What in the hell was she doing here?
He was about to nudge Demon forward when another dark figure appeared on the sand, some forty feet away.
The commissioner? Unlikely. Not on a moonlit beach in the middle of the night.
Then who?
He presumed the man had been standing within the shadow of the steep cliffs. He wore a cocked hat and a dark cloak, but Evan couldn’t get a good view of his face. He looked to be tall with broad shoulders, perhaps thin, although the cloak made that hard to discern. Unfortunately, it would not be enough to identify the stranger should he meet him on the street tomorrow.
Prudence ran toward the dark figure, and Evan’s shoulders tensed as a fierce possessiveness overtook him. When she threw herself into the man’s arms, his hands tightened on the leather reins.
Evan patted Demon’s neck, more to calm himself than his horse.
So that was why she didn’t expect to their marriage to be a real one. It had nothing to do with her feeling unworthy. Quite the opposite, in fact. She didn’t want to hold him to his vows because she didn’t expect to be held to hers, specifically the one about being faithful. He would put an end to that notion.
New voices drifted on the breeze, taking Evan’s focus away from his errant fiancée. A small band of men picked their way down the rocky footpath. One slipped and nearly brought the rest of the party down as he slid forward on his rump. Rising, he uttered a crisp curse that carried all the way to Evan’s ears.
English.
They weren’t sailors either. It was difficult to tell in the dark exactly who they were, but most wore hats, not the bandana tied around their head so many seamen favored. A long, thin shadow protruded above the shoulder of more than one man. Muskets most likely. Soldiers?
Evan glanced toward the beach. Prudence’s lover rowed a small skiff toward the ship, but Prudence had disappeared.
Evan raked the shoreline. Where could she have gone? Had she hidden in the bottom of the boat? With her petite frame, she might have been able to flatten herself and cover her cream-colored gown with a blanket. He peered into the darkness trying to discern shapes from mere shadows.
The men on the shore loaded their muskets and shouted at the fleeing skiff. One fired off a shot that splashed into the water a few yards away from its intended target. He waded into the water, three or four steps, no more, then stopped as the waves lapped about his waist.
Evidently the rumors were true. While narrow inlets, coves, and bays dotted this section of the Rhode Island shoreline, smugglers favored this particular location because its deep bottom allowed them to bring a ship close to shore, within the protection of the rocky cliffs and away from the eyes of the men on the patrol boats.
Evan waited until the men picked their way back up the footpath and disappeared over the crest of a hill. Then he scanned the beach once more, looking for signs of Prudence.
Seeing none, he decided she must have been in the boat. He tugged on the reins, turning Demon back the way they had come.
“Enjoy your time, my dear.” Evan muttered into the darkness. “Once we are married, you shall never see your lover again.”
Evan let Demon set his own pace down the incline that led back to Ashcroft Stables. Occasionally, the big black horse snorted, his breath forming twin clouds of steam in the cool night air.
Evan spent the time deciding how he would break it to Prudence that her days of midnight trysts were numbered. He ached to put a stop to it tonight, but she had already gone to the man’s ship. Unless he wanted to take a swim in the cold Atlantic, he could do nothing until morning.
Evan rounded a corner, passing a smaller cove, one not large or deep enough for smugglers but an ideal place for lovers to meet. Why hadn’t Prudence and her lover met here? It would be no effort at all for him to have rowed his skiff a little further, rounding the small point that separated the smaller cove from the larger. They would have been out of sight of anyone patrolling the area. In the smaller cove, Evan might not even have noticed the pair.
His breath froze in his chest. A pale figure inched along a rocky outcrop, auburn hair tumbling past her waist. She no longer wore her cream-colored gown. Instead, her calves shone white beneath the short hem of what looked to be her shift.
“Dear God, Prudence, you are going to kill yourself.” Evan knew full well she could not hear him with the waves crashing against the rocks beneath her.
