My Sister's Intended

by Rachael Anderson

  She cleared her throat. “I suppose I may have been a tad misinformed before. Pray forgive me, my lord, even though I was given ample cause to believe as I did.”

  He chuckled and folded his arms across his broad chest. “It seems your puppy has learned something from you after all. You are both dreadful at apologies.”

  Prudence lifted her puppy up and considered it with fondness before tucking his wriggling body against her neck and shoulder and giggling when it tickled. “We do get on well together.”

  “How fortunate you are.” Arms still folded, Lord Knave took a few steps closer, making Prudence keenly aware that he was a head taller and much broader than she.

  “I’m actually surprised to find you on the ground, Miss Prudence. You seem so adept at climbing trees that I would have thought you would have scurried up the nearest one the moment you heard Brute.”

  Prudence’s smile dwindled at yet another reminder of that humiliating morning. Could they not put it all behind them and discuss other, more neutral topics? They were standing on neutral ground after all.

  “I am not as adept as you might think, my lord,” she confessed. “It took me nearly half an hour to settle myself into that tree. I had to climb another and cross over to the larger one—all while wearing my least favorite morning dress, no less. It was not an easy feat, I tell you.”

  “You were also toting your paper and pencil, were you not?”

  Drat it all, Prudence thought, annoyed with him for placing her in this awkward position and annoyed with herself for being so careless. She should never have brought her scribblings with her that morning.

  She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “You are now privy to my secret, my lord. What do you intend to do with the information, aside from reminding me of it every time we encounter one another?”

  “How large is this secret, exactly?” he asked. “From our last conversation, I gather your sister does not know, which makes me wonder who does.”

  “No one,” she admitted. “My mother would be scandalized if she ever found out, my father would think it a waste of time, and my sister and friends would never understand. Please, Lord Knave, do not tell anyone. If I am to keep writing, which I simply must do, my secret needs to remain a secret.”

  His brow furrowed, and he took a step closer, studying her in a way that made her squirm inwardly. “Why must you keep writing?”

  “Because I must,” she blurted. Could no one understand this? “It is too much a part of me, sir. I… I don’t know how else to explain it. Haven’t you ever felt as though you were meant to do something with your life? That you were given some sort of gift or talent that must be put to use? I don’t know why I have such a frivolous, and perhaps even meaningless desire, but I do, and I cannot dismiss it. What would I do with myself if my mother forbade me to imagine and create? I cannot even contemplate such a scenario. And so I must continue. Do you not see?”

  The look he gave her was nothing short of unnerving, and Prudence found herself wishing she had not been quite so open with him. Why had she thought he might understand? No one did. No one could.

  At last he spoke. “I am loathe to admit that I have never felt as strongly about… well, anything.”

  How could he not feel strongly about anything? Didn’t everyone have some sort of passion, something that drove them to improve—or perhaps prove—themselves in some way?

  “Surely you have interests, my lord.”

  “Interests? Yes. Passions? No.”

  She blinked at him, disbelieving. “Perhaps you don’t know what they are. You are heir to an earldom. Do you enjoy management?”

  “Not particularly, no.”

  “Politics?”

  “I try to keep myself informed, but I consider it more of a chore.”

  “Hunting then. You did say you hosted a hunting party last year.”

  He looked away and clenched his jaw, and Prudence realized her faux pas. The hunting party she had so casually referred to had probably been the scene of Stephen Harper’s death. Why, oh why, didn’t she think before speaking?

  “Pray forgive me, sir. I did not mean to—”

  He raised a hand to halt her speech. “It’s of no consequence. The truth of the matter is that I once enjoyed hunting more than I do now, but even before the accident, I could never claim it as a passion. Only a pastime.”

  He appeared troubled, as though she’d exposed a weakness in his character that he had only just recognized. The expression on his face wrenched her heart, making her wish she had kept her fervor to herself. She hadn’t meant to suggest that she found him lacking in some way. On the contrary, the more she came to know of him, the more she found to like.

  Prudence thought of the kindness he’d shown Mrs. Harper at the hunting lodge. He had been fully present for his friend when she’d needed him, and was that not better than having one’s mind constantly filled with imaginings? Had Sophia ever needed her sister at a time when Prudence was not fully present?

  Probably.

  In many ways, it was Prudence who could be found lacking.

  “I think,” she said at last, “that you undervalue your talents and interests. You may not consider them passions, but they are valuable nonetheless. What you said to Mrs. Harper that morning in front of the hunting lodge… well, I thought your words heroic, my lord. In fact, I intend to have one of my heroes borrow—or perhaps steal—those same words for my next story.”

  His expression cleared, and he gave her half a smile. “You honor me.”

  She laughed. “My mother would not call it an honor, but I am glad you think so.”

  Lord Knave considered her a moment with a partially raised eyebrow and a glint in his eyes. “I like your candid nature, Miss Prudence, and admire your passion. I find you rather… refreshing.”

  Prudence didn’t know how to respond to such praise. She had become accustomed to flattery and flippancy, not sincerity, which was precisely how Lord Knave had sounded. His expression contained no amusement, only respect and approval, but how could that be? Her frank speech and so-called passion would be frowned upon by the majority of their class.

