Page 96 of Duke of Rath

Patience’s smile died as the older lady’s gaze dropped to Patience’s stomach.

“That is a good sign, I would say,” Lady Buchanan said softly.

Patience felt Dorian go rigid, and mortification struck her. Her hand clutched around the fabric of her gown. A baby… Dorian didn’t want one…did he? She looked at him, and his gaze was haunted, looking somewhere into space, with a blank and yet terrified expression.

“Grandbabies,” said Lady Buchanan dreamily.

Chastity sighed as she bit into a biscuit and chewed delicately. “Aunt says grandbabies but what she really means are grandnieces or -nephews. She was as close to being our mama as we would ever have, after Papa died, of course. She was not allowed to visit before, but both Dorian and I wrote secret correspondence with her. She even snuck us a couple letters from Mama before our mother died.”

Patience nodded, amazed at yet another layer to this broken family. She ached to hug all three of them and make them feel as loved as she felt with her parents. But they were all together now, and she couldn’t feel more accepted and appreciated by them.

“Forgive me,” said Popwell as he appeared with a tray in his hand. “There is a letter for the duchess.”

Patience took the envelope with her name written in an elegant script on the front. With eager fingers, she broke the seal and unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning the contents. With a trembling voice, she read aloud:

Her Grace, Duchess of Rath,

Rath Hall,

Most Noble Duchess,

It is with great pleasure that we inform you of the acceptance of your paper, “Creation of a Hybrid English Rose,” for publication in the Linnean Society of London’s quarterly journal. Your work shows exceptional insight and scientific rigor, and we believe it will make a significant contribution to the field.

We cordially invite you to attend a soirée at the Society’s headquarters in Burlington House in London on the 8 of May, where your paper will be discussed among our esteemed members. It would be an honor to have you present your findings to our community.

I have the honor to be, Madam,

Your most obedient and humble servant,

Sir James Edward Smith

President, Linnean Society of London

Patience looked up, and her gaze locked with Dorian’s. His eyes were big and shone with pride and happiness.

Her stomach lurched with joy at such wonderful news… But as she pictured the room full of well-educated men, listening to her present her paper, she could just imagine their scorn. How dared she—a woman, whose highest goal should be embroidering a perfect rose—dare to create a new hybrid with a method no one had considered previously? Surely they would look at her with judgment, destroy her with questions…

“You must go, Patience,” Dorian said. “This is everything you worked so hard for.”

It was as though he read her mind. She opened and closed her mouth. She wanted to say yes. She should go. Did the acceptance of her paper not prove that her mind was worthy of recognition, that she needn’t shrink herself to fit society’s suffocating mold for women?

And yet, she was an eighteen-year-old girl who had never gone to university, who had hidden her true passion for years. Should she not hide it now?

“Oh, darling,” said Lady Buchanan. “You must!”

“I see it in your eyes, Patience,” said Chastity, squeezing her hand under the table. “Go for both of us… In fact, I’ll come, too.”

“And I!” declared Lady Buchanan. “I do have a dinner at the Marchioness of Virtoux’s, but I’d rather go and see the faces of all those old farts as you rub their noses in it with your brilliant work.”

Dorian sat straighter, his expression inscrutable. “You must go, sweet girl,” he murmured as he took her hand in his and kissed it. “And I’ll make sure they give you the respect you deserve.”

The purr of his velvety voice made resolve rise up in her. Perhaps it was his doing, the positive side of his wrathfulness, but she felt a vigorous anger stir in her stomach. She squared her shoulders. Her previous self would have cowered and hidden, afraid of conflict.

Not anymore. She was not afraid.

“You’re all correct,” she said. “All the more reason for me to go. To show them that a woman’s intellect is a force to be reckoned with.” Her chin lifted with determination. “I will not be cowed by their prejudice.”

A slow smile curved Dorian’s sensual mouth. “That’s my fearless Patience. You’re right—we’ll go to London. Let them tremble before you.”