Willing Love

by Mary Jean Adams

  “If we make the changes here, she won’t be able to carry as much.” Richard pointed to one of Evan’s sketches.

  “No,” Evan agreed. “But she will be a fair amount faster.”

  Richard studied the suggested changes, then nodded his agreement. “If we lose the copper, we could lighten the expense.”

  The suggestion was perfunctory at best.

  “In addition to protecting her from shipworms, she’ll be faster. Don’t worry. I am prepared to pay for it.”

  “You mean you will get your wife to pay for it.” Richard removed the paperweights and rerolled the parchment.

  “No, I mean I will pay for the changes.” He didn’t return Richard’s grin. “My pockets may not be as deep as my wife’s, but I expect to make a healthy return. It will be a worthwhile investment.”

  Richard nodded in approval, and Evan scowled at him. After spending one short afternoon with the man, he discovered he genuinely liked Richard Bainbridge. He found that annoying.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “They’re both here?” Prudence decided she must have misunderstood Mrs. Hatcher.

  “Sit still, Miss Prudence, or I’ll never finish your hair.” Netty spoke through the pins she held between her lips.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Hatcher seemed rather surprised herself. “Both Mr. Evan and Mr. Bainbridge are waiting for you in the parlor.”

  “They came together?”

  After the long, silent carriage ride back from the Governor’s Ball, Prudence found it hard to believe Richard had dared come within ten feet of her betrothed. For reasons she could not fathom, Mr. Evan clearly disliked her oldest and dearest friend. It just didn’t seem possible. Everybody liked Richard. Positively everybody!

  “I don’t exactly know if they came together, but they arrived at the same time. They both claimed to be escorting you to the assembly tonight.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hatcher. Tell them I will be down shortly.”

  Netty took the last of the pins out of her mouth and spoke to her mistress as if she were a child. “Not if you don’t sit still you won’t. You keep fidgeting, and I’ll have to start all over.”

  Prudence willed herself to keep still. She didn’t care one whit what her hair looked like, but she hated to leave the two men alone in her parlor any longer than necessary—especially when her grandfather’s dueling pistols lay in a case on the mantel.

  As soon as Netty declared her ready, Prudence snatched her reticule from the bed and flew down the stairs, slowing only to catch her breath before throwing open the double doors to the front parlor.

  Both men looked up. Richard wore his usual jovial expression. Mr. Evan’s face was as icy as a Rhode Island winter.

  “Mr. Evan. Richard.” Prudence fanned herself. “How...nice to see you both here.”

  Mr. Evan raised an eyebrow.

  Richard cast him a sidelong glance, then stepped forward. “Yes, I thought I’d stop by to ensure you had an escort to the assembly. I know how much you were looking forward to attending.”

  “Oh, yes, I am so looking forward to it.” Prudence lied. “Let me fetch my cloak. I’ll be but a moment.”

  The last place she wanted to be was at the Waite’s assembly, and Richard knew it. The Waites fancied themselves among the upper crust of Rhode Island society, and they filled their home with guests they deemed worthy of their notice. There would be fops and coquettes aplenty, social climbers who thought that what one wore was more important than one’s character. Nevertheless, wealth remained the primary criteria for inclusion on the guest list. It was the latter that had won the Ashcrofts their invitation over the years.

  Then there were the political climbers, men who looked to England to further their station in life. They were vocal in their support of England’s attempt to control trade between the Colonies and other countries and especially vociferous in their claim the Colonies should be grateful to the mother country for all they had.

  These were the men she had to be especially careful around. They had been suspicious of Ashcroft for generations, and one hint of her family’s extracurricular business arrangement would have them running to the governor. Despite Governor Hopkins being a merchant himself and the long-standing collegial relationship between their families, his political position would leave him no choice but to investigate.

  Prudence inhaled a deep breath and held it, trying to calm her nerves. She understood the importance of appearances. Given her family’s business dealings, she couldn’t afford to snub the Waites and their objectionable guests, however much she might wish to.

