by Anne Gracie
“No, you take it. I’m going for a walk in Hyde Park.”
“A walk! You never walk!” Gideon glanced at the hall clock. “And at this hour Hyde Park will be teeming with humanity—all the ton will be there. You will hate it, Edward.”
“Will I?” the duke said blandly. “We shall see.”
Gideon shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” To tell the truth, he wasn’t much interested in where his cousin was going now; he was much more interested in where he’d been and whom he had talked to. And whether she’d been impressed with his…his dukishness, damn him!
He could not forget that it had been a search for a ducal fiancé that had first brought Prudence into his orbit.
Fifteen minutes later, the duke’s driver, Hawkins, drove the landau into Providence Court for the second time that afternoon. It halted in front of number 21. Gideon made a quick survey of his person to ensure there was no hint of shag bag, took a deep breath, seized the brass knocker with a bold hand, and rapped smartly.
And waited.
He was absurdly nervous. It was ridiculous for a man of his address and experience to be feeling nervous, Gideon told himself. He had made hundreds of morning calls. Well, dozens at any rate. Rakes did not make morning calls, as a rule. They dropped in on their friends’ lodgings, called in at their clubs, visited their mistresses, popped in to Jackson’s for a bout or two with the gloves. They left polite little ritualistic morning calls to others. And thought it was ridiculous to call an afternoon visit a morning call.
His neckcloth felt unaccountably tight. Some idiot had starched his shirt points so that they felt like knives, waiting to cut into his chin if he so much as slouched. Not that he was planning to slouch, of course. Gideon resisted the urge to run a finger around his collar.
He was a grown man, for heaven’s sake! He could drink tea and nibble cakes with the best of them. They might even serve him a glass of wine.
Great-uncle Oswald abhors the Evils of Liquor!
No. He sighed. It would be tea. Or…Gideon felt himself blanch. They surely wouldn’t expect him to drink ratafia, would they? He swallowed and felt his shirt points dig warningly into his jaw.
Why the devil were they taking so long to answer the blasted door? He reached up to rap the knocker again just as the door was opened. An ancient butler stood there, eyeing him expectantly. “Sir?”
His hand hung foolishly in midair for a second, then Gideon collected himself. “Lord Carradice to see Sir Oswald Merridew.” He presented his card and made to step over the threshold.
“I shall henquire, my lord,” said the ancient retainer in a sonorous voice and, taking the card, he closed the door in Gideon’s face.
Gideon blinked. He had never in his life had a door shut in his face. Well, once, by an irate woman, but never by a butler. “Senile old fool,” he muttered, and feeling a little foolish at being kept waiting on the doorstep like a tradesman, he inspected his nails, whistling lightly under his breath in a carefree manner.
After what seemed like a very long time, the door opened. “Sir Oswald is hat ’ome and will see you now in the yellow saloon.”
Gideon followed the butler inside and detained him a moment. “What about the young lady—the young ladies?” he corrected himself, recalling there were sisters. “Are any of the Miss Merridews at home?” He smiled at the butler in a man-to-man fashion.
The butler regarded him balefully.
“Listen here,” Gideon began in a confiding tone that had won over many a butler before. “It’s actually Miss Prudence Merridew I have come to see. Nip upstairs and let her know I am in with Sir Oswald, would you?” He pressed a folded banknote into the butler’s ready hand.
The butler stared down his nose, quite as if his hand hadn’t pocked the note in a flash, shrugged, then opened the door to what was obviously the yellow saloon.
Sir Oswald greeted Gideon bluntly. “Have to admit I never looked to see you come callin’.”
Gideon bowed. “How do you do, sir?”
“Eh? Oh, how-de-do, Carradice. Sit down, sit down. I’m just about to take a cup of healthful tea. Here.” He handed Gideon a cup. “Now, I presume you’ve come to explain that disgraceful scene this mornin’. Not to mention your havey-cavey dealin’s with my great niece.”
“Ah, indeed.” Gideon sipped the tea, wondering how to answer, then almost choked. What the devil was this filthy-tasting stuff? “Have you had a chance, yet, to talk with Miss Merridew?”
