Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage]

by What to Wear to a Seduction

  The air was warm and heavily scented with the wild strawberries hanging in baskets around the conservatory.

  With her eyes fixed on Lord Kendrick as he carried a cup of tea to his wife, Edwina murmured, “For all of his fluttering about and worrying over trifles, when it comes to the important things, he’s very solid.” Her brow furrowed and her dark gaze seemed sad.

  Prescott stepped closer and rested a hand on her shoulder. “And this upsets you?”

  She shook her head, looking down. “It makes me happy and yet sad all at once. I don’t know why.”

  “Being dependable is important to you, isn’t it, Edwina?”

  Edwina let out a little breath. “It’s the bedrock of every relationship. Take my mother and father, for example. For all of my father’s indiscretions, bellowing bouts, and domineering tendencies, if my mother needs anything truly important, he’s there for her.”

  “Was your husband reliable?” Prescott couldn’t help but ask, an annoying trickle of jealousy snaking around his heart.

  She stared off in the distance a long moment. “Yes. I do believe that he was.”

  Prescott reminded himself that the man was long dead, and that he was the one keeping Edwina warm at night. “How, ah, did your husband die, Edwina? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “He fell from a rooftop while instructing one of his tenants on the correct way to perform a repair. His injuries were extensive, and though he hung on for a time, he didn’t survive.”

  Prescott’s lips dipped. “I’m sorry, Edwina.”

  She tilted her head in acknowledgment.

  “I must say,” he felt the need to add, “I’m impressed. Most aristocrats wouldn’t deign to assist with such a menial chore.”

  “Oh, Sir Geoffrey wasn’t doing the work, he was directing it.”

  “Still, for him to take such an interest…”

  Watching the guests’ coming and goings, she waved a hand. “Sir Geoffrey took interest in an inordinate number of things.”

  “Like what?”

  Facing him, her brow furrowed. “You really wish to know?”

  “Actually, I do.”

  “Very well. He taught me the proper way to instruct servants, since there is a very specific manner to handle certain household duties. How to gut a pig, to clean a floor, to polish silver, the suitable way a woman should wear her hair—”

  Prescott blinked, thinking of the tight chignon Edwina was wearing the first day he’d met her. “He told you how to wear your hair? Something so personal to you?”

  “Well, ah, he liked it pulled back.” Her lips pursed. “I suppose because that’s how his mother wore it.”

  “Did he direct anything else pertaining to your person?”

  “To my person…ah, well, the proper way to clean my teeth and, oh, yes, how to bathe—”

  Prescott straightened. “Proper way? There is no ‘proper way’ to take a bath.”

  Sipping her port, Edwina’s shoulder lifted in a shrug. “To Sir Geoffrey there was.”

  “And you put up with this…this…dictatorship? Even Mrs. Nagel never directed me in such an officious manner.”

  Edwina’s eyes didn’t meet his. “It doesn’t matter. Why are we even discussing this?” Her cheeks were flushed pink and he could tell that she was discomfited, but he wanted to know, nay, he needed to understand who her husband had been and how he’d influenced the woman Edwina was today.

  “What would your former husband think of your current coiffure?”

  Her hand lifted to her hair. “Sir Geoffrey think of my coiffure?”

  “And why do you refer to him as Sir Geoffrey? He was your husband for heaven’s sake!”

  “Lower your voice, Prescott,” she chided. “Heads are turning.”

  He crossed his arms, leaning toward her and whispering, “No wonder you were so upset that you didn’t have the ‘proper’ attire the other night, or always worry that you’re doing something the ‘wrong’ way. I’ll bet your mother-in-law was even worse than her overbearing son. I’ll warrant they used to go at you, two on one, with the very proper manner to do this or that.”

  Her cheeks reddened and from the look on her face, he could tell he’d struck a nerve.

  “They did, didn’t they?” he demanded. “Directing you, correcting you, chastising you. They probably had you hopping about so that you hardly knew which way to turn.”

