by Sara Ramsey
He believed what he was saying. There was such sincerity — such a wealth of regret — in his voice that Prudence couldn’t doubt his beliefs. Even if it was entirely inexplicable and irrational, Alex believed that he was cursed. And that belief kept him from marrying her.
Her heart should have soared at that. She hadn’t expected to hear him ever discuss the possibility of marrying her.
But the downward pull of his doubts was too strong. “Is there a way to break the curse?” she asked.
“I have spent a decade searching for it.”
That wasn’t an answer. “And you thought the stone that Ellie sold would give you the cure?”
He sighed. “It was the closest I’ve ever come to changing my fate.”
Her conscience poked at her. “At least you didn’t waste your money on it. You should be glad it was Thorington who threw away a fortune for the rock.”
Alex sighed. “I pity whoever Ellie sold it for. Thorington will know as soon as he reads it that it won’t help his ends. And the curse will make sure he gets his money back.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Alex didn’t speak for a moment. A different woman might have suspected that he was preparing a lie, but Prudence knew the quality of that silence. He was deciding how to phrase something unpleasant.
“Thorington and I were friends at Cambridge,” he finally said. “He suffers from the curse as well.”
Prudence rested her chin in her hand and tapped a finger against her nose — a most unladylike gesture, but it seemed better than shrieking with disbelief. When she knew her voice wouldn’t crack, she said, “The Duke of Thorington is cursed? You must pardon me for not believing you straight away.”
“Why do you think he bid so much to win the stone?” Alex retorted. “Thorington is just as cursed as I am. But unlike me, he doesn’t want to break it. He wished for great wealth — a wish that has continued to come true for him. And he will do anything to keep it intact. That includes preventing me from breaking the curse. We both suspect that if the curse is broken once, the power disappears for everyone. Thorington can’t risk losing his fortune.”
Prudence just managed to keep from gasping. If Alex was right, then the marriage Thorington demanded of her would inadvertently give him his money back.
She didn’t want to marry Thorington, despite what she had said to the men in Alex’s study. Would the curse force her to do it anyway?
“Is that why you don’t want me to marry him?” she asked. “Because he is cursed?”
“His curse won’t kill you as quickly as mine would. Or I don’t think it will. Maybe it would eventually if it thinks Thorington needs to marry an heiress or you spend too much of his income. But I wouldn’t want you to marry him even if he wasn’t cursed.”
There was a quality to the end of that sentence that said he wasn’t done, even if his voice dropped off and his eyes shifted away from her to look toward the banked fire in her grate. She waited. When he finally turned back to her, his gaze filtered through the impenetrable darkness of memory.
“I should not ask you this,” he said, with a voice that said he was reminding himself rather than apologizing to her. “But…I love you, Prudence. More than is safe. More than I should say. Will you wait for me?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Yes.
The “yes” was on her lips, waiting there for him. It had hovered on her lips for years, waiting for him to ask the only question she’d ever wanted to hear. It leapt to attention, ready to burst forth, ready at last for the moment she’d dreamed of.
Despite it all, she still loved him. Even after weeks spent planning to steal from him, she loved him. She loved his humor, and his strength, and the way he held a conversation with her as an equal. She loved his body, too, and the way it would feel next to hers, even if she tried to confine herself to rational considerations of what might make a man into a good husband.
But her rational mind kept her mouth in check. She covered her lips with her hand, keeping the “yes” pent up until she could force it back from the brink. “How long would you have me wait?” she finally asked.
His shoulders slumped. “That is why I should not have asked you. I may never break the curse. Much as I would like to claim otherwise.”
“Can I wish for it to be broken?” she asked.
Alex laughed — a quick, disbelieving sound, as though he had not hoped for humor from her. “I thought of that. But whatever power is behind this curse may decide that the easiest way to break the curse is to kill me. It has too much of a sense of humor to let me live.”
“Not the most useful dagger, is it?”
“No.”
The thought of a useful dagger distracted her, niggling at some bit of memory that she hadn’t unearthed in years. “Does anyone else know of it?”
“Only Thorington. But it must have a long provenance. I’ve tracked rumors of something similar through ancient stories and correspondence.”
“Where did you find it?” she asked.
“It was in a box of Egyptian artifacts that Thorington’s father had won playing hazard. Only luck the man had — but it wasn’t so lucky, as it turned out. I bought it from Thorington to give him some pocket money, then we tried the dagger one night when we were in our cups.”
She considered, but even though it sounded familiar, she couldn’t place the reference. “I may have heard of this from someone else, but I cannot for the life of me remember who it might be.”
“I shall continue looking regardless of what you choose to do.”
She felt she should answer his earlier question. And yet…what answer was there to give? She wanted to tell him she would wait for him. But could she spend an entire lifetime living her shadowed, solitary existence while he tilted at windmills and fought an enemy no one could see?
What if he never found a cure? What if…what if he was mad, and there was no curse, let alone a cure? And what if her whole life passed her by, living in silence with her unfulfilled, aching heart?