“I have.” Sir Oswald frowned, balefully.
“Ah.” Gideon swallowed another hideous mouthful, wondering what tale Miss ImPrudence had come up with now and hoping there had been no mention of an Egyptian couch.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
“Ah, yes. I am, I am,” Gideon assured him. From the expression on the old fellow’s face, the Egyptian couch had featured after all.
“A man of your experience, flirting with an innocent young gel like little Prudence. You ought to have known a gel like that would misinterpret your intentions.”
Ah, that was it. He was accused of flirting. No mention of kisses or couches, Egyptian or otherwise. Suddenly his neck-cloth felt a lot more comfortable. “I know, I know,” he said in a rueful, man-of-the-world tone and set his cup down.
Sir Oswald refilled it. “Fellow of your vast experience with women ought to know better than to dally with young gels…”
The old chap was off and running in a splendid tirade. Gideon glanced toward the door.
“…a sheltered young miss doesn’t understand…rascally rake…”
How long did it take that blasted butler to climb the stairs, dammit! Prudence ought to be here any moment.
Sir Oswald glared at him. “A decent man would make amends, do the decent thing, see the girl right.”
Gideon was not paying attention. Was that a soft, feminine footstep at the door? He glanced at Sir Oswald’s face, realized some response was expected of him and with an effort recalled the last thing the elderly man had said; something about seeing the girl. He nodded in agreement. “Oh yes, sir, I quite agree.”
“You do?” Sir Oswald seemed stunned.
Gideon smiled at him winningly. “Indeed I do.”
“And that’s why you’re here now? For Prudence?”
“That’s why I’m here now.” He smiled again. What did the old fool think—that he’d come to make a morning call on an elderly man? Of course he’d come to see Prudence!
“Well, by jove! that’s more like it!” Sir Oswald jumped out of his chair and shook Gideon by the hand. “Well done, Carradice. I knew there was some good in you!”
“Eh?” Feeling as though he’d missed something crucial in the conversation, Gideon allowed his hand to be pumped energetically.
“Wondered if I hadn’t been mistaken in you when you arrived here in your courtin’ clothes.”
“What?” Horrified, Gideon glanced down at his immaculate outfit. Courting clothes? He opened his mouth to explain.
Sir Oswald winked at him merrily. “Can’t fool an old man, Carradice. When a man changes overnight from shag bag to elegant sprig, there’s courtin’ in the air. You won’t regret it. Damn fine little gel, Prudence. Make you a fine little wife. A very fine little wife indeed!” He rang the bell and called for the celebratory dandelion wine to be brought in.
Gideon said nothing. He felt slightly hollow. Somehow, while making innocuous chit-chat, this dandified old lunatic had gained the impression he wanted to marry Prudence, a girl he had known less than a day. How had that happened? He ran over the conversation in his mind. There were some disconcerting blanks in his memory; the perils of a momentary lapse or two in concentration.
Had he merely been given permission to court Miss Prudence Merridew, or had he unknowingly agreed to something more binding? He had an uneasy suspicion it was the latter. The old chap was making very free with the word wife. Gideon repressed a shudder. He ought to stop it right now. Clarify the wh
ole thing. Clear up the misunderstanding.
But for the life of him, Gideon couldn’t bring himself to ask what it was they were celebrating, let alone deny it.
He would sort it out later, when the old fellow had recovered from his transports of delight. On second thought, he might not need to—Prudence would deal with the whole thing more effectively, he was sure. She would deny him as she had previously and he would be safe again. What a relief.
It took fifteen interminable minutes and several glasses of the most peculiar tasting wine Gideon had ever swallowed before he could escape Great-uncle Oswald’s raptures. The ancient butler escorted him to the front door.
Gideon stepped onto the front step and recalled something. He detained the butler by the sleeve. “Where the devil is Miss Prudence? Didn’t you give her my message?”
The butler turned, a faint malicious smile on his face. “She’s gone out. Not one of the Misses Merridew is hat ’ome. They left about ten minutes before you harrived.” The smile became a smirk as he shut the door in Gideon’s face for the second time that day.
