A Christmas Dance (12 page)

But there was nothing virtuous in the way Patience kissed him back--untutored perhaps, but not virtuous. Her mouth moved eagerly over his. Her arms wrapped around his neck in an almost desperate move to bring him even closer.

His hands moved of their own accord to unbutton her gown, pausing just long enough to brush along the satin skin of her back. She shivered and moaned as the silk of her bodice loosened and slid down, exposing the ivory swell of her breasts.

He allowed himself only one intoxicating moment to indulge in the exquisite softness of them before lifting her into his arms Still kissing her mouth, her throat, her lovely bare shoulders, he carried her to a settee in a darkened corner of the room. He would have preferred—he certainly would have planned--to take the time to explore every part of her, to linger over every curve and plane. But he hadn’t the luxury of time, and suddenly, surprisingly, he found he didn’t
want
to plan or orchestrate anything. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to follow his heart, and trust in the wonder of what unfolded before him.

And, truth be told, a small, selfish part of him was grateful for the excuse to hurry. Desire was rushing through his blood with increasing force. It clawed at his skin, inflamed his senses, and demanded fulfillment.

Their kisses became more urgent, their embrace more feverish. Clothing was pulled and shoved out of the way. Her glasses disappeared, his waistcoat was removed, his trousers slid down his hips. Someone said, “hurry.” He sincerely hoped it was her.

His palm trailed up the tight muscles of her calf and the soft skin of her thigh to find the heated flesh between her legs. She started at the touch, though whether from fear or pleasure it was impossible to tell.

“Shh. Darling, let me.” He used deft fingers to soothe and arouse, until her whimpers became moans and her soft form tightened and strained beneath him.

The sound and feel of her pleasure tore at his control.

He pushed into her, regretting the pain he knew he caused, even as his body shuddered with pleasure. “I’m sorry. Darling. I’m sorry.”

He kissed her tenderly then, until the fingers digging into the skin of his back relaxed and she let out a long, unsteady sigh.

“Hurry.”

This time, he was certain it was she who said it. It was all the urging he needed. With his jaw clamped tight with the effort to retain control, he began to move. Slowly at first, determined to be careful and their limited time be damned. But when she arched against him impatiently, her breath hitting his cheek in sharp pants, he quickened the pace.

He lost all track of time after that, lost track of everything but the exquisite pleasure of Patience Byerly reaching for completion in his arms. When she found it, when she bucked and cried out softly, he reached for, and found his own.

Though he knew he was crushing her with his weight, it was several moments before he amassed the coordination needed to shift their positions. And in the confines of a small settee, the movement took some doing, but eventually he succeeded in pulling her atop him, her head nestled against his chest.

He stroked a hand down her back. “Are you all right?”

She nodded rather than answered, which made him a little nervous.

“I hurt you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

She tilted her chin up to blink at him, her green eyes squinting adorably. “I’d rather you not apologize for anything at present.”

“I should have waited. Given you a bed.”
And a ring
.

“I didn’t want that.” She laid her palm against his cheek. “I wanted you. I hadn’t realized how much until. . .”

“Until you left,” he finished for her. He took her hand to press a kiss to her palm. “Does that mean you missed me as well?”

“Yes,” she laughed softly. “Every second of every day.”

“You shouldn’t have gone.” He pressed another kiss to her hand. “Don’t leave again. Stay with me. Marry me.”

A long, shaking sigh escaped from her lips. “I want to,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I want to.”

The weight in his chest began to grow once again. Was he too late? Had he missed his only chance? “Want to, or will?”

There was a long moment before she opened her eyes and spoke again. “I will. I will marry you
if
,” she said quickly, “
if
you still want me. . .after I explain why I left London.” She swallowed hard.

It was tempting to tell her he’d already learned of her secret, but he knew it would be better for her, for both of them, if she found the courage to tell him herself. “All right.” He bent down to press another kiss to her forehead. “I’m listening.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and shifted a bit. “Could we do this dressed? It might take a bit of time, and if someone were to find us--”

“You’d have to marry me,” he finished for her. Not a terrible plan, really. Maybe he should have taken his time after all. Then again, that might have only resulted in the pair of them being discovered before he was ready to be caught.

