by Sarah Winn
“Hunting in Hamptonshire?”
“You don't like that?”
Weathersby sighed in resignation. “It will do.”
Prudence finished brushing Neil's coat and hung it back in the armoire. She picked up the items that needed mending and went to her room. Good thing she'd brought her sewing basket. Although Neil's clothes were, as always, fashionable, she had found loose buttons and frayed seams. Perhaps he had let his valet go because of the man's slovenly service.
Still, there could be no doubt Neil was short of funds. The neighborhood he lived in and the sparse furnishings of his rooms clearly pointed to it. So why had he insisted she visit him at this time? She could keep his rooms in order, even cook for him, but her presence surely added to his expenses. He'd even rented a carriage to take her for a ride in the park. What a silly extravagance.
But that was Neil—determined to keep up the appearances of his rank. Sometimes she considered herself lucky to be a tradesman's daughter. Of course, if her father had been a nobleman, he might have taken better care of his daughter's welfare. But she wouldn't fret about that.
She heard a key in the lock, and then Neil called, “Pruddy? Where are you?”
“In my room.”
He stopped at her open doorway.
She looked up. “Good heavens? What do you have there?”
He dropped a large, paper-covered bundle on her bed. “I had a stroke of luck today. Passed a little shop that sells slightly used clothing. Saw a perfect dress for you in the window.”
“Oh, Neil! You know I'm in mourning. I must wear black.”
“This dress is black. But it's much nicer than those drab things you wear.”
“Aunt Agatha had these dresses made for me. Black bombazine is what everyone wears.” Prudence snipped the string around the package with her scissors. Yards of lustrous black silk erupted as she pulled the paper back.
She found the bodice beneath the skirt and held it up. “Goodness!” Her eyes widened as she saw the revealing neckline trimmed with jet beads. “But this gown is much too fancy for mourning. Where would I ever wear it?”
Neil extended his arms as though about to make a grand announcement. “Tonight. When we attend the theater as the guests of my friend, the Earl of Malvern!”
“Are you jesting? The theater? I can't go. Mother's only been dead for—”
“Don't start on that. I didn't rescue you from the mausoleum our aunt calls a home to imprison you in my cramped rooms. This is London. Things are different here. You'll still wear black, just as I'll continue to wear my armband, but no one expects us to make ourselves miserable for a whole year.”
Prudence shook her head. “We must honor our mother's passing.”
He plucked the bodice from her, threw it on the bed, and caught her hands in his. “You faithfully took care of Mother throughout her illness. You deserve a little gaiety in your life. Let me give it to you, Pruddy.” He tipped his head to one side and assumed a pleading expression. “Please.”
She felt a smile pulling at her lips. She'd never been able to say “no” to her big brother, a fact that had gotten her into trouble when she'd served as his accomplice in childhood pranks.
This visit to London would probably be her only chance to have any adventure in her life. After seeing the state of Neil's affairs, she knew she must either return to Aunt Agatha or accept Uncle Oscar's offer to live with his family in Manchester. She had no idea what life there would be like, so she'd better enjoy herself while she could.
“I'll go,” she said, “on one condition. You mustn't use that horrid nickname while we are with your important friends.”
He chuckled. “But Prudence is such a stern name. Not at all like my sweet little sister.”
“Well, I'd rather sound stern than like a fat puppy. Now let me try on this dress. It will undoubtedly need alterations, and you'll have to pin it for me.”
He drew back in mock horror. “I'm a gentleman of rank. I can't serve as a lady's maid.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, someone must do it.”
“All right,” he said with reluctance, “but you must promise never to mention this to any of my friends.”
“I won't, as long as you don't call me Pruddy.”
He struck the bargain by ceremoniously shaking her hand.
Prudence stared into the oval looking glass at a woman she did not know. After her hurried alterations, the bodice of the black dress minimized her waist and maximized her bosom, while the silk ruffles of her skirt billowed around her like dark smoke. Seeing Neil's smiling face over her shoulder, she asked, “Are you sure this dress is proper?”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Would I let you wear it if it weren't?”
