by Sarah Winn
Lady Caroline smiled indulgently. “Unfortunately, down through the years, the Fairchilde family has tended to produce female children. By the time my father became the seventh earl there were no more male heirs. It appeared the title would cease.
“Then a young baron from Yorkshire began to court me. I expected my father to disapprove since Philip's linage was far humbler than mine. Instead, my father talked Philip into forsaking his family name in order to become the Earl of Malvern. The king and my father were friends so my father easily acquired a special proclamation allowing my husband to succeed my father.”
“I see,” Prudence managed to say. Could she replace a countess who had literally been born into the position? And what about Malvern Manor? It had been the countess's home all of her life. Would she relinquish control of it to an inexperienced nobody like Prudence? Surely, even Malvern wouldn't expect such a thing.
“After that near-miss at extinction, I'm sure you can understand why I'm so anxious for Malvern to marry and start a family.”
Prudence stared up at Lady Caroline speechlessly. Malvern's harsh remarks about her bearing an heir suddenly grew in importance. The continuance of an earldom that had lasted through eight generations now rested entirely on her ability to produce a son.
Her expression must have alarmed Lady Caroline. “Prudence? Are you feeling unwell?”
“N—no, ma'am.”
The countess reached over and patted Prudence's tightly clenched hands. “Don't worry about producing an heir. You're a healthy young woman. You should have no trouble.
“Now let's go over to the east gallery and I'll show you the current family portraits.”
Prudence followed her across the wide entry hall to a room that ran the length of one side of the house. Windows lined the outside wall, and aside from the two fireplaces necessary to warm the long room, portraits hung along the inside wall. “We only use this room when guests are in residence.” She pointed toward a portrait. “That was my husband.”
Prudence gasped when she saw the piercing eyes and strong chin.
Lady Caroline nodded grimly. “The resemblance is startling, isn't it? The more Anthony came to look like his father, the more I feared he'd be like him in other ways. I've done everything I could to make Anthony aware of his duty to the family name. I hope you will also accept your duties to the title you are about to acquire.”
Prudence didn't know how to respond, so she continued to stare at the portrait.
After a short pause, the countess continued. “You're bright and presentable and can be an acceptable countess if you'll bring Anthony to heel.”
Was Lady Caroline jesting? “What do you mean by ‘bring him to heel'?”
The countess chuckled. “That's just an expression. I think it comes from training dogs. Of course there are some similarities. A husband, like a dog, is taught to behave himself through a series of rebukes and rewards.”
Prudence had to force her gaping mouth shut; she could not believe a mother would compare her own son to a dog.
The countess continued walking through the room, talking as she went. “You reward by being sweet and amenable, and you rebuke by showing your anger and locking the bedroom door.”
“Lady Caroline! You shouldn't say such things to me.” Prudence's cheeks burned.
The countess looked at her with a tight smile before saying, “Know all about the marital bed, do you?”
No one had ever spoken to her about this subject, and it seemed particularly improper for her future mother-in-law to do so. Prudence stared at a portrait of a much younger Lady Caroline and ignored the question.
The countess sighed. “I had hoped you'd be mature enough to accept a little heart-felt advice. I married when I was eighteen and so dazzled with my handsome husband that I never considered saying no to him about anything—a mistake I came to bitterly regret.”
Prudence turned and faced the countess, knowing it had been difficult for the proud woman to make such a personal confession. Still Prudence found the conversation incredibly awkward.
Lady Caroline stopped walking and stood for a moment staring at her. “I know you and Anthony are not in love, but love can grow as the two of you come to know and respect each other. However, a man never respects the mat he wipes his boots on. Despite the gratitude you feel toward Anthony for saving you from ruin, you must make yourself known to him.”
To show her appreciation, Prudence dipped a small curtsy. “Thank you, ma'am, for speaking so frankly. The relationship between your son and myself is somewhat...strained, but I hope in time we can become friends.”
The countess grimaced. “Friends? Anthony has a whole club full of friends. What he needs is a wife to push him into achieving his full potential.”
The butler appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is served, your ladyship.”
“Thank you, Stiles. As usual, your timing is perfect.”
Prudence found the pace at Malvern Manor more leisurely than it had been in London. The well-trained staff kept the manor house running smoothly. Still the countess insisted Prudence follow her around while she attended to such tasks as planning menus or checking the housekeeper's and butler's receipts against inventories.
This added to Prudence's insecurity over her future. Did the earl intend for her to replace his mother? Prudence knew she would need far more time to learn how to run such a large house than the couple of weeks before her wedding. Besides, she couldn't see Lady Caroline readily stepping aside.
Whenever the rainy weather let up, the countess took Prudence on afternoon carriage rides to view the estate and meet some of the tenants. She explained these visits weren't just social calls, but a necessary way to find out about problems on the estate.
On Sundays, they attended services in the village church and heard the second and third readings of the banns. As the final Sunday approached and there had been no word from Lord Malvern, Prudence began to wonder if he'd been so infuriated by her show of temper the last time they were together that he'd changed his mind. What would she do if he refused to marry her? She couldn't stay at Malvern Manor or return to Aunt Agatha. Neil couldn't support her. Would Uncle Oscar give her shelter?
