Her Master and Commander

by Karen Hawkins

  Mrs. Fieldings entered the room, her usual sour expression gone. Reeves followed closely, smiling a little when the housekeeper announced in a rather impressed voice, “Mr. Reeves to see Mrs. Thistlewaite.”

  Reeves bowed. “His lordship sent me. He wishes your attendance at his cottage.”

  “Wonderful!” Mother said, clasping her hands together. She turned to her daughter. “Prudence, go and get your cloak—”

  “I am not going anywhere.”

  Reeves nodded gravely. “Madam, his lordship has made me privy to your disagreement. May I say I am gravely disappointed in him, as he is in himself.”

  “I don’t ever want to see him again.”

  “Madam, I cannot blame you, but I don’t think you understand. I was sent to fetch you, no matter what it takes.”

  Mother gave an excited hop. Reeves turned his head in her direction, his brows raised inquiringly.

  Mother colored and smoothed her hair. “Oh dear, but the fire gets a bit warm. I’ll just stand over here.” She moved to the other side of the fire, slightly behind the butler.

  Reeves bowed, then turned back to Prudence. “Madam? It would mean a lot to his lordship if you would attend him.”

  Prudence wished her heart would stop galloping so. “Did he tell you that?”

  “Yes, madam. He was most fervent.”

  Fervent. That sounded rather nice. From behind Reeves, Mother waved her hands wildly, gesturing from Prudence to the door, urging her to go. Prudence sent her a quick frown, then said to Reeves, “Did his lordship say why he wished to speak to me?”

  From her vantage point behind Reeves, Mother leaned forward, agog.

  Reeves nodded. “The trustees, madam. They arrived today. I believe his lordship wishes to tell you the outcome himself, as well as pay you for your efforts.”

  Prudence’s shoulders slumped. He wished to pay her. The impersonality of it all weighed her down. “I see. Please thank him for me, but I believe it would be better if his lordship just sent his payment here. I don’t wish to see him.”

  “Oh!”

  Mother’s cry of outrage made both Reeves and Prudence turn.

  “Prudence, I have had enough.”

  Prudence blinked at her mother’s stern tone. “What—”

  “Take your cloak and go with Reeves.”

  “But I don’t wish—”

  “This is not for you, but for me. Prudence, I know you and the earl had a disagreement, but it is rather selfish of you to let such a paltry thing stand in the way of such a kind invitation.”

  Prudence flushed. “It is neither paltry nor selfish.”

  “I am dying to know how the visit with the trustees went. If you do not go, it will be a week before we find out. I simply cannot wait that long. So fetch your cloak and go with Mr. Reeves.”

  Prudence was on her feet without realizing it. “Mother! I already went to bed once this evening! At least I had until you brought that sheep into the garden.”

  “You were not sleeping. You were merely lying abed, tossing and turning. Don’t pretend otherwise.” She crossed the room to her daughter’s side, placed her hands on Prudence’s shoulders and turned her toward the door. “At least this will get you out of the house and stop your moping about.”

  Prudence’s cheeks pinkened. “Mother, I don’t think I want to—”

  “Nonsense. Of course you do.”

  “But—”

  “Prudence.” Mother looked directly into her eyes. “If you don’t go, you will spend the rest of your life wondering.”

  “Mrs. Crumpton,” Reeves said softly. “His lordship requested your attendance as well.”

  Mother exploded into a wreath of smiles. “Well! There you go! Prudence, it looks as if we have an invitation to the earl’s cottage!” Before Prudence could protest again, Mother was off to the front entryway to collect their cloaks.

  Chapter 21

  Ah, the joys to be had in a job well done! Has there ever been a more pure, more satisfying euphoria?

  A Compleat Guide for

  Being a Most Proper Butler

  by Richard Robert Reeves

  The ride to Tristan’s was filled with Mother’s incessant talking as she tried, at first gently and then with increasing force, to talk Reeves out of some vital tidbits of information. The butler was amazingly reticent, merely smiling now and then and quietly saying that his lordship would soon reveal all.

