“You cannot, you really cannot continue to wear those dresses,” Emily told her firmly. “It was kind of Athenia to have her old gowns made over for you, but they are now unfashionable and entirely too dull!”
“You will like Mrs. Wise. She has an excellent eye and will know precisely what will suit you,” Juliet added.
“I know what suits me,” Prudence countered, a militant gleam in her eyes.
“To be sure, of course you do,” Emily agreed in a soothing voice. “But Mrs. Wise may have some notions you have not thought of. Nor will it cost you a fortune, as it would if Athenia were to take you to her modiste.”
“Besides it will give us a chance to talk with you about Harry and George and Athenia,” Juliet chimed in.
Prudence stared at them. “Why,” she asked grimly, “didn’t you simply say so in the first place? Of course I shall go with you then. But there is no need to visit a modiste.”
Emily looked at Prudence’s gown. “Oh, yes, there is,” she countered. “That may have been in fashion when Athenia purchased it, but it most assuredly is no longer so. Nor would it ever have truly suited you.”
This was a charge Prudence could not refute so she gave in with a sigh. When had she stopped caring about her clothing? There was a time when it was one of the uppermost thoughts in her mind, because she understood the value of appearance in her dealings with the men where her uncle was posted. There was a time when the placement of a ribbon or the removal of a row of ruching might mean the difference between her uncle prevailing in talks or failing and she had known it. But somehow, since she had returned to England with Harry, she had scarcely given a second thought to her clothes. Perhaps it was as well that these two women were taking her in hand.
Mrs. Wise had no shop. Instead she worked from her home. It was in a somewhat better location than when Emily had first taken Juliet there to order her clothes, but still Prudence felt a pang of nervousness as they entered the building under the watchful gaze of far too many envious women and children. Why the devil, she wondered, would her sisters patronize such an unfashionable location as this?
But Mrs. Wise herself was dressed neatly and attractively, as were the girls who worked for her. Juliet greeted each one by name and with a great degree of warmth. Emily explained their errand and drew Prudence forward. Within minutes Prudence and Mrs. Wise were friends. It was a perfectly natural circumstance given that both women had an excellent eye for form and color and a shrewd understanding of the purpose to which clothing could be put.
By the time they left, Prudence was in a fair way to forgiving her new sisters for abducting her in such a way. She had no objection when they took her to purchase gloves and slippers and so forth to go with the dresses she had just ordered. She felt a moment’s pang at the cost but both Juliet and Emily assured her the charges were most reasonable and, if they did prove too dear for Harry’s pocketbook, they would both make a present of the cost to Prudence. She could not refuse without looking most ungracious. Nor did she complain when they suggested a drive about the park. It was only when they wanted to discuss Harry that she drew the line. But it was hard to stay angry.
“It is only natural you should object to our asking,” Emily assured her warmly.
“And we would not do so if we were not so fond of him,” Juliet added.
“But after this afternoon we are fond of you as well,” Emily made haste to say.
“Yes, we should like to see your marriage succeed for both your sakes,” Juliet concluded.
“I ought,” Prudence said in a judicious tone, “to ask the coachman to stop so that I could get down and walk home. But I shan’t,” she added, at their look of alarm. “I know you mean well. And, to be honest, I should be glad of some advice. Harry is not at all happy about Lord Brandon and while I cannot stop helping the man with his memoirs I should be grateful for suggestions as to how to turn Harry up sweet. There is a particular reason I should like him not to wish to leave me alone just now.”
Juliet and Emily looked at one another, then at Prudence, then at each other again.
“The book,” they said as one.
“Book?” Prudence echoed cautiously.
“The book,” they repeated.
“I think,” Emily said, “we had best go around to my house and there Juliet and I can show you a most useful book I found in my husband’s library.”
Intrigued, Prudence made no objection. After all, she liked books. She could not see how one could help her marriage, but neither could she see any harm in looking at it.
