So instead, he stood there. Frozen. His hands on her arms as his mind raced to figure out what was going on here and what to make of this pull his felt, and the answering tug of fear that said to walk away.
His entire being torn between pulling her close and pushing her away.
He never did get to decide.
Her aunt made the decision for him.
“Here she is,” she announced loudly as she threw open the doors. She stopped short at the sight of them alone, standing so close it was nearly an embrace, his hands on her arms…
He dropped them just as her gaze fell to take in the odd proximity.
“What is going on here?” she hissed, but her fierce glare faded, replaced by something more frightening. Something he’d never once seen before.
A smile.
It looked foreign and painful, and it frightened him more than her scowls and glares ever could. “Ah, Lord Damian,” she said, her voice scratchy as if it was resisting this sweet tone.
He glanced at Pru who looked equally confused...and terrified.
“I was just telling our guests about you.” She stepped aside, revealing an audience who’d no doubt seen their closeness, not to mention the fact that they were alone.
He swallowed down a protective urge to shove Prudence behind him, away from the scrutiny of her aunt and these two gentlemen he did not recognize.
“Allow me to introduce you to Sir William and his nephew, Mr. Benedict.”
The names took a moment to register and as he went through the proper motions, he saw the change in Prudence. He couldn’t not notice her, it seemed. Even while taking in the not-unattractive but not exactly handsome Mr. Benedict before him, he was acutely aware of Prudence. Her posture, her stiffness, the way she’d retreated back to her old self.
The one that wasn’t really her at all.
He knew that now.
But did anyone else?
11
Prudence glanced down the dining hall toward Mr. Benedict. He wasn’t awful, so that was something. She toyed with her spoon as a new course was laid before her, trying and failing to keep her gaze from darting over to the man who might possibly be her husband someday.
After an excruciatingly proper and awkward introduction, they had all retreated inside. It seemed there had been a miscommunication along the way. They’d long since intended to arrive today, and she was the only one who’d been unaware of the change in plans.
I was supposed to have another week! That was what kept rushing through her head all afternoon as she watched her husband-to-be and his uncle be escorted to their rooms, and then as she watched far more warily as Damian asked for a moment alone with her great aunt.
Let me deal with her. That was what he’d been saying all day, and now he had and she had no idea what he’d said or how her aunt had taken it.
She turned her gaze down toward the soup before her and wondered how on earth she was going to get through this meal without screaming.
First Damian and her aunt locked in a room together and then hushed conversations with her aunt and their guests.
And now this.
A tense meal at which everyone but her was allowed to speak.
She had the feeling that her life was happening without her. Her aunt, these gentlemen—even Damian—they were all planning and plotting her life as though she were a doll.
Aren’t you, though? Once again it was Louisa in her head.
She scowled at her soup. Why was it always Louisa taunting her. Not mean-spiritedly, just in that way that Louisa had of teasing. Always calling everyone out for their foibles and their facades.
Rather like Damian, come to think of it.
Prudence dipped her spoon into the soup and tried to take a sip, though the rich creamy texture turned her already queasy stomach.
Oddly enough, she missed Louisa right now. Though she might tease, she’d also break this unbearable tension if she were here. And Addie, if she were here, would be casting Prudence supportive, furtive smiles filled with sympathy and understanding. Miss Grayson—oh, her heart ached to think of how the ever-maternal and kind Miss Grayson would make her feel as though all would be well if she were here.
But it was Delilah she missed most of all. Dee would know what to do. She never took a back seat to her own life. Even now she was probably working with her dashing fiancé to orchestrate some sort of plan to take control of her father’s estate and get vengeance on her stepmother who’d wronged her.
She certainly wouldn’t be sipping soup in silence as the people around her planned the rest of her life.
Prudence dropped her soup spoon with a clatter. Not entirely on purpose, but it still served to break the unceasing silence that was fraught with tension. For her, at least.
All eyes were on her and her mouth went dry. Her aunt’s withering stare, in particular, seemed to be boring a hole into her skull. “Mr Benedict, I trust your sister is well,” she said.
She had no reason to believe his sister was well or otherwise. She’d only met the woman once and had barely exchanged three words. But it was the best she could come up with at the moment.
“Oh yes, quite well.”
Sir William launched into speech then and Prudence was finally able to relax a bit as he filled the air with boring talk of their other relations. His nephew, meanwhile, watched her with an intensity that was alarming.
“Isn’t it odd that Lord Damian has taken to tutoring young ladies in music?” he mused as another silence descended.
Prudence tensed even though his tone was as mild as his expression. He hardly seemed put out by the fact that his potential bride had been caught alone with a known rake.
That was...good, she supposed. It wouldn’t do to have a jealous hothead for a husband. Not that he had anything to be jealous about.
Damian might have been exceedingly handsome and extraordinarily dashing, particularly when compared to the plain, one might say bland-looking Mr. Benedict, but no one in his right mind would believe that he was interested in her. Not as anything more than a student, at least.
Aunt Eleanor’s laughter was jarring. “You know how eccentric these young lads can be. Always wanting to make a name for themselves.”
