This news surprised Brand, and he couldn’t help but inquire, “Miss Prudence had planned to come?”
“That was the agreement we had, but I don’t think she ever planned to honor it. She said her stomach was troubling her and she needed to lie down, but I’m willing to wager that if we returned unannounced to Talford Hall right now, we would find her miraculously cured and playing with Scamp in the library.”
Or scribbling one of her many stories down on paper, Brand thought to himself with an inward smile. Thoughts of Miss Prudence served to dampen his enthusiasm somewhat, and Brand was suddenly ready to return to the others.
“I am glad to know her illness is only a scheme.” He held out his arm. “Shall we go back inside?”
Miss Gifford nodded, radiating happiness and contentment.
Brand wanted to feel the same, but while he was happy with the progress they had made, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying in another direction. Miss Prudence may have been wise in remaining at home, but deep down, the rebellious and irresponsible part of him wished she had come.
PRUDENCE BLEW OUT her candle and watched the smoke rise and dissipate into the darkness, knowing she would not be able to write even one sentence tonight. Moonlight shown through the open drapes near the side of the bed, allowing her to see Scamp curled into a ball asleep near her feet. She smiled and laid her head on her pillow, watching the oddly-shaped shadows dance across her ceiling, all the while wondering about her oddly-shaped feelings.
Sophia had returned from the dinner in happier spirits than Prudence had anticipated. She had come directly to Prudence’s room and imparted everything that had occurred at Radbourne Abbey. She spoke of the scrumptious meal, the kindness of Lord and Lady Bradden, and how handsome and charming Lord Knave had been. She told of her invitation to return on Monday and expressed her delight and doubt about helping Mrs. Harper with Brute.
Prudence had listened with only half an ear, not because her sister bored her, but because she found the words so very hard to hear. Of course things had gone well. If her sister had opened up, Lord Knave would certainly wish to see more of her. How could he not? Sophia was wonderful. Prudence wanted to feel the same level of excitement that radiated from her sister, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel even a portion of it. Oh, Prudence had smiled, she had laughed, and she had said all that was proper. But the sad truth of the matter was that she had never felt more envious of her sister.
It was a hollow, miserable feeling.
Even now, hours later, it clung to her. She wanted to crush it into a ball and toss it from the window, but it refused to depart, causing a great deal of mischief within her heart. Prudence had thought she understood the connection between her heart and mind. They had always worked peaceably together as equals, each contributing an essential part to her thoughts and emotions. But now they were in direct conflict with each other, waging a battle over what she should want and how she should feel. What’s more, she’d come to realize they were not equal. The desires of her heart were far more powerful. Or perhaps her mind was simply weak.
No, she told her mind. You will not give up this fight. You will come to be sincerely happy for your sister and see Lord Knave only as he ought to be seen.
Her heart immediately disagreed, and Prudence had the unhappy thought that she would not be getting much sleep—if any—that night. Perhaps she could use this newfound knowledge to write a story about a doctor who could extract painful feelings and memories from a person.
Now that would be a happy tale.
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, Prudence waited until Sophia had left for Radbourne Abbey before she set out to inspect the log in the clearing. She didn’t want to happen upon Lord Knave and purposefully chose a time when he would be occupied elsewhere.
Her only hope was that the rain from the previous night had not completely ruined his answers—if indeed, he had responded. Surely he had by now. As a result of her suggestion, the situation with Sophia had taken a turn for the better. Any man of honor would uphold his end of the bargain.
She picked her way slowly through the woods, thinking she should probably leave well enough alone and not seek his opinion on anything more, but how could she not? If she wished to write as genuinely and accurately as possible, she needed Lord Knave’s help. That, and she couldn’t deny a certain curiosity as to what his answers would be. Perhaps they would displease her and she would find it easier to dismiss him from her mind.
The hope was a fledgling one. She couldn’t imagine him saying anything that would displease her.
Why did the man have to be so blasted charming? Why couldn’t he be like Mr. Winston—kind and honorable, but dreadfully dull?
Not that she would wish such a person upon her sister.
Dash it all.
Prudence drew in a deep breath. The air felt heavy and moist from the night’s rain, and the smell of vegetation permeated her senses. Normally a brisk walk out of doors on such a morning would clear and invigorate her mind, but today the overcast skies felt more confining than freeing. Prudence couldn’t shake the sensation that she was being given a taste of what heartache felt like. She ought to be grateful for the knowledge as it would come in handy with her stories, but she didn’t feel the least bit appreciative at the moment. She only felt… sad.
How could a person she had known for such a short amount of time consume her thoughts so thoroughly? That was the crux of the matter, really. It did not feel like a brief acquaintance. It felt as though they had grown up climbing trees and imagining various adventures together.
How was that even possible?
At least you can claim a liking for your future brother-in-law, she thought wryly.