“If I could just add the fichu—”
“Absolutely not!” He pulled the lace trimmed neck scarf from her fingers and dropped it on his bed with a grimace. “It spoils the style of the dress. And stop pulling at the neckline. You're in London and the ladies of society all show decolletage in the evening.”
“I can't help being nervous. I'm going to the theater for the first time and meeting an earl. How do I address him?”
“Say ‘Lord Malvern’ or ‘my lord’ unless he suggests you call him something less formal. He's had his title for so long all of his friends call him Malvern.”
“Is he elderly then?”
“Of course, not. I don't think he's thirty yet.”
“So he came into his title as a child?”
“Yes.”
“And what do I call his wife?”
He shook his head. “He doesn't have a wife.”
She gasped in alarm. “Do you mean I'll be the only woman in the party?”
“I'll be there. A brother can serve as a chaperone.”
“But if I'm the only woman present, I'll have to converse with the earl. What on earth will I say to him?”
Neil grimaced with impatience. “Stop being a silly goose, Pru. Remember your mother was a duke's niece. At least half of your blood is as blue as Malvern's. Hold your head up, look him in the eye and don't be afraid to speak your mind.”
She sighed. No matter the color of her blood, having lived quietly in the country since she was twelve years old had not prepared her to hobnob with nobility.
The bell on Neil's front door trilled. “There he is. I'll get the door. You stay in here for a few minutes. Then join us in the parlor.” He hurried from the room.
Obviously, Neil was embarrassed by her lack of polish. Then why had he agreed to this evening? Perhaps he had to accept the invitation or risk offending his friend.
She looked into the mirror and pinched her cheeks to redden them. No need to be nervous. In all probability, the earl would pay scant notice to a woman so far beneath his rank. But noting her image in the new black dress, she couldn't help but hope someone would notice her. Surely in a city the size of London, there was a man who could overlook the fact she was a tradesman's daughter without a dowry and make her one dream, a home of her own, come true.
Remembering she had to greet her host for the evening, Prudence squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and called on her mother's blood to get her through the ordeal.
As she entered the parlor, the two men standing in the middle of the room turned toward her. Prudence stared agape at the tall, handsome, perfectly dressed man who smiled at her with brilliantly white teeth. He might be an earl, but to her he looked like a prince straight out of a fairy tale.
Neil said something. She had no idea what.
The earl's lips moved. “...Miss Crump.”
Speak. Say something. “Ah—pleased to meet you, Mis—ah—Lord Malvern.”
Neil frowned at her, but the glorious Earl of Malvern continued to smile as if stuttering were perfectly normal. Neil dropped her shawl around her shoulders, and she gratefully lapped it over her partially exposed bosom, wishing she could pull it over her head as well.
“Shall we go?” The earl extended
his elbow. Prudence felt a bit faint, but managed to lay her hand on his forearm with barely a tremble.
The coach that awaited them had a crest on the door and a footman to carefully hand her inside. She sat on the forward moving seat and the two men faced her. Rather than converse with Neil as she wished he would, the earl looked at her and said, “And how do you like London, Miss Crump?”
“I've only been here a few days, but it seems quite...large.”
He nodded and continued smiling warmly. “I believe your brother said you are from Lancashire?”
“Yes, in the countryside near Huffington. But I no longer live there.”
“Yes, may I extend my sincerest condolences on your mother's passing?”
“Thank you.”
“Are you planning to live in London now?”
Prudence fingered her shawl's fringe. “I'm not sure. I have an aunt in Northamptonshire and an uncle in Manchester. I'll live with one of them.”
Undeterred by her halting replies, the earl pressed on. “Did you like living in Lancashire?”
She looked up from the fringe. “Oh, yes. We had a lovely cottage and a large garden, and there were woods nearby.”