  She shifted her puppy from one arm to the other and nodded towards the mastiff, who now rested in a patch of grass. He appeared more docile and approachable now, but Prudence still had a difficult time picturing the petite Mrs. Harper managing him, especially considering the fact that Lord Knave had struggled to rein him in.

  “Is that truly Mrs. Harper’s dog?” she asked.

  He turned to study the animal before shrugging. “In a way, I suppose. He was actually Stephen’s dog in the beginning and became Catherine’s only after his passing. He has been a bit of a beast ever since, I’m afraid, not that he would really do anyone harm, but he will not mind Catherine at all and that causes her a great deal of anxiety. I agreed to take him for a time and see if my coachman, who is fairly adept with animals, could temper him. Thus far, it has not helped much.”

  At the moment, Brute appeared more wretched than menacing, and Prudence’s heart went out to the poor animal.

  “Perhaps he is simply in need of a friend,” she mused, more to herself than Lord Knave. Ever so carefully, she lowered her little armful to the ground and offered her puppy freedom as far as its restraint would allow. He ran straight for the mastiff, showing no fear, and began his exuberant yipping once more. Brute leapt to his feet, his rumbling bark muffling that of the puppy’s. Prudence dragged the little creature back, caught him up in her arms again, and shushed him with her hand over its mouth.

  “Do cease yipping, or I shall sentence you to an afternoon in Mama’s company. Is that what you want?”

  Lord Knave grinned wryly. “He’s quite the scamp, isn’t he?”

  Prudence lifted her gaze slowly to his as her mind caught hold of the word “scamp.” She began to play with it, trying it on and testing it out. After a moment or two, she beamed.

  “My lord, you have done it! You have just given me the per
fect name for my puppy, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am. He has remained nameless for days, and I had nearly given up hope.” She lifted her puppy to face her. “To think I considered calling you Winchester when your rightful name is Scamp. Yes, you most certainly are a scamp, aren’t you? How did I not think of that before? It is so obvious now.”

  When she turned her smile back to Lord Knave, he watched her with an expression she could not decipher. It was neither hard nor soft, simply something in the middle.

  “You are not at all like your sister, are you?” he asked.

  “Sophia?” Prudence laughed. “Sadly no, much to our mother’s chagrin. I am too impulsive, fanciful, and easily distracted. Be grateful you are promised to her and not me, my lord. You are getting a far greater prize, I assure you.”

  He didn’t respond right away, merely ruffled the fur on Scamp’s head. When he spoke at last, his voice was barely more than a murmur. “Do not marry me off to your sister just yet, Miss Prudence. Although there have been a plethora of discussions about the benefits of aligning our families, we are not yet betrothed.”

  Prudence looked at him sharply. “You do not intend to follow through with your promise?”

  He sighed and took a step back, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his coat. “I have made no promises.”

  “I…” Prudence shouldn’t have been so surprised. Sophia had said much the same thing, after all, but… “Forgive me, sir, but my mother speaks of your imminent betrothal as though it is a certainty. My father has mentioned something along those lines as well.”

  “And Miss Gifford? What does she say?”

  Prudence thought over what little her sister had revealed to her. “She has been more cautious, I suppose. While I believe she would like it to be a certainty, she has never assumed as much.”

  He only nodded, his expression a combination of concern and reflection.

  Prudence watched him closely, wondering at the direction of his thoughts. There was something about him that set her at ease and made her feel as though she could say or ask him anything. Maybe it was the way he had acknowledged and accepted her secret so easily or maybe it was simply him. She didn’t know. She only knew that she felt comfortable speaking her mind.

  “Why do you pay my sister such particular attention if you do not mean to ask for her hand? Surely you must realize that the entire town believes you are courting her with the intent to propose. Or are you only playing with her emotions? Do not say you mean to injure her, or I will…” She let the words trail off, not sure how to finish the threat.

  He chuckled. “You will what, Miss Prudence? Challenge me to a duel?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “And what would be your weapon of choice? Swords? Pistols? A well-aimed rock?”

  Prudence shook her head. “I would choose something far more excruciating—words. Should you ever face me in battle, you will come away crippled from your own guilt and remorse.”

  His sonorous laughter echoed through the forest around them, and Prudence decided she rather liked the sound.

  “Something tells me that I probably would,” he said. “But rest assured that I have no intention of injuring your sister. The problem is that I don’t know her at all. I would like to know her, but I have spent hours in her company and still feel as though we are strangers. When we encountered you on the road, she seemed to lower her guard a little, but as soon as we left you she became much less approachable. What you interpret as increased attention towards her is merely an increased effort to discover if we could be compatible. Call me old fashioned, but I could never marry a woman I cannot converse with easily. Unfortunately, as with Brute over there, my efforts are not amounting to much.”

  Prudence nodded in agreement, though she definitely wanted more from a marriage than easy conversation. She took a moment to study Lord Knave’s face—his arched brows and the creases between them, the sweep of his dark hair under the brim of his hat, the determined set to his lips, and eyes the color of clouds before a storm. There seemed to be a storm inside him now, whether it was because of her sister or something else she didn’t know. She only saw the telling lines and creases.

