“Perhaps,” he said in an oddly strained voice, “we should continue this discussion tomorrow.”
And then he allowed himself to be drawn from the room. Which left Prudence and Harry alone together. There was no softness in his expression, none of the warmth she had come to expect, to need from him.
“Madam. I have long known you despise me for being a soldier. Until tonight I had no notion just how poor your taste in men might be. Good evening.”
And then he turned to leave the room. Prudence could not help herself. She reached out to touch his arm. “Harry, please, tell me what was so very wrong about inviting Lord Brandon,” she begged.
He merely stared at her with cold, harsh eyes until she removed her hand from his arm. “It does not matter,” he said. “You have made your choice, and without even knowing the facts of the matter. My wishes, it appears, are immaterial to you. I only hope, Madam, that you can take some comfort in knowing you have won, for you shall have no other comfort of any sort from me.”
Then, with head held high he started out of the room. Her voice stopped him.
“I see. I am to be condemned for acting without knowing the facts. But you are noble because you do the same?”
He turned with surprising speed to face her. “I? Do the same? I think not!”
She advanced on him. “No? You condemn me for going to work for Lord Brandon without even stopping to consider that I may have excellent reasons of my own. You expect me to adopt your opinions and attitudes toward him without knowing a word of the reasons behind them. But I am to hold none of my own. After all, why should you think it matters? I am only your wife, not a real person.”
Now his face was very, very pale. “You know that is not so,” he said.
“No? Then prove it! Grant me the same trust you expect me to give you.”
For several moments matters hung in the balance as they stared at one another, neither willing to give an inch. Finally it was Prudence who turned away. There was sadness in her voice, and a hint of defeat as well as she said, “You cannot, can you? Very well, I wish you joy of your pride and arrogance, Harry. And I hope you can find some comfort there for you will have no other from me, either.”
And then she strode from the room, brushing past Harry as if he were scarcely there. She took the stairs two at a time and pretended that she did not hear him call her name.
The maid was waiting to undress her and the moment her gown was undone she dismissed the woman so that she could be alone. It was all she could do to wait until the door closed behind her before she burst into tears. Her last thought as she did was that since meeting Harry she had turned into a veritable watering pot and cried more than in all the five years before that.
She half expected Harry to find a way to come to her, but he did not. She put on the night rail he liked the best, just in case. But still he did not come. And she waited, her hair fanned out on the pillow around her until the candle guttered low.
It was in the hours close to dawn that Prudence finally admitted to herself that he would not come, that they had gone too far tonight. It was the final straw and she quietly cried herself to sleep.
Chapter 19
Sir Thomas and Lady Levenger took one look at Prudence’s face and guided her into a chair at the breakfast table. Orders were given for another place to be set and both plied her with coffee and food until she felt oddly comforted.
“You are very kind and I feel very foolish disturbing you so early,” Prudence said with some constraint.
“Nonsense!” Sir Thomas said, waving his fork in her direction. “You showed great wisdom in coming at a time when you were likely to be given sustenance. The breakfast table in Lord Darton’s house cannot have been a very comfortable one for you this morning, I’ll be bound.”
In spite of herself, Prudence smiled. “You may call it what you will but I am grateful.” She looked down and then back at Sir Thomas. “You said, sir, that you know why the Langfords so strongly dislike Lord Brandon. Will you tell me?”
“It goes back to a time when the late Lord and Lady Darton were still alive,” Sir Thomas said, setting down his fork and leaning forward. “Do you know anything about the late Lord Darton?”
“Harry told me he was a reformer. And that most of the ton ostracized him because of it.”
“Quite right,” Sir Thomas agreed. “What you have not heard, or you would never have invited him, is that Lord Brandon was among those who led the rest to turn their backs on Lord and Lady Darton. Worse, the Langfords believe it was he who spread certain unsavory rumors about Lady Darton. He knew, you see, that was what would hurt Lord Darton the most. There is no proof, you understand, but it is what the family believes. And the reason they do not welcome him in their homes.”
“I see.”
And she did. Prudence understood the full magnitude of her betrayal in the eyes of Harry and his family. “Why did no one tell me?” she asked Sir Thomas.
It was Lady Levenger who answered. “Even after all this time I would guess it still cuts to the quick. And they must have thought it would not be necessary.”
Prudence nodded. She was silent for some moments. It was Sir Thomas who broke the silence. “Will you tell me,” he said, “why it is that you chose to help Lord Brandon with his memoirs?”
He said it gently, amiably, as if it was a matter of mere curiosity. But there was a gleam in his eyes and the way he held himself taut as he waited for her reply that told Prudence there was much more to it than that.
“Will you mind if I tell you I cannot explain?”
“Yes.”
One word. Spoken swiftly, with a brutal curtness that left no doubt he meant it. Prudence drew in a deep breath. “I have not even explained to Harry,” she said, “but you are asking me to explain to you?”
“Yes.”
This time the word came just as swiftly as before but with a hint of humor to the tone. She sighed and tilted her head to one side.
“You must be a very successful barrister,” she said dryly.
