Hunkered down behind the chair, Vane poked about in the bag, then, realizing the futility of that, gingerly upended it on the rug. The contents, a welter of odds and ends, many unidentifiable, at least, to him, rolled out on the soft pile. He spread them, frowning, trying to recall the list of items pilfered over the past months. Whatever, Minnie's pearls were not in the tatting bag.
'And now,' Edith said, 'we just need a crochet hook…' She looked to where her tatting bag had been placed.
'I'll get it.' Patience crouched, eyes down, hands reaching as if the bag was actually there. 'A crochet hook,' she repeated.
'A fine one,' Edith added.
Crochet hook. A fine one. Behind the chair, Vane stared at the array of unnameable implements. What the hell was a crochet hook? What did it look like-fine or otherwise? Frantically examining and discarding various items in tor-toiseshell, his fingers finally closed about a thin wand sprouting a fine steel prong, hooked at the end-a miniature fisherman's net hook.
'I know it's there somewhere.' Edith's voice, slightly querulous, jolted Vane to action. Reaching around the chair back, he slid the implement into Patience's outstretched palm.
She clutched it. 'Here it is!'
'Oh, good. Now, we just put it in here, like this…'
While Edith continued her lesson, and Patience dutifully learned, Vane stuffed the contents of the tatting bag back into the gaping maw. Giving the bag a shake to settle it, he eased it back into position beside the chair. Moving with intense care, he stood and crept to the door.
Hand on the knob, he glanced back; Patience did not look up. Only when he'd regained the front hall, with the drawing room door securely closed, did he breathe freely again.
Patience joined him in the billiard room half an hour later.
Blowing aside the fine errant curls tangling with her lashes, she met his gaze. 'I now know more about tatting than I could possibly need to know, even should I live to be a hundred.'
Vane grinned. And leaned over the table.
Patience grimaced. 'I take it there was nothing there?'
'Nothing.' Vane lined up his next shot. 'No one's using Edith's tatting bag as a store, presumably because, once something goes in, it might never be found again.'
Patience stifled a giggle. She watched as Vane shifted, lining up the ball. As at Bellamy Hall, when she'd watched from the conservatory, he'd taken off his coat. Under his tight waistcoat, muscles rippled, then tensed. He clipped the ball neatly, sending it rolling into the pocket opposite.
Vane straightened. He looked at Patience, and noted her fixed gaze. Lifting his cue from the table, he sauntered closer. And stopped directly in front of her.
She blinked, then drew in a quick breath and dragged her gaze up to his face.
Vane captured her gaze. After a moment, he murmured, 'I foresee certain complications.'
'Oh?' Patience's gaze had already drifted from his, fastening instead on his lips.
Leaning more heavily on the cue, Vane let his gaze roam her face. 'Henry and Edmond.' The curves of her lips caught and held his attention. 'They're getting restless.'
'Ah.' The tip of Patience's tongue appeared between her lips, then delicately traced them.
Vane hauled in a desperate breath. And leaned closer. 'I can hold their reins during the day, but the evenings…' He angled his head. 'Could be a problem.'
His words died away as Patience stretched upward.
Their lips touched, brushed, then locked. Both stopped breathing. Vane's hands closed tight about the billiard cue; Patience shivered. And sank into the kiss.
'He must be in the billard room.'
Vane's head jerked up; he swore and shifted, screening Patience from the door. She scooted farther into the shadows beyond the table, where her blush would be less visible. Along with the heat in her eyes. The door swung open and Vane was potting a ball with nonchalant ease.
'There you are!' Henry ambled into the room.
Followed by Gerrard and Edmond.
'Seen enough sights for one day.' Henry rubbed his hands together. 'Perfect time for a quick game.'
'Not for me, I fear.' Coolly, Vane handed his cue to Gerrard, and resisted the urge to throttle them all. He reached for his coat. 'I only dallied to tell you I'll come by at three. I'm expected elsewhere for lunch.'
'Oh. All right.' Henry cocked a brow at Edmond. 'You game?'
Edmond, having exchanged a smile with Patience, shrugged. 'Why not?'
Gerrard, with a nod for his sister, joined them. Her pulse thundering, still breathless, Patience preceded Vane as he left the room.
She heard the door shut behind them, but didn't stop. She didn't dare. She led the way into the front hall; only then did she turn and, with what calm she could muster, face Vane.
He looked down at her. His lips twisted wryly. 'I meant what I said about Henry and Edmond. I've agreed to take Gerrard, Edgar, and the General to White's this evening. Henry and Edmond don't want to go, and we couldn't keep them in sight if they did. Any chance you could call them to heel?'
The look Patience cast him spoke volumes. 'I'll see what I can do.'
'If you can keep them on their leashes, I'll be forever grateful.'
Patience studied the glint in his grey eyes and wondered how to best use such indebtedness. Just what she might have him do. Then she realized her gaze had refastened on his lips. She blinked and nodded curtly. 'I'll try.'
'Do.' Capturing her gaze, Vane raised one finger and traced the line of her cheek. Then lightly tapped. 'Later.' With a nod, he strode for the door.
For Patience, Lady Hendricks's musicale that evening proved to be an eminently forgettable experience. As well as herself, Minnie and Timms, all three Chadwicks, and Edmond, attended.
Inducing Henry and Edmond to join the party had been simplicity itself; over luncheon, she'd blithely asked Gerrard to escort their otherwise all-female party that evening. Put on the spot, Gerrard had blushed and stumbled into an apology; from the corner of her eye, Patience had seen Henry and Edmond glance surreptitiously at each other. Before Gerrard got to the end of his explanation, Henry interrupted to offer his services. Edmond, recalling the connection between music and drama, declared he would come, too.
As they crossed the threshold of Lady Hendricks's music room, Patience congratulated herself on her masterful success.
They made their bows to their hostess, then passed on, into the already crowded room. In Minnie's wake, Patience walked on Edmond's arm. Henry's had been claimed by his mother. Minnie and Timms were well-known; those greeting them nodded and smiled at Patience, too. Garbed in a new gown, she returned the greetings serenely, inwardly amazed at the confidence imparted by a sheath of moss green silk.
Timms steered Minnie to a half-vacant
With an inward sigh, Patience took charge. 'There's a chair over there, Henry. Perhaps you might fetch it for your mama.'
'Oh. Right.' Henry strode to where a chair remained unclaimed by the wall. At the exhortation of their hostess, all the guests were settling; seating was suddenly in short supply.
They sat Mrs. Chadwick beside Minnie's
'What about me?' Angela, gowned in a white dress overendowed with pink rosettes and cerise ribbon, stood twisting her fingers in said ribbon.
'There're some chairs over there.' Edmond indicated a few empty seats in the ranks of straight-backed chairs lined up before the pianoforte and harp.
Patience nodded. 'We'll sit there.'
They headed for the chairs. They'd almost gained their objective when Angela balked. 'I think the other side might be better.'
Patience was not deceived. The few youthful sprigs forced by their mamas to attend had clumped in a
