expectations.
Grimacing, Patience started on a new sheaf of grasses. “Vane said something about being in Cambridgeshire to attend a church service.”
“Yes, indeed.”
Detecting amusement in Minnie’s tone, Patience looked up, and saw Minnie exchange a laughing glance with Timms. Then Minnie looked at her. “Vane’s mother wrote to me about it. Seems the five unmarried members of the Bar Cynster got ideas above their station. They ran a wagers book on the date of conception of Devil’s heir. Honoria heard of it at the christening—she promptly confiscated all their winnings for the new church roof and decreed they all attend the dedication service.” A smile wreathing her face, Minnie nodded. “They did, too.”
Patience blinked and lowered her work to her lap. “You mean,” she said, “that just because the duchess said they had to, they did?”
Minnie grinned. “If you’d met Honoria, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”
“But . . .” Brow furrowing, Patience tried to imagine it—tried to imagine a woman ordering Vane to do something he didn’t wish to do. “The duke can’t be very assertive.”
Timms snorted, choked, then succumbed to gales of laughter; Minnie was similarly stricken. Patience watched them double up with mirth—adopting a long-suffering expression, she waited with feigned patience.
Eventually, Minnie choked her way to a stop and mopped her streaming eyes. “Oh, dear—that’s the most ridiculously funny—ridiculously wrong —statement I’ve ever heard.”
“Devil,” Timms said, in between hiccups, “is the most outrageously arrogant dictator you’re ever likely to meet.”
“If you think Vane is bad, just remember it was Devil who was born to be a duke.” Minnie shook her head. “Oh, my—just the thought of a nonassertive Devil . . .” Mirth threatened to overwhelm her again.
“Well,” Patience said, frowning still, “he doesn’t sound particularly strong, allowing his duchess to dictate to his cousins over what is held to be a male prerogative.”
“Ah, but Devil’s no fool—he could hardly gainsay Honoria on such a matter. And, of course, the reason Cynster men always indulge their wives was very much to the fore.”
“The reason?” Patience asked.
“Family,” Timms replied. “They were all gathered for the christening.”
“Very family-focused, the Cynsters.” Minnie nodded. “Even the Bar Cynster—they’re always so good with children. Entirely trustworthy and utterly reliable. Probably comes from being such a large brood—they always were a prolific lot. The older ones are used to having younger brothers and sisters to watch out for.”
Cold, heavy, the weight of dismay started to coalesce in Patience’s stomach.
“Actually,” Minnie said, chins wobbling as she resettled her shawls, “I’m very glad Vane will be staying for a while. He’ll give Gerrard a few hints on how to go on—just the thing to prepare him for London.”
Minnie looked up; Patience looked down. The lump of cold iron swelled enormously; it sank straight through her stomach and settled in her gut.
In her head, she replayed her words to Vane, the thinly veiled insults she’d leveled at him in the drawing room the previous night.
Her gut clenched hard about the lump of cold iron. She felt positively ill.
Chapter 6
T he next morning, Patience descended the stairs, a brittlely bright smile on her face. She swept into the breakfast parlor and nodded with determined cheerfulness to the gentlemen sitting at the table. Her smile froze, just for an instant, when she saw, wonder of wonders, Angela Chadwick, chatting loquaciously, greatly animated, in the chair to Vane’s left.
He sat at the table’s head as usual; Patience allowed her smile to flow over him, but didn’t meet his eyes. Despite Angela’s outpourings, from the moment she’d appeared, Vane’s attention had fixed on her. She helped herself to kedgeree and kippers, then, with a smile for
Grimacing, Patience started on a new sheaf of grasses. “Vane said something about being in Cambridgeshire to attend a church service.”
“Yes, indeed.”
Detecting amusement in Minnie’s tone, Patience looked up, and saw Minnie exchange a laughing glance with Timms. Then Minnie looked at her. “Vane’s mother wrote to me about it. Seems the five unmarried members of the Bar Cynster got ideas above their station. They ran a wagers book on the date of conception of Devil’s heir. Honoria heard of it at the christening—she promptly confiscated all their winnings for the new church roof and decreed they all attend the dedication service.” A smile wreathing her face, Minnie nodded. “They did, too.”
Patience blinked and lowered her work to her lap. “You mean,” she said, “that just because the duchess said they had to, they did?”
Minnie grinned. “If you’d met Honoria, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”
“But . . .” Brow furrowing, Patience tried to imagine it—tried to imagine a woman ordering Vane to do something he didn’t wish to do. “The duke can’t be very assertive.”
Timms snorted, choked, then succumbed to gales of laughter; Minnie was similarly stricken. Patience watched them double up with mirth—adopting a long-suffering expression, she waited with feigned patience.
Eventually, Minnie choked her way to a stop and mopped her streaming eyes. “Oh, dear—that’s the most ridiculously funny—ridiculously wrong —statement I’ve ever heard.”
“Devil,” Timms said, in between hiccups, “is the most outrageously arrogant dictator you’re ever likely to meet.”
“If you think Vane is bad, just remember it was Devil who was born to be a duke.” Minnie shook her head. “Oh, my—just the thought of a nonassertive Devil . . .” Mirth threatened to overwhelm her again.
“Well,” Patience said, frowning still, “he doesn’t sound particularly strong, allowing his duchess to dictate to his cousins over what is held to be a male prerogative.”
“Ah, but Devil’s no fool—he could hardly gainsay Honoria on such a matter. And, of course, the reason Cynster men always indulge their wives was very much to the fore.”
“The reason?” Patience asked.
“Family,” Timms replied. “They were all gathered for the christening.”
“Very family-focused, the Cynsters.” Minnie nodded. “Even the Bar Cynster—they’re always so good with children. Entirely trustworthy and utterly reliable. Probably comes from being such a large brood—they always were a prolific lot. The older ones are used to having younger brothers and sisters to watch out for.”
Cold, heavy, the weight of dismay started to coalesce in Patience’s stomach.
“Actually,” Minnie said, chins wobbling as she resettled her shawls, “I’m very glad Vane will be staying for a while. He’ll give Gerrard a few hints on how to go on—just the thing to prepare him for London.”
Minnie looked up; Patience looked down. The lump of cold iron swelled enormously; it sank straight through her stomach and settled in her gut.
In her head, she replayed her words to Vane, the thinly veiled insults she’d leveled at him in the drawing room the previous night.
Her gut clenched hard about the lump of cold iron. She felt positively ill.
Chapter 6
T he next morning, Patience descended the stairs, a brittlely bright smile on her face. She swept into the breakfast parlor and nodded with determined cheerfulness to the gentlemen sitting at the table. Her smile froze, just for an instant, when she saw, wonder of wonders, Angela Chadwick, chatting loquaciously, greatly animated, in the chair to Vane’s left.
He sat at the table’s head as usual; Patience allowed her smile to flow over him, but didn’t meet his eyes. Despite Angela’s outpourings, from the moment she’d appeared, Vane’s attention had fixed on her. She helped herself to kedgeree and kippers, then, with a smile for
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