“Of course.”
Had she thought to have a proper wedding night? What a ninny she was with her head in the clouds. This was a convenience, an arrangement. The day had been pleasant, but meant nothing. She had met him at Dorothea Tuppence’s house for heaven’s sake! Perhaps he went around kissing any willing maiden he found.
After dinner, she left her husband to his port and books and went up to her room to pack. In spite of his teasing, her new wardrobe wasn’t extensive. She was glad she had been sentimental enough to pack her mother’s silver mirror and comb, but wished she had thought to pack the miniature of her mother and her sisters.
This was the edge of insanity. She had married a stranger and was about to leave town with him. The easy warmth was a surprise, but was there enough to build a marriage on? Did Charles even want that or was he now regretting their hasty marriage?
Prudence hadn’t held up her part of the bargain. She had invaded his sanctuary, intruded into his life, even planned to drag him off on a walking tour of Scotland. Why should he scruple to follow the bargain if she didn’t?
She missed her house. She missed her sisters. The reality that she might never see them again crashed over her in a cold wave and the first tear rolled down her cheek. This was her wedding night and she sat here sorting clothes while her husband hunched over his books with his port.
She drew out the rose negligee, the perfect thing for a wedding night. It was all so unfair. She was ruined without being debauched and now wedded but not bedded.
More tears followed and soon she was weeping in earnest. Her father’s last words were ringing in her ears.
“You foolish, impulsive girl. No good will come of you. Mark my words!”
“Excuse me, sir.” Lizzy stood in the doorway, wringing her hands. “It ain’t my place and Mrs. Forbes did say I should leave it be, but I thought you should know.”
“Know what, Lizzy?”
“Your missus is crying, sir. In her room. I don’t want to meddle, but…”
“Thank you for telling me, Lizzy.”
She dropped a hurried curtsey and fled. With a defeated sigh, he placed both palms on the table and stood. He’d a stiff neck from sitting too long. He frowned at the clock on the mantel. He’d lost track of time again, not that taxonomy was so interesting, but classification required concentration.
He rapped the door with his knuckles. “Pru?”
“Go away, please.” Her voice was muffled and thick.
He let himself in. Still in her evening dress, she was stretched across her bed, face down, arms flung overhead, sniffling into her pillow. A scrap of rosy silk was clutched in her hand. “What’s the matter, darling?” He sat on the edge of the bed.
She started and wiped at her face. “Can’t a girl have a weep in private?”
“Not on her wedding night.” That was evidently the wrong thing to say. She heaved a great sob and tried to move away but he pulled her into his arms. “Please tell me what is wrong. I thought we had a lovely day. Is being married to me so horrible? Please don’t cry. Please, please don’t cry.” He stroked her hair. “My poor Pru.”
She wound her arms around his neck. “Don’t you like me even a little bit?” She sniffled wetly against his collar. “I thought perhaps you liked me.”
“Like you? Why would you ask such a thing?” He meant to comfort her at first, fluttering soft kisses across her eyelids and trailing them down her forehead. “I like you very much. More so than I expected.” His voice was hoarse.
She turned her mouth to his. He explored her lips tentatively at first. She sighed against his mouth and his control slipped. His arms held her tighter — or was she pressing herself against him?
Her hands tangled in his hair. “I thought…our wedding night…you didn’t even want to touch me.” She hiccupped and pulled back. “I know this isn’t a proper marriage but I don’t want to spend my life so chastely.”
It was his turn to stammer. “B-but I was being noble.”
“Oh please don’t be noble!”
“I’m sorry,” he said against her mouth. “I promised myself I would not molest you, that we should spend time getting to know one another and…”
“Do shut up,” Pru said and kissed him hard.
She was his wife, he reminded himself, and she was in his arms and so willing. He turned to press her back into the bed and she fell back, pulling him with her eagerly.
Very, very willing!
Pru felt exactly right to be drawn against his chest that way, drowsy and replete. His hand stroked her hair idly.
“I had no idea it could be like that,” Pru said.
“Neither did I.”
She rose on an elbow to look at him. “Of course you did. You’re the one with all the experience.”
“What do you think I am? Not all that much experience. I mean that I’m not really such a…It isn’t as if I make a habit… that I go around…”
“No?” She raised an eyebrow. “You are blushing quite a bit for a man I met in a brothel.”
“Yes, well, it isn’t as if I never…” Charles abruptly pulled her into his arms. “I meant that this was different. Better.” He kissed her with such ferocity that although moments before she was drifting asleep, now she was fully awake with her blood pounding through her veins.
Much, much later, they finally slept.
In the early part of the morning, she was dimly aware of Charles slipping from the bed. He stopped long enough to drop a kiss on her shoulder and tuck the covers back around her. She wanted to protest the removal of his solid warmth, but speaking was far too much effort and she once again succumbed to the lure of sleep.
Chapter Nine
CHARLES WAS ALREADY AT breakfast when she entered the morning room. She bent to brush a kiss against his cheek. He gave her a taut smile.
Instantly on edge, she sat across from him while Mrs. Forbes bustled in with a fresh pot of tea. He said nothing as she buttered her scone, staring instead at his copy of the Times.