She breathed an audible sigh of relief when Lady Caroline informed her Lord Malvern would arrive on Friday, bringing the last of the packages from the modiste.
Malvern rode his horse straight to the stables, so he could give instructions to the stable master. Thor, Malvern's recently purchased and highly-strung stallion, needed special handling. After the discussion with the stable master, Malvern started toward the house, feeling more than the usual anticipation as he approached his boyhood home.
Considering his reason for this trip, marriage, his steps should have been lagging, but the prospect of seeing Prudence caused him to quicken his pace.
The last time he'd seen her, in his mother's salon, when Prudence had lost her temper and stood up to him, with her eyes blazing, her cheeks flushed, and her bosom heaving, he'd become quite excited himself. In fact, he'd had to leave quickly before he broke his promise not to press his attentions on her.
She was developing into the most perplexing woman he'd ever known: a simple country miss one moment and a scheming seductress the next. Twice, once in the private dining room of the Metropolitan Hotel and again in his mother's salon, Prudence had dropped her serene facade and shown fiery passion. Couple that with her allowing herself to be seduced by a married man, and Malvern strongly suspected a blazing fire simmered beneath her cool exterior.
Marriage to her no longer represented just a duty to beget an heir. His new vision of Prudence made him hope they would have some lively romps in the bedroom.
After entering the house through a rear door, Malvern hurried up the back staircase, hoping he'd have a chance to clean up before encountering anyone. He'd barely reached the top of the stairs when his mother called to him from the sunroom on the other side of the hallway.
He went to the doorway and saw
both his mother and Prudence seated in the room. Prudence held a book and looked over the top of it with a slightly surprised expression.
“Hello, Mother. Prudence.”
“What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting anyone this early,” his mother said.
Prudence nodded.
“I came on horseback.”
His mother huffed at him. “What about the packages from the modiste?”
“Turnbull has them.” He glanced over at Prudence who had laid her open book in her lap. “And Neil Weathersby. They should be here before dinner.”
The mention of her brother's name seemed to please her more than Malvern's arrival. Was her brother truly precious to her or was she pleased to have won a concession from her husband-to-be?
Mother interrupted his thoughts. “If you'll excuse me, I need to give cook the final numbers for dinner tonight.”
Prudence closed her book and stood. “I can do that for you, Lady Caroline.”
“Why, thank you, dear.”
Malvern stepped back from the doorway and Prudence hurried past him in her perfect imitation of a country mouse. As she scurried down the stairs, his mother leaned close to him and said, “She's coming along nicely.”
His mother usually judged people quite accurately, but Prudence's false timidity had evidently fooled her.
Prudence did not get to see her brother or meet the Honorable Mr. Foster Trunbull until she had dressed for dinner and returned to the main salon. Neil greeted her far more affectionately than he normally did. And she quickly saw why. The countess and Malvern were treating him with stiff politeness.
Thankfully, Mr. Trunbull, with the jovial demeanor of a politician, kept the conversation going in something approaching geniality. He accepted his introduction to Prudence with no hint of having been one of the witnesses to her disgrace at the Metropolitan Hotel. He deferred to the countess without toadying, and was friendly to Neil, but also maintained a distance that showed he was Malvern's friend first.
Poor Neil. She had never seen him so ill-at-ease, so tentative, and she began to regret her insistence that he attend her wedding. While he was the grandson of both a duke and a viscount, Neil had neither a title nor a fortune nor a profession. Perhaps his insecurity over his own life had pushed him into deeming marriage for money and position the only course for Prudence.
They dined in a smaller dining room with a round table so the odd number of guests would not be glaringly apparent, and Neil was seated to Prudence's right, making it proper for her to chat with him during the dinner. She tried to make small talk so he wouldn't feel left out, but soon realized she had little to talk to him about.
They both fell silent and listened to Lady Caroline question Mr. Foster about the latest gossip from London, and most particularly events in the recently adjourned House of Commons.
When this topic was exhausted, Lord Malvern nodded to Prudence with a brief smile. “How do you like Malvern Manor?”
“The house is magnificent, my lord.”
“Have you seen any of the countryside?”
“Yes, your mother has taken me on several carriage rides.”
“I can take you out on horseback. By getting off the roads, you will see more.”
Prudence felt her cheeks burn. “I don't ride.”
He looked as if the thought of someone not riding repelled him.
“Why, Pru, you once loved to ride,” Neil said.
“I was a child then. I haven't been on a horse in years.”
Neil, obviously embarrassed by her lack of riding skills, forced a smile. “Malvern has an excellent stable. I'm sure we can find a gentle horse and have you up to scratch in no time.”
Prudence pinched her lips together and shook her head, hoping Neil would drop the subject. He knew the real reason she had not ridden for years.
Lord Malvern leaned a little closer and asked in a soft voice, “Are you afraid of horses, Prudence?”
She sighed in resignation. “I didn't ride while we lived in the country because there were no horses, only a pony to pull the cart.”
