Timms turned to Minnie. 'What will you do with them?'
Everyone quieted. Minnie grimaced. 'They really are pitiful. I'll speak to them tomorrow, but, in all Christian charity, I can't throw them out. At least not at the moment, not into the snow.'
'Snow?' Edmond raised his head, then rose and pulled back one of the drapes. Fine flakes swirled across the beam of light shining out. 'Well, fancy that.'
Vane did not fancy that. He had plans-a heavy fall of snow was not part of them. He glanced at Patience, seated beside him. Then he smiled, and quaffed the last of his port.
Fate couldn't be that cruel.
He was the last to climb the stairs, after walking a last round about the huge house. All was silent, all was still. It seemed the only other life in the old house was Myst, darting up the stairs before him. The small cat had elected to follow him on his round, weaving about his boots, then dashing into the shadows. He'd walked out of the side door to study the sky. Myst had disappeared into the dark, only to return a few minutes later, sneezing snowflakes off her pink nose, shaking them disdainfully from her fur.
His thoughts in the future, Vane followed Myst up the stairs, through the gallery, down one flight, and along the corridor. He reached his room and opened the door; Myst darted through.
Vane grinned and followed-then remembered he'd meant to go to Patience's room. He looked around, to call Myst back-and saw Patience, dozing in the chair by the fire.
Lips curving, Vane closed the door. Myst woke Patience before he reached her-she looked up, then smiled, rose-and walked straight into his arms. He closed them about her.
Eyes shining, she looked into his. 'I love you.'
Vane's lips lifted as he bent to kiss her. 'I know.'
Patience returned the gentle caress. 'Was I that obvious?'
'Yes.' Vane kissed her again. 'That part of the equation was never in doubt.' Briefly, his lips brushed hers. 'Nor was the rest of it. Not from the moment I first held you in my arms.'
The rest of it-his part of the equation-his feelings for her.
Patience drew back so she could study his face. She lifted a hand to his cheek. 'I needed to know.'
The planes of his face shifted; desire flared in his eyes. 'Now you do.' He lowered his head and kissed her again. 'Incidentally, don't ever forget it.'
Already breathless, Patience chuckled. 'You'll have to make sure you remind me.'
'Oh, I will. Every morning and every night.'
The words were a vow-a promise. Patience found his lips with hers and kissed him until she was witless. Chuckling, Vane lifted his head. Wrapping one arm around her, he steered her to the bed. 'Theoretically, you shouldn't be here.''
'Why? What's the difference-your bed or mine?'
'Quite a lot, by servants' standards. They'll accept the sight of gentlemen wandering the house in the early hours, but for some reason, the sight of ladies flitting through the dawn in their nightgowns incites rampant speculation.'
'Ah,' Patience said, as they halted by the bed. 'But I'll be fully clothed.' She gestured to her gown. 'There'll be no reason for speculation.'
Vane met her gaze. 'What about your hair?'
'My hair?' Patience blinked. 'You'll just have to help me put it up again. I assume 'elegant gentlemen,' such as you, learn such useful skills very early in life.'
'Actually, no.' Straight-faced, Vane reached for her pins. 'Us rakes-of-the-first-order…' Dropping pins left and right, he set her hair cascading down. With a satisfied smile, he caught her about the waist and drew her hard against him. 'We,' he said, looking into her eyes, 'spend our time concentrating on rather different skills-like letting ladies' hair down. And getting them out of their clothes. Getting them into bed. And other things.'
He demonstrated-very effectively.
As he spread her thighs and sank deeply into her, Patience's breath fractured on a gasp.
He moved within her, claiming her, pressing deep, only to withdraw and fill her again. Arms braced, he reared above her, and loved her; beneath him, Patience writhed. When he bent his head and found her lips, she clung to the caress, clung to the moment. Clung to him.
Their lips parted, and she sighed. And felt his words against her lips as he moved deeply within her.
'With my body, I thee worship. With my heart, I thee adore. I love you. And if you want me to say it a thousand times, I will. Just as long as you'll be my wife.'
'I will.' Patience heard the words in her head, tasted them on her lips-she felt them resonate in her heart.
The next hour passed, and not a single coherent phrase passed their lips. The warm stillness within the room was broken only by the rustling of sheets, and soft, urgent murmurs. Then the silence gave way to soft moans, groans, breathless pants, desperate gasps. Culminating in a soft, piercingly sweet scream, dying, sobbing, into a deep guttural groan.
Outside, the moon rose; inside, the fire died.
Wrapped in each other's arms, limbs and hearts entwined, they slept.
'Bye!' Gerrard stood on the front steps and, smiling hugely, waved them away.
With a cheery wave, Patience faced forward, settling herself under the thick rug. The rug Vane had insisted she needed in order to go driving with him. She glanced at him. 'You aren't going to fuss over me, are you?'
'Who? Me?' He threw her an uncomprehending glance. 'Perish the thought.'
'Good.' Patience tipped her head back and looked at the sky, still threatening snow. 'There's really no need-I'm perfectly accustomed to looking after myself.'
Vane kept his eyes on his horses's ears.
Patience slanted him another glance. 'Incidentally, I meant to mention…' When he merely raised an inquiring brow, and kept his gaze forward, she put her nose in the air and baldly stated, 'If you dare, ever, to go into a conservatory with a beautiful woman, even if she's related-even a first cousin-I will not be held accountable for the outcome.'
That got her a glance, a mildly curious one.
'Outcome?'
'The fracas that will inevitably ensue.'
'Ah.' Vane looked forward again, easing his horses down the lane to the main road. 'What about you?' he eventually asked. Meekly mild, he raised his brows at her. 'Don't you like conservatories?'
'You may take me to see any conservatory you please,' Patience snapped. 'My liking for pot plants is not, as you well know, the subject of this discussion.'
Vane's lips quirked, then lifted-lightly. 'Indeed. But you may put that particular subject from your head.' The look in his eyes told Patience he was deadly serious. Then he smiled, his wolfish, Cynster smile. 'What would I want with other beautiful women, if I can show you conservatories instead?'
Patience blushed, and humphed, and looked ahead.
A fine sprinkling of snow covered the landscape and sparkled in the weak sunshine. The breeze was chilly, the clouds leaden grey, but the day remained fine-fine enough for their drive. They reached the main road, and Vane turned north. He flicked the reins, and his greys stepped out. Lifting her face to the breeze, Patience thrilled to the steady rolling rhythm, to the sense of traveling quickly along a new road. In a new direction.
The roofs of Kettering lay ahead. Drawing a deep breath, she said, 'I suppose we should start making plans.'
'Probably,' Vane conceded. He slowed the greys as they entered the town. 'I'd imagined we'd spend most of our time in Kent.' He glanced at Patience. 'The house in Curzon Street is big enough for a family, but other than the obligatory appearances during the height of the Season, I can't imagine we'll be there all that much. Unless