  Nevertheless, she had planned to attend alone. She expected to run into Richard. As her business manager, he was almost as prized as an actual Ashcroft. But she had no idea Mr. Evan had been invited. Perhaps they wished to waste no time winning him over to their way of thinking.

  Would they be successful? The fops would make no headway, but Mr. Evan’s political leanings could certainly be counted among the long list of things she did not know about her betrothed.

  Prudence walked back into the parlor. To her relief, the dueling pistols were still on the mantel, both men were still standing, and there were no noticeable bruises on either of them. They seemed to be avoiding eye contact with one another, but that was preferable to a glaring match.

  “We’d best be leaving.” Mr. Evan reached for Prudence’s cloak and helped her drape it over her shoulders.

  “But—” Prudence paused. Had they both brought carriages?

  “Mr. Evan’s horse threw a shoe on the way here, so I offered him a ride with us,” Richard said.

  Mr. Evan scowled at him.

  Richard offered Prudence an arm, but she turned it down with a slight shake of her head. Given the frown Mr. Evan already wore, she didn’t care to give him cause to be angrier.

  She and Richard walked side by side to the carriage with a surly Mr. Evan following behind them.

  ****

  Prudence nibbled an asparagus stalk. The strain of sitting between Richard and Mr. Evan had taken a toll on her appetite. While Richard’s glib chatter filled one ear, there was nothing but cold silence in the other.

  “Would you like more of the suckling pig?” Mr. Evan asked. They were the first words he had spoken in half an hour.

  “Oh, yes, please,” Prudence said. Anything to give herself a respite from the dark cloud he carried around with him.

  Prudence heaved a sigh as soon as Mr. Evan left the table. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this.”

  “You mean tonight? I think you’re doing rather well.”

  “I mean tonight, tomorrow night, the rest of my life,” Prudence said, annoyed at her friend for not recognizing the gravity of the situation.

  “I rather like the man,” Richard said.

  Prudence turned in disbelief. “For heaven’s sake, why? He’s been nothing but cold and rude to you.”

  “If he’s cold to me it’s because he’s in love with you.” Richard popped an olive into his mouth.

  “In love with me?” Prudence reached up a gloved hand to feel his forehead. “Are you feverish? Did you fall and hit your head?”

  Richard swallowed the olive. “I’m quite serious, Pru. For some reason he’s gotten it in his head that you and I are lovers, or at least potential lovers. If he thought we were actually lovers, I’m not sure I’d be sitting here with you tonight.”

  “That’s nonsense, Richard.” Prudence chewed another asparagus tip with slow deliberation as she thought back through the events of the past few weeks. “Still, I thought he and I might be able to develop a friendship, but since the Governor’s Ball, he’s been cold to me as well.” She swallowed her asparagus. “Maybe it’s because I kissed him.”

  Richard choked on his wine. “You what?”

  “I kissed him,” Prudence said. “Not after the ball, but before that. A couple of times, actually.”

  “I’m tempted to ask how his kiss compared to mine, but I don�
�t think I could handle the shame.”

  Prudence glanced up at his handsome face, relieved to see the humor shining in his eyes.

  “What does it matter anyway? When he agreed to the marriage, it was on the condition that we not have an intimate relationship,” Prudence said.

  Richard set his wine glass down with a thump. “He agreed to that?”

  “No, he didn’t exactly agree to it.” She considered how much of the details Richard could handle. “I promised him that he would not need to…uh…well that he need not concern himself with me.”

  “I see. What other promises were made?”

  Prudence doubted that he really did see the full truth of what she had just shared. “Well, he made me promise to uphold my vows.” She finished the explanation in her head. And he promised me that the marriage would be consummated.

  “He expects you to obey him?” Richard rolled his eyes and drained his wine glass. “Has he got a surprise coming.”

  But he couldn’t possibly have meant that he actually wanted to consummate the marriage, could he? It was just the duress of the moment.