A short time later the three ladies were ensconced in Philip’s library. The book was open, held by Prudence sitting between Emily and Juliet. Her eyes were wide as she turned the pages and the other two ladies pointed out their favorite pictures.
At one point she turned the book first one way, then the other, then asked, doubtfully, “Do you think that position is truly possible?”
And why Juliet and Emily should laugh at the question was beyond Prudence. But after a moment they sobered and Juliet explained, “We said precisely the same thing the first time we saw that picture. We have not yet figured out a way to manage it but it must be possible or surely they would not have put it in the book.”
Prudence looked at Emily enquiringly and she blushed. “I have not yet had the courage to suggest it to Philip,” she admitted. “And it does look most improbable.”
Prudence looked from one to the other. “So you really have used what you found here?” she asked.
They both nodded. Prudence was silent for a very long moment and then she turned her attention back to the book. “I think,” she said, “you might have a point.”
* * * *
Prudence found herself verbally fencing with Lord Brandon each day. It was as though he wished to determine her precise feelings about the family. And he pressed her for the letter. Sir Thomas wished her to encourage Lord Brandon but was adamant that the actual letter should not fall into the man’s hands again. But he had a copy made. Not precisely the same as the original, but Sir Thomas felt that after ten years, the man would be unlikely to recollect so precisely that he would notice. This he gave to Prudence. Lord Brandon was delighted when she gave him the letter. Something gleamed in his eyes that frightened her, but he was careful to swiftly hide it again. And then he turned his attention to her.
“Are you happy, my dear?” he asked with grave solicitude. “Are you more at ease with Colonel Langford’s family yet?
Prudence quirked a wry smile. Harry was avoiding her. He still, so far as she could tell, meant to go back to France and he still would not tell her why. So it was no great difficulty to look away from Lord Brandon and shake her head as though too distressed to speak.
Then, as Sir Thomas had predicted he would, Lord Brandon began to reveal himself a little more. “I beg you will confide in me, my dear,” he said. “I cannot believe they are entirely kind to you or that it is an establishment which truly suits you. Perhaps there is a way in which I can help.”
Prudence chose her words with great care. “I cannot see how, Lord Brandon. But you are right, I am not entirely happy in Lord Darton’s household. I suppose you shall think me more shallow even then you already do, but I am accustomed to presiding over my uncle’s establishment. Accustomed to playing hostess to diplomatic parties and such. Here I am relegated to the status of a poor relation. I cannot believe I have come to such a pass. My future stretches out before me like one very long nightmare.”
Prudence broke off and looked at him, letting Lord Brandon see the full measure of her current misery in her eyes. Then, she looked away, down at the floor as she said, “But I ought not to burden you with my troubles. No, nor give you a worse opinion of me. It is the megrims, that is all. I shall be fine, directly, I assure you.”
He came around the desk, as she knew he would, and took her hands. Prudence had to force herself neither to flinch nor to pull her hands free. This was important, she told herself. And so sh
e merely swallowed hard and kept looking at the floor. She even stood still when he tilted up her chin to make her look at him.
“I do not think you shallow. Nor selfish. Nor any other evil thing you are thinking about yourself,” he said softly. “I think you a courageous young woman caught up in circumstances she does not deserve.”
Now Prudence allowed herself to pull her chin free. She took a deep breath and said, “That may be. But these are my circumstances and I must make the best of them.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
She stared at him. “But how could they be altered?” she asked with a bewildered air.
Brandon turned and walked away from her. He stood for some moments staring out the window of his study, his back to her. Then, abruptly, he whirled around. “What if,” he said softly, “your husband could inherit the title?”
A laugh of disbelief burst out of Prudence, entirely uncalculated. “That is absurd!” she said, not needing to playact now. “Lord Darton has sons.”
“What if they were to all disappear. Pouf! All in one moment?” Brandon persisted.