Mr. Benedict’s sniff seemed to indicate that he did indeed understand. Or perhaps he was merely coming down with a cold. Either way, the sniff rubbed Prudence the wrong way.
“But you know,” Aunt Eleanor continued. “Lord Damian is quite in demand as a tutor. He only takes on special cases.” She flicked a damning gaze in Prudence’s direction. “Those who deserve extra attention.”
“Ah.” His face lit with pleasure as he turned to Prudence. “You take your studies seriously then, that is good to hear.”
“Mmm,” she murmured. “Quite.”
“You have a special interest in music, I take it?” Mr. Benedict looked so eager at this news she was stumped as to how to answer.
“I, er…” Her mind flashed back to her lesson this morning, the way Damian’s face seemed to glow with happiness as he talked about music. “I believe music can be quite powerful.”
She expected this man who apparently so revered music to agree, but to her surprise he tipped his head from side to side. “Personally, I find music to be a silly and frivolous waste of one’s time. But for a young lady it’s a necessity, I assume.”
Her brows arched and she had to resist the urge to shoot Aunt Eleanor with a questioning look. She’d made it seem as though Mr. Benedict held a woman’s ability to play the pianoforte above all else.
She ought to have known that her aunt was exaggerating. By the sounds of it, this man was more sensible than she’d given him credit. “My best subject has always been mathematics,” she offered.
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he laughed, exchanging an amused look with his uncle. “Mathematics? Whatever will you use that for?”
She straightened, ready to reply, but her aunt spoke first. “Young ladies are often encou
raged to learn their numbers and figures. It’s highly useful when managing a household, I assure you.”
Prudence stared at her aunt with an open mouth. Had Aunt Eleanor just...stood up for her?
But Aunt Eleanor chose that moment to shoot her a glare that made her insides wither. Prudence had spoken out of turn, that glare seemed to say. And now her aunt was doing her best to fix the situation.
“Is that what they’re teaching young girls at these finishing schools nowadays?” Mr. Benedict asked with a sneer that made Prudence squirm in her seat.
Aunt Eleanor merely took a sip of her soup.
“All a young lady needs to know to run a household is how to add two plus two, isn’t that right, Sir William?”
His uncle laughed heartily. Aunt Eleanor did not.
“What else are they teaching Miss Pottermouth at that school of hers?” Sir William asked.
“Never fear, gentlemen. The ladies who run the school have their priorities in order,” she said with a sniff. “Why, several of the girls there have recently become engaged. Isn’t that right, Prudence?”
“Yes, Aunt Eleanor,” she murmured dutifully.
Her aunt rattled off the engagements, which sounded impressive indeed. An earl. A marquess. The second son of a duke.
Prudence had to fight to keep her posture straight as she listened to her friends’ epic romances reduced to a list of titles and connections.
It wasn’t as though she were jealous. She wasn’t. Aside from her great aunt, her connections were not so very great. And being the daughter of a scandal hardly helped her situation. She’d never had hopes for a great marriage or even dreamt of a title.
She glanced over at Mr. Benedict who was clearly impressed with her friends and their newfound status.
No, she was absolutely content to marry a wealthy merchant. It was the best she could hope for and she knew it.
Mr. Benedict turned to her. “My, you are quite well connected, aren’t you?”
Her smile felt wan. “I suppose I am.”
“Now you are being modest, dear.” Her great aunt’s voice was grating in its falseness. “Why, just this afternoon Lord Damian assured me that he and his uncle would be joining us for a music recital so we can all hear how well his lessons have been working.”
“The Marquess of Ainsley will be joining us?” Sir William’s eyes were wide with shock. He and Mr. Benedict both looked suitably impressed.
Her aunt’s gaze was fixed on her and Prudence was certain she’d seen her start.
Recital? Tomorrow?
And Damian would be there? She couldn’t even bring herself to think about the marquess or her potential husband, not now when pieces were falling into place.
So that was how he’d handled her aunt. With a bribe. He’d no doubt used his position and his uncle’s to ensure that her aunt was appeased.
Prudence toyed with her spoon. She wasn’t certain whether to be amused, impressed, or annoyed. Was that how he handled all situations? How many times had he been caught alone with a student and talked his way out of it by using his uncle’s status?
“Miss Pottermouth, is everything all right?” Mr. Benedict asked.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She smiled brightly, as if that would make it true. Meanwhile her insides were twisting and churning and she could not be sure whether it was at the idea of performing or the thought of Damian with other young ladies.
“Well, I for one am looking forward to hearing this performance tomorrow evening,” Mr. Benedict said with a smile in her direction that felt so patronizing it bordered on insulting. “I may find music and the arts a frivolous pastime but having a wife who can entertain clients and colleagues in the drawing room is a fact of life for a man like me.” As he said this, he puffed his chest out to a magnificent degree.
Prudence felt the words like a blow. No, it was his tone. So sanctimonious. So smug. So...so…so similar to her own.
Was that how she sounded?
The air rushed out of her lungs as she thought back to all the times Louisa had used those very same words to describe her.