  “All right, Prescott, I understand your point. They weren’t as agreeable as they could have been and I wasn’t as self-possessed as I should have been.”

  “Self-possessed? You were a fresh young lady of barely seventeen hoping to be accepted into the bosom of your new family. Of course you would try to please them.”

  Looking away, she straightened. “I know I should’ve stood up for myself more often, but to be frank, when I did bother to, it was most…unpleasant, and not exactly worth the tension it caused. So it was easier simply to do it their way. Like referring to my husband by his title. He preferred it and it didn’t matter much to me.” But by the irked look in her eye, obviously it had mattered.

  “Oh, Edwina.” He grasped her hand. “No wonder you don’t wish ever to marry again. For you, it’s the equivalent of purgatory.”

  She looked up, her brow furrowed and her mouth open as if she was going to argue, then she shook her head, her eyes wide with wonder. “I never…never considered the connection. I just knew I never, ever wanted to feel that way again.”

  “And why should you? A strong spirit like yours shouldn’t be oppressed with such trifles. You have much better things to do with your amazing energy, more important considerations on your mind. In twenty years will anyone care that you put both stockings on before either shoe? Or is it a stocking, then a shoe and then your attention shifts to the opposite foot?”

  “You’re right. It really doesn’t matter.” Exhaling as if relieved, she stared up at the night sky. “It’s astonishing to me that I didn’t see the connection. To me, marriage means submitting myself to someone else’s dictates for the rest of my life. It’s really, quite…liberating to understand why I’ve felt so strongly about not wanting to marry. I mean, feel about it. I don’t wish to marry. Ever.”

  “You said that already,” he bit out, irritated and not knowing why.

  “I know, I just…” She beamed. “This is really quite amazing.” Then her brow furrowed. “But this still won’t make a lick of difference to my father.”

  “Our engagement is going to end his matchmaking days, though, Edwina. Isn’t that the plan?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t have a stunningly awful row over it.” She frowned. “I just wish…”

  “What?”

  “I just wish that I knew how to handle things better. Like before, with Lady Pomfry…”

  Guilt washed over him. “That wasn’t your fault, Edwina. Daphne isn’t half the woman you are.”

  She raised a brow. “Yet somehow you chose to be with her, without the benefit of a blatant lie.”

  He felt like kicking himself, the fool that he’d been to have resisted Edwina so. But he hadn’t known her. Hadn’t known how wonderful and sensual and exciting she truly was. But arguing the point would get him nowhere. She wanted to talk about Daphne. The same way he’d wanted to talk about Sir Geoffrey. Fair was fair, even if he didn’t like it.

  He exhaled, looking away. “I had no idea she could be so…ugly. I mean, she wasn’t like that when I was with her.” But he’d known. He’d always had the sense that she was the kind of woman who turned on people. Not caring if she attacked him, Prescott had selfishly never worried about anyone else she’d go after. Sleep with a viper and eventually someone close to you will get bitten. And Prescott did mind that.

  Edwina tilted her head. “What was she like? When you were with her, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “Amusing. Good fun. There wasn’t a whole lot more to it than that.” Prescott realized that there hadn’t been much more to any of his enc
ounters. Until now.

  “Is that why you became a cicisbeo? For the fun of it?”

  “Yes, and because, well, it was easy.”

  “Easy?”

  Exhaling, he ran his hand through his hair, awkward talking about that chapter of his life, which he so desperately wanted to close. “Six or so years ago a young widow came to Andersen Hall to meet with Headmaster Dunn about becoming a patron. She’d heard good things about the orphanage and wanted to learn more.” He shrugged. “At the time I was living with a friend in town and trying to scratch up a living. I’d come back to visit with Cat and ran into the lady.”

  “So you were about twenty-one years of age?”

  “Yes. Well, the lady was impressed with my elocution and manners and, to be frank, was lonely—”

  “So she bought your clothing, set you up and in return expected…?”