  “No, he didn’t seem as concerned about that,” Prudence said aloud, ignoring her inner voice. “He wanted me to be faithful. I didn’t think that was much of a condition though, since I’m unlikely to receive an offer of a tryst.”

  Except she had. From him. Well not a tryst exactly, but an offer.

  “And did you ask the same of him?” Richard asked.

  “Oh no! I would never expect that of him.” Prudence tried to ignore the confusing thoughts in her head and the even more confusing sensation in her belly. “In fact, I told him I would ensure he had an allowance large enough to cover the costs of female companionship. My only requirement was that he be discreet.”

  Richard’s screwed up his face as if he were in great pain. “I’m beginning to understand why your Mr. Evan is in such a foul mood. For an intelligent woman, you can be utterly daft.”

  “What do you mean?” Prudence asked, but Richard’s reply was cut short by Mr. Evan’s reappearance, a platter of food in hand.

  “Sir, I am convinced your fiancée is not altogether well. My sincerest hope is that you can cure her of her delusions.” Richard stood, gave Mr. Evan a nod, then bent to brush a small kiss against Prudence’s cheek. “I am off to find less dangerous company.”

  Mr. Evan looked like he wanted to throttle Richard, but as his hands were full, yet again, Richard escaped unscathed.

  “What did you two talk about?” He set the platter on the table.

  “Nothing much. Just life in general.” Prudence speared a large chunk of pheasant and popped it in her mouth.

  “What about life in general?” he asked.

  “Noffing mouch,” she said with her mouth full, then sputtered when the pheasant caught in her throat.

  “If you think choking to death will get you out of answering my questions, you’re wrong.” Mr. Evan thumped the flat of his hand against her back.

  Prudence waved off his hand and reached for her wine glass. Choking seemed preferable to being pounded to death.

  A bellicose voice carried across the table. “But the tax is only fair. England has defended her colonies against the French and the Indians all these years. The Colonies should pay the tax and be grateful it is not higher.”

  Prudence rolled her eyes over the rim of her glass. The speaker was Mr. Wolkin, a man who seemed to think it his personal duty to uphold the status of the crown in America. Once he imbibed enough spirits, he could be counted on to share with all and sundry his feelings about the impure nature of Rhode Islanders, the rightful concessions due the king, and how Governor Hopkins failed to see either.

  Around him, men of his ilk nodded, while his poor, beleaguered wife made a half-hearted attempt to get him to sit by plucking at his sleeve.

  Wolkin drained his wine glass, a sure sign his diatribe had just begun.

  “After all,” he said, patting his ample belly, “children should be grateful to their parents. They owe their allegiance and whatever fortune befalls them to those who allowed it to happen.”

  Parents? Allowed it to happen?

  Prudence took another fortifying sip of her wine and rose to her feet.

  “My dear Mr. Wolkin, for many, this country was their only refuge from the tyranny that kept them scraping a living in the sewers of England. My own great grandfather came to this country to avoid rotting in a debtors’ prison.”

  Mr. Evan laid a hand on her sleeve, but she ignored it. If he wanted to know what kind of woman he had agreed to marry, she would show him.

  “Once here, their chances were little better. They lived in constant fear of attack from savages or starving to death when the crops failed. For those that worked hard, life in America was better. But it was through no fault of the English!”

  What does she know? She’s just a woman.

  Prudence heard the muttering from the tables around her. She had grown accustomed to the words, or ones like them, from her days at the academy. They had long ago ceased to dampen her pride. Now, they fanned the flames of her passion.

  One man she didn’t recognize allowed her the dignity of a response. “English troops protected the Colonies during the war. Don’t they owe England for the cost of that protection?”

  “Perhaps,” she said, feeling gracious toward the stranger for taking her comments seriously while the faces of those around him showed nothing but scorn. “But I think you must concede that many Colonists also fought in those wars, protecting their homeland and the honor of England. At the very least, doesn’t England owe them representation in parliament so they may have a hand in determining what is just?”

  Wolkin snorted, but behind him, another man nodded. It was progress.