She’d always been so sure of herself. So confident in her skills—well, all except one. She’d always known that she worked hard to be the perfect wife, that she did her very best to be the perfect niece her aunt expected.
And right here, right now, it all seemed to be for naught. Because she hadn’t mastered the one skill that mattered most to this man.
After dinner, her aunt cornered her alone. “Do not think for one second that you are excused for the way you behaved earlier,” she snarled when Mr. Benedict and Sir William were out of earshot.
“P-pardon?”
Her aunt’s expression was hard, her tone unyielding. “Your behavior was a disgrace,” she hissed. “Taking Lord Damian off alone like that. Throwing yourself at him like some sort of—”
“I did not—”
“Do not interrupt me, girl.” She took a step closer and lowered her voice. “Do you think you can do better than Mr. Benedict, is that it? You, the daughter of a scandal? Do you think that just because you are distantly related to a peer you have a right to that status yourself?”
“N-no, Aunt—”
“Lord Damian can do better than a girl like you, and if you have your sights on the marquess, then let me tell you—”
“I don’t have my sights on anyone.” She said it too loudly and she and her aunt both paused to glance over at the gentlemen.
“Keep your voice down and don’t cause me any more problems.” Her aunt was already fixing a frightening smile on her face as she turned back toward the others. “And you’d better prove Lord Damian correct tomorrow evening.”
“Prove him correct? W-what did he say?”
Aunt Eleanor’s smile faded with a sniff of disdain. “He said you were perfect. Ha!” She let out a bark of laughter that held no humor, only insult. “Can you imagine?”
“He said that…?” Her voice trailed off because it was quickly becoming clear that she was talking to herself. Her aunt had already set off to give orders to the staff and Prudence was left to stand there and wonder.
Just what exactly had Damian said to her aunt earlier today?
12
Uncle Edward rubbed at his temples as early afternoon light filtered in through the study’s open window. The autumn air was crisp and refreshing, but it did not seem to be helping his uncle’s headache. “And you two were alone?”
Damian winced. He had a suspicion that he was responsible for this particular headache. No matter how he phrased it, his uncle kept coming back to that one point. “As I said before, we’d had a chaperone but she’d taken the carriage back and—”
“And you were alone,” his uncle finished.
Damian sighed. He wasn’t sure why he was still trying. Possibly because he didn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression. Not about Pru, at least.
Guilt nagged at him, and something else, too. Something far more elusive and way more terrifying. He’d been so close to Prudence, and when her aunt and those others came outside, nothing had been going on between them, but…
He’d wanted to kiss her.
He’d thought about it.
Oh, who was he trying to fool? If he’d been out there alone with her for one second longer, he would have kissed her. There was no doubt about it, and there was certainly no thinking involved.
How could he not kiss her when she was looking at him like that? Like it was just the two of them. Like they were a team, on the same side, like she might actually need him and his help. Like he had something to offer.
Uncle Edward rubbed his eyes. “You need to be more careful, Damian.”
“I know, I know. But it was my fault, not hers. And the only way I could make it right—”
“Was to offer me up as a sacrifice at some poor girl’s music recital?” His uncle looked pained.
Damian winced again. “Well, when you phrase it like that…”
His uncl
e gave a short laugh but it trailed off as his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Damian was starting to be very familiar with that look. “This isn’t another one of your attempts to find me a new wife, now is it?”
Damian did his best impersonation of a man offended. “I would never.”
His uncle raised a brow.
“I would never...so soon after my last attempt,” he amended, making them both grin.
Edward shook his head. “You’re the only person I know who wants to run from the peerage.”
“I’m the only person you know. Period.” He heaved a weary sigh that sounded remarkably similar to his uncle’s. “You’re so mired down in work and obligations, you never meet anyone new. Perhaps there is a wonderful young lady out there who is perfect for you—”
“Damian,” his uncle growled in warning.
Damian sighed again, this time in exasperation. His uncle had always been tight lipped about his first marriage, which ended when his wife died shortly before Damian was brought to live with his uncle. All he knew for certain was that his uncle wasn’t keen on trying again, even if that meant the title passed on to him—the notorious half-gypsy nephew who had no desire to take on the role.
But, that was a battle for another day. For right now, all that mattered was making good on his promise to the Dowager Demon to ensure his uncle was in attendance this evening. Otherwise, he hated to think what sort of trouble Prudence would be in with the old bat.
Only talk of his powerful uncle and his slightly exaggerated interest in Prudence had smoothed over her obvious anger at their impropriety.
“You will come, Uncle, won’t you?” He leaned forward eagerly and watched as his uncle relented right in front of his eyes.
“Fine. What better way to spend an evening than listening to a novice musician perform?”
He ignored his uncle’s sarcasm, rising to leave the room before he could change his mind. Damian hadn’t gone far when he was stopped by a servant with a missive addressed to him.
The flare of joy that shot through him at the sight of Pru’s name scrawled across the bottom was alarming. At what point had he become so enamored with the goody-two-shoes from the neighboring estate?
The Misgivings About Miss Prudence: A Sweet Regency Romance (School of Charm Book 4) Page 9
