My Sister's Intended

by Rachael Anderson

  “You’re leaving?” she asked, holding fast to her paper and pencil as she scrambled to her feet.

  Brand nodded, looking away. “I’m afraid I must.”

  “Can you at least answer my question before you go?”

  Brute, the wretched dog that he was, had disregarded the whistle and continued to lounge in the shade of the tree. Losing patience with himself, the dog, and the entire sticky situation, Brand turned around and found Miss Prudence standing directly behind him, close enough for him to see the flecks of gold in her eyes.

  Throwing caution to the wind, he said, “When I first looked upon you, I noticed the darkness of your eyes, the luster and color of your hair, your beautiful eyebrows, high cheekbones, and perfectly shaped lips. I noticed the way you walked and danced, caught the impertinent sparkle in your eyes, and delighted in the sound of your laughter. You see, I, unlike you, did not form any opinions about your intelligence or personality or level of goodness. I merely noticed a beautiful woman.”

  As he spoke, her eyes grew wide, and she took a step back, appearing almost fearful. “I didn’t ask for your opinion of me,” she breathed.

  Brand wanted to curse and retract his too-hasty words in an instant. What had he been thinking to say such things, especially now that he knew her fears concerning her sister? Did he want her to worry that she was in danger of stealing away her sister’s so-called intended?

  No. He didn’t. That should be his concern to shoulder, not hers. Miss Prudence might be at liberty to speak her true thoughts concerning him, but he was certainly not at liberty to do the same.

  He sighed and turned away. “I noticed many beautiful women that night, Miss Prudence. I noticed eyes, hair, complexions, gowns, and figures. Does that shock you? Do you now think me the shallowest of men?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “The fact of the matter is that I am a man, and as such I tend to see the outside of a person first. The inside comes later, only after a longer acquaintance.”

  Silence met his words, and Brand could only wonder at what she could be thinking. He peeked back at her, noting the menagerie of emotions in her expression. Confusion, worry, surprise—perhaps even some disappointment. He couldn’t tell for certain, and he refused to ask because he should not care.

  Instead, he held out his hand. “Why not give me that paper, and I shall take it with me and write my answers down for you? In a few days’ time, I will return to this spot and tuck it into that hole in the log where you can retrieve it at your leisure. How does that sound?”

  She nodded slowly but continued to clutch the paper, as though she did not like his plan but knew it was for the best. Or perhaps she had changed her mind and no longer wanted him to answer her questions. Whatever the reason for her reticence, Brand didn’t care for the plan either. He didn’t want to return to this place, leave a note in a log, and slink away without seeing her. He wanted to meet with her again, speak to her, kiss her, enjoy her smiles and laughter and teasing, and look into those beautiful dark eyes. He wanted to walk up the steps at Talford Hall and ask to take her for a ride instead of her sister.

  Unfortunately, he was not at liberty to do any of those things.

  At long last, she held out the paper, but snatched it back as soon as he reached for it. “I will give you this only if you promise to answer all of the questions truthfully, even if they make you sound like the shallowest of men. Agreed?”

  Brand found himself charmed all over again. “Agreed.”

  He accepted the page and tucked it into his coat pocket before whistling for Brute once more, but the obstinate beast didn’t budge.

  Miss Prudence tilted her head to the side and smiled sadly. “I shall miss our visits, my lord. You are the only one who knows my secret, and I suddenly feel as though I am losing my one and only confidant. But at the same time, I understand.”

  The words touched Brand’s heart. Why couldn’t more women be as open and honest as Miss Prudence? He would miss that about her. He’d miss a great many things. “Perhaps I am not the only one guilty of giving your sister less credit than she deserves. Why not make her your confidant?”

  Prudence seemed to consider his words for a moment before shaking her head. “I dare not. If I ever lost her good opinion—if she even attempted to talk me out of writing stories as my mother would do—I couldn’t bear it. You heard her when you encountered me on the road and you inquired about that page you found. She insisted that her sister would never write such nonsense. If she ever found out that I was the one who wrote that page… well, she would lose all respect for me.”

