The Misgivings About Miss Prudence: A Sweet Regency Romance (School of Charm Book 4)

by Maggie Dallen

  She arched her brows. “You think not? If music were a person, she would be my worst nemesis.”

  “She, eh?” He moved closer and for a moment she thought he would try that trick again, pulling her into his arms to listen to some inaudible music. Her heart kicked in her chest but she couldn’t quite tell if it was excitement or anxiety at the thought.

  “Perhaps that is your problem,” he continued.

  “I do not have a problem.” She did. She very clearly did. But a gentleman would not point it out.

  “You do have a problem,” he said. “And your problem is with music. I’d say you view music like some extension of your aunt.

  She wrinkled her nose.

  “Think about it.” His voice was insistent and when he reached a hand out to cover her eyes she instinctively pulled back. But he went with her, covering her eyes with his hand. “Picture music.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Just do it, Pru.”

  She sighed loudly, letting all the world know how silly this was, but she did it. She tried to imagine what music would look like as a person.

  Her nose crinkled up again as the image came into focus. Oh dear. It did look startlingly similar to her great aunt.

  He dropped his hand and when she opened her eyes he looked extraordinarily pleased with himself. “Well?”

  She pursed her lips before giving in. “Fine. Music is a woman.”

  “And?”

  She rolled her eyes. “And she resembles my aunt.”

  He nodded, flashing her that wicked lopsided grin that she knew for certain made young ladies of the ton swoon.

  Not her, of course. Other ladies.

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You should think of music as a man.”

  She blinked. “A gentleman?”

  “A lover.”

  Her gasp was so loud it startled the birds from the trees and she knew without a doubt that her aunt’s spy was watching her like a hawk. With that in mind she took a deep breath and fixed him with a glare. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

  “Why not?” His tone was as smug as his smile. “It is the truth.” He moved, circling her until he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “If I recall, once upon a time you were well able to open your mouth and sing a melody. So what changed?”

  Her brows went up. Honestly? What had changed? He knew very well what had changed. “It was no longer for fun. Learning to sing became a part of...lessons.”

  Even she could hear the dread in her voice with that word. Lessons were the bane of her existence. Until Miss Grayson’s, that was, but there Miss Grayson had shown such leniency that her aunt wasn’t totally wrong.

  Her instruction had been lacking when it came to music because Miss Grayson hadn’t had the heart to enforce it.

  His hands on her shoulders were heavy. Warm. They were...calming. And also not at all calming. How he managed to put her muscles at ease while making her heart race was beyond her.

  He shifted her slightly so the chaperone was out of her view, so all she could see was the thicket of trees before her and all she could hear was the sound of laughter and music and children shouting from the fair.

  “The only way you can sing is if you relax,” he said. His hands moved on her shoulders, massaging the knots there as she tried valiantly not to worry about what the chaperone was thinking, what her aunt would say if she heard.

  She jerked away from his touch so quickly she stumbled forward. “I, uh...I cannot relax.”

  The minute the words were out, she knew how silly they sounded. His smile when she turned to face him was split between understanding and amusement. He glanced over toward the chaperone and turned back with a smile that made her feel like perhaps for once they were on the same side. That maybe they were in on the same joke.

  “Perhaps it’s time to head back,” he said.

  Was she imagining it or did he look as though he disliked the idea as much as she?

  “We haven’t done any sort of lessons,” she felt compelled to point out.

  He grinned as he helped her over a fallen branch. “Still, we accomplished what I set out to do.”

  “And what was that?”

  His grin was wicked and filled with laughter as he shot a sidelong glance toward the chaperone to ascertain she wasn’t close enough to hear. “Steal you away from the evil witch.”

  Prudence opened her mouth to chide him. He really oughtn’t say such things.

  But what came out...was a laugh.

  8

  The sound of Pru’s laughter was nice. Melodic and sweet and...lovely.

  Now if only he could get her to sing, he had no doubt her voice would be just as sweet. Untrained, of course, and far from perfect. But perfect was overrated, particularly when it came to music.

  That was the one lesson he wished to get across to Pru and he wasn’t sure how, not after a lifetime of hearing that her very happiness and the course of her life would be determined by whether or not she could achieve perfection.

  “Shall we walk back?” he asked on impulse as they reached the carriage.

  Pru looked surprised for only a moment before she nodded. “Oh, but Mrs. Hawkins.”

  He arched his brows. “Who?”

  The chaperone a few paces behind him cleared her throat.

  Pru lowered her voice. “I am not certain she is fit to walk such a distance.”

  “Ah,” he said. What he meant was, perfect. “Then by all means, Mrs. Hawkins shall ride in the carriage—”

  He saw the older woman open her mouth to protest but he was already turning to the driver. “You wouldn’t mind riding slowly, would you, so as to keep Miss Pottermouth and I in view?”

  “Of course not, my lord.”

  “There you have it,” he said, already ushering Mrs. Hawkins toward the carriage as Prudence looked on with a look of alarm.