  What there was to reveal, Prudence could not begin to know. Why did Tristan wish her to attend him? And why had he asked Mother, as well? Whatever he had to say, she could only hope she kept her composure. The closer they were to the earl’s cottage, the less certain she was of her ability to remain calm.

  They arrived at a house filled with light. Stevens opened the door before they’d even climbed down from the carriage.

  “Right this way, madam!” he said, beaming pleasantly.

  Mother bustled right by, anxious to get into the house, but Prudence lingered on the front step. “Stevens? Where is your new coat?”

  He was dressed as he used to be, in an ill-fitted sea coat and a rather faded striped shirt. “Ah, that,” he said. He cast a wild gaze at Reeves.

  “Yes, that,” Reeves said. “Master Stevens has stopped wearing his new coat because of, ah, the silver buttons.”

  “What of them?”

  Reeves exchanged a look with Stevens.

  “Weel now, missus,” Stevens said, swallowing rather loudly. “Those buttons were ah, bright and shiny.” A thought seemed to occur, for he clapped his hands together and said with increasing enthusiasm, “Yes, that’s what they were! Bright and shiny! And they made all the men envious. Afore ye knew it, fights was breakin’ out and the men wouldn’t hardly speak to me, sayin’ I was a changed man because of those buttons and all.”

  Prudence eyed first him, then Reeves.

  Reeves gave her a pale smile. “Shall we retire to the library? Your mother is in the hallway and looks quite impatient.”

  “I suppose we should go, then.”

  Stevens winked broadly at her. “Forge ahead, missus! Forge ahead!”

  Reeves bowed and soon Prudence was following Mother down the narrow hallway. Along the way they ran into not one, but four of the other men, all equally mussed and beaming so brightly they almost tripped over their own smiles. Prudence’s steps faltered a bit, though Mother hurried on.

  The entire household was awash in happiness. Prudence’s chest ached the tiniest bit. Obviously the trustees’ visit had gone well.

  That was good; she could be happy for Tristan, if not for herself. She only wished things had been different. For both of them.

  She reached the library just in time to see her mother curtsy to a tall figure dressed in impeccable black breeches and waistcoat. The man looked every inch an earl. Only…he wasn’t. What he was, was a highwayman. Or rather, a viscount/highwayman.

  “Viscount Westerville,” Prudence murmured as Stevens shut the door behind her. She curtsied as he bowed in her direction, his green eyes sweeping over her with appreciation.

  Tall and lean, he was dressed head to toe in unrelenting black, which on another man would look far too somber. But on the black-haired, green-eyed viscount, it did nothing but emphasize his devastating charm. He was a handsome man, of lithe grace and an elegance that was difficult to describe. “Society will like you very well,” Prudence said, wondering what this all meant.

  Christian smiled, a rakish, devil-may-care smile that crinkled his eyes and made him look instantly younger. “Society may like me, but I have no intentions of liking it.”

  Tristan’s voice rumbled from beside the fireplace. “My brother makes a fine coxcomb, does he not?”

  Prudence had to collect herself before she turned. But even then, she was not prepared for what she saw. Tristan was dressed head to foot like…a pirate. He wore tight black breeches and leather boots that rose to his thighs. A flowing white shirt was tucked into a broad black belt from whe
nce hung an assortment of pistols, knives, and one very large cutlass. Even more astonishing was the small gold ring that hung from one of his ears.

  If the trustees had seen him dressed thusly—“Good heavens,” she sputtered. “Tristan…what have you done?”

  He threw her the lopsided smile that always sent her heart tumbling in place. “My brother and I decided it was time to show the trustees our true colors.”

  “But—but—”

  “But before you say another word,” Christian said, taking her by the hand. “Come and sit with your lovely sister on the settee.”

  Mother flushed bright red and giggled. “Oh, Lord Westerville! Don’t begin with me! I’m old enough to be your…aunt.”

  Prudence sank onto the settee. “I don’t understand. The fortune—what happened?”