  Mr. Evan tugged again at her sleeve, but Prudence yanked her arm from his grasp. She would not stop now. Not when she had an audience, at last.

  “And even if we owe some debt of gratitude to her for her protection during the war, does that mean we must stand for continued occupation?”

  Prudence had heard the same thing from Grandma Rachel so many times. Tonight, the voice was her own, but she could almost sense her grandmother beside her. The final shreds of doubt fluttered away like ribbons in the wind.

  Mr. Wolkin stood again. “This is what happens when you try to educate a woman. Their brains are not designed to handle knowledge, and they lose their wits.” He eyed Prudence directly. “And an understanding of their rightful place.”

  Many of the men around her murmured their agreement.

  Prudence tightened her fists at her side. “It is you who have lost your wits, or perhaps it is your courage.” A gasp from behind her made her pause, but it was too late to stop. “Certainly you have lost your willingness to see what is happening. British troops are moving east from the frontier. Are they boarding ships and sailing for home? No, they have ensconced themselves in our cities and towns. In some cases, no longer content with occupying barns and empty warehouses, they demand more comfortable lodgings in our homes.”

  Beside her, Mr. Evan stood and grasped her elbow in his hand. Prudence ignored him.

  “It is no wonder we rebel every now and then. That we object to taxes levied without our consent. That we decide to boycott English-made goods. That we…”

  “Prudence, that’s enough,” Mr. Evan said with enough force to break through the passions that were threatening to consume her. “I think it’s time we take our leave.”

  “Yes, take her home where she belongs,” a male voice said from the far corner of the room.

  Prudence straightened her shoulders and let Mr. Evan lead her away from the table. If she couldn’t at least count on her fiancé as an ally, there was no point in continuing the debate tonight. She would not forget his betrayal.

  “She’ll be bruised right proper before he’s done with her,” Mr. Wolkin said, to the hearty guffaws of the men at the table.

  Prudence dug her nails into her p
alms giving her fury the only outlet she had open to her.

  ****

  “I got your message.” Richard joined Evan and Prudence in the foyer. “Are you leaving already?”

  A footman came and handed Prudence’s cloak to Evan. She snatched it out of his hands before he could drape it about her shoulders, then she stood a good five feet away.

  “Dinner went that well, did it?” Richard said with raised eyebrows.

  “Someone raised the subject of taxes—” Evan said.

  “Oh dear.” Richard gave a knowing look in Prudence’s direction. “And I take it our Miss Prudence did not do her name justice.”

  Evan snorted. “That would be an understatement.”

  Richard considered him for a moment. “Listen, I am in the midst of a game of cards with a couple of old fools with more money than brains. Why don’t you take my carriage? I will find a ride with friends later.”

  “You trust me alone with her?” Evan asked.

  “I would say she’s safer with you than she is by herself, right now.” Richard slid another glance in Prudence’s direction. She appeared to be studying a potted plant in the corner of the foyer. “Besides, I think it’s time we called a truce. My greatest wish is for Prudence to be happy, and for reasons I can’t explain, I believe she might find happiness with you.” Richard held out his hand.

  Evan studied him for a moment, then grasped his hand. “Truce.” Gripping Richard’s hand, Evan pulled him closer. “But if you touch my wife—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. I won’t live to regret it or something along those lines.” Richard grinned. “Perhaps that’s why I’m putting my confidence in you. Prudence needs someone who loves her enough to protect her from whatever trouble she gets herself into.”

  Evan opened his mouth to protest but shut it again when a footman announced the arrival of the carriage.

  “Well, I’m off to expand my fortunes.” Richard waved a cheery farewell to Prudence, then ducked through the doorway leading to the card room.

  As far as carriages went, Richard Bainbridge’s was luxurious for a man of business. No doubt it had been financed by the Ashcrofts since he would be expected to carry important personages about town. Two passengers could sit on each side without so much as rubbing elbows. The way Prudence huddled up against the far side, a third could have fit between them.