That wasn’t her only consideration, though. She had tricked him with her forgery. He hated intellectual dishonesty more than anything — witness how he despised Ostringer for selling fake goods. If he discovered what she had done, would he be able to forgive her for it?
In the end, she was a coward. She loved him. She would always love him. But living with that love, and nothing else, while her friends had perfect marriages and left her to crumble into the dust…
It was too great a sacrifice to ask for, when there would be no guarantee of a happy end for either of them.
“I am sorry, Alex,” she said quietly. “I wish it were otherwise. But wishes are too dangerous to build a life upon.”
His eyes held hers for the longest time — long enough for her to doubt, then reassure herself, then doubt again. But finally he nodded. “I wish you very happy, Prudence. If I had it all to do again, I’d wish for you instead.”
She couldn’t trust herself to respond. He left without another touch, another word. She stayed perfectly still for the longest time, as though the emotions swirling between them were quicksand she might drown in if she took a single step. In the distance, she heard his study door slam. The reverberation cracked her heart.
She’d broken it herself this time. He’d asked her to wait, and she’d denied them both. A weaker woman — or perhaps a better woman — would have taken what he offered.
Surely she’d made the right decision. Even if this was the moment she would regret for the rest of her life.
But there was no other path she could take.
In the end, there was no one who could care for her but herself. And she would do what she needed to survive — even if she lived only to loathe herself later.
* * *
Prudence should have known better than to hope for privacy the next morning. She had hidden herself away in the smallest of Lady Salford’s sitting rooms, waiting for an answer to the message she’d sent to Ellie. He
r back was to the door as though she could will away anyone who thought to open it.
But her will had been expended the previous night in her vain attempt to forget Alex so that she could sleep. Her sleepless night pressed against her skin, as though her body had turned to porcelain that might crack if she felt any additional strain. Her eyes were gritty and her face felt swollen, even though she had manfully kept her tears at bay.
In short, she was in no state to entertain. She would rather drive sharpened skewers into her tongue than talk about what had happened. When the door behind her opened, she didn’t turn around, hoping it was a maid who would come back later to tidy up.
“Why are you hiding here?” Amelia asked, closing the door and coming around Prudence’s chair to face her. “I’ve looked everywhere for you.”
Prudence made a show of reading her book, refusing to look up. “Did it not occur to you that I might wish to remain undiscovered?”
Amelia slowly lowered herself into the opposite chair, as obtuse — and concerned — as ever. “Yes, but don’t you wish to talk about what happened last night? I vow, I would wring Alex’s neck for you if I didn’t think he was still a better Earl of Salford than Sebastian would be.”
It was a jest, but Prudence didn’t smile. “It matters naught.”
From over the page she held in front of her face, she saw Amelia frown. “Malcolm told me a story so strange this morning that I could scarcely believe it. Did Alex truly compromise you last night? And did you really release him of his responsibility because you intend to marry Thorington?”
Prudence finally dropped her book. “Your husband was more forthcoming about what happened than I would have wished.”
Amelia didn’t apologize for him. “He cares for you. We both do. And he would have taken action to make sure Alex did his duty if you hadn’t been so adamant that he not.”
“I’m sure he would have appreciated paying your brother back for what happened in Scotland,” Prudence said. “Please give him my apologies that I denied him that opportunity.”
If Amelia saw any humor in the fact that Carnach had essentially jilted Prudence the previous summer and now decided to play her protector, she didn’t acknowledge it. “I know Thorington’s a higher rank than Alex and has greater wealth besides. But you and Alex have so many common interests.”
Prudence shrugged. “Thorington offered for me. Alex did not. There’s little point in arguing who would be a better match, is there?”
“I suppose not.” Amelia shifted in her chair, too big with her pregnancy to stay comfortable easily. “But I must admit, I had hoped you might one day be my sister.”
For once, Prudence found herself without a glib response. She wanted to laugh off Amelia’s words, but the image they painted — the feeling they gave her, of a place and a home in which she belonged — was something too precious to sweep aside. Not that she had fallen in love with Alex for his family; on some days, she thought she had fallen in love with him despite them. But losing the Stauntons was another loss her heart seemed destined to suffer.
“Thank you,” she finally said, with as much sincerity as her usual humor could allow. “Wouldn’t that have been lovely?”
Amelia sighed. “I really do wish to wring Alex’s neck. I vow that he is interested, even if he may never own up to it. Too late now, though — you cannot jilt a duke, and Thorington isn’t a jilt either, despite his blackguard reputation. You’re well and truly trapped.”
Prudence winced. Amelia was watching her closely enough to catch it. “What haven’t you told me, Prue?” she asked.
Prudence looked down at her hands. “The engagement isn’t…quite…final.”
Amelia gasped. “Did you lie to Malcolm when you said Thorington had offered?”
“No, of course not. Do you think me mad?” She looked up, and saw Amelia looking back at her with an appalled expression. She laughed despite herself. “You do think me mad, don’t you?”
Amelia tried to compose herself. “No. But what do you mean by not final?”
“Thorington offered. And when Ferguson and Malcolm suddenly turned into overprotective males at the slightest hint of ruined female virtue, I spiked their guns by telling them I had already arranged to marry someone else. You should have seen their faces.”