Evan urged Demon forward until they came to the top of the cliff. He could no longer see her from his vantage point, but he dared not alert her to his presence by calling down to her. For one, he didn’t want to startle her and make her lose her grip. But more than that, he didn’t want her to think twice about seeing him, her guilt evident, and try to climb back down. The woman clearly had no regard for her own safety.
Instead, he dismounted and stood a yard or more away from the top of the cliff, waiting with his heart in his throat for her to reach him.
When it seemed he could take it no longer, a slender arm poked above the edge and a thin hand searched for purchase. Evan strode forward and grabbed the arm, pulling a startled Prudence to her feet in one tug.
“Oh, Mr. Evan, I’m surprised to see you.” Prudence managed to sound as if she had just run into him in a tearoom.
Admirable aplomb for a woman who had been caught climbing a cliff in her shift after a clandestine meeting with her lover.
“Not nearly as surprised as I am to see you.”
His gaze swept her. Not that he was an expert in women’s undergarments, but her shift looked more transparent than most. The puckered tips of her breasts poked at the soft fabric, and it clung to her legs. He lifted his eyes to her face. Her auburn curls lay plastered to her scalp and against her cheeks like rivulets of dark water.
“You’re wet,” he said, wondering how he could have missed that not-insignificant detail, almost as much as he wondered what would have possessed her to go into the water in the first place.
“Yes, I believe I am.” Prudence hugged her arms across her chest and ground the words out between chattering teeth.
Evan shook his head. “Do I even want to know where your gown is?”
“I had to leave it behind. I couldn’t climb the rocks with it on.” Prudence said, as though that explanation were enough.
“We must be at least three miles from Ashcroft. Did you plan to walk the entire way back, wet, half-clothed and”—he looked down—“barefoot?”
“It’s even more difficult to climb rocks with shoes on,” she said.
“Your name is like a cruel joke, isn’t it?” He tore his coat from his shoulders and draped it around her.
Prudence glared at him but tugged the lapels across her chest. The brown wool cutaway, which normally skimmed the tops of Evan’s knees, draped to mid-calf. Huddled within his coat and her hair plastered to her head, she looked like a child just after a warm bath, although her pale lips served as a reminder of how cold the Atlantic in early May could be.
A sharp whistle from Evan brought Demon to his side. He swung into the saddle, then reached down to haul Prudence onto his lap. She snuggled against his chest, and he drew an arm about her waist to secure her while he held Demon’s reins with the other hand and nudged the stallion forward at a leisurely pace.
“Do you normally meet your lover on a secluded beach in the middle of the night?” Evan whispered into her ear once Prudence stopped shivering.
“My what?” Prudence shot up, her head cracking Evan’s chin.
Evan shut his eyes for a moment while he waited for the stars to clear.
“I am so sorry!” Her slender arm darted out from within his coat to touch a tender spot on his jaw.
Her fingers were like ice, but they burned him all the same. Evan dropped the reins to grasp her hand in his. This was no time to be distracted by his little temptress.
“I asked if you normally met your lover—”
“He’s not my lover.”
Evan se
arched her face. Experience had taught him to know when a man lied. Women were generally even easier, but he had never met anyone as transparent as Prudence. Her eyes held only truth.
So if not her lover, who was this man she embraced so freely in the middle of the night? Not a brother or an uncle. Three generations of a single child being born into the family removed that possibility. Potentially a cousin, but even that was unlikely. He had done his research. Of all those present at the reading of Rachel’s will, Prudence had been the only blood relative.
Although he wasn’t her lover, that didn’t mean the man didn’t intend to be. She might not be guilty, but she might not be fully aware of the man’s intentions either. He tightened his arm around her.
“Let’s say I believe you for now.”
“For now?” Prudence sputtered.
Evan continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “I’d like to know what kind of man would leave a woman to fend for herself on the beach?”
“I am perfectly capable of fending for myself.” She yanked her hand away from his.