“Damn and blast the fellow!” muttered Gideon as he retraced his steps toward the waiting landau. Gone out! Where had she gone in his hour of need? Shopping? The park, perhaps? It was the fashionable hour to be parading, dammit!
The reason for Edward’s bizarre desire to take exercise suddenly became crystal clear. Gideon leaped into the landau. “Hyde Park, Hawkins. And spring ’em!”
Hawkins, knowing the respect due to a vehicle bearing a ducal crest and having placed both the duke and Lord Carradice on their first fat ponies twenty-odd years before, declined to spring anything but condescended to urge his beauties in the direction of Hyde Park at a decorous trot. Behind him his passenger chafed and cursed the muleheadedness of old retainers and the deviousness of dukes!
Chapter Seven
“Think of what it will mean
For your good name and mine, if you do this.”
SOPHOCLES
THE LANDAU PASSED THROUGH THE WROUGHT-IRON GATES OF HYDE Park and entered a throng of people and carriages almost as bad as the traffic on the streets they had just left. Gideon sat bolt upright, cursing the low sprung vehicle; if he’d had his high-perch phaeton, he could have seen over the heads of this lot and spotted the perfidious Edward in a trice.
“There he is, blast him! Lurking among that gaggle of yellow-haired chits there. Pull over, Hawkins!”
Hawkins negotiated a halt beside the crowded path, and Gideon jumped down and thrust his way through the crowd to where Edward stood in the midst of a group of ethereally fair young ladies. Loitering suspiciously around the group were a dozen or so young bloods, several of whom Gideon knew very well to be rakes of the highest order. He knew well their quarry, for hidden right in the midst of all of them, where his cousin clearly imagined he could conceal her, was one small, delightful lady dressed in a silver gray pelisse with dark green trim.
As he had suspected, his conniving cousin had made an assignation behind his back with Miss Prudence Merridew! The gray pelisse was an exact match for her glorious eyes; the green the perfect foil for her magnificent hair, all but a few curls of which was currently hidden by an elegant bonnet with a dark green feather.
Furiously, Gideon shouldered his way through the pack of rakes, edged past the gaggle of fair young things, plastered a surprised expression on his face, and made the guilty pair an elegant, sarcastic bow.
“Edward, Miss Merridew, what a charming and unexpected surprise. Miss Merridew, permit me to tell you how very charming you look.” He bared his teeth at her in an attempt to smile. The wolf catching Red Riding Hood in a flirtation with a beagle.
“How do you do, Lord Carradice. Thank you,” Prudence responded with composure. “Permit me to tell you in return, sir, that you look rather different from our last meeting also. More…” She paused, as if searching for a word.
Elegant, supplied Gideon silently. Dashing. Stylish.
“Tidy,” said Miss Merridew.
Tidy! Gideon concealed his chagrin behind another bow of elegance and grace. Blast it, did the girl not know how long he had taken to tie his neckcloth? Could she not see the cursed thing was a miracle of precision and style? Was it not apparent to her that his coat was so much the crack he was barely able to breathe and that his collar points were so highly starched they practically decapitated him? And all she could say was that he looked tidy!
Edward spoke. “Cousin, I believe you have not yet met Miss Merridew’s sisters.”
“Sisters?” Gideon looked around vaguely and realized that their conversation was being observed with great interest by several young ladies; two in pink, one in blue, and the other in white, all with yellow hair, though one had more red than yellow.
“Permit me to introduce them,” continued Edward. He gestured to the one in blue. “This is Miss Charity Merridew.”
Gideon bowed over the blue girl’s hand, aware that Prudence had a faint, worried frown on her brow. Hah! Feeling guilty, was she? So she should! If she was such a pattern card of virtue, she shouldn’t be meeting Edward in secret.
The duke indicated the two in pink. “Allow me to present Miss Faith and Miss Hope Merridew, who you will perceive are twins, and this is Miss Grace Merridew, the youngest of the family.”
Gideon bowed perfunctorily over the hand of each girl, fully aware of his cousin’s game. If Edward thought that tossing a bunch of yellow-haired chits at him would distract Gideon away from Prudence, he could think again. And if strategy was the name of the game, Edward had met his master.