  “Or maybe she would respect you more,” Brand said, wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to have a brother. Once upon a time, his parents had wanted more children but those children had never come, and the only person who had ever come close to filling the shoes of a brother died a year prior.

  “I will consider it,” said Miss Prudence. “In the meantime, thank you for your help and for not making me feel as though I’m wrong—or mad—for wanting to write stories.”

  “I do think you’re mad,” teased Brand. “No sane woman would climb a tree to eavesdrop on a clandestine meeting.”

  She laughed quietly. “Well then, thank you for not attempting to talk me out of writing.”

  “Somehow, I knew it would be a fruitless effort. And besides, from what I read before, you seem to have a talent for it.”

  Her smile widened, and Brand knew he needed to leave.

  “I really must go.” He turned and whistled again. “Brute, here boy!”

  Only after Scamp yipped did Brute finally decide to obey. Brand strode forward to meet the wretched dog, and without looking back, said, “Good day, Miss Prudence.”

  “Good day, my lord.”

  PRUDENCE FELT UNACCOUNTABLY irritable during her walk back to Talford Hall. She tugged on Scamp’s restraint, keeping him from inspecting a mound of dirt. He tried to resist, but his little body was not strong enough to do battle with Prudence’s current mood.

  “Come, Scamp. We’ve spent far too long in the woods, and it is past time for us to return home. Mother and Sophia will be wondering what has become of us.”

  Scamp yipped in response but followed nonetheless.

  As soon as the side of Talford Hall came into view, with its ivy-clad stone walls, Scamp must have realized his freedom was about to come to an end because he attempted to dart back into the woods. He only got as far as his leash would allow before he protested by yipping and whining. Prudence looked down at her forlorn puppy, and her heart softened a little.

  “Yes, I know you do not want to say goodbye to our new friends and go inside, but even you must realize it is for the best. Lord Knave is to marry my sister, and Brute does not belong to him. If we become too attached, it’ll be to our detriment. Don’t you see?”

  Even though Prudence knew Scamp did not see at all—or likely even care—it made her feel stronger and wiser to take on the role of teacher. She preferred giving lectures to receiving them, even though her words were more for her benefit than the puppy’s.

  Lord Knave had been right to insist on taking his leave, and Prudence had been wrong to beg him for answers to her questions. Even now, the memory of his lips against hers and his hands in her hair sent shivers through her entire body. She had asked him if every kiss felt as blissful, but deep down, she knew that could not be the case. Mr. Winston could never transport her to such an exquisite realm. Prudence had felt the passion, complexity of thoughts, and all the sensations Lord Knave had said he could never describe, and oh, what a lesson.

  But had it been merely a lesson? For a few moments, Prudence had thought it had, at least for Lord Knave. It had been the hope she’d clung to, the thing that enabled her to pretend it had been nothing more than a lesson for her as well. But then she had to beg for another answer to another question. Why had she done that? Why hadn’t she left well enough alone?

  Even now, the honesty of
his words thudded around in her head, pleasing and unnerving her all over again. She had been so certain that he viewed her only as a silly child, but after he had kissed her in that way, looked at her with such intensity, and called her beautiful, she realized that she had been wrong about him yet again.

  Yes, he’d confessed to assessing many other women that night, but why had he chosen Prudence as the example and not Sophia? If he should have praised anyone’s beauty, it should have been the woman he intended to marry, not her younger sister. It felt wrong and right at the same time, which bothered Prudence the most. It shouldn’t have felt right at all.

  The entire exchange settled like a heavy stone in her stomach, one that Prudence couldn’t be rid of. The fact that she had enjoyed her time with Lord Knave immensely did not help matters at all. Had he kissed her with such passion to teach her how it feels, or had he become lost to it as well? Something told her it was the latter. Before today, she had thought her attraction to him one-sided—a childlike fascination that she’d eventually outgrow—but now… well, now she did not know what to think. Had she inadvertently placed herself between him and her sister?