  Christian threw himself into the red chair. He grinned lazily. “My lady, do not look to Tristan. It was I who won the fortune.” He waved a hand. “Of course, I shall have to spend a season in London and prove myself, but that is just a formality. The trustees were quite adamant that I should get the fortune and not my barbaric brother.”

  Silence met this announcement.

  “I beg your pardon?” Mother said, her smile fading. She blinked rapidly as if trying to read something that was written in too small of letters. “Lord Westerville, did you say that you have won the earl’s fortune?”

  Christian sighed, placing his head against the high back of the chair. “Veni, vidi, vici.”

  “I came, I saw, I conquered,” Prudence translated without thinking. Her mind worked furiously. “Christian charmed the trustees.”

  Mother’s brows shot up. “You charmed the trustees?”

  “All of them,” Christian said with a dramatic wave of his arm. “Every last panty-laced one.”

  “Goodness!” She looked uncomprehendingly at Tristan. “But—”

  He nodded. “I have the title, but no money. They flatly refused.”

  “And no wonder,” Mother burst out, gesturing toward Tristan’s clothing. “What else could they think after seeing you dressed like that?”

  Tristan’s grin looked amazingly like his brother’s. “I did more than dress like a sailor.”

  “Oh?” Mother said, her eyes wide, uncomprehending.

  Christian nodded. “He also cursed like one. Didn’t he, Reeves?” he said as the butler entered the room with a tray bearing a teapot and some cups.

  “Indeed he did,” Reeves said pleasantly. “I fear I had not had the pleasure of hearing many sailor curses until I arrived here, but I must admit, few have their way with such an array of phrases and words as his lordship.”

  Prudence put her hand to her forehead. “I—I don’t understand. Tristan—don’t you want the funds?”

  “Yes. But more than that, I want you.”

  Silence met this. Deep, abiding silence. Tristan took his cane from where it leaned against the wall by the fireplace and limped to Prudence’s side. He took her hand in his and placed a kiss to her numb fingers. “Prudence, my love.” His green eyes smiled down at her. “I am not a wealthy man. I have but what you see here. Still, I love you with all of my heart.”

  “Oh.” It was all she could manage to say over the harsh pounding of her heart and the ringing in her ears. She struggled to comprehend what he was saying, what had happened, why Christian looked so smug and Reeves so pleased. But most of all, she struggled to absorb Tristan’s words.

  “Prudence,” Tristan said, “will you listen to me? I once thought I would never be happy unless I was at sea. But now, I realize that you are the real adventure.” He put a hand to her cheek and looked tenderly into her eyes. “I desire nothing more than having you by my side now and forever.”

  He loved her. Prudence’s lips quivered. She couldn’t say a word, but merely stared up at him. Slowly, she reached for his hand where it cupped her cheek. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and turned the palm to her lips and kissed him.

  His eyes darkened. “Prudence! Do you mean—You will marry me?”

  Still unable to speak, she nodded. She was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug that lifted her off her feet and stole her breath. In that instant she knew she was right where she belonged—in Tristan’s arms.

  When Prudence was finally placed back on the floor, the room was spinning and the beginning of a smile tickled her lips. He loved her. And he’d asked her to marry him for that reason and no other.

  Mother dropped back against the settee, staring straight ahead, a dazed expression on her face. “I don’t understand. I just don’t understand. All that money. Gone. Just…gone! And now you ask Prudence to marry you?”

  Reeves cleared his throat. “My lord? If I may?”

  Tristan took a seat, pulling Prudence into his lap. “Reeves, please do. I am too busy right now to explain things.”

  Prudence put her hands on his face and turned him toward her. “Just one thing…if you cannot provide for the men, I don’t wish you to regret being with me—”

  “Ah, love. I will provide for the men. I was already working on some plans before Reeves came with this damnable inheritance. I would have solved the issue myself eventually.” He placed his finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to his. “I am not a man to quit. When I want something, I get it.”