Gideon smiled down at the cluster of blonde young things. “You have all come to London recently, I think.”
There was a soft chorus of feminine agreement.
Gideon smiled again, feeling quite avuncular. “London is made the fairer by your presence.” He shot a look at Prudence to see how she was reacting. She was glaring at him like a cross little hawk. Hah! Sauce for the gander, Miss ImPrudence! His smile encompassed all the young ladies. “Are you enjoying your stay, ladies?”
One of the pink ones gave him to understand that they were, but said they had hoped to mix a little more in society than they had hitherto been allowed.
Gideon recalled Prudence telling him her sisters wanted to get married. He had no objection; the sooner she was free of the worry of them, the better. Right now, the girls were very much in the way. “Ah indeed, indeed,” he said. “I don’t suppose any of you young ladies would care to take a turn around the park in a landau, would you? Only, mine—well, actually it is my cousin’s—is sitting over there, blocking traffic, and Hawkins, the driver, is looking daggers at me, wishing to be on the move again. Would any of you care to be taken up for a circuit or two?” He smiled encouragingly.
Prudence’s faint frown turned into a glare. “No tha—”
“Oh yes, please,” chorused the pair in pink.
“It would be of all things, delightful,” said the one in blue, whose name Gideon had forgotten. He was much more fascinated by the way the sun gleamed on the stray curls of Prudence’s hair, revealing a hundred different colors in the silky tresses. “Delightful,” he murmured, and then recalled himself as Prudence swept militantly toward the vehicle, ushering her sisters before her like a small, furious whirlwind. He strolled after her, enjoying the way her deliciously rounded hips swayed in her hurry.
Like a busy little governess, she supervised her sisters as they climbed into the landau, darting him swift glances of reproof if he so much as offered to assist them. Gideon tried hard to repress a grin. She knew what he was up to, of course; knew he was trying to get rid of the girls so he could be alone with her, and so she’d gathered them around her in a protective flock, hoping to escape his attentions. Her defensive strategy would prove futile. Even Prudence could not get more than four into a landau, five, with the little one in white. The two pink ones had almost bounded into the low-slung vehicle, and the blue one climbed gracefully in after them, follo
wed closely, almost hastily, by the duke.
Gideon beamed as his cousin seated himself in the landau beside the blue one. Good old Edward, family loyalty coming to the fore at last! Sacrificing himself to a drive with a bunch of chattering girls so his cousin could further his acquaintance with Miss Prudence. If a plain and dull wife were what Edward wanted, then Gideon resolved to find him the nicest plain, dull girl the ton could produce! He winked at his cousin. Edward did not appear to notice. He looked a little glazed about the eyes. Poor fellow, he was unused to female company.
There was barely room even for the littlest one. Gideon waited for Prudence to realize it. There would be no space in the landau for Prudence at all—not unless she forced them to squash together in a horribly undignified manner. Her sisters were eager for the promised treat. She could not order them from the carriage at this stage.
Instead of hiding among her sisters as she’d no doubt planned, she would be separated from them. Apart from the milling crowds of fashionable promenaders, her only other acquaintance was her footman standing stolidly, observing events a few yards away. She was caught effectively alone in the park with him. There was not the slightest whiff of impropriety—but she was trapped, nevertheless. Common politeness would force her to stroll with Gideon, to accept his proffered arm, to participate in low and intimate conversation, all the while respectably under the eye of the ton, and with her footman at hand.
Prudence, her hand on Grace’s shoulder, watched as the twins carefully tucked in their skirts to make room for their little sister. She’d seen for herself the impact her beautiful sisters had made on Lord Carradice. He’d barely looked at them—a move that had instantly raised her suspicions. Everyone stared at her sisters. They were so beautiful that people could not help it. Then he’d instantly tried to tempt them away from her protection by offering them a ride in his elegant landau.
She would scotch his rakish game! She had no intention of letting him take her sisters for a ride. She had evidence enough from that…that incident on Cleopatra’s barge that his reputation as a rake was well deserved; she would protect her innocent and lovely sisters from his advances if it was the last thing she did!