“Yes, I can see that you are.” Evan plucked at a strand of hair drying against her cheek. “But whether or not you can fend for yourself, what kind of man would leave you to do so?”
Prudence batted his hand away. “One who was concerned for my safety.”
“Your safety?” Evan snorted.
“Yes, those men were after him not me. He knew if he drew their attention, I could slip away.”
“So you decided to go for a swim?” Evan’s own head swam as he tried to make sense of her logic.
“No, there are rocks that lead around the point separating the two coves. I use to go that way all the time as a child, but I forgot how difficult it could be in the dark, and I slipped.”
She said it as though it were akin to tripping on a pebble. It could have happened to anyone.
“What if your plan didn’t work?” Evan tried to shut out the image of Prudence being swept away by an undercurrent before she managed to clamber onto the rocks. “There were at least six of them. One might have decided you were a more interesting catch.”
“We would have claimed to be lovers,” Prudence said in a voice so low Evan had to strain to hear.
He felt his own heat rising. “That certainly would not have ensured your safety. I’m guessing those men were soldiers somehow connected to the customs office and that your lover is a smuggler. Had they caught you, they would have simply held you as bait.”
Prudence stiffened. “They couldn’t have held me for long. I’m an Ashcroft.”
“The last thing you need is to connect the Ashcroft name to a smuggler. I suggest you disassociate yourself with this man.”
“But he—”
“Remember, you promised to honor your vows. If I recall, one of those is to be faithful.”
“I told you he’s not my lover, and I haven’t made any vows yet.”
Evan ignored her. “And the other is to obey me. I’m beginning to see why your grandmother thought you needed a husband.”
“And I’m beginning to think this wasn’t such a good idea,” Prudence mumbled against his chest.
Chapter Eleven
“Let’s see, how shall we do your hair tonight?” Netty swept Prudence’s thick, auburn tresses atop her head. “We want it to look extra special. After all, he might be there.”
Prudence glanced up from the hairpin with which she had been absentmindedly toying. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, Netty.”
She did, of course. However, Mr. Evan was the last person she wished to discuss with her maid. It would fuel the fires of gossip, and unfortunately, they needed no kindling at the moment. For the second time in a week, he had carried her, soaked to the skin, into the manor house.
“Why, your betrothed, of course.” Netty flashed innocent eyes at Prudence.
Prudence wasn’t fooled for a moment.
The girl was fishing for details, and who could blame her?
She had pleaded with Mr. Evan to use the servants’ entrance, but he refused. Breaking free of his strong arms had proven a fruitless effort. In the end, she buried her face in his chest while he explained to the startled servants that he intended to take his fiancée upstairs and have a long talk with her.
Mrs. Hatcher had come to her rescue, following them up the stairs while arguing that talking could wait until Prudence had a hot bath. When Mr. Evan didn’t appear willing to budge, she threatened to take her rolling pin to his head if he remained one second longer in her mistress’s bedroom.
Faithful Mrs. Hatcher. Should Prudence ever have wondered why Grandma Rachel kept her on all those years, she didn’t now. Inside the demeanor of a mouse beat the heart of a lion.
But Mrs. Hatcher’s rescue had come too late to preserve Prudence’s reputation. The glint in Netty’s eyes said all she needed to know about the gossip in the servants’ quarters. Their mistress had come home in the arms of a man wearing only her shift. If not for Mr. Evan’s explanation that she was his fiancée, and Prudence’s silence on the matter, her reputation would be in tatters. It was shredded enough as it was.
Prudence eyed Netty while her maid rummaged through a jewelry box. Did the servants know Mr. Evan was the stable master? Not that she cared, but that would certainly make the story juicer.
He had only been in her grandmother’s employ for a few weeks, but there was the possibility, the slight possibility, that many of them had not yet made his acquaintance. Mrs. Hatcher and Gil would know, of course, but their loyalty could be counted on.