  Prudence had to grin then. Whatever happened, so long as he was happy…What more could she ask for? She smiled warmly into his eyes and wrapped her arms about his neck.

  Tristan held her more tightly. He was so blessed. So very, very blessed.

  “But—But…I don’t understand,” Mother wailed.

  “Madam,” Reeves said, “it was like this. Lord Rochester realized he cared for your daughter, but because of her unfortunate standing in the ton, he could not have the money and marry her. At least, not until the trustees released him from the provisions of the will, which they would not do if they knew he loved her. Which he does.”

  “No money? None at all?” Mother repeated.

  “None. Lord Rochester, having at least one trait in common with his father, was not willing to wait. Nor was he willing to deny his lady love in public. At least, he wasn’t after he’d thought about it.” Reeves sent his master a rather stern look.

  Tristan sighed against Prudence’s hair. “I’m sorry about that, love. I should never have suggested such a thing. I was a cad to do so.”

  “Yes, you were,” she said, snuggling against him. She turned sparkling brown eyes his way. “I shall exact my revenge another time.”

  He chuckled. “I look forward to it.” He took her hand and placed a kiss upon it, pausing when his thumb brushed her ring finger. “Prudence. One more thing. About Phillip.”

  “Yes?”

  “You loved him.”

  She threaded her fingers through Tristan’s. “I loved him. Phillip was my best friend and a wonderful companion and I will never regret being with him. But you, Tristan, are more than that. You are the love of my life.”

  His heart swelled and he pressed a kiss to each of her fingers.

  Reeves cleared his throat. “As I was saying to Mrs. Crumpton, upon reflection, his lordship came up with a new plan. He did the next best thing to winning the fortune himself.”

  “Which is?” Mother said, rubbing her temples.

  “He made certain that though the trustees would not award him the money, they would definitely award it to his brother.”

  Mother looked at Christian. “But…he is a highwayman!”

  “Not all of the time,” Christian said with a deprecating flick of his hand, the lace at his cuffs draped delicately from his muscled wrist. “The trustees do not know of my little, ah, hobby. You are not aware of this, but I become a highwayman only when my funding grows short.”

  “Only when…” Mrs. Crumpton blinked.

  “Yes. Other times, I live in my manor house in Dorset, where I plant all sorts of things and sponsor some bloody good hunting. I won the estate at cards, yet another fact the
trustees do not need to know. They merely think me a gentleman farmer and that is all I intend to let them think me.”

  “A gentleman farmer,” she said blankly.

  Christian nodded. “One of the trustees is, in fact, a very close neighbor of mine, though he did not know it until today. I am regarded as something of a recluse, you see.”

  Prudence looked up at Tristan, a question in her brown eyes. “But…what of your men?”

  “My brother…my soon to be very wealthy brother, has offered to purchase my old ship, the Victory, and pay for the initial establishment of a home for wounded sailors.”

  Prudence gave a pleased laugh. “That is wonderful!” she said, and looked at Christian through a suddenly shy smile. “Thank you so much. You are every bit as generous as your brother.”

  “I wish that were true,” Christian said, standing, a startlingly fashionable figure, his green eyes burning with something beyond excitement of the moment. “This bargain does many things for me, none of which are charitable in nature. With, perhaps, the exception of seeing to my brother’s happiness. I would pay three times what I have to secure that.”

  Tristan smiled at Christian over Prudence’s head. “And I would do the same for you.”

  They looked at each other for a long, long moment. And then Christian bowed. “I would love to stay and savor the moment, but I must go. Poor Willie is still at the inn with a pained head. He will not be happy until he is back in Dorset, presiding over my stables. He really had no stomach for the road, you know. He is a much better head groom.”

  Reeves looked up from where he was handing Mrs. Crumpton a cup of tea. “A good servant will do many things in the name of his master. I hope you are compensating him for his large imagination while under your command.”

  “Of course,” Christian said. “I believe in compensation. In all forms.”

  Christian took Prudence’s hand and glanced over it to Tristan. “Strange how she does not seem quite so old as you described.”