  “She didn’t want anything more than some companionship, a listening ear, an arm to hold on to at balls and the like. It was perfectly innocent.”

  “Perfectly innocent? You’re stunning, Prescott. I can’t quite believe that she didn’t want—”

  “Thank you for the compliment, Edwina. But no, she didn’t.” He shook his head, remembering. “She was a good woman who’d married an older cousin hoping to sire an heir and keep the property in the family. She’d miscarried several times, and when her husband died without issue, she blamed herself. She wanted an undemanding companion, nothing more.”

  He tilted his head. “She had a tight circle of friends who soon came to call on me as an escort as well. I sort of fell into it and after a while, it just seemed to be one long ride that I had trouble getting off.”

  “Until Headmaster Dunn’s death.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Lady Pomfry? Was it all innocent with her?”

  Prescott pursed his lips, knowing that this answer was very important to Edwina and he didn’t want to make a mess of it. He exhaled. “No.”

  Her face tightened. “I suppose I can understand. She’s a beautiful woman, on the outside, at least.”

  “Not half as beautiful as you—”

  “Please stop.”

  “But—”

  “Enough, Prescott.” She held up her hand. “I know my nose is large. It is what it is, I cannot change that. I’m not upset about what she said. Well, not much, anyway.”

  “Then what’s bothering you?”

  “Mostly, that people can be so awful to each other.” Unwinding her arms, her hand clenched and unclenched at her side. “That I’m capable of such spite.”

  “Lady Pomfry is the spiteful one—”

  “I tossed a glass of claret on her dress, Prescott. For shame.”

  “You didn’t plan it. She was abusing Janelle. You can hardly blame yourself.”

  She shook her head. “There are better ways to deal with nastiness than sinking so low as to assault someone.”

  “But it was very effective, you’ll have to admit,” he tried to joke.

  “No it wasn’t.” Her tone was serious; she didn’t want to be amused, she wanted to be heard.

  He sobered. “You’re right, but—”

  “My conduct escalated the entire affair. She tossed a glass at me. Someone could have really been hurt.”

  “It’s not your fault she threw it.”

  “I should have stopped the confrontation, not worsened it.”

  Reaching down, he grasped her hand, unfurling her tight fingers.

  Looking to ensure that none of the guests were paying them any mind, he pulled Edwina into a shadowed pocket deeper into the conservatory and then behind a pair of huge buddleia bushes. “It’s admirable that you are taking this matter to heart. But you’re being very hard on yourself, Edwina. You’ve already apologized to Lord and Lady Kendrick and they hardly blamed you. How can you blame yourself?”’

  “Don’t patronize me, Prescott. I’m trying to learn from my mistakes, not placate my guilt. If I am to deal with the Lady Pomfrys of this world, I had better figure out a better way to handle myself.”

  “The Lady Pomfrys?”

  She shrugged, looking away. “The women you’ve bedded.”

  “Oh.” Prescott ran his hand through his hair, not wanting to touch that one with a fifty-foot pole. Still, Edwina had a point. He lifted a shoulder, uncomfortable. “In all my time out and about in Society, it rarely ended in such a way that a lady should give you a difficult time.”

  “I know.”

  He looked up. “You know?”

  “I studied you, remember? I spoke to some of your lady friends under the guise that I was considering an escort to an event.”

  “And…?”

  “And most spoke highly of you. The biggest complaint was that you were too independent. ‘Yank on his strings and he walks’ one lady had said.”

  “Ah, that must have been Lady Tyler. She was always razor-sharp.”

  “But it’s not just those ladies, but all difficult people that I’m concerned with, Prescott. You understood Janelle when I was oblivious. I was ready to kick her out of the society. For shame.” Her lovely face was troubled. “I want to do better. I need to do better and not always leave a confrontation feeling like I’ve failed. Can you help me?”

