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

by Maggie Dallen

  He shoved the question aside for another day because she wanted to see him.

  Alone.

  He raced toward the thicket of trees that divided the property, not even needing exact directions to know where she’d be hiding. It was the fallen log that had played a role in any number of their childish games.

  Well, his games. She’d never wanted to play. She’d been too busy with her lessons or trying and failing to keep her pinafore perfectly crisp and clean.

  Now he knew why, of course, but at the time all he’d wanted to do was make a mess of her starched white fabric and tug her long braids until she lost that fearsome scowl.

  And now… Well, now she’d lost the scowl and he found he wanted it back. He far preferred an angry sanctimonious impossibly prudent Pru to one who cowered in fear.

  When he spotted her, pacing the area between the two trees that formed a sort of gateway between the properties, he was fairly certain his heart stopped. His blood burned in his veins.

  Whatever this was, this new reaction to seeing Prudence, he wasn’t certain he liked it and he had no idea what to do about it.

  “Damian!” She cried out his name so sweetly when she saw him. Almost like she’d missed him. The thought warmed his heart. It also made him realize that he had missed her. Which was ridiculous. He’d seen her less than twenty-four hours before.

  “Damian, what are we to do?” she asked as he drew near.

  He stared down at her for a moment, only now seeing the panic in her eyes. And then it hit him.

  Of course.

  The reality of her situation was only now occurring to her. She couldn’t have spent an evening with that pompous bore and not seen the writing on the wall.

  She wasn’t meant for a man like that. A man like Mr. Benedict would stifle her. He would bring out her worst tendencies and smother the parts of her that made her so deliciously Pru. Her passion, her straightforwardness, her vulnerability and her clever methods of hiding it, her big heart, and her even bigger brain…

  “Damian, are you even listening to me?”

  Her wonderful tendency to sigh as she talked as though she could hardly contain her exasperation for one more moment.

  His lips curved up at the thought. “My apologies, what were you saying? You wish to avoid this engagement, of course, but—”

  “What? No! Of course I don’t want out of the agreement.”

  He found himself gaping like she’d been staring at him. As though she’d just grown a second head. “You don’t?”

  She looked pained at the very idea. “Of course not! Why would you think such a thing?”

  Why? He shifted uncomfortably, watching as the breeze stirred the dark locks near her temple and pressed the too-loose gown against the lovely curves of her body.

  Why indeed?

  She’d never show the slightest interest in abandoning this union, only in making it a certainty. That was what these lessons were all about. He rubbed at his forehead in confusion. At what point had he lost track of that?

  He supposed it was because up until yesterday afternoon her potential husband had been invisible. Unthreatening. Now he was a dark cloud looming overhead, threatening to wreak havoc and impossible to ignore.

  But at this particular moment she seemed less bothered by the doom of her future than by him. Her glare turned fiery. “Are you even listening to me at all?”

  He tugged at his cravat as it hit him with full force. She would marry Mr. Benedict. She wanted to marry that man.

  Had it suddenly grown uncomfortably warm out here? Why was it so beastly hot on an autumn afternoon like this? His insides felt like they might combust. Perhaps something had gone sour in his breakfast because that was the only explanation for this sudden churning in his gut whenever he thought of Prudence and that doughy-faced bore with the blank stare.

  Prudence threw her hands up, her eyes wide. “What are we going to do?”

  “About what?”

  “About me? Performing.” She hissed the word ‘performing’ like it was a scandalous act.

  “What are you worried about? You needn’t play the pianoforte. I’d be happy to accompany you.”

  “You want me to sing?” Her voice went up so high he winced.

  “I take it you do not relish the idea of singing.” He’d aimed for droll but fell short.

  Her answer was a glare. “You had better not be finding this amusing. After all, your reputation as a musical genius is at stake here, remember.”

  “I remember.” He tried not to smile, he truly did. But the way she’d said ‘musical genius’ made it impossible.

  She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You are not allowed to be amused.”

  Without thinking, he placed a hand over hers and held it to him. All at once the atmosphere between them shifted from her bickering exasperation and his answering amusement to something else entirely.

  This ‘something’ seemed to crackle in the air between them and weigh him down like he was moving in the midst of a dense, thick fog.

  “What are you doing?” Her words sounded muted, her lips barely moving.

  He knew this because he couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from those lips.

  So many emotions chasing each other like a dog chasing its tail. There were thoughts and feelings and emotions he’d never once felt before and knew not how to name. There were so many things he wanted to say. But what came out of his mouth was, “You don’t really care if you impress this stuck-up bore, do you?”

  “How do you know he’s a stuck-up bore?” she returned.

  He tugged her closer and she didn’t resist. His heart was pounding, his blood roaring in his ears. “You didn’t deny it.”

  “Because it doesn’t matter if he’s a bore or not.” Her words were even but her breathlessness gave her away. She wasn’t as unmoved by his proximity as her words made it seem. “He is the man I am to wed.”

  “Is that what you wish?” He found himself holding his breath.

  “It is what I’ve been meant for my whole life.”