Prudence froze. The man could not possibly be saying what she thought he meant, could he? For a moment she forgot the role she was playing and anger blazed out of her eyes. He took a step backward in alarm and Prudence hastily recollected the role she had promised Sir Thomas she would play.
She let a spark of hope appear in her expression before her shoulders dropped, as though in defeat. “That is scarcely likely to happen. No, nor should I wish for it either, even if I could. I must look instead to accustom myself to the reality of my circumstances. Somehow I shall. I must.”
This last was said fiercely and Brandon came closer again. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps not,” he said. “Tell me. Do you think you could arrange some sort of expedition? Perhaps out to the countryside? Or Astley’s Amphitheater? Or any such thing? The entire family? Even the younger brothers and their wives? And could you contrive to be in a carriage of your own with just your husband beside you?”
“I-I suppose I could,” Prudence said slowly. “But to what point?”
Brandon hesitated, then seemed to make up his mind. “It has happened before,” he said carefully, “that carriage accidents occurred. With no one the wiser. Who is to say it could not happen again? Think of it: not one Langford left to harass you!”
Prudence held her breath. It was both part of the act she played and to allow herself a moment to think for her thoughts were all a whirl and she did not think she could have answered Lord Brandon coherently, even if she wished to do so.
Finally, when he seemed to grow a trifle impatient, she said carefully, “Where and when and how would such a journey need to be arranged.”
Lord Brandon gave a tiny crow of laughter. “I knew I could not be mistaken in you,” he said. “Why don’t we say a week hence. You can tell me the precise day and time the moment you know it and I shall arrange everything else.”
Prudence made herself put out a hand and touch his sleeve. If it trembled, why so much the better. It lent verisimilitude to her part.
“It will not be dangerous, will it?”
He put his hand over hers and smiled a smile that reminded Prudence of nothing so much as a snake. “Not at all,” he assured her. “Not at all.”
He waited for her to nod then let go of her hand and moved briskly away from her and back behind his desk. “Very well. Now that we have that matter settled, shall we get back to work?”
Prudence took the chair he indicated and set to work as though they had not just plotted the murder of Harry’s entire family. Nor did her expression betray one bit her impatience to go to Sir Thomas and tell him everything. He had told her he thought Lord Brandon might make such an offer but Prudence had not believed him. Now she did and it chilled her to the bone.
Was this what had happened to the late Lord and Lady Darton? And could Sir Thomas truly protect the current family? He had said to listen to whatever plan Lord Brandon proposed. He had said not to refuse anything, no matter how outrageous. But still, perhaps she had agreed to this too hastily. Perhaps she ought to have spoken with Sir Thomas first.
Prudence made herself take a deep breath. She would talk to Sir Thomas as soon as possible. She could always refuse, after all, to arrange the trip. And then Lord Brandon would have no handy target. But if it were possible, she thought, she would prefer to have Brandon neatly caught at what he meant to do. For as long as the man walked free, she did not think she would draw an easy breath again.
Chapter 22
No one, seeing the two figures entering the elegant hotel, Grillon’s, in London would have guessed at the importance of either one. The woman was petite, with excellent features, but they were scarcely visible, so closely did she keep her hooded cloak clasped about her.
As for the gentleman, he was in no way remarkable to look at. To be sure, he spoke in a fine, mellifluous voice, but he was not above average height, his shoulders not overly broad, and his face was quite forgettable.
Still, upon hearing the name of Marland, the staff of Grillon’s was instantly obsequious. A set of rooms was found to be available. Orders were given and the two shown to what would be their home here in London for at least the next week or two.
Only when they were alone did the lady remove her cloak and toss it on the nearest chair. One of the servants could take care of it later.
“It is good to be back in London,” she said with a happy sigh.
“It won’t be so pleasant if anyone gets wind of who you are,” her companion countered. “Or worse, of where you have been all these years.”