She hoped his secret could be kept at least until after tonight. It would be so much easier to introduce him simply as Mr. Evan, her betrothed, than Mr. Evan, her betrothed and stable master at Ashcroft. Egalitarian though some of her grandmother’s friends and business associates might be, it would drive their curiosity. Others might not be so reserved in their response. Some saw it as a personal affront when anyone of what they deemed the lower sort attempted to better his station by marrying up.
Prudence gave a small huff. She covered it with a cough when Netty looked up from the tress she was winding around the crown of Prudence’s head. Common. Simple. A working man. Whatever type of person Mr. Evan might be, he certainly didn’t seem to Prudence to be one of the lower sort.
Besides, once they were married, he wouldn’t be the stable master anymore. He would be her husband and master of all of Ashcroft. Prudence’s mouth ticked up at the corner. At least of that which she allowed him to be.
Netty held up a strand of pearls, a question in her bright blue eyes.
Prudence shook her head. The pearls were beautiful, but they were also quite real.
While the Sheridans were almost as wealthy as the Ashcrofts, their annual dinner party was more of a casual affair, held in honor of neighbors and business associates. The guest list would include many local shopkeepers and merchants. Real pearls would be far out of reach of most of the attendees. Even the flamboyant Mrs. Benoit would likely be wearing Roman Pearls, iridescent glass beads filled with wax. Prudence couldn’t wear pearls while everyone else wore wax.
The strand of pearls flowed like water from Netty’s palm into their velvet home. Netty set the bag back in the box then held up a simple hairpin of gold filigree. Prudence nodded. It would have to do.
Netty artfully placed the pin atop a curl where it would be shown to its best advantage. “There. You look absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you, Netty.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Prudence.” Netty collected the unused jewels and left the room.
Prudence turned her head one way and then the other, studying her appearance in the mirror. Perhaps stunning went a bit too far. Nevertheless, her attire was well suited to tonight’s performance. Whether she would play her part well or not, remained to be seen.
Unfortunately, gossip traveled faster than a plague. News of her supposed tryst had undoubtedly reached the ears of servants outside Ashcroft, and the Sheridans
were her closest neighbors.
Theirs was the first invitation she had received since coming home from school. It was the first invitation she had ever received that hadn’t been intended primarily for Grandma Rachel. No doubt, the Sheridans had caught wind of the servants’ gossip, and that meant he would be invited, too. After all, the evening’s entertainment wouldn’t be complete without seeing how she and Mr. Evan behaved in close quarters.
Prudence set a hand against the riot of butterflies in her stomach. This must be what it felt like to be an actor about to take the stage for the first time.
How should she act? Prudence hadn’t the slightest notion. She had never played a part in any of Rhode Island society’s intrigues. Now that she had become involved in a situation that at least resembled an intrigue, she wished she had paid more attention to how she was expected to behave.
Should she ignore him in public? Pretend the incriminating incident never happened? Or perhaps they should play the loving couple, maybe even announce their engagement tonight. If there were any in all of Newport who didn’t yet know, they would learn of it soon enough anyway.
A shiver ran through Prudence. What if he didn’t come? What if he had second thoughts about their engagement and chose to break it off tonight? She would be humiliated.
Prudence buried her head in her hands. Tonight’s guests might consider this entertainment, but it was all too real to her.
****
Prudence ignored the stares of the other guests boring into the side of her head, her back, her face. No matter which direction she looked, gazes slid away as though any eye contact had been mere happenstance, nothing more. Prudence knew better.
She was acquainted with most of the people in the room, but not well. She had never really mingled with the neighbors closest to Ashcroft. For the last few years, she had been away at school then busy with her tutors in Boston. But even when she was younger, her grandmother’s wealth and status meant most of the neighbors, including the children, kept a respectful distance. Only Richard’s constant presence prevented her childhood from being a lonely one.
Willing Love Page 10