  Prudence hadn’t thought it possible that she would ever come to like Lord Knave, but she did. More than that, she respected his honesty, his willingness to overlook her earlier judgments of him, and his opinions on marriage and compatibility. He seemed the sort of person who would treat her sister with kindness and respect. Perhaps one day he would even grow to love Sophia the way she deserved to be loved.

  If only they could get past their current awkwardness.

  “Do not give up on Sophia just yet, sir,” Prudence blurted. “I’m certain that if you give her a bit more time, she will surprise you.”

  His eyebrow raised slightly, as though he found her claim hard to believe. “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  His jaw clenched as he looked away, appearing no less skeptical than he did before.

  Prudence pursed her lips for a moment before taking a cautious step towards him. “Perhaps I can help. She is my sister after all, and I know her better than most.”

  A wry smile touched his lips before he dropped his gaze to the ground and scuffed at a pebble with his boots. “How do you plan to help, exactly?” His tone was filled with amusement, as though he found her offer childish.

  Prudence chose to disregard it because she really felt as though she could help. He simply needed to be around Sophia when her sister was her most comfortable self. “There is nothing Sophia loves more than racing across a meadow on the back of her horse.”

  The information seemed to interest him. “Now that you mention it, I noticed her out riding a great deal over the years. She’s quite good.”

  “Yes, and she may even shock you by removing her bonnet as soon as the house is out of sight. She would never say as much, but she detests wearing bonnets. Mother thinks she comes by her freckles naturally, but I know for a fact that the sun is to blame for many of them. She adores tilting her face toward its warmth.”

  His twinkling eyes met hers. “You Gifford daughters certainly have your secrets, don’t you?” He didn’t show any signs that he found her sister’s freckles—and the cause of them—unpardonable or even shocking. On the contrary, he seemed to think it charming.

  “Everyone has secrets,” Prudence said.

  He nodded in agreement before plucking a large oak leaf from a nearby branch. He began twirling it between his fingers in an absentminded way. “So you’re saying that if I can get Miss Gifford to let down her hair, so to speak, and ride with abandon, I will at last uncover the real her?”

  “You will indeed.”

  “And if she rides with complete decorum and leaves her bonnet tied to her head?” he asked.

  “Then you must tell her to cease being so prim and proper.”

  He laughed at that, and the sound caused Brute’s ears to perk up and Scamp’s pathetic little bark to begin anew. Prudence chuckled, not bothering to squelch the noise this time. It seemed a happy, non-threatening bark, and puppies were allowed to laugh as well.

  Scamp began squirming in her arms, obviously wanting to be free, so Prudence massaged its belly. “I must thank you, sir, for giving Scamp his name and for being so understanding about us trespassing on your property.”

  “I thought it was neutral ground.”

  “And so it is,” she agreed, glancing around. A large oak tree extended high overhead, its beautiful bark gnarled from age, weather, and animals. Various shrubs and plants sprouted from the damp ground, some larger, some smaller. She breathed in the luscious smells of vegetation and earth, feeling perfectly content.

  “I do so like this spot,” she said as she faced Lord Knave once more. “Perhaps I will refrain from clarifying the property lines with our land steward for now so I can continue to enjoy its beauty. Only smell the deliciousness of these woods. Does the scent alone not energize your soul?”

  The gleam in h
is eyes contained a confusing mixture of admiration and amusement. “I think I find the company more energizing than the scent,” he said.

  His words caused her heart to skitter, but she quickly squelched it. That would never do. Lord Knave may have turned out to be far more interesting than she had ever thought possible, but he was still pledged to her sister, and Prudence would see that he remained that way. She would tell him exactly how to go about courting Sophia, and in return, she would beg a small favor from him.

  She shifted Scamp from one arm to the other, hoping the change would ease his growing restlessness. “Before I go, my lord, might I offer a suggestion?”

  His expression showed both curiosity and wariness. “What sort of suggestion?”

  She cleared her throat, attempting to sound more confident than she felt. “It is obvious you’re in need of my assistance where my sister is concerned, and it just so happens that I could use your assistance as well. I was merely thinking that we could both, er… help each other out.”

  “How am I to help you, exactly?”

  She rushed on to explain. “By answering any questions I might have about a man’s perspective on various things.”

  “What sorts of things?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Just… things. Nothing that will make you uncomfortable, of course. I only need to understand how a man might think or behave in certain situations.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the trunk of the large oak, watching her with a raised eyebrow. “Such as a married man on his way to a lover’s tryst?”

  She waved away his concern. “No. I have dismissed that story and am in the process of composing a… happier, less embittered one.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.”

  “In fact,” Prudence pressed on, “I am hoping you will introduce me to Mrs. Harper. I would very much like to ask her some questions as well.”

  The expression on his face told Prudence what his answer would be before he spoke the words. “You may start by questioning me, and if I determine your questions to be harmless, perhaps I will reconsider.”