Willing Love

by Mary Jean Adams

  Was she afraid of him, or just angry? No doubt, he had humiliated her in front of those arrogant bastards. But he had had no choice.

  “Prudence—”

  “Stay out of what you don’t understand.” Her words were muffled against the cushioned walls.

  “What I don’t understand?” A flame of anger flickered inside him.

  “Yes.” She turned to him, her face splotched with color. “How can you know what we have gone through? You grew up in Wales. I don’t know how long you’ve been here—I don’t know much about you at all—but you can’t possibly understand the oppression we’ve seen.”

  She was right, she didn’t know much about him, but that wasn’t entirely her fault. He hadn’t shared much of himself, and what he had, hadn’t been entirely truthful. It was time to change that.

  “You don’t think I understand oppression? I grew up in an orphanage where we needed protection from adults as much as from each other. I know more about abuse and oppression than you could ever dream of.”

  Prudence sniffed. “Were they cruel to you?”

  “Let’s just say that the Sisters of the Divine Mercy might have been divine, but they were not overly merciful.” Someday he might tell her about his childhood. He’d have to. If they actually managed to go through with this marriage, she’d see the scars.

  “Then why did you stop me?”

  “Because one thing I learned in the orphanage is that you never give them a stick to beat you with. And that was something you were well on your way to doing.”

  Prudence stared at her hands.

  “Come here,” Evan said.

  Prudence looked up at him with wide eyes. So she was at least a little afraid of him. He didn’t care for it one bit.

  He tugged at her hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

  Prudence slid across the seat to sit next to him.

  Evan slid his arm about her and tucked her against his side. “I do want one more promise from you though.”

  Prudence stiffened beneath his arm. “What is that?”

  “Once we’re married I want you to trust me. You’re probably the brightest woman I’ve ever known. Hell, you’re one of the brightest people I’ve ever met, but you’re terribly rash.”

  Prudence straightened. “I’m rash? You’re the one who has threatened to beat my cousin to a pulp more than once.”

  “He’s not your cousin.” Evan tucked her back against his side so she wouldn’t see his grin. “But you’re right. I’m not always in control either. I’m hoping that you will be a calming influence on me.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Prudence grumbled.

  “Regardless, I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I am your husband, or I will be if we both make it through the next couple of days, and I want to feel like we are in this together.”

  Prudence sat up. “Deal,” she said, offering her hand.

  “In no way do I shake hands with my wife.” He growled. “We seal this agreement with a kiss.”

  “But I’m not your wi—”

  Evan claimed her lips, and Prudence melted against him.

  Either the carriage driver made excessive use of the whip, or Evan lost track of time. Either way, they arrived at the Ashcroft manor far too soon. Prudence looked a little worse for wear with swollen lips and half her hairpins scattered across the floor of the carriage.

  Evan helped her down the steps and handed her off to Gil who gave him a reproving look over the top of her tousled head.

  Evan shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the carriage set off down the lane that lead to the stables. Two more days and he would be able to finish what they had started.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “It’s time to go, Miss Ashcroft,” Mrs. Hatcher said from Prudence’s bedroom door.

  Prudence said nothing, but her stomach answered with an irritated grumble.

  She had been dressed since before dawn, and Netty had finished her hair well over an hour ago. That left plenty of time to dwell on her future husband and how little she really knew about him.

  One question would be answered today for certain. She would finally know his Christian name. She could hardly imagine the parson marrying Prudence Amelia Saunders Ashcroft to a “Mr. Evan.”

  On the other hand, there were so many more important things she didn’t know about him. For example, he calmed her fury after the Waites’ assembly by kissing her senseless in the carriage ride home. It wasn’t until about three o’clock in the morning that she awoke realizing she still didn’t know whose side he was on. She could be marrying a Tory, for all she knew.

  Prudence rose to wobbly feet and gave herself a once over in her full-length bedroom mirror. She should never have let Netty choose her wedding gown. The pale pink would look stunning on the dark-haired maid, but with Prudence’s pale skin and auburn hair, she looked like a tarnished rose.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind.” Mrs. Hatcher’s statement made Prudence realize she had been staring at herself in the mirror for several minutes.

  “No, I’ll be fine, Mrs. Hatcher.” Prudence gave a weak laugh. “I just have a case of the pre-wedding nerves.”

  Mrs. Hatcher came and put her hand on Prudence’s cheek. “I do believe that’s normal, my dear.”

  For a moment, Mrs. Hatcher sounded just like her grandmother, and it was exactly the reassurance she needed.

  “Oh!” Mrs. Hatcher exclaimed, when Prudence gave her an impulsive hug.

  The ceremony was to be a small family affair witnessed only by Richard, a smattering of Rachel Ashcroft’s closest friends, and a few household servants. Prudence had been surprised at how easily Parson Simmons agreed to perform the services in the Ashcroft ballroom, but the parson assured her that “God was not confined to certain buildings.”