She leaned her head against the back of the elegantly upholstered sofa. There was a mischievous grin on her face as she said, “Perhaps I should tell the truth and let the scandal fall where it may.”
He recoiled then leaned forward. “Don’t even jest about such a thing,” he told her, his voice urgent, “or I shall wash my hands of you entirely! Don’t you comprehend how dangerous it could be?”
She shrugged. “I did not come back to England to hide. But very well,” she said, holding up a hand to forestall his evident protests, “we shall do it as you wish. For the moment.”
He let out a deep sigh and did not even trouble to try to hide his relief. “It will be for the best.”
“Perhaps. But you must find a way for me to see her, and soon.”
The man bowed. “I shall call upon her today.”
“Now.”
He hesitated. He wanted to argue, but there was no point. “Let me change and I shall be on my way.”
Half an hour later, he knocked on the front door of Lord Darton’s town house. When he handed in his card he was admitted at once and taken to the drawing room. A lady greeted him, but not the one he was seeking.
“Hello Lord Marland, I am Lady Darton. I am very sorry your niece is not here. Unfortunately she is a trifle headstrong and cannot seem to bring herself ever to stay home.”
“Will she be back later?” he persisted.
Lady Darton gave a very dainty and very eloquent shrug. “I cannot say, sir. I would like to think so. But of late she spends a great deal of time with Lord Brandon.”
“Lord Brandon!” Hugo Marland was taken aback.
With a hint of maliciousness in her smile Lady Darton said, “Why don’t you ask for her there? At the very least, even if she is not there, no doubt his lordship will know when she is expected. However careless she is with us, with family, I collect she is much more responsible with him.”
“Thank you,” Lord Marland said, bowing to Lady Darton, his thoughts still in a whirl.
Lord Brandon! Of all people, he would never have expected her to strike up a friendship with him. And didn’t her husband object? Of all the reports he had heard of him, Colonel Harry Langford was not a man to suffer fools or traitors lightly. But then again, very few people knew what he did about Brandon.
Lord Marland said none of this aloud. Instead h
e bowed again, said a few gracious words and took his leave. On the street he paused to consider what to do. In the end he could see no better choice than to do as Lady Darton suggested. He signaled a passing hackney and directed the driver to take him to Lord Brandon’s town house. Perhaps here he would have some answers.
Lord Brandon certainly greeted him affably enough. “When did you return to London? I thought you had been sent to the talks on the continent.”
Lord Marland turned his hand this way and that. “I shall have to go back, of course, but I wished to come and see about my niece’s marriage to Langford. I called at Lord Darton’s house but she was not there and I was told that perhaps she might be here.”
Brandon offered his guest a glass of brandy and as he handed it to him, studied the man carefully. At last he said, “She is not expected until sometime later, I’m afraid.”
Marland smiled his innocuous smile. The one that led so many to underestimate him. “Good! Then you can tell me how she is doing without fearing we shall be interrupted by her unexpected entrance.”
Brandon blinked in surprise, then he shrugged and laughed. “Why not?” he said, as much to himself as to Marland “What do you wish to know?”
“How is she? Is she happy? Anxious? Does this Colonel Langford treat her well? Why the devil did she marry him, anyway?”
Even as he spoke them, Lord Marland realized how dearly he wanted answers. Not polite assurances, but some real understanding of Prudence’s circumstances. For a moment he thought Lord Brandon might refuse to answer and then the man began to talk.
“She is very brave, your niece. She tells the world she is content with her marriage, but I am not altogether certain she is telling the truth. Still, it was her choice and I do not see how anyone can alter matters for her. As for why she married him, did she not tell you? She and Colonel Langford wandered about France for a couple of months together, unchaperoned. And when they finally reached Wellington’s lines, the great man himself ordered them to be married because he felt Langford had hopelessly compromised your niece’s reputation. They put it about, once they returned to London, that it was a love match but I can assure you that I have observed your niece closely enough to be certain that it was not.”
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