Neil sighed and she smiled at him. “Of course, Neil hated it. But he was away at school much of the time. Then he took up residence in London.”
“I can see why Weathersby wouldn't have liked it. He craves the city's excitement. Didn't you find the bucolic life dull?”
“There were always things to do and neighbors to visit. And I could go about with far more freedom than I can in a city.”
The earl's eyes narrowed and the hazel color seemed to deepen. “How did living in the country give you more freedom?”
“I had my own pony cart and could drive myself to the village or to neighbors’ houses. A woman wouldn't dare do that in a city like London.”
“Certainly not a lady,” the earl agreed with a half smile.
Was he implying something with his smile? She stared at him in perplexity, but he resumed asking questions about her life in the country until she forgot her shyness. When she mentioned raising partridges, he seemed genuinely interested. He even chuckled when she told about the brick-like scones she had baked when she had used the tiny partridge eggs.
As their carriage moved into the queue in front of the theater, Prudence marveled over being able to converse so easily with a handsome, titled man like the Earl of Malvern.
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* * *
Chapter 2
Malvern found everything about Miss Prudence Crump charming. Her tawdry affair with a married man had not tarnished her fresh from the country, innocent air. Not truly innocent, but obviously she still saw life as a joyous adventure. She'd been so enthralled at the theater he'd feared she might fall from her chair during the violent final scenes of Hamlet. And she'd actually cried over Ophelia's fate—real tears that had required her to dab at her eyes with a hanky. He didn't know when he'd enjoyed Shakespeare more.
She was a pretty thing, like a spring morning. Blushes often enhanced her rosy complexion. Imagine, blushing at her age. She had to be in her twenties. As they made their way toward the hotel dining room, he studied her profile and elegant neck. What a perfect place to display the Malvern rubies. Of course, he couldn't give her the family jewels, but he'd certainly consider giving her a ruby pendant. He could just imagine it twinkling between those creamy breasts.
He reminded himself not to make plans before he knew if the lady was amenable. But he'd seen the look she gave him when they first met. He'd drawn enough female admiration in his time to easily recognize it. She definitely liked his looks. And once he had overcome her awe of him, she'd lapsed into a pleasant chattiness, even showing a decent sense of humor—something a lot of women in his circle lacked. Yes, indeed, he thought they would suit very well.
The maitre'd recognized him and rushed to usher them into the private dining room Malvern had reserved. Before sitting in the chair a waiter held for her, Prudence removed her shawl, and Malvern couldn't stop himself from staring at the tantalizing mounds of flesh rising above the low neckline of her dress. He longed to rest his head on those soft pillows.
Impatient to get the dinner over with, he snapped his fingers at the waiter and signaled for him to start serving the preordered meal. First, of course, the waiter served the champagne.
Malvern watched Prudence take a cautious sip, wrinkle her nose at the bubbles, and giggle.
“Pru's never had champagne,” Weathersby explained.
Charming, absolutely charming.
A growing warmth from the French wine added to Prudence's excitement. This evening would surely live in her memory as the most wonderful of her life. The theater had been a true spectacle, with the audience rivaling the actors for lavish costumes and extravagant behavior. But the most exciting element of the evening was the man by her side, the Earl of Malvern, who behaved as though her comfort and enjoyment were his only concerns.
After Neil had moved to London and assumed his rightful position in society, Prudence had thought him most dashing, but the earl made Neil seem like a callow youth. While they both wore nearly identical black evening clothes, they presented the clothing quite differently. The earl's broad shoulders and the relaxed, yet confident, way he moved made his clothing seem far more elegant than Neil's. His sable brown hair and lively hazel eyes were more dramatic than Neil's fair coloring.
She had hair and eye color similar to Neil's, so she must look as colorless as he, especially in her black dress. And the earl couldn't possibly be interested in her silly stories about the charms of country living. His treatment of her, undoubtedly, stemmed from his friendship with Neil, or perhaps, from true nobility. Whatever the cause, he made her feel special.