“And you would make a very successful diplomat, if you were a man,” he countered. “Come. It cannot be such a difficult question as to require such prevarication. Unless, of course, you have something to hide? Some dishonorable secret that you dare not share.”
He meant to provoke her and he almost succeeded. But even as Prudence opened her mouth to angrily refute the charge she stopped and laughed instead.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You will not catch me out so easily.” Then, soberly, meeting his eyes squarely so he could not doubt that she meant what she said, Prudence told him, “My reasons are honorable. I am doing something I believe I must. It will, I hope, in the end be worth the anger Harry and his family now feel toward me. But the matter is so grave I cannot speak of it unless I am certain my suspicions are true.”
“Then you are not fond of Lord Brandon?” Lady Levenger asked.
“No,” Sir Thomas said, correctly reading her reaction, “Mrs. Langford is not. You greatly relieve my mind, my dear. Still, this is not a matter I can easily set aside. I have my own reasons for wishing to know. Reasons the Langfords do not even understand. Perhaps we should pool our knowledge and discover whether we might be of service to one another?”
Prudence regarded him warily. “Harry said you were a barrister. A justice who sits on the king’s bench. Why, then, do I get the feeling you are much more than that?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “No doubt because I am,” he said cordially.
“Thomas?” Lady Levenger said with some uncertainty.
The barrister reached out and patted his wife’s hand. “It is all right, my dear. I consider myself an excellent judge of character and I believe I place myself in no jeopardy by saying what I have to Mrs. Langford. Do I?”
Fascinated, Prudence shook her head. “No, sir, you do not,” she agreed.
“Perhaps not on purpose,” Lady Levenger persisted, “but what
if by accident she says the wrong thing to the wrong person? I do wish you would be more cautious, Thomas!”
“Well, Mrs. Langford, am I foolish to trust you?” he asked her.
“No,” Prudence answered at once. “I am a diplomat’s niece and a diplomat’s daughter and I have moved in such circles almost all of my life. One learns early to hold one’s tongue. You have honored me with your confidence and I shall not betray it.”
“What? No promises? Simply a statement of fact?”
She had the sense he was teasing her. With a calm she was far from feeling Prudence replied, “Why should you believe words couched as a promise more than a simple statement of fact?”
He nodded, conceding her the point. “Enough prevarication. Come with me to my study and let us speak frankly of matters that are, I suspect, of great interest to both of us.”
Lady Levenger watched them go with a worried look on her face and Prudence wished she could reassure her. But what could she say? Without knowing what Sir Thomas meant to tell her, she could see no way to do so.
Sir Thomas was all solicitude and waited until Prudence was seated before he spoke of the matter that had brought them there. “What do you hope to find out, working for Lord Brandon?” he asked.
Prudence regarded him with troubled eyes.
“If you are wondering,” he added genially, “I know as much or more about the Langford family as any member in it. Though perhaps this is a matter that concerns your own family or honor instead?”
When she still hesitated he said, “Perhaps it would help if I tell you that there are concerns about Lord Brandon’s loyalty?”
Prudence closed her eyes, then opened them again. “So it is not simply my imagination? I remember, you see, years ago often seeing him at parties in my uncle’s home. He would speak quietly to people, one by one. I was young, too young to be at such parties though my uncle didn’t seem to know it. At any rate, I was young enough so that no one ever seemed to take much notice of me or care what I might overhear. Lord Brandon said such odd things and when I tried to ask my uncle about them he told me I must have misunderstood.”
“How many years ago?” Sir Thomas asked in a quiet voice that invited confidences.
“Perhaps ten or so. And other times since then.”
He nodded. “Has Harry told you about a certain letter?” he asked carefully.
“When we were in France, there was trouble. Harry thought it would help to speak of a letter written, as he supposed, from Napoleon to his father. It seems he was mistaken for he only angered the Frenchman who spoke of a letter being intercepted. Harry has not spoken of it again but it has stayed with me. I could not help thinking, you see, of the things I overheard Lord Brandon say and I wondered if it were perhaps he to whom the letter was written.”
Sir Thomas let out a long breath. “I knew you were a shrewd woman!” he said. “Your thoughts march precisely in tune with mine. And I suppose you think to find out by working in Lord Brandon’s study, helping him with his memoirs and hoping for a chance to go through his papers?”
Prudence smiled. “If we are to speak of shrewdness, sir, I should have to say that yours outruns mine. I have not told Harry what I intend because he has not spoken of the letter since that time in France. And because I know that I may be mistaken. But if you think I should then I will.”
“Oh, no,” Sir Thomas said, shaking his head emphatically. “I should like you to keep your counsel a while longer, if you can. There is more at stake than you realize.”
“What is it you wish me to look for?”
Sir Thomas told her.
It was some time before Prudence left the Levenger’s town house. Which meant that she was late arriving at Lord Brandon’s home. He seemed more than a little surprised to see her.
“I thought you would not come today,” he said bluntly.
Prudence unpinned her hat and set it aside and tossed her gloves on top before she answered. There was a hint of defiance in her voice and more than a little in the way she carried herself when she answered.