  Chapter 28

  Looking into her dark, shimmering gaze, Prescott realized, not for the first time, that Edwina Ross was a very complex woman. The fact that she shouldered some of the blame for the confrontation was a credit to her strong character. That she was examining her own actions in the hopes of improving how she dealt with others was downright inspiring.

  “Whom are you preparing yourself to deal with, Edwina?” Prescott felt an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness. “Your father?”

  She sighed, looking away. “Well, yes.”

  “Is your father a spiteful man? Has he ever…” His gut tightened. “Hit you?”

  “He hasn’t laid a hand on me since I was ten. And I certainly couldn’t blame him then, I’d just shorn my sister’s hair.”

  “Really?” he asked, relieved. “Girlhood antics?”

  “Nay. I was bemoaning my own dark locks and she very sweetly offered me a few of hers. I cut her hair and then glued it onto my own.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “It seemed like a wonderful plan at the time. But in execution…” Her smile was tense. “Let us hope that my plans have improved over time.” She shook her head. “But getting back to Lady Pomfry…well, if I’m truly being honest with myself, she brings out the green-eyed monster in me and I handled it—”

  “You’ve nothing to be jealous of, Edwina. What you and I have goes far beyond anything she’s even capable of.” He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying how she leaned into him. “My feelings for her never held a candle to the way I feel about you.”

  She sighed and her body relaxed. They fit quite agreeably together, like two pieces of a puzzle. “Well, that’s certainly nice to know.”

  “And how, my fair lady, do you feel about me?” He was holding his breath and he knew it, and was unable to do a bloody thing about it.

  Leaning her head back, she toyed with his cravat, pressing the linen. “You’re trying to change the topic, Prescott Devane…”

  “True, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish to know how you feel about me.”

  She sighed, pretending to be greatly put out. “Well, if you must know…” She smiled shyly. “I’m really quite…fond of you. Quite…very much…a lot. A very lot.”

  He chuckled, feeling inordinately relieved. “That’s quite a jumble of the King’s English…”

  “I can take it back if you insist…”

  He hugged her tighter. “Don’t you dare.”

  She bit her lip. “Prescott?”

  “Yes?”

  “I was thinking that, perhaps when all is said and done here, that mayhap you might consider staying on with me for a bit.”

  He blinked, his heart skipping a beat. “What are you asking me, Edw
ina?”

  Busying herself with his cravat, she shrugged. “Well, you see…that transaction my cousin and I were trying to close in Cambridge. Well, I was thinking that you are so good with people and all, that you might help repair the damage.”

  Prescott felt the disappointment like a musket ball stuck in his chest. What had he expected? She wanted his help in a business transaction in the same way she wanted his help in combating the blackmailer. She might be fond of him, but it was his usefulness that mattered. “We’ll see,” was all he could think to say.

  “Well, it’s just that, I was thinking, that if you and I stay together, which I hope…I would very much like…well, then, at some point, well, I am going to have to face my father about it. Which brings me back to the topic that I seem to be mucking up so badly…

  “What I’ve been trying to articulate, very poorly I might add, is that the run-in with Lady Pomfry…” She motioned toward the house. “It reminded me of how I often feel when I’m facing my father. All anger and no positive effect. So I want your guidance. Well, when it comes to you…us, I want to be clear, I want to be understood.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s important to me that it go as well as possible with my father.”

  “Why?” He knew he sounded like a nine-year-old lad asking “why?” every other sentence, but he couldn’t help it. His heart hurt and he wanted to know “why” it ached so excruciatingly and how to make it stop.

  She didn’t meet his eyes. “Because I want it, us, to be about you and me without a whole lot of everyone else butting in. I want us to…last.”

  Licking his dry lips, he swallowed. “You wish to be together for a long time? Even after you no longer have a need for me?”

  Her brow furrowed. “A need for you? I know that we started out as partners in an effort to the stop the blackmailer, but I would hope that our relationship, what we have now, isn’t as mercenary as that.”