  “Truly?” she asked once they were underway.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you trying to get me killed?” she hissed.

  It was official. He absolutely despised the fear he saw in her eyes.

  “I told you, Pru.” He met her gaze evenly. “I will deal with your aunt.”

  He’d never been a terribly protective sort. But then again, he’d never had much need to be. He had no younger siblings, no damsels in distress who would turn to him for aid. He eyed Prudence now…

  Not that she qualified as a damsel in distress.

  But somehow her strength and her forceful demeanor made him want to protect her that much more. He frowned at the ground as he tried to figure out why that was.

  “Don’t you go getting all grim on me,” Prudence murmured beside him.

  His head came up with a snap. “Excuse me?”

  Her lips twitched upward. “Where will we be if we’re both too serious?”

  He laughed. “Who said you’re too serious?”

  She shrugged and he found he couldn’t look away from the small smile that hovered on her lips as if she’d forgotten it was there. “My best friend, Delilah. My other friends, Louisa and Addie…”

  She looked over and caught his surprise before he could hide it. “Yes, Damian, I do have friends,” she said with a roll of her eyes that made him laugh.

  “Of course you do,” he said.

  “Don’t be condescending,” she said. “If a rakish rogue such as yourself can have some friends then surely a too-serious, sanctimonious goody-two-shoes like me can as well.”

  He gasped and threw a hand over his heart, feigning shock. “Whoever called you such names?”

  She glanced over at him and they both burst out in a laugh that seemed to ease some of the heaviness that had been weighing on him ever since he’d seen that flicker of fear.

  “Tell me honestly, Damian,” she said after they’d walked in companionable silence for a few moments. “Do you truly think you can make me decent enough of a pianist to be able to perform for my husband-to-be and his
family next week without humiliating myself?”

  “No,” he said promptly. Her face fell and he nudged her lightly. “You will be able to sing, however.”

  She widened her eyes. “You haven’t even heard me sing.”

  “I know you can carry a tune. I can work with that.”

  She eyed him oddly. “You have a lot of confidence in your abilities.”

  He shrugged. “Haven’t you ever found something you’re particularly good at?”

  She tilted her head to the side in thought before nodding. He itched to ask what it was, to hear her talk about her accomplishments and her skills. But right now she needed his reassurance, and that he could give. “Well then, rest assured that my talents lie in music.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off.

  “I realized that while I enjoy making music, I enjoy bringing it out in others even more.”

  “Bringing it out,” she repeated quietly. “That’s an odd way of putting it.”

  “It’s how I see it,” he said. “Everyone has music in them. Like I said the other day. It’s everywhere, all the time. It’s in us.” He clamped his mouth shut before he could say much more. Already he felt ridiculous for being so passionate about the topic, but these past two years he’d stopped trying to fight the pull toward this particular obsession.

  Unlike drinking and gambling, his passion for music caused himself and others no harm. It was now his one vice, his only freedom in a life where words like obligation and duty were slowly starting to wear away at his soul.

  “How did you become so interested in music?” she asked.

  He hesitated, scuffing at the dirt beneath their feet. The farther they got from the center of town, the less crowded the road. It was almost possible to forget their escort which rode slowly behind them. For a moment he could actually pretend they were alone. Maybe that was why he let the truth slip out. “It is all I have left of my parents.”

  At her silence he continued, his gaze fixed on his feet. “My earliest memories were of singing, of dancing, of playing music that made the entire household rattle.” A smile tugged at his lips at the memory.

  “That must have been a wonderful house to be a child,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  He nodded. “It was. Although it wasn’t all perfect. I’m sure you’ve heard about how my father ran off with a gypsy woman.”

  She blinked in surprise at his candor, and he grinned. “It’s all right. What’s a few secrets between friends, hmm?”

  “Is that what we are?” she asked.

  His smile faltered when he looked at her. “Aren’t we?”

  She didn’t answer, and he was glad. Because now that the question was out there, he wasn’t certain how he wished her to answer. Were they friends?

  He wasn’t certain what he felt toward her counted as friendship. But it wasn’t the same antagonistic rivalry from their youth either. Whatever this was he was starting to feel for her, it was strong and it was sweet and it was….terrifying.

  He looked away quickly, afraid of what she might be seeing in his expression.

  “Tell me more,” she said. “What was not so perfect about your childhood home?”

  “The whispers. The gossip.” He shrugged. “I knew from the time I could walk that we did not fit in, not the way we ought. My parents never tried to shield me from it. They did not revel in being a scandal, and I know that it caused quite a bit of pain, particularly for my mother. But they cared more about each other, more about our family, than they cared about what society thought.” He swallowed down a wave of emotions as old memories came to light. “I think they would have been content to live as outcasts for the rest of their lives, which…” He scratched the back of his head self-consciously as he finished. “I suppose they did.”

  Silence fell and it felt too heavy for such a fine day.

  “Anyhow,” he continued in a lighter tone. “Music was the one thing I brought with me from home and I suppose I never wanted to let it go. I suppose that sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

  Her voice was soft, sad. “It sounds lovely.”