“I am not a china doll, sir, to be posed and set on the shelf. No, nor an empty-headed poppet to be told what to think or do. I have been accustomed to running my uncle’s household and making my own decisions for many years now. It would be well for Harry—and his family—to realize this as soon as may be.” She paused. Sir Thomas had warned her not to overdo the matter. In a lighter voice she said, “That is quite enough about me, sir. We have your book to write, my lord.”
Brandon, who had been regarding Prudence with wariness now gave a shout of laughter. “I like a woman with spirit!”
He waved her to the writing desk where all the necessary materials stood ready. Still, it seemed he could not quite let the matter go and she was conscious that his eyes were regarding her sharply.
“Tell me,” Brandon said, “am I to expect a visit from the colonel, demanding satisfaction for stealing his wife’s affections from him?”
Again this was something she had discussed with Sir Thomas. So now Prudence merely raised her eyebrows and in a dampening tone replied, “I do not think my husband would wish to make so foolish a spectacle of himself. Nor can I imagine that he will be able to bring himself to set foot across your threshold. To work, my lord?”
Thus admonished, Lord Brandon had little choice but to agree and they did, indeed, settle to work. It was when he was called out of the study to deal with a domestic crisis some time later that Prudence had her chance.
She was seated by the desk so as to better see the maps Lord Brandon was showing her. Thus she could open a drawer without being seen even had the door to the study been open. But it was not.
Lord Brandon’s letters were neatly bundled and it took only a glance to see that it would not be easily done up in a hurry when she heard him return. She closed the drawer again then stood and walked over to the empty fireplace.
How odd, she thought. There were ashes there. Did his servants not clean the grate every morning? Prudence could not imagine that he would tolerate such slipshod practices in his house.
But perhaps he did not? With a pretense of having to sit to remove her shoe, Prudence sank into a chair beside the fireplace and looked more closely. The ashes were the remains of a letter. Perhaps more than one. She could read nothing but it was obvious that Lord Brandon had been destroying papers this morning before she arrived.
It occurred to Prudence that she might well be wasting her time looking for concealed letters or papers. Sir Thomas had certainly thought so. He had implied that more than once someone had been sent into the house as a servant to look and still found nothing. Perhaps he had been right that it would be better to see if she could draw Brandon out. She began to pace about the room, preparing her strategy.
That was how Lord Brandon found her. “Is something wrong, my dear?” he asked with great solicitude.
Prudence started. “I-I did not hear you return,” she said.
He came toward her. “You look troubled,” he said, peering at her closely. “Is something wrong?”
In a high, brittle voice Prudence laughed and tried to turn the question away. “No, of course not. What could possibly be wrong? No, I am certain it is merely that I am unused to being married. Oh, but I should not have said even so much as that. I pray you will disregard it.”
Had she overdone it? Lord Brandon tilted his head to one side. He indicated a chair. He hesitated before he spoke and Prudence held her breath. But she need not have worried. Brandon had taken the bait.
“Of course, my dear,” he said. “If that is what you wish. But please, be seated. It is just that I should like to help, if I may, if you are troubled. You must know that I have a fondness for you.”
Prudence put a hand to her throat. Again she looked away from him. “I, no, that is, there is no point to it. I am married and must make the best of it, that is all.”
“All?” Brandon echoed. “Surely you chose to wed Colonel Langford? I am told it w
as a most romantic story.”
He was skeptical. Well that was to be expected. Lord Brandon would not have survived so long if he were not a shrewd man. Prudence made herself laugh a harsh, brittle laugh.
“Of course that is the tale we told. What else was there to do?” she demanded.
If she appeared distracted, who could wonder at it? Or at the way she twisted the handkerchief in her lap.
Another pause. “Were you pressed to this marriage, then?” Brandon asked softly.
“I, what else was there to do?” Prudence repeated, more distracted than before. She appeared not even to see Lord Brandon as she spoke. “They said we were compromised. They said that time spent alone together meant we must be married. Everyone assured me he is an honorable man. He pretended to be kind.”
“And he is not?” There was genuine disbelief in Brandon’s tone. At her startled look he added, “I may dislike the Langfords and they me, but even I have never heard anything of such discredit to the colonel’s character. He is said to be kind to a fault.”
Prudence bit her lower lip. She had overplayed her hand and now she tried to retreat. She looked down at her lap. “Of course. Of course he is. I am being foolish. I pray you will disregard my nonsense.”
But Brandon would not leave it be. “How has he been unkind? You need not fear to tell me, for I promise you I shall not let it go beyond this room.”
Prudence lifted her eyes and looked straight into his, as though trying to gauge how truly he meant what he said. Finally she looked away. Her voice faltered as she tried to explain.
“You will think me foolish. Worse, a traitor! Harry does.”
“Ah. A difference of political opinion, then?” Brandon asked, leaning forward, his gaze intense upon her face.
“I only meant that one should perhaps be prepared should Napoleon triumph. That one ought to consider how best to negotiate a way to ally ourselves with him in that event. But Harry calls me a traitor for saying so, for even suggesting such a thing.”
Had she said too much? Gone too far? Prudence did not dare look at Lord Brandon to decide. He might read too much of her true feelings in her eyes. She had to play the role of the unhappy, meek wife who felt she did not know what she should do.
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