Lord Malvern nodded rather curtly. If he didn't want his intended to reveal her common background, he should not ask so many questions.
Neil's cheeks flushed, and he added, “But once you know how to ride, you never forget. I'm sure I could teach—”
The countess interrupted. “For heaven's sake, don't start any lessons before the wedding. I don't want Prudence hobbling down the aisle with strained muscles.”
“And after the wedding, I'll be responsible for any lessons she might need,” Lord Malvern added as he gazed intently at Prudence. Did his remark have a double meaning?
Neil nodded meekly and silence fell over the room.
Mr. Foster broke it. “So how's that new horse of yours, Malvern?”
“Thor and I are coming to an understanding. The long ride here was just what we needed to get to know each other better.”
Obviously Malvern thought it more important to become acquainted with a new horse than a soon-to-be-wife.
He turned to his mother. “Are all the arrangements made for the wedding?”
“Mr. Morton, the vicar, suggested holding the ceremony directly following Sunday's service and the fourth reading of the banns. Since the congregation will already be assembled, I've issued a blanket invitation to all.”
Malvern frowned.
“Surprisingly, Lady Agatha Weston sent word that she and one of her daughters and the daughter's husband will attend, even though I didn't exactly invite them. They're due tomorrow and won't leave until Monday.”
Malvern redirected his frown at Prudence as if she were responsible for this intrusion. She shrugged back at him.
The countess continued. “Your aunt Clarise would never have forgiven me if she hadn't been invited. She and her family will also arrive tomorrow.”
Lord Malvern turned back to his mother, his frown growing more severe. “I asked for a private ceremony. You've invited a house full of guests and a church full of witnesses.”
“For someone in your position, this will be a private ceremony,” the countess insisted. “If we'd had the wedding in London as we ought, we could have filled Westminster Abbey.”
She began to name dignitaries who would probably never forgive her for slighting them. As she mentioned most of the best-known names in the realm, Prudence glanced at Neil. Awe etched his face. Had he wanted her to marry Malvern to bring himself closer to what he would never possess?
At the end of the meal, Malvern's mother charged him with entertaining their guests for the rest of the evening, stating that she and Prudence must examine the last items sent by the modiste since they would have no spare time tomorrow.
Malvern had hoped for a few minutes alone with Prudence, but accepted the countess's decree. Prudence went along with his mother a little too willingly. Was she eager to avoid him?
On Saturday, shortly before noon, his aunt Clarise, her husband, two daughters, one son-in-law, two grandchildren, their servants and luggage arrived in a caravan of carriages. They were barely settled when Lady Agatha Becton arrived with her family.
After the things Prudence had said about her relatives, Malvern was surprised by the affection that poured from the Becton family onto “dear Prudence.” No doubt, her approaching elevation in rank had made them reconsider her worth.
Prudence followed the countess about like a trained poodle, being introduced to his relatives and introducing her own. Malvern had his own hosting chores, so they barely spoke to each other.
Dinner that evening was grander than it had been on the previous night. The vicar, his wife and her visiting nephew had also been invited. When Malvern muttered complaints about the number of guests, the countess archly explained that there had to be an equal number of men and women so the seating around the table would be balanced.
With Malvern's lively aunt and chatty cousins, there was plenty of opportunity for Foster to turn on his charm. Neil even be
came more gregarious. Malvern was relieved that his younger cousin, Rachel, was already engaged, so that she would be safe from these two, especially Neil.
Malvern, of course, had to be at the head of the table and Prudence was seated several spaces away from him, so there was no opportunity to converse with her. But he noticed that she seemed to be getting along quite well with the vicar's nephew. Of course, as his countess, conversing with dinner guests would be one of her duties, but polite conversation had better be all that was going on between her and young Clifton.
After dinner, the ladies withdrew to the parlor, and Lord Malvern offered tobacco and brandy to the male guests. When he heard the soft notes of the piano from the grand salon, he interrupted one of Foster's stories to suggest they join the ladies.
As he expected, Prudence played as the other women sat about listening. He went to stand beside the piano, and the other men scattered themselves about the room. From his vantage point, he could look down on either the nape of her neck or lean slightly forward and glimpse her cleavage. Not wanting to be seen ogling his own wife-to-be's bosom, he concentrated on the neck.
Her hair had been pulled away so that bare skin from her nape down to the tops of her shoulder blades was fully displayed and glowed in the candlelight. Malvern had always found something sweet and vulnerable about the back of a woman's neck, and Prudence's was particularly graceful. He remembered how he had admired it on the night they met, how he had thought of tracing it with kisses.
Applause jarred him from his thoughts, and he realized Prudence had lifted her hands from the keyboard—the music had stopped. She stood, looking a bit flustered by the applause. As she started toward the seating area, he caught her arm, intent on preventing her from sinking back into the shelter of the other guests.
“You look a bit warm, Prudence. Perhaps you'd like to step out on the terrace for some fresh air?”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Yes, that would be nice.”
Did he detect a tone of eagerness in her voice? Asking the others to excuse them for a moment, he quickly led her from the room.