  He glanced up at her and caught it. A rare glimpse of vulnerability. His heart jerked in his chest and his lungs seized, and the truth was out before he could stop it. “You are lovely.”

  She blinked, her eyes widening as his words registered. Blushing, she looked down. “Thank you, but you needn’t say things like that.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that it was the truth, but she was already walking ahead. They’d reached the drive leading to her aunt’s formidable manor and they slowed as the carriage rolled past them to the front door.

  “Let us go around this way,” he said.

  She arched a knowing brow. “Trying to avoid my aunt?”

  He laughed. “Something like that.”

  The truth was, he wanted just a few more moments alone with her like this. Moments when she was relaxed and defenseless, when her guard was down and her spirits were up.

  Moments when she was herself. Not trying to be some perfect version of herself and live up to anyone else’s expectations. All at once he had a surge of gratitude toward his parents and his uncle. He might have known grief, and he understood better than most how it felt to be on the outside looking in, but in his home he had always been treated with love, despite his imperfections.

  He’d been seen for who he was, not who he was expected to be.

  “It is a shame you won’t be able to continue with your music tutoring.” Prudence’s words brought him back to the moment.

  “What do you mean?”

  She arched a brow. “It is exceptional as it is that your uncle allows you to pursue this hobby of yours,” she said. “But when you become the Marquess of—”

  “Who says that I will?” He’d meant it to sound light and teasing, but it fell flat. Instead, he merely sounded defensive. “Who says that I wish to be?”

  She stared at him in surprise as they rounded the far side of the house toward the glass doors of the music room. “I know you’ve hinted at it before, but I thought you were teasing. You can’t mean that…” She stopped and stared. “You truly do not wish to become the next Marquess of Ainsley?”

  He opened his mouth, ready to give one of the pat answers he was used to throwing out there when the topic of his status came up. But one look at her genuine curiosity and the quip died in his throat. “No,” he said simply.

  “No?” Her eyes grew so wide it looked painful. “But...everyone wants power, wealth, and status.”

  “Yes, but you see, what everyone else wants has no bearing on my own wishes for my future. And I have no wish to be Marquess.”

  “But why not?” she asked, still gaping adorably.

  He grinned at the rare sight of her not knowing everything about everything. “Why would I want that? I already told you that I was born an outsider, raised an outsider. The peerage and the gentry never had a use for me before my father died, why should I wish to join their ranks now?”

  She opened her mouth and then shut it as they continued walking. Finally, she huffed as they neared the doors, pausing to face him. “That seems like an odd sort of logic. Don’t you wish to throw their disdain in their faces by becoming a powerful member of society?”

  He frowned as he thought it over. “Not particularly.”

  This seemed to vex her, which amused him. “But why not?”

  “Because what would that change? What they think of me will likely never alter. And I don’t particularly care what they think of me anyway.” He tossed his hands in the air. “My parents taught me well that what other people say and do doesn’t matter as much as our own compass.”

  “A compass?” she echoed.

  “Yes. Doing what we feel is right. Following our intuition, our instincts…” He hesitated for a moment. “Our hearts.”

  “Well, that…” She bit her lip, her gaze darting left and right as she seemed to chase her thoug
hts. “That’s very romantic.”

  He laughed. Was it? He didn’t think so. But even so… “How do you manage to make romantic sound like a curse word?”

  Her lips twitched up as she shrugged. “Just as I know about your family scandal, I’m certain you know of mine.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “So you see, romance for me is not something I particularly admire.” She sniffed and the priggish girl he knew was back in full force, and the sight of her made him want to laugh and tease until she was either giggling or smacking him.

  Instead, he imitated her with a haughty sniff. “It’s not something I particularly admire. Really, Pru, you sound like your aunt.”

  She choked on a laugh. “I don’t! I merely think romance and love and all that is just an excuse for being selfish.”

  He nodded, his gaze searching hers for more. For something he couldn’t name. “I see. But I, on the other hand, see talk of duty and obligation as just an excuse to avoid being brave.”

  She gasped and jerked back as if he struck her. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

  He thought that over. “Is it?”

  “It is.” She sounded so vehement he thought it best not to argue the point further. While he’d discovered that he truly loved bickering with Pru—possibly more than was sane—he had no wish to mar this day which had started so terribly and ended… Well, perfectly.

  He wondered if she was thinking something similar when she glanced wistfully toward the house. “Are we done with today’s lesson then or...or is there more?”

  He was done. It should be done. But he found he didn’t want this to end.

  Reaching for her hand, he tugged her away from the door and toward the gardens. “My dear, we have only just begun.”

  9

  Her heart was thumping wildly as she let him lead her away from her home, from her aunt...from her chaperone.

  Prudence never broke the rules. She lived by rules, led her life by the compass of propriety, and prided herself on being everything that her parents were not.

  Dutiful. Obedient. Proper.

  So why on earth was she letting him lead her astray? Why could she not bring herself to dig in her heels or say something biting?