Prudence had almost forgotten about Scamp trailing along beside her until the puppy began yipping and racing in the direction of the clearing. He was obviously anxious to meet up with their friends again.
“I’m afraid you are to be disappointed, little one. Brute and Lord Knave cannot be our friends any longer, only our acquaintances. You can blame me if you’d like. It is my fault, after all, for allowing myself to develop a tendrѐ for the man. But in my defense, it felt completely out of my control. It’s not as though I set out to do it, you realize. It simply happened.”
Scamp paid her no heed, pulling on the restraint with as much strength as his small body possessed and leaving Prudence to follow behind.
She spotted the log the moment they reached the clearing. Scamp began yipping incessantly, probably trying his best to be heard, but no large mastiff came running, and Lord Knave did not materialize before then. Prudence had known that would happen. She had planned for it. Why then, did she feel a keen disappointment?
She shook off the feeling as best she could and walked to the log, determined to get what she had come for and drag Scamp back home. But when she pulled the sodden paper from the hole, she was disheartened to see that it was only a scrap—not nearly large enough to contain the answers for even a small portion of her questions. She carefully unfolded it and had to read the words several times before she was able to decipher the blurred letters.
We did not account for England’s unpredictable weather when we formed this plan. Look under the large rock at the base of the oak tree on the south side of the clearing. —K
Curious, Prudence turned around and examined the tree. Sure enough, near its trunk was a large rock sitting atop what appeared to be freshly turned dirt. She looped Scamp’s restraint around a branch jutting out of the log and walked over to the tree. It took a bit of effort and muddied her gloves dreadfully, but at last she was able to slide the boulder aside. Underneath, she found a large and square tin container with a lid affixed to the top.
A thrill of excitement shot through her. She pictured herself as a pirate or explorer on the hunt for some mystical buried treasure. What could it be? she wondered as she pried open the box to reveal some folded pages of foolscap, along with a sharpened pencil and several blank pages.
She looked over the contents for a moment before unfolding the foolscap. The top page read:
I spent far too long composing answers to your many questions and could not risk the chance they’d be ruined, so I came up with the brilliant solution to hide a tin box in the ground. Have I sparked your sense of adventure? Do you now wish to write a story about pirates and buried treasure?
Her heart gave a little skip. How well he knew her already.
I have not only answered your many questions, but I have also left you a pencil and blank pages should you have any others. I hope you write a story fitting for Stephen and Catherine. Theirs was a match unlike any I have ever known.
I must also thank you for your assistance with your sister. I believe we are at last on the verge of friendship.
Your confidant,
Knave
P.S. If we are to be confidants, I think it fitting we do away with the formalities of Miss and Lord, don’t you?
Prudence smiled at the valediction, allowing it to warm her heart even though he had become her confidant only by accident. But she couldn’t deny that it felt good to share her secret with someone and even better when that someone had been as accepting of it as Lord Knave had been. The situation would be somewhat ideal if not for her growing attachment to him.
Prudence glanced through the remaining pages and felt a pull to settle down on the log and soak in his words. She had originally planned to return home as soon as possible, hide his responses beneath the floorboard in her room, and not read them until everyone had gone to bed. But now that she held his answers in her hands, she could not wait. With quick steps, she walked back to the log, gave Scamp a quick rub, and settled down among the memories of him.
On the page containing her questions, he had added a number in front of each one, and she found corresponding numbers on another paper, along with his answers written in a slightly untidy scrawl.
Question #1:
What qualities do you admire most in a woman?
Answer #1:
That all depends on who the woman is. Are you referring to a mother, grandmother, aunt, friend, or potential bride? Take, for example, my mother. I greatly admire the way she can manage my father without him realizing he is being managed. At the same time, I do not believe I would appreciate that quality as much in a wife, but perhaps I wouldn’t notice it and would instead remain blissfully ignorant like my father.
Prudence smiled. He had known perfectly well what she had meant by her question, and he had avoided answering it completely. She could now see why he had included paper and a pencil in the container. Apparently, she must learn to be more specific with her questions. Were all his answers as vague?
Question #2:
Tell me something a woman would not usually know concerning matters of estate management.
Answer #2:
It is wiser and more lucrative to raise cows, chickens, and sheep than roaches or mice. A few of our guests might believe that Radbourne Abbey welcomes such pests from the sheer number of them we have discovered within our walls over the years, but I assure you that we are in the business of eradicating rodents and insects, not breeding them. Cows, chickens, and sheep, on the other hand, are encouraged to reproduce.
Prudence laughed out loud, not bothering to stifle the noise. If he continued in this vein, he wouldn’t be at all helpful with her story, although a scene with a strategically placed mouse or roach could be quite humorous. The man was a wretch, that much was certain. But he was also amusing, and she liked that he had given