  “And I’m meant to be a marquess,” he said. “But I do not wish it. So I’m asking you again, do you wish to marry that man who you’ve only just met?”

  She blinked, her brows drawing together as if the question confused her. “I have no other options. If I do not marry him…” She didn’t finish. Jerking her hand away, her eyes flashed, her chin set. Her shoulders straightened with resolve.

  He saw the moment she convinced herself that she had no other option and so she would embrace this one.

  “Pru, you are the one who told me that I could make of my life what I wished. Why should it not be the same for you?”

  She arched her brows. “Do you honestly believe that? With my parentage and the scandal and—”

  “I come from a scandal too, you might recall.”

  Her eyes flashed again, and this time it was with bitter anger. “You think that the fortunes and fate of an heir presumptive to a marquess is the same as that of a scandalous daughter with very few connections and a modest dowry?” She took a step back, irritation clear in her gaze. “Do you honestly think we are the same? That our options are similar?”

  He hated the resignation in her eyes. He hated it even more that she was pulling away from him, crushing the intimacy of this moment. “Pru…” He drew her name out as he moved toward her, unwilling to let her walk away. And once again he knew not what he wished to say. All he knew was that he couldn’t let this moment end without telling her how he felt.

  And how is that?

  He swallowed a thickness in his throat. A painful ache in his chest. He wasn’t sure what this was, but he didn’t want it to end.

  And he certainly couldn’t stand by and watch her marry someone so clearly beneath her in personality and charm and grace and—

  “What are you doing?” she snapped.

  He stopped. He hadn’t realized he’d been following her, stalking her like prey as she backpedaled awa
y from him.

  While he felt like he was drowning in the fierce intensity of these new feelings, she looked like she might scatter into the wind if he touched her wrong. Her whole body seemed to vibrate with tension and for a moment he feared she might shatter. Her eyes were darting this way and that, her feet shuffling backwards.

  He had a horrible feeling she was getting ready to bolt.

  “What if there were other options, what if—”

  Her wide-eyed look temporarily stopped him. Her shock looked horrifyingly similar to...horror.

  Nerves had his mouth going dry. Was he really doing this? Was he honestly suggesting she turn her nose on the life she’d planned? And for what? For him? For a man with a bad reputation, whose prospects for the future were a gamble, at best?

  Was that what he was asking?

  Yes. He reached for her hands and held them tight. Yes, he was.

  “What if there was someone else,” he started, his voice gruffer than he’d ever heard it as the enormity of his emotions overtook him like a tidal wave. His head was reeling. When had this happened? At what point had Prudence gone from being the bane of his existence to the center of it? When had her happiness begun to mean more to him than his own?

  When exactly had he lost all reason and fallen head over heels in love with Pru?

  As his thoughts threatened to run away from him, Pru actually did.

  She tugged her hands out of his grip and stumbled back a few steps. He was shocked to see tears welling in her eyes. The sight of them clawed at his heart.

  “Pru, what I’m trying to say is, there is someone else.”

  She shook her head before he could continue. “This is what my aunt wants—”

  “But what about what you want?” Frustration made his tone harsh and for once he was the one glowering as they faced off. “What about what I want?”

  She shook her head again, quicker this time, her brows drawn together in consternation. “I don’t know...I can’t believe that…” She took a deep breath and seemed to pull herself together through sheer strength. Her chin tilted up in stubborn defiance.

  He’d grown to love that look but right now it made him cold. He knew what she would say before she even said it.

  “It does not matter what I want,” she said. Her back was straight, her lips pinched.

  He took a step toward her but she moved back quickly before turning to rush off toward her home and her aunt and the future that she did not want but would not defy.

  Of course she wouldn’t. This was Pru. Loyal and obedient to a fault.

  Except when she was with him.

  A sharp pain in his chest had him bending over at the waist, resting his hands on his knees. He’d known she wouldn’t let something so silly as emotions cloud her judgement. When it came to making decisions, his Pru would always choose honor and loyalty and duty over her own wants and desires.

  He closed his eyes and let out a huff of air, a humorless laugh. He’d known how this would end even as he’d started to talk. He also knew why. Her parents had made the selfish choice, and she would never make the same mistake.

  It was understandable, just like his experience as a boy living outside of society had made him wary of entering back into the fold. In that sense, they were the same. Each so determined not to repeat their parents’ mistakes.

  Just as he knew what her response would be to any talk of this new connection they shared, he also knew that she would never be happy living the life her aunt had set out for her. But now that begged the question...at what point had he come to know Pru better than she knew herself?

  And more importantly, how could he make her see that her quest to please her aunt was in vain? That no matter how perfectly she acted, no matter how good, how quick, how smart, she would never find the happiness there that she deserved?

  He closed his eyes as he straightened, heading back toward his own home to get ready for the evening to come.

  His heart felt like a dead weight but his mind was clearer now than it ever had been before.

  He loved Prudence Pottermouth. And for better or worse, he was going to make sure she knew it.

  But first…

  A smile tugged at his lips.