She set her knife down in exasperation. “What have I done?”
“I’m sorry?” He looked up from the paper. “Nothing, darling. It’s just…I believe this is for you.” He refolded the paper and handed it to her.
Her stomach churned as she read the personal advertisement. To my imprudent daughter: All is forgiven. I only seek your safe return. Please come home. Papa.
“How could we know that advertisement is for me?”
“My imprudent daughter? Odd phrase that. He must mean you. The only way to be sure is to send word. You should see your father.”
“But we were to leave today.”
“We can spare another day. I’ll take you to his house.”
“No, you will not!” She struggled with the sudden rush of emotions. Last night had been wonderful but she would not be ordered about again, even by an adored husband. She pushed away from the table. “I will send word that I am here. If he wishes to see me, he may come to me. I will not crawl back to him.” She stood.
He sighed. “You just came down. Sit and eat your breakfast, Pru.”
“Don’t start ordering me about, Charles.”
Charles ran his hand through his hair. “That wasn’t an order. More in the line of a suggestion.”
She sat again and bit into her scone. They ate in tense silence until Charles rose. “I’ll be in my study if you need me.” As he crossed behind her chair, he stopped. His hand was just the barest whisper of a touch on her hair, so subtle that she might have imagined the touch.
Then he was gone.
Two hours after she had sent the missive, Prudence paced the drawing room. She had almost convinced herself that Papa was not coming, that they had misunderstood the message in the paper, when she heard his clipped tones. Not bothering to wait for Mrs. Forbes to see him in, she rushed to the drawing room door and flung it open. There was the famous head of white hair, the large mustache, but Mrs. Forbes was not escorting her father down the hall.
Her husband strode next to Papa. Neither Charles nor Sir Algernon looked well pleased. The rush of pleasure at her sight of her father surprised her. She started to him but pulled up short, remembering that she was very angry with him.
Papa removed his hat and gloves and made as if to hand them to Charles. Instead of receiving them, Charles crossed his arms. Papa sniffed and tossed them onto a table.
Pru locked eyes with Charles and gave him a slight nod. He raised an eyebrow as if to ascertain her meaning, but she nodded again, more emphatically. He left the door ajar when he left.
“I’ve come to take you home, Prudence,” said her father.
She turned her back to him and crossed to the sofa. Sitting with more aplomb than she felt, she poured herself tea. “Care for a cup?”
“Did you hear me, young lady? Enough of this charade! I have no idea what you are playing at, but your Aunt Hetty has been sick with worry.”
“I’m not playing at anything,” she said evenly. “I meant what I said in my message. I have married. I realize this is a sudden decision, but one that should be a great relief to you. I am no longer your burden.” He stared at her, open-mouthed. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him at such a loss. “I assure you that the marriage is quite legal. We were married by a Parson.”
Just not the sort Papa was thinking of.
“Great heavens. What have I done?” He padded across the carpet to sit next to her, his hands braced on his knees. “Perhaps I wasn’t the best man to raise three headstrong girls. The Lord knows I tried my best. I gave you girls everything, but you always seemed to want something else. Now you’ve run off and married one of those Mad Hatterlys. Have you any idea how I felt to come home and find you gone?”
He looked so injured, as if she had wronged him and not the other way around. “Papa, you threw me out!”
“I never did!”
“You said I was on my own if I stepped out of line again and we both know that I did.”
“You can’t think I meant to toss you.”
“You locked me in my room. What else was I to believe? No, I think you did mean what you said.”
“I never would have flung you out onto the streets, child. I only wanted you to learn a lesson.”
“Oh yes, I couldn’t learn from the abuse society heaped on me. I needed scorn at home as well. I made some terrible choices, Papa. I realize that, but what I needed was your love and support, not your censure.”
He stood as if dazed, and turned to the fireplace, leaning against the mantle. “Prudence, I failed you. Perhaps I wasn’t a good father at times. I apologize for making you think I would put you out on the streets. I only…I only wanted what was best for you.”
Papa had never apologized to her for anything. Ever. Did he finally see her as a grown woman now and not just his child to be chided and corrected?
“I’m waiting, Prudence,” he said impatiently.
“For?
“For you to apologize.”
Her back stiffened. “Me? What have I to apologize for?”
“What have you…you silly child! For disappearing and making us all sick with worry. Your poor Aunt Hetty took to her bed and Grace was beside herself. Constance is on her way back from France. I didn’t cause you to ruin yourself and I certainly didn’t send you over to Petworth’s to further your humiliation. I didn’t send you to that courtesan’s house. Oh yes,” he said seeing the look on her face, “I know you took a hack there. All I was able to learn was that you had left in some man’s carriage. I’ve been looking for you nonstop since you vanished, but all you saw fit to do was send a terse note while I begged for your safe return.” He broke off, breathing hard.
She set down her cup. “Oh, Papa, I’m so sorry for making you all afraid. I do regret that.”
He shook his head. “Thing is we’ve both been rather hasty. Still it’s nothing my solicitors can’t untangle. You’re barely married. We’ll sort this tangle out. I meant what I said in the Times. All I want you to do is come home with me.” He paused, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Cursed lonely in that house, you know. I missed you.”