  She pressed her palm into her stomach in an attempt to calm the ever-rising sickness. What sort of person would do such a thing?

  Prudence suddenly pictured herself as a villain in a nefarious plot, pretending to be good and kind and have the best interests of her loved ones at heart. But really she was nothing more than a thieving, duplicitous traitor who deserved to be tossed into a dungeon.

  Prudence shivered at the thought, desperately wanting to go back to the time when she’d considered Lord Knave to be a womanizing bore. Why couldn’t he have been that person? Why did he have to be charming and likable and wonderful? At the very least, why couldn’t he have looked down on her for wanting to write books or taken her to task the way her mother would have? If he had, Prudence wouldn’t have met him in the woods, she wouldn’t have offered to help him woo her sister, and he wouldn’t have agreed to answer her questions regarding her story. They would never have kissed, and she would not be experiencing such turmoil now.

  Oh, what a jumbled up mess of her own creation.

  Prudence could only be grateful that her mother intended to keep her out of the social scene for now. Perhaps if she ceased speaking to Lord Knave and encountering him in the woods, she would come to forget all about this afternoon.

  She had to forget if he was to be her brother-in-law.

  Prudence dragged Scamp around the side of the house and paused when she spotted a familiar gig out front. She wanted to cry out for joy at the blessed sight. Abby had come. If there was ever a time Prudence needed a distraction, it was now. She scooped up her obstinate puppy and quickened her steps towards the house.

  As soon as she walked into the great hall, Sophia’s voice called from the parlor, “Pru, is that you? Look who has come for a visit.”

  Prudence strode into the parlor and attempted to smile at her friend, who looked like sunshine itself. Abby’s afternoon dress was an almost startling shade of yellow, and along with her matching bonnet, golden hair, and light blue eyes, she presented a most cheerful sight.

  “It is about time you came to call,” said Prudence, striving to sound as though nothing was amiss. “I was beginning to think of you as more a stranger than a friend.”

  Abby reached out to rub Scamp’s head. “The road can be traveled in both directions, you know. And who is this little darling? I don’t believe I have ever seen anything so precious.”

  “This scamp of a creature is called Scamp, obviously.”

  Abby laughed, taking the puppy from Prudence’s arms and cradling him in her own. “You are far too sweet to be named Scamp. What were you thinking to call him such a thing? Cuddles would have been much more appropriate.”

  Prudence grimaced, not liking the name at all, though perhaps she should consider calling him something different. Otherwise, every time she called out “Scamp,” she would probably think of Lord Knave and how wonderful it had been to speak with him and laugh with him and be held by him.

  Prudence glanced at her sister, and a fresh bout of guilt washed over her.

  Unfortunately, Scamp’s name suited him too perfectly to ever think of him as anything else.

  “I can see now why you have not visited me,” said Abby as she tucked Scamp close to her bosom. “But I will not excuse you after today. I expect to see you both at Chillhorne in the not-so-distant future, and you must bring Cuddles as well.”

  “Scamp,” Prudence corrected. “His name is Scamp.”

  “To you, perhaps, but not to me.”

  Prudence exchanged a smile with Sophia before sitting on the chair beside her friend. “You now understand why I have been a stranger of late, but what about you, Abby? Have you acquired a new puppy as well?”

  “I only wish,” said Abby. “With Papa gone away on business much of the time, I would dearly love a puppy to distract me.”

  “You are always welcome here, you know,” said Prudence. “I wish you’d feel comfortable staying with us while your father is away. We would have such fun, the three of us.”

  Abby combed her fingers through Scamp’s soft fur, looking perfectly content. “I would feel comfortable here, but Papa is never gone for more than a day or two.”

  “Yes, only to leave again straightaway,” said Prudence.