The waiter brought a platter of roasted partridges to the table. Lord Malvern raised his hand with a look of alarm. “Does this dish offend you, Miss Crump?”
“Why should it offend me?” she asked.
“Since you once keep partridges as pets, I thought you might be averse to eating them.”
Through her delighted smile, she managed to say, “That was long ago, my lord. I'm sure I never knew any of these birds personally.” He had remembered the story she'd told on the way to the theater. Wasn't he dear?
Malvern wondered what was wrong with Weathersby. He'd hardly said two words through the first part of the evening; now he chattered away like a magpie. The meal was almost over, and sweet Prudence obviously wasn't used to spirits. He couldn't keep serving her wine or she'd be too tipsy to think clearly, and he wanted her to understand exactly what he offered.
Malvern interrupted Weathersby's comments about horse racing with, “But what about hunting?”
Weathersby blinked at him. “Hunting?”
“Yes, I find hunting far more exciting than watching a race. In fact, I'm quite looking forward to this season. They say the hunting in Hamptonshire was splendid last year. I'd very much like to go there.” Malvern hoped the man wasn't too foxed to remember the signal.
“Oh, yes, hunting is nice.” A look of uncertainty came over Weathersby's face.
Malvern watched him anxiously. Had he changed his mind?
Then his smile snapped back into place. “Gads, I promised to meet Turnbull and Cartland in the public room for a drink. I'd better pop out and see if they're waiting for me. Would you mind entertaining my sister for a few moments? I'll think up some excuse and beg off from them.”
Malvern smiled in relief. “Not at all. Be glad to.”
Prudence felt a jolt of alarm as Neil started for the door. She shouldn't be left alone with the earl. Before she could speak, Neil said, “I shan't be long, Pru. Try not to bore Lord Malvern with more of your stories about the joys of country living.”
He closed the door behind himself, and she turned toward the earl. Neil had said her chatter was boring. What on earth would she talk about now? “I'm sorry if my stories have been tedious, my
lord.”
“Not a bit.” Lord Malvern eased his chair closer, as though he wanted to be sure he heard her every word. “I've spent a good deal of time in the country myself. Malvern Manor has extensive woodlands.”
“Then I'd think the hunting would be good there.”
“It is. But it's always exciting to try something new, don't you think?” He leaned closer and braced one arm against the back of her chair, as if eagerly awaiting her response.
She leaned forward to avoid any contact with his arm, and his gaze shifted, making her realize she'd thrust her cleavage under his nose. She looked away from him in embarrassment. “My...my visit to London is certainly exciting.”
His voice seemed to flow over her like warm honey. “I hope I'm adding to your excitement in some small way.”
Imagine a man as wonderful as Lord Malvern fishing for a compliment. She found his insecurity appealing and wanted him to know how much she appreciated his hospitality. “Not in a small way, my lord. This evening has been the most wonderful of my entire life. I'll treasure the memory forever.”
He leaned so close she felt puffs of his breath on her cheek when he spoke. “But you make this evening sound so final. I'd like to spend many evenings with you. There are so many things to see and do in London.”
Good heavens! Was the Earl of Malvern attracted to her? She turned to him so quickly their noses almost touched. “Oh, Lord Malvern, I don't know what to say.”
“Please call me Malvern. No need for formality between us.”
“But that wouldn't be proper,” she managed to say in a strained voice.
“Our being alone in this room isn't proper, but isn't it exciting? That's what makes the improper so appealing.”
He stroked the side of her neck with the tip of one finger. “I've been wondering about your beautiful neck all evening. It looks as if it were carved from ivory by a great sculptor, but now I find it's soft and warm, like you, dear Prudence.”
“Oh, Malvern!” She stared at him in wonder until he came so close she had to shut her eyes.
He gently touched the end of her nose with his lips. “Adorable nose.” He lightly caressed her lips with his own. “Precious lips.”