There hadn’t been anything funny about it at the time, but Prudence was able to grin just a little bit now. Amelia laughed. “Priceless, I’m sure. But you’re playing a dangerous game by involving Thorington in this.”
“He doesn’t know,” Prudence said. “I’ve said no to him several times already — hopefully he will get the message.”
“But Ferguson and Malcolm know. If you don’t marry Thorington now, they’ll think he jilted you. And then they’ll either try to coerce the duke or force Alex to marry you.”
Prudence had thought of that. But she had also thought of the fifty thousand pounds that Ellie would soon give her for the stone. There was a third, secret path available to her — one much lonelier, but much freer.
She shrugged. “I’ll tell Thorington we don’t suit. I’ll tell Ferguson I jilted him. Then I’ll make it clear that if Ferguson says anything to anyone, I’ll divulge Madeleine’s former acting career.”
Amelia gasped. “Would you really do that?”
Prudence scowled at her. “Of course not. But Ferguson enjoys manipulating everyone else’s lives — perhaps he should have a taste of it himself.”
“You’ve become quite ruthless,” Amelia said, almost approvingly. “Perhaps you should consider becoming the Duchess of Thorington. Think of how much power you’d have then.”
Prudence held up her hands. “I don’t want power. I just want a house.”
“Well, whatever you do, make sure you contain Ferguson before he ruins your plans. He is the worst.”
“Worse than you?” Prudence teased.
Amelia affected a wounded air. “I only ever mean to help. I’m sure I’m not as bad as Ferguson.”
Prudence smiled. “You are. But I suppose I love you despite it.”
“And I suppose I love you despite the fact that you’ve given up on the marriage mart,” Amelia said. “I wanted you to have a love match, like the rest of us.”
Prudence looked away. For a single moment, Amelia’s happily-married state, with a husband who adored her and a baby on the way, seemed like something utterly smug and self-satisfied — something that Prudence didn’t want to have staring her in the face. All her friends were like that now. One moment, she loved them; the next, she remembered how very different her life was from theirs.
But she could always remember why she loved them, even if it took a moment of wallowing in self-pity before she did. “You never know, Mellie. Perhaps Thorington will turn into a love match in the end. Stranger things have happened.”
She must not have sounded very convincing. Amelia looked skeptical. “Thorington’s not just an unreformed rake — he’s a rake who has no wish to ever be reformed. He’ll break your heart if you give it to him.”
A footman entered. Prudence took the note he offered her, but even though Ellie’s response to her earlier missive was exactly what she wanted, it didn’t make her happy. “I should excuse myself,” she said to Amelia as the footman left them. “I have to finish packing if I’m to move to Ellie’s today.”
“Why would you move to Ellie’s?” Amelia asked, confused.
She couldn’t tell Amelia about what had transpired between her and Alex, not if she wanted to keep her friends from forcing her to marry Alex. “Ellie wanted the company,” she lied. “And I told Ferguson I would move in with Ellie because of my engagement to Thorington — better to keep up appearances until I’ve resolved all of this.
“You should just stay here,” Amelia said. “I’m sure, given enough time, that Alex…”
“He won’t,” Prudence said flatly.
He never would. That was the only fact that mattered. Anything else she did with her life was merely an e
ffort at salvage, not salvation.
* * *
The grand ballroom at Rothwell House was one of the largest private rooms in London. But it struggled to contain all the guests who had accepted the Duke and Duchess of Rothwell’s invitation. It was their first major ball since Madeleine had become Ferguson’s duchess the previous summer, and the crush filling her rooms had proclaimed her a success.
Prudence had only arrived a few minutes earlier, but she was already on the edge of the crowd, sipping ratafia and willing her stomach to stop somersaulting. Madeleine had greeted her by whispering that Thorington was in the card room. There wasn’t time for more than that — the receiving line was too long. But Madeleine’s wide-eyed gaze told Prudence all she needed to know.
Ferguson had told Madeleine. Had he told anyone else? No one had treated her any differently than they always did — they were friendly, but not too much so. If they knew Prudence was to be a duchess, surely they would have started fawning already? Or would they all take the same tack as Alex — nod at her curtly, then ignore her completely?
She should have moved to Ellie’s that afternoon, as soon as she’d received her note. But her conversation with Amelia had depleted her. She’d laid on her bed all afternoon instead of letting the maid finish packing, staring at the ceiling and imagining the lives in front of her. She could choose between marrying Thorington, rotting as Alex’s dependent, or running off to Europe with plenty of money and no friends or connections.
None of them comforted her. But she knew what she would have to choose.
Ellie found her almost immediately, as though she’d been watching the door for her arrival. “Would you prefer congratulations or condolences?” the marchioness asked as they greeted each other.
Prudence shrugged. “Whatever you wish. There’s time enough for both.”
They could converse just with each other all evening, even if it was unfashionable. Ellie’s husband Nick didn’t enjoy dancing, and Ellie usually chose not to dance without him. Prudence loved to dance, but there were no partners waiting for her in the wings — unless Thorington chose to claim her.