  Walking slowly down the aisle, escorted by Richard—a concession from Mr. Evan that surprised her even more than Simmons’ easy acquiescence—she realized just how handsome her future husband was. This time, he wore a suit of forest green velvet, embroidered with a gold trim that matched the gold buttons running down the sides of his coat and the smaller ones on his waistcoat. His coat tails were buttoned back to reveal the intricate embroidery beneath. His shoes were of a modest height and made of dark leather, their only adornment a pair of silver buckles.

  He looked like a gentleman—a prosperous gentleman—instead of a simple stable master. But even his wedding finery couldn’t hide the man beneath. His coat fit snugly over broad shoulders. His breeches stretched to accommodate well-muscled thighs, and silk stockings stretched over taut calves.

  After what seemed an interminable walk, they reached his side. Richard gave her a peck on the cheek then dropped her arm. Prudence turned to face the parson, but out of the corner of her eye, she stole a glance at Mr. Evan.

  His gray eyes regarded her with a fierce possessiveness. Her breath caught in her throat, and her bouquet of pink roses shook in her hand.

  If she married this man, she would be his, forever, to do with as he pleased. The money may be hers, she would still own her thoughts, but her body would be his.

  And her heart? What about that? Would he lay claim to it, too? Or would he allow it to wilt in her chest from neglect?

  Prudence tightened her grip on her flowers until the wired stems dug into the palms of her hands.

  The pain helped stiffen her resolve. She may not know much about her husband, but she would not start out expecting the worst from him.

  “Dearly beloved...” Parson Simmons began in the ceremonial voice he used for special occasions.

  Mr. Evan turned to face the parson, and she followed his lead. Although no part of her touched him, Prudence could feel his warmth enveloping her as firmly as an embrace.

  She relaxed. If she married this man, she would no longer be alone in this world, no longer be the sole representative of the Ashcroft name. Not that he had agreed to become an Ashcroft. Of course, she hadn’t agre
ed to become an Evan either. Come to think of it, they had never discussed the subject of surnames. Would he expect her to give up the Ashcroft name? The flowers in her hands trembled anew.

  “Prudence?” Parson Simmons whispered.

  “Pardon?” Prudence looked up to find an expectant look on his face.

  Mr. Evan had turned toward her as well. They must have reached the part where she and Mr. Evan were to exchange their vows. How had that happened so soon?

  Prudence took a steadying breath and turned to face her husband. She returned his grin with a scowl, although one that lacked complete conviction.

  “…do you take this woman, Prudence Amelia Saunders Ashcroft…” Parson Simmons droned through the standard recitation of vows made by the groom.

  By the grin he wore, Mr. Evan seemed happy to agree to each one in turn. Of course, he didn’t have to promise to obey her. Why shouldn’t he be happy? Then again, he also promised to be faithful, but she had already made it clear she didn’t expect him to hold to that vow. Whatever arrangements he made were none of her concern, so long as he was discreet.

  On the other hand, she would have to promise to be both faithful and to obey her husband. She didn’t think she’d have any problem with the first vow. Lack of temptation would make compliance easy. On the other hand, the vow to obey would be a bit harder. Somehow, she was certain there would be plenty of that sort of temptation in the years ahead.

  Parson Simmons turned to her next. “Prudence Amelia Saunders Ashcroft, do you take this man, Captain Evan Foster to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  “I d—” Prudence paused as the parson’s words sank in. “Wait. What?” she stammered.

  This was Captain Foster?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Prudence stifled cynical laughter when Parson Simmons got to, “till death do ye part.” That might come sooner than the estimable Captain Foster anticipated.

  She pasted a smile on her lips when the parson pronounced them man and wife.

  She kept the same smile plastered on her face all the way down the aisle, through the crowd of well-wishers, onto the back lawn, and between the lines of linen-covered tables that would soon hold a sumptuous wedding breakfast.

  If her new husband felt her nails digging into the inside of his arm through the thick velvet he wore, he didn’t comment.

  She stole a glance at him. Evan. It would take her awhile to get used to calling him that. Even now, watching him smile and greet their guests, she thought of him as Mister Evan.

  They reached the head table at the front of the lawn, and Evan held out a chair for her. Facing him, she dropped her smile for a fraction of a second. For now, she would show him what an Ashcroft was made of, but she wanted to let him know that they would have a discussion later about the attributes of a good marriage, honesty being chief among them.

  Evan had the good graces to look sheepish, even if he did it with that damned handsome lopsided grin of his.

  As soon as the guests were seated and the wine poured, Richard stood and raised his glass. “If I may have your attention, please.” He waited for the crowd to quiet. “I would like to propose a toast to the greatest partnership ever formed.”

  Prudence sipped her wine.

  Partnership? It seemed an odd word to describe a new marriage. Of course, this wasn’t a real marriage. As Evan had pointed out, she married him for her money. Perhaps a partnership was the best description for such an arrangement.

  Her grandmother’s friends seemed to appreciate the value of a good match, and there were murmurs of approval and calls of “hear hear” from all corners. They had not a romantic bone among them.

  Prudence was so busy considering a fitting retribution for the man seated next to her that she didn’t register the rest of Richard’s toast. When he returned to his seat on her other side, he handed her a sealed letter.