  First he would make sure that her performance tonight was a success.

  13

  This night was destined to be a disaster. She would be a failure. The entire idea was ludicrous, and it was all Damian’s fault.

  Prudence paced the small quarters of the music room as the clocked seemed to count down to her certain doom.

  She huffed loudly at the thought. See what he’d done? Damian’s grand plan had her so off kilter she was starting to have the sort of melodramatic thoughts befitting Louisa.

  That would not do.

  She forced herself to sit primly on a settee and take deep, even breaths.

  She would not turn into Louisa. No, sir. No matter what the situation, she had her head on her shoulders and she would survive with her pride and dignity intact.

  She shut her eyes tight at the thought of the horror to come.

  Fine, perhaps she would not survive with her dignity, but she would survive. And whatever the extent of Aunt Eleanor’s wrath, she would survive it. There was no other option.

  What if there were other options? What if there was someone else?

  She clenched her hands into fists and screwed her eyes shut so tightly it hurt. She could not go there. The memory of those few brief moments when he’d touched her...when he’d held her hands and made her believe…

  She gave her head a quick jarring shake. He’d gone crazy, that was the only explanation for the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d held her close.

  And she was just as insane, obviously. Because she’d let him hold her, and when he’d hinted that maybe there could be a future for them, well…

  She stood up abruptly.

  Obviously there could be no such thing. He was the heir to a marquess. He could have any lady he wanted. More importantly, he’d never even liked her and she’d never cared for him, either. She bit her lip. She’d never cared for him...until recently.

  But what he was saying, what he was inferring—it was just Damian being Damian. He was reckless, impulsive. More than that, he was kind.

  She let out a loud exhale as she sank back down into her seat. Her bones suddenly felt like heavy rocks and her whole body seemed to tremble with the weight of this new realization.

  He was kind. Even as a child when he was forever teasing and playing pranks, he’d always been kind. He had a good heart. And she had no doubt it was that kindness that had led to his rash actions earlier.

  Or at least, she’d assumed he was hinting that he was another option.

  She rubbed at her temples as she replayed everything he’d said, every look, every touch…

  Surely that was what he’d meant, but it was best to forget it immediately because he’d been taking pity, maybe even hoping to save the poor fool who’d gone and fallen for him.

  Her groan sounded loud in the vacant room.

  Was that what this was, this muddled mix of emotions? Was this what it meant to have...feelings for someone?

  She clapped a hand over her chest and rubbed where her chest ached. Then she supposed it was no wonder all of her friends had fallen victim. This illness was overwhelming in its attack and brutal with its symptoms.

  At this particular moment she could even understand why her parents had chosen as they had. They’d been in love.

  But they’d also been selfish.

  She opened her eyes slowly this time, letting the room come into focus as she evened her breathing and blocked out the memories that threatened to drown her. Damian dancing with her; Damian being patient and kind no matter how many times she fumbled over the keys; Damian teasing her and making her laugh; Damian looking at her and seeing her and…

  And liking what he saw.

  The realization was so sweet it brought tears to her eyes.

&
nbsp; “There you are.” Aunt Eleanor marched into the room looking put out already. “Are you hiding, child?”

  “No, Aunt Eleanor.” She came to stand just as voices filled the hallway. Aunt Eleanor’s voice dropped to a whisper that was all the more terrifying for its softness. “Mr. Benedict is your only chance, girl, and don’t you forget it. After everything I’ve done for you, you had better make this match, or else.”

  Pru blinked. She had no idea what ‘or else’ meant in this context but she could guess. Her aunt would wash her hands of her once and for all, no doubt. Her only family would abandon her...again.

  “I understand, Aunt Eleanor.”

  Her aunt grunted in acknowledgment.

  “Pardon the interruption...” Damian swept into the room so quickly, his voice so loud it made her stiffen. He flashed her a small smile before turning a far more elegant grin in the direction of her aunt, charming her with small talk and questions about the elderly lady’s health.

  Pru took the opportunity to watch him. There he was, the consummate charmer. The heir to a marquess. The golden boy who lived life dangerously, led by his heart and his soul and his passion.

  She caught a pathetic little sigh before it could escape.

  Oh yes, Damian’s appeal was undeniable, but her aunt was right. He was not for her. Even if he felt this way for her. Even if it wasn’t just kindness and pity on his part…

  Choosing her would be selfish on his part.

  Choosing him would be even more selfish on her part.

  “And so, if you’ll excuse us,” he was saying to her aunt with a wave of his hand that seemed to include Prudence. “I’d like a word with my protege before the recital begins.”

  The recital.

  How had she managed to forget that in mere moments her world would come to a crushing, brutal, humiliating end?

  Drat. She truly was turning into Louisa. Perhaps love made everyone dramatic.

  Her aunt gave them space. Not so much that they could repeat the incident that occurred earlier today, but enough so that they could speak privately in hushed voices.

  “We didn’t finish our talk earlier,” he said the moment her aunt had reached the far side of the room to loudly criticize the flower arrangement. A nearby maid looked ready to cry.