She laughed a little and shoved at his shoulder when he refused to loosen his hold of her. “William.”

“Yes, all right.”

He let go of her reluctantly, rose from the settee after she did, and helped put her gown to rights. He made an attempt to assist with her hair as well but found he couldn’t keep his fingers from running through the silky tresses. It added a certain level of difficulty to the endeavor.

He wanted to take out the remaining pins and watch the locks fall to her shoulders. He wanted to see her hair spread out before him on a pillow. He wanted to know what it looked like wild and mussed after a night of passion. He wanted, he was
tempted
to--

As if she could sense the tenor of his thoughts, Patience batted his hands away with a laugh. “Keep your plans to yourself for the time being, if you please.”

He heaved a disappointed sigh and turned his attention to straightening his own attire. He ran into a spot of difficulty with his cravat.

“Here, allow me.” Patience pushed one last pin into her hair and stepped forward to knot his cravat with the efficiency of an experienced valet.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“From my father.” She gave her work a soft pat and stepped away. “Because of my father might be more accurate.”

He tilted his head to catch her eye. “Part of what you need to explain?”

“Yes, I. . .” She bit her bottom lip. “Oh, dear, I don’t know how to start.”

“I believe the usual response to that is to start at the beginning.”

She smiled a little, but there was no humor in it. “It might be easiest for me to tell you the worst of it first and have done with it.”

He reached for her fidgeting hands. “Whatever it is, Patience, we’ll find a way--”

The doors swung open before he had the chance to respond. “

Patience?” Virginia rushed inside, noticeably out of breath. “I’m sorry. Mr. Meldrin is looking for you. I had my maid keep watch and--” She shook her head and crossed the room to grasp Patience’s hand and draw her to a trio of chairs near the light of the fire. “No time. Come here. William, sit there.”

They’d only just arranged themselves in their seats when Mr. Meldrin arrived, a handful of footmen and maids trailing behind him. William had an unpleasant image of the man coming after him, glove in hand to demand a duel, but it was short lived. Mr. Meldrin spared him a brief nod, but he didn’t appear angry, merely worried. And the concern in his eyes was directed solely at Patience.

She saw it as well, and rose unsteadily from her chair. “Mr. Meldrin?”

“A message just arrived by special courier.” He crossed the room to place a hand on her shoulder. “Your father’s gone missing.”

Chapter 10

Patience had known fear before. She was no stranger to guilt and regret. But until Mr. Meldrin had uttered the words, “your father’s gone missing,” she’d never before known true panic.

The force of it was disorienting. It sucked the air from her lungs and tore a great hole in her chest. She felt her world spin and whirl while her mind leap erratically from one thought to the next.

What was she supposed to do now? She’d encountered a thousand difficulties with her father in the past, but he’d never just disappeared from his own house. It simply wasn’t something he did.

She found herself looking helplessly from William to Mr. Meldrin. “I don’t know what to do.”

Mr. Meldrin gave her arm a comforting squeeze. “We’ll find him, Patience. Lord Hartwell has offered whatever assistance is needed. But the staff and stables are overrun at present. It will take a bit of doing to ready the horses and bring them round.”

She felt herself nod. “Yes, all right.”

“I’ll see what I can do to hurry things along.”

“Thank you.”

She only half heard Mr. Meldrin leave with Virginia, and was only distantly aware that William continued to issue orders to the staff that came in and out of the room. But it was impossible not to notice when he stepped in front of her to tilt her chin up with his hand.

“Now, would you like to tell me why I’m about to head off in the dead of a winter’s night to search for a grown man?”

She dearly wished the question was rhetorical. It would be so much easier to answer truthfully if that were the case.
No. No, I would not like to tell you
. Instead, she pushed past the dizziness and fear and said in a voice so small she hardly recognized it as her own, “He’s mad. My father is mad.”