  Abby smiled sadly. “I am well aware of his business habits. But I prefer to be at home when he comes and goes. That is the only way I know how to stay connected, not that we are close by any means. But we are better than we would be if I made myself scarce.” Abby’s mother had died giving birth to her, and although she would never say as much, Prudence knew her friend missed the mother she never had and the father who was always too preoccupied with business. Her Great-aunt Josephine, who acted as her companion, accompanied Abby to social events when her father was out of town, but that was the extent of her companionship. The older woman preferred the comforts of Chillhorne and probably slept more than she roused. Abby usually brought her maid with her to Talford.

  “You haven’t said what has kept you away,” Prudence reminded her.

  A blush stole across Abby’s cheeks. “Let us just say that Chillhorne House has not been nearly as lonely of late.”

  Intrigued, Prudence waited for more, but when no more came, she glanced instead at her sister for answers. Sophia shrugged, obviously as clueless as Prudence.

  “Could you be any more cryptic, Abby?” Prudence asked.

  Abby laughed. “Yes, and I am very tempted to keep you in suspense, but that would be unkind of me, so I will refrain. The fact of the matter is that I have found a new friend at Chillhorne. His name is William Penroth. He is the nephew of our new steward, recently come from school to apprentice with his uncle.”

  This was news to Prudence, especially considering that Abby had always frowned on associations with the lower classes. But now she seemed downright smitten. With the steward’s nephew.

  Prudence had to fight to keep her smile at bay. “Am I to assume Mr. Penroth is handsome?” she asked.

  “Handsome, intelligent, kind, and charming. In a way he has become the brother I never had.”

  Prudence looked at Sophia again, which was the wrong thing to do. Her sister’s quirking lips nearly made Prudence laugh out loud.

  “Honestly, Abby,” said Prudence, doing her best not to smile. “A brother? I’m afraid that blush on your cheeks belies your words. Admit it. Your feelings are not at all sisterly.”

  Abby laughed. “Perhaps not, but I know better than to fall in love with an apprentice to a land steward. I would never consider engaging in anything more than a harmless flirtation, which is all it is. But I now look forward to the start of each new day, which is something I never could have said before. I can talk to William about anything, and for the first time since Great-aunt Josephine replaced my governess, I have not felt alone in my own house. It has been a blessed change.”
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br />   “What does your aunt think of your new friend?” Sophia asked.

  Abby combed her fingers through Scamp’s fur and shrugged. “She doesn’t have much to say on the subject, considering she spends much of her time snoozing in her favorite chair and has no notion our steward even has a nephew.”

  Sophia’s smile became wistful. “I am glad to hear you have found such a friend at Chillhorne, Abby. You make me wish I could say the same of Lord Knave.”

  Prudence startled at the sound of his name and quickly chided herself for overreacting to it. What had her sister meant by that anyway? “Are you in earnest, Sophia? I thought you could be content with any man so long as he offered you wealth and a title.”

  “I believe Pru’s romantic notions are at last having an effect on you, Sophia,” teased Abby.

  Sophia immediately shook her head, looking slightly embarrassed. “I really don’t know why I said that.”

  Abby rose, taking Scamp with her, and walked over to sit beside Sophia. She encouraged the puppy to jump from her lap to Sophia’s, and almost immediately, Sophia smiled.

  “Hello, Scamp,” she said, mussing the puppy’s hair. “I have missed you today.”

  Abby fiddled with the lace on her gloves before speaking. “I know what loneliness feels like, Sophia. I have lived with it for a great many years, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. We may tease Pru about her fanciful views on romance, but it is not wrong to want more from a marriage than comforts and status. If there is one thing that William has taught me, it’s that I would very much like to marry a man I can call my friend. If he also happens to be handsome and charming, so much the better.”

  “I’m certain you will find such a man,” said Sophia carefully. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much choice in the matter of who I marry. I should be grateful it is a man like Lord Knave and not a bounder or a cad.”