“Oh Papa!” She leapt from the sofa and flung her arms around his neck.
Charles quietly closed the drawing room door. That was it then. He strode up the stairs, nearly bowling over a startled Mrs. Forbes. “I’ll be in my study if anyone needs me.” It was all he could do not to snarl. He pulled the velvet pouch from his pocket and flung it across the room. He’d thought to give Prudence a present in the post-chaise. Now he wanted to smash it.
He ran his hand through his hair. No, smashing things wouldn’t do, wouldn’t make him feel better. He fell heavily into his chair. Only a few days ago he hadn’t known she even existed.
Love couldn’t happen that way.
Why then did his heart feel as if that unlucky organ was being ripped from his chest?
He had been pleased with his life. Now the years spun out in front of him, long and lonely. He had woken this morning with visions of building a life they would share together. He had been dreaming of children and Christmas dinners and how it would feel to dance with her for the first time. As if he were some lovestruck young maiden!
He truly was one of the Mad Hatterlys, perhaps the maddest of them all.
Charles had no idea how long he sat hunched over his books, staring miserably at nothing, until he heard the door open behind him. He didn’t look up. “That went well for you.”
“You listened.”
“Just a bit. Wanted to make sure that you were safe. You seemed so worried that…” Charles cleared his throat. “I’ll let you out of the bargain now. Parson held the paperwork. Said he wouldn’t file the certificate until we asked him to. You can go home.”
She was silent for so long that he finally turned. “But what if I’m with child?” she said in a small voice.
“Oh.” He closed his eyes. “I suppose you should keep my name then just in case, if you want to.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Then after you know that things are all right you can have your annulment. I won’t fight you. No one has to know about last night.”
“I know about last night.”
“Your things are already packed. Just tell Mrs. Forbes when you are ready.”
She was silent for a long time. He fought the urge to look at her. Finally she exhaled. “Just like that? I’m ready now then. I don’t think I can bear to stay another minute. Papa has already left, but I’ll send a message that he needn’t bother to bring my things here.”
Charles twisted in his chair in alarm. She sounded so furious and sad at the same time. “Wait! Repeat that last part! Your father has gone where?”
“I sent him for my things, but if I hurry…”
“Prudence, wait.” He sprang from his chair and beat her to the door.
“Oh, what are you doing now? This was obviously a misunderstanding on my part,” she said stiffly. “I’m always jumping to hasty conclusions. If I hurry…”
His heart leapt up with a dawning hope. “You sent him away to get your things.” She tried to go past him but he caught her, pulling her into his embrace.
“Charles, what on…”
He kissed her soundly. She stiffened in surprise, but didn’t pull away. He raised his head.
“You sent him away,” he said with wonder.
“Of course I did.”
“But he wanted you to come home.”
“I told him no.”
“You told him no.” He was grinning like a fool, but couldn’t stop. He kissed her again and her body finally yielded against his.
She rested her forehead against his chest in understanding. “You thought I meant to leave? How could you? And after last night, how could you let me?”
“I was being noble,” he said against her hair.
“Like your grand nobility when you weren’t going to bed me on our wedding night? Oh darling, I wish you would leave off being so noble and considerate and
simply be my husband instead.”
“I want nothing more,” he said and took both her hands in his. “I’m afraid you’ll miss London. The estate is lovely, at least I think so, but Frances is wild as a hare and my brother Henry has an unfortunate tendency to explode things with his inventions. The servants are unreliable and in spring my boots are always caked with mud which I track everywhere.”
“Do you think to talk me out of it? Kent sounds like bliss. Of course I’ll miss London, but I would miss you if I stayed.” She drew his hands up to her cheek.
“I can force myself to visit London more often if that is what keeps my wife happy.”
“Oh, you darling man!” She caught his face and pulled him into another kiss.
“How long do you think before your father returns with your things?” he asked against her mouth as he walked her backwards to the sofa. His hands fumbled with her stays in his eagerness.
“Long enough.”
“I should have taken you to see the jackdaws and not Phoebe the cockatoo,” he said, his voice muffled between her breasts.
“How can you think about birds now?” she gasped.
“Ah, but jackdaws are my special interest. Other than my wife of course.” He raised his head, his eyes shining with love. “They’re most unusual birds.”
“I thought they were rather common,” she said and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“But they are unusual for the animal kingdom. Bright. Clever. Devoted parents. They have a complex social structure.”
“Fascinating.” She slipped his shirt from his shoulders. He shrugged the rest of the way out and tugged on a boot.
“They mate for life,” he said looking up at her.
“Do they?”
“Absolutely faithful.” He tossed the boot and tugged on its mate. She reached down to help. “When a jack finds a female he fancies for his partner,” the boot came off, “he begins an elaborate courtship ritual.”
She reached for his trousers. “Courtship is very important.”
“He showers her with gifts.” Charles kissed his way down the side of her neck. “Bits of food and nesting materials and shiny things. Dash it!” He pulled back.
Compromising Prudence Page 9