To her amazement, he nodded once and lifted a hand to brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Is he a danger?”

“What?
No
.” She shook her head adamantly, then rather wished she hadn’t. It made the room spin unpleasantly. “No, he’s perfectly harmless. He is, I swear it. He’s just. . .he’s unable to take proper care of himself. He. . .Why aren’t you shocked?”

“I had a discussion with Mr. Seager.”

“You knew?” He’d known and still come for her? A pressure built behind her eyes. She tried to push it away. What good
could possibly come from falling apart now? But the harder she grasped at control, the quicker it slipped away.

“I’m sorry.” She felt the first tears spill over. “I’m sorry.”

His strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her against the warmth of his chest. “It’s all right.” His hand stroked down her hair, across her back. “Darling, don’t. Don’t cry. We’ll find him.”

“That’s not. . .” Well, yes, it was a very large part of why she was crying, it just wasn’t the only part. “You’re not angry. You should be angry.”

He pulled back a little and used the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear. “Why should I be angry?”

“For not telling you.” She hiccupped and swallowed back a new round of tears. “About my father.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “I’d rather you had, to be honest. It could have saved us weeks of torment.”

“I--”

“We can discuss it later. For now, we’ll concentrate on finding your father.” He tipped her chin up with his finger. “All right?”

She took a shuddering breath and nodded.

He stroked her hair once more before stepping back. “It’s nearly Christmas. Where might he think to go this time of year?”

“Nowhere.” She wiped away the remainder of her tears. “He doesn’t like Christmas. He’s never wanted to celebrate it before. Not even when mother was alive.”

“Your mother,” he said thoughtfully. “Would he go somewhere that holds memories of her? Your childhood home?”

“No, I don’t think so. It was not a love match. He took little interest in her, I think. In us. In everything but his work.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “He wasn’t unkind just. . . distracted.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know where he’d go. I don’t know
him
. Not the man he was, or the man he is now. I know he’s changed. He never cared for company before, and now he can’t abide being isolated. He wants parties and attention. He gave me a birthday present last month, a book of his. I could scarcely believe it.”

If she hadn’t been working herself into a rant, she might not have missed his startled expression, or heard the wince in his voice. “Birthday?”

“It’s in June, but that’s not the point. He’s never given me a present before. He’s never remembered my birthday. The
week before that, he handed me an old fob and told me to pay the butcher.” She threw up her hands. “Do you know what I would have given for him to take an interest in our finances two years ago? He paid no heed to the limits of his income. He spent every penny on his workshop. I had to sell off our lives in bits and pieces just to put food on the table, and then resort to accepting charity from old friends. And suddenly, years too late, he’s willing to sacrifice his precious science?”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not. I’m. . .” She trailed off, noticing for the first time that there were tears burning at the backs of her eyes again. “I am. I hadn’t realized.”

“You’ve a right, if you were struggling and he refused to help.”

“No. No, he’d just forget. I’d explain that we couldn’t afford some new bit of equipment and he’d agree. And then he’d forget. He was always forgetting. Perhaps. . .” She blew out a long breath. “Perhaps he’s always been a little mad, and I hadn’t wanted to see it.”

He wasn’t given a chance to respond. A maid appeared at the door. “My lord, the horses are ready.”

Already exhausted, she followed William from the room and found Mr. Meldrin and several grooms waiting at a side door to the house.

“Take the east and west roads,” William instructed two of the grooms as they stepped out into the night air. “Mr. Meldrin, if you’ll go south, I’ll search north. Any sign of--”

“Beggin’ pardon, milord,” one of the grooms interrupted. He pointed into the darkness. “Rider coming.”

Patience squinted into the darkness and saw the dark figure galloping toward them.

“Another messenger?” Someone ventured.

It wasn’t another messenger. Patience’s breath quickened. Even with distance and darkness between them, she knew her father.

“Papa!”

She raced forward and had hold of the horse’s reins the moment her father reached her. “Papa, are you well? Are you hurt?”