Page 98 of Duke of Rath

The temptation to unleash his wrath upon his so-called friends grew with each glib remark, and he jabbed the bag again.

Enveigh sighed, his gaze distant. “We all bear our crosses, Dorian. Some truths are better left buried, lest they poison what happiness we have found.”

The words hung heavy in the air, each man reflecting on his own sins and shortcomings. For Dorian, the weight of his past pressed upon him like a physical burden.

He stepped back from the punching bag, chest heaving. The fear of losing Patience warred with the gnawing guilt that ate at his soul. How could their love flourish when built upon a foundation of deceit?

Yet the thought of witnessing the light fade from her eyes, of seeing her recoil from him in horror and revulsion, was a fate more terrible than he could bear.

Dorian turned to his companions, jaw set in grim determination. “I shall keep my own counsel on this matter. But mark my words, gentlemen. Our sins have a way of finding us out, no matter how deep we bury them.”

With that, he strode from the room, leaving behind an uneasy silence and the echoes of his own troubled heart.

35

One week later, Patience walked into the soirée hall of Burlington House in Mayfair. Her hand was hooked through Dorian’s bent arm, and her breath caught like she was on fire. Chastity walked right next to her. Lady Buchanan was on Dorian’s other side.

Patience couldn’t feel the floor under her feet and appreciated Dorian’s strong arm supporting her.

The room before her was alight with candles, their reflections sparkling from gilded frames and mirrors. High ceilings were decorated with intricate frescoes, and glittering chandeliers cast a warm glow over the assembled crowd. There were at least fifty men there, with only one or two women. Some scientists were older, distinguished-looking gentlemen with graying hair and neatly trimmed beards while others were younger, with eager, bright-eyed faces.

“I am so proud of you, darling,” murmured Lady Buchanan. “Goodness knows, this kind of recognition for a woman was simply impossible in my time.”

Patience exhaled shakily. “I think I’m dreaming. And your support means so much to me. Dorian, Chastity, and you, Aunt, are my new family.”

Chastity’s hand squeezed around Patience’s. “You deserve everything, sister.”

Dorian leaned over and murmured, “Enjoy this, sweet girl.”

The master of ceremonies announced, “The Duke and Duchess of Rath. Lady Buchanan. Lady Chastity Perrin.”

A man in his fifties in a white powdered wig hurried towards them and gave a polite bow to Dorian, then to Patience, and to Chastity and Lady Buchanan.

Applause exploded through the crowd of men, and Patience felt like she was flying. To receive so much recognition and appreciation from the society that had very rarely accepted female contributions and had no female members at all, at her age… She simply couldn’t believe this was real. A warm glow suffused her chest. She was seen, respected, appreciated.

Was this really her life? A man she loved was her husband. Her passion in life, her work, was being honored by real scientists. Would she at any moment wake up back in Rose Cottage?

“You’re so very welcome, Duchess!” he exclaimed. “Duke, Lady Buchanan, and Lady Chastity, as well, of course! Sir James Edward Smith, at your service.” He looked at Patience with great enthusiasm shining through his gray eyes. “I believe I had the honor of corresponding with you, Duchess.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Patience, breathless, giving Sir Smith her biggest smile. “I’m very honored my paper was accepted and I’m very honored by this soirée.”

“We all are eager to discuss your paper!” Sir Smith assured her. “Please, do come in.”

As the three of them walked farther into the room, Dorian leaned to her and whispered, “I couldn’t be more proud, love.”

The glow in her heart got warmer. “Pinch me, Dorian,” she whispered back. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“It is.” He squeezed her hand, and his reassurance allowed her to feel the ground under her feet again.

Sir Smith introduced her to several scientists, including Mr. Jay Essop, the other scientist with whom she had corresponded.

“And this is Sir Bertram,” said Sir Smith, nodding to a man in his early thirties with a red face, who stared at Patience and at Dorian with a strangely burning gaze. “Sir Bertram was especially eager to meet you, given he knew your brother… Do I remember that right, Sir Bertram?”

A jolt shot through Patience. Why was he staring at her in that way, as if with some special meaning? Good God, did he by any chance know of John’s assault on the barmaid and any other sins her brother had committed?

Dorian became as rigid as a log by her side. He rubbed his gloved hand so hard Patience ached to put her hand into his to calm him down. But she couldn’t do so openly in public.

“Indeed. You were Miss Patience Rose, am I right?”