  “Your grandmother instructed me to give this to you after her death. She asked that I wait a few weeks, preferably until after you were safely married.”

  She took the pale yellow envelope from Richard. Her name was scrawled across the front in her grandmother’s hand. She gave Richard a questioning glance.

  “Don’t look at me. I have no idea what’s in it.”

  Her glance slid to Evan.

  “Me neither.” He looked just as curious as Richard.

  Prudence slid a finger beneath the seal and opened the envelope.

  My dearest Granddaughter,

  I hope by now you have forgiven me for forcing you into marriage. I have every confidence you will choose wisely even if obligated to choose quickly. If not, I am confident Richard will choose wisely on your behalf. It is my sincerest belief that you will find someone to love who will cherish and protect you in return.

  Speaking of that, I hope you like my gift. He cost me a pretty penny with that ship he demanded, but I think he’ll be worth it. The winds are shifting, and I predict you will have need of the best captains and the fleetest ships. I wish I could be around to help you weather the storm.

  But enough of such talk. You have Richard, and now you also have Captain Foster. He reminds me of your grandfather, strong and proud, but capable of great passion and even greater kindness. When I first met him, Captain Foster almost made me wish I were thirty years younger. But alas, if I can’t have him, I hope you will take a liking to each other. Just remember to listen to your head, but don’t ignore your heart’s desires either.

  “I’ll be damned!” Evan said.

  Prudence looked up to find both Evan and Richard reading over her shoulder.

  Richard laughed. “You’ve been outmaneuvered, sir.”

  “I thought I was getting the deal of a lifetime with the ship. Little did I know I was getting the old lady’s granddaughter in the bargain.” Evan’s crooked grin suggested he wasn’t too put off by the arrangement.

  “The ship mentioned in the will?” Prudence tried to figure out which man irritated her more.

  “Your grandmother promised him a ship built to his specifications if he agreed to work for Ashcroft.”

  “But not as a stable master, I take it?” She folded the letter and handed it back to Richard for safekeeping.

  “No, the stable master would be my former valet, Stuart Malone.”

  “So that’s why that insufferable man keeps hanging about the stables.” Prudence remembered her brief encounters with the handsome blond man who seemed amused at her every action.

  “Ah, so you’ve met?” Evan asked.

  “Yes. We’ve met.”

  “And he didn’t tell you he was the stable master?”

  “No. He seemed to find it more amusing to let me believe you were the stable master.” Prudence mentally added Stuart Malone to the growing list of men who had earned retribution.

  “What did you think he was?” Richard asked.

  Prudence shrugged. “I thought he was a gentleman who had come to see his horse.”

  Evan put a hand to his heart. “You thought he was a gentleman and I was the stable master. I think my pride has been wounded.”

  “Your pride could use a little wounding,” she shot back. “And you!” Prudence leveled an accusatory finger at Richard. “You are supposed to be my dearest friend. You didn’t think to tell me my future husband wasn’t who I thought him to be?”

  Richard held up his hands. “Now hold on. I only found out a few days ago.”

  “It’s your fault for making assumptions about people, my dear,” Evan said in a calm voice. “Besides, I don’t understand what has you worked up. I work for you. That gives you the right to issues orders, at least in a business sense, which I suspect you’re dying to do.”

  “Perhaps I’ll fire you.” Prudence stabbed at a roast quail from a platter before them and let it fall to her plate with a plunk. “Perhaps I’ll fire both of you.”

  “Fine by me. I’m sure you can find some other captain willing to bring in your rum and China black while George’s men are as thick a
s locusts in the bay.”

  Prudence glanced up at him.

  “Yes, I know all about your family business. Your grandmother hired me to be part of it, after all. But even if you fire me, I wouldn’t recommend a divorce. I’m afraid even Rhode Island society, for all its liberal attitudes, doesn’t look too fondly on divorced women.”

  “I could have the marriage annulled. We haven’t consummated our relationship, yet.” Prudence cringed when Evan’s eyebrow shot up on the word “yet.” She hadn’t meant to imply a physical relationship was inevitable.

  “On what grounds?”

  “Inability. Yours to be precise.” There. If he thought to embarrass her, she would show him she knew how to fight back.

  A dark cloud passed over Evan’s features. “My inability? To consummate the marriage? I can bring in a number of women who will happily attest that I do not suffer from such a malady.”

  Prudence stifled a twinge of pain. What did it matter if he had a hundred discarded paramours? She had already given him permission to do as he pleased.

  “I’m sure you could.” She chewed a piece of quail without tasting it.

  “On the other hand, how many male doxies could you produce to attest to your…abilities?” Although speaking to Prudence, Evan glanced at Richard.

  “Don’t look at me. I know nothing about her ability. That, you will have to discover for yourself.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Prudence stood alone in her room, clad in the diaphanous nightdress Mrs. Hatcher had laid out on her bed. An artful combination of linen and Dutch lace, it came with a note that merely said “good luck.” The flourish at the end of the “k” left no doubt as to the author.

  “Sorry, Grandma, but he may never see me in it,” Prudence whispered to her reflection in the full-length mirror.

  Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.