Compromising Prudence

by Marguerite Butler

  “Won’t that lead him straight to you?”

  “I didn’t give her this address. Why do you think I told her someone would call for items I left? Anyway, Madame Roquefort won’t send the bill for at least a month. She never does. By then we will be safely ensconced in Kent.

  Hatterly whistled long and low. “I knew I admired you for a reason. You’re a naughty minx, Miss Wemberly. Remind me never to cross you.”

  Chapter Six

  WITHOUT A VALET TO fuss, Charles kept a simple toilet. He despised absurd neckcloths and shirt points so high one could not turn one’s head. Pants should be fitted, but not so tight that a man was in danger of revealing more of himself than should be seen in polite company. He liked his coats cut so that he could put them on and remove them without assistance. His green coat was fine enough for the club. But Hoby boots — every man had his downfall, even one who was so assuredly not a dandy. Rather than attend to his hair for a third time that day, Charles took the time to be certain his boots gleamed enough for a man to shave in the reflection.

  He stopped in the front hall to admire his boots in the excellent light. His neckcloth caught his eye in the mirror. Simple was well and good, but creased would never do for the club. There was nothing for it. He would have to return to his chambers and change it.

  “There you are. I was despairing you would ever emerge. Shall I tell Mrs. Forbes we’re ready now?”

  Charles froze with his hand on rail. “Miss Wemberly!” Could he possibly have forgotten there was a woman in the house? “I…er…ready for what?”

  “For dinner, silly goose. The clock says half-past seven and I confess I’m famished. I shouldn’t be as I’ve done nothing of note, but it’s a sad fact.”

  Dinner. Of course she expected to dine with him. He schooled his features to what he hoped resembled a man who knew what he was doing but it was too late.

  “You were leaving.”

  She wasn’t accusatory, but the forlorn note in her voice made him cringe. “I hadn’t realized…that is…Oh, curse it.” He removed his hat. “Fact is I was on my way to the club. Habit and all that. Never thought you’d plan for dinner or…didn’t think. At all.”

  “I see. You’re meeting friends.”

  “No, actually, I wasn’t. That is, I’m not. I suppose you and Mrs. Forbes planned dinner for tonight.”

  Miss Wemberly clasped ungloved hands behind her back. “I thought we would dine together. I never thought you would…”

  “And I never thought you had…”

  They stood in awkward silence. He tossed his hat on the table and drew off his gloves. “I won’t need these then.”

  The way her eyes lit at that was worth a night at home. Dinner with Miss Wemberly would be just the thing. They still had so much to learn about one another.

  “I’ll tell Mrs. Forbes.” Miss Hatterly scurried off.

  He started a moment later when a young woman clutching a bit of lace passed him in the hallway. She dropped a hurried curtsey.

  “Who are you?”

  “Rose, sir. Your lady’s new abigail.”

  “New abigail? Hired when?”

  “Today, sir.” She looked anxious to be gone and so he waved her off with his hand. Apparently, Miss Wemberly had been quite busy this afternoon. He wandered into the drawing room to find another strange woman dusting.

  “Who the devil are you?”

  “Betsy, sir.”

  “Another new servant?”

  “Yes, sir. Hired today.”

  “Of course you were. Not another abigail, I take it?”

  “Oh no, sir. I’m…”

  “It doesn’t signify. Off you go, now.”

  He was upside down and sideways in his own life. The marriage had been his idea, but the scheme was proceeding so quickly that he couldn’t breathe. His bride-to-be might be demure and she might be sweet, but she was certainly competent at managing a household, frighteningly so.

  He heard a knock at the door and voices but didn’t recognize the footman who announced, “Mr. Graham Hatterly and Mr. Sheridan.”

  The uniform was new as well.

  “Thank you, er…”

  “Nick, sir.”

  Graham bounded into the room.

  Good God! His brother! What next?

  “Told you we’d catch him in time,” Sherry said.

  “Because it’s devilish early,” Graham said. “Barely decent to be seen. Ought to have a round or two before we go.”

  Charles eyed his twin brother’s satin knee-breeches and velvet coat with distaste. “When did you get into town, Graham, and what the devil are you wearing? I’d almost prefer those wretched striped pantaloons to satin breeches! And where do you imagine we’re going?”

  “Just like you, Charles. They’re all the crack!”

  “The club,” Sherry said, answering only the last question he had heard. “Where else does a man go for his dinner? Say, you haven’t an engagement!” Sherry elbowed Graham. “He has an engagement. Told you he would.”

  “No, you didn’t. Charles never does anything but talk of birds and dine at his club, least not voluntarily. He’d cry off an engagement for us but he hasn’t one. See? He’s dressed for the club. That green jacket? Always wears that to the club.”

  “As a matter of fact…” Charles brushed lint off his jacket. Graham and Sherry gaped at the doorway. Miss Wemberly stared back at them, equally dumbfounded.

  “In fact, he does have a dinner engagement,” Miss Wemberly said, recovering first. “And you’re both invited. You must be one of Mr. Hatterly’s brothers.”

  A delighted smile broke across Graham’s face. “Indeed I am. Mr. Graham Hatterly — your servant, ma’am.” He quickly crossed the room and took her hand. “And this is Mr. Sheridan.”

  “Hullo,” Sherry said cheerfully.

  Charles cleared his throat. “May I present Miss Wemberly?”

  Graham swung around to give him “the look.”

  Charles was quite familiar with “the look.” His father had mastered “the look,” but he could never quite manage. It was altogether surprising that his rake of a brother seemed well on his way to doing so.

  His rake of a brother who was still holding Miss Wemberly’s hand.

  “Miss Wemberly has graciously agreed to become my wife.”

  Charles had the satisfaction of seeing the “the look” wiped from his brother’s face and replaced by something best described as shock. Graham recovered quickly and bestowed his most charming smile on Miss Wemberly. “I wish you both happy then. Is this a celebratory dinner?”

  Miss Wemberly laughed. “If you like. I do hope you will stay with us. I’m longing to meet my new family.”

  Sherry begged off, but Graham was only too delighted to remain. Mrs. Forbes was as cheerful as he’d ever seen her. She bustled about, ordering the new maids and footmen. Even Lizzy seemed in the spirit of the evening, wearing a smart new uniform.

  He scarcely recognized his own dining room. The linens were vaguely familiar and did bear the family crest, but he couldn’t recall seeing them in use since his father had returned to Boston.

  Graham had escorted Miss Wemberly in — to Charles’ annoyance, but in no time they were all chatting comfortably.

  “There is a surfeit of Hatterlys,” Graham said. “You must call me Graham if I’m to be your brother. Tell me how you met.”

  Pru shifted in her seat, but her smile did not fail. “We met at a party. How else does one meet?”

  “And you captured his attention.”

  “Apparently, I have.”

  “Have you feathers, Miss Wemberly? Do you nest perhaps?”

  “Oh, now that isn’t fair. If you are to be Graham, I must be Prudence to you.”

  Listening to their banter, Charles became aware of two things: first, Sir Algernon must be a veritable ogre.

  That was the only explanation for her not having been claimed. Miss Wemberly was radiantly lovely in her gown. She was a charmin
g hostess. She had every accomplishment one could hope for in a wife. Sir Algernon must have been frightening away or refusing suitors.

  Second, his cousin Thomas was a fool. He’d always had an inflated sense of his own consequence, but as the younger son of a younger son Thomas was no closer to the title “Your Grace” than Charles was. It would serve Thomas right to end up riveted to some horse-faced shrew of an heiress who would bestow a parcel of rackety brats for him to marry off. No, even worse — the ultimate punishment for a rake — he deserved a house full of beautiful daughters with suitors climbing in every window. Charles pictured Petworth standing armed guard over his house at night and smiled.

  Pru couldn’t help but smile when Mr. Hatterly did — both Mr. Hatterlys, actually. The differences were subtle. Graham was cheeky, mischievous. He possessed an infectious humor, although she preferred Charles’ dry wit. Their initial appearances were so very alike that she was finally forced to say, “You resemble one another so closely, I confess I cannot discern who is the elder brother.” She gave Charles a look of mock severity. “You neglected to give me a recitation of the siblings. I only know there are four brothers and one sister.”

  “Charles! You haven’t?” chided Graham. “Charles is the eldest son, of course. He manages Father’s estates. In fact,” He sipped his wine. “He is my elder by thirty minutes.”

  Pru froze, unsure she’d heard him correctly. “You’re saying…”

  “I can’t believe he didn’t tell you he had a twin.”

  “I can’t believe it myself,” she said faintly. “Twins.”

  “You didn’t warn her about the twins?” Graham winked. “Twins run strongly in the family.”

  “How…er…strongly?”

  He ticked them off on his fingers. “Charles and I are twins. Our uncle was a twin and he has two sets of twin sons. Need I go on?”

  “Well,” she said finally. “Well. I suppose heirs are not a problem in your family.”

  This pleased Graham and he roared with laughter, slapping his knee. “That’s a rare one you’ve found there, Charles. A rare one, indeed! No, there is no lack of Hatterly heirs. No guarantee you’ll have twin sons, but the empirical evidence says otherwise. He really should have warned you.” He wiped his eyes. “I take it I’m the first to wish you happy? Can’t wait to tell the others. When is the blessed day?”

  “Tomorrow,” Charles said with a pleased smile. He clearly enjoyed watching his brother choke on his wine.

  “You aren’t in earnest! Tomorrow? What? Without the family there? Without anyone in attendance? Unconscionable! How could you not even send a message to me?”

  “Didn’t know you were in town, did I?”

  “But this haste will never do, Charles.”

  “It must,” Charles said with a quiet finality that silenced his brother. Graham was clearly troubled, but held his tongue and instead turned to Pru.

  “I suppose this is your last chance to bolt then.”

  “Thank you so much for your brotherly devotion,” Charles said.

  “Have you any idea what you’re in for? They call us the Mad Hatterlys, you know. I’m the only sane one of the lot.”

  “Your home sounds like a great adventure,” Pru said.

  Graham snorted. “Oh it’s straight from Minerva Press, all right. Complete with ghosts in an attic.”

  “Ghosts? Oh, how exciting!”

  “More like barn swallows in the attic,” Charles said. “I’ll thank you not to fill my bride’s head with such nonsense.”

  “But I’m dying for such nonsense,” she protested.

  “Speaking of nonsensical adventure,” Graham said. “Where are you bound on your honeymoon?”

  Charles exchanged a sheepish glance with Pru. “Hadn’t planned for one.”

  “Hadn’t…what?” Graham was outraged again. “Good heavens, Charles! First you deny the girl a big wedding and now you’re mean enough to deny her a trip. I say, you can’t let him get away with such things, Prudence. If you want my advice…”

  “She doesn’t,” Charles said.

  “Hush, you! If you want my advice, make him take you abroad. Do him a world of good. Never goes anywhere except the fields of Kent. It’s all hedge sparrow this and songbird thrush that.”

  “The estate keeps me busy,” Charles said stiffly.

  “Tosh! At least take the woman on a trip.”

  “Brighton?” Pru had always longed to go there, but Papa had insisted on Bath and a turn around the Pump Room with Aunt Hetty was not her idea of summer fun.

  “Why Brighton?” Charles asked.

  “We always went to Bath,” Pru said with a shrug. “Brighton sounds exciting.”

  “Bath? Dowagers and card assemblies!” Graham shuddered. “Good Lord! Take the woman to Scotland.”

  Charles caught Pru’s eye and smiled, that sweet smile that made her think of a young boy. “Scotland. Do you know, I’ve always meant to go there? I just might.”

  “Oh, yes please!” Pru clapped her hands. “Oh, this is famous! I suppose the trip will have to be after the Season.”

  Charles shifted in his chair. “Spring is devilish hard to get away. Nesting season, you know.”

  “Of course. I shall want time to settle in any way. And a trip should be properly planned. Scotland.”

  “You’ve settled in a bit here,” Charles said.

  She arched her brow. “I’ve hired more staff for the place. I told you I would.”

  “Did you?” He frowned as if genuinely trying to remember. She would take this as a lesson. Never tell Charles something important when he was thinking about birds. “Do you think we need them?”

  Graham slapped his knee, laughing, and earned a glare from his twin.

  “Of course we need them,” Pru said patiently. “I need them at any rate. If you expect me to bring your sister out, it necessitates more than a month-long visit. We’ll be spending an entire Season in London and as fine as your staff is, they could hardly be expected to manage the entire Season with us in residence. You must own that I needed a new abigail.”

  “You’ve been very busy today.”

  She eyed Charles anxiously, but he didn’t seem displeased; he looked rather…stunned. Pole-axed was the word her sister, Grace would use.

  Graham cleared his throat. “What time is the wedding?”

  “After breakfast,” Charles said.

  “Wonderful,” Graham said. “What time do we eat?”

  They spent a delightful evening, but Charles was relieved when Graham made noises about leaving. He followed his brother to the door, but once outside, Graham turned back to him.

  Charles sighed. “This is where you ask me if I’m sure and if I know who her father is.”

  “’Course you know. Hard not to. Not the sort of family I’d choose, but sober as a judge is for you, I wager. Tell me you didn’t just meet her.”

  “I just met her.”

  “Lord!” Graham wiped his face with his hand. “Say she isn’t carrying the next set of Hatterly twins.”

  “Nothing of the sort!”

  “She has no chaperone, has she? Where is her family in this? I tell you this wedding seems a complete hum.”

  “It isn’t a hum,” Charles said. “Prudence is exactly as she seems: a lovely young woman who is foolish enough to yoke herself to this family.”

  Graham sagged against the door. “She’s staying here, isn’t she?”

  Charles remained silent.

  Graham cursed softly and placed his hat on his head. “Very well. If she can lure you away from the fields and skies, I suppose I must approve.”

  “It isn’t for you to approve.”

  “Rest easy, Charles. I didn’t mean to give offense over your little sparrow.” He took up his walking stick and went out into the night.

  Charles stood in the doorway to the drawing room, silently watching Prudence extinguishing the candles. She remained backlit by the fireplace as she paced, clasping and unclasping h
er hands.

  “Nervous?” He slowly crossed the room.

  “Of course I am. Tomorrow we will be married. Riveted! Tenants for life! ’Til death do we part. Yoked for all eternity!”

  “Now you’re making me nervous.”

  “You should be nervous. We both should be. It’s an enormous step we are taking and one which will not only affect us, but our families as well.” She turned to face him.

  He jammed his hands in his pockets. “I wondered when you might have second thoughts. But I’m afraid we are already past the point of — ”

  “Your brother knows I’m staying here. Doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it’s obvious you’re in residence. But he would protect you if I asked him to. Graham only seems like a dasher. He’s actually rather circumspect.”

  “And the one you called Sherry?”

  “Has no notion you’re staying here. Are you asking me to release you from our bargain?”

  She shook her head and he exhaled. He wasn’t aware he’d been holding his breath, but the tension between his shoulders eased slightly. She started to move away from him and turned her face, but halted and lifted her chin instead. In their brief acquaintance he had come to admire her curious way of plain dealing. He would have expected a girl of her upbringing to be missish.

  “What would you normally do after you dined at your club?”

  The abrupt turn of conversation made him smile. “Return home of course. I’m not one for gaming and such. “They were close enough now that he could reach out and touch her if he chose.

  “You would be working if I weren’t here, wouldn’t you?”

  “Probably.” Now that his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could make out the lovely lines of her face.

  She sighed. “It has occurred to me that I owe you an apology.”

  He took a step closer. “Why would such a thing occur to you?”

  “Something your brother said. I haven’t been very good about living up to my part of the bargain.”

  She ducked her chin, but he placed a finger under the tip and lifted it back up. The firelight did beautiful things to her face, highlighting her cheekbones and making delicate shadows underneath them. “Tell me what you imagine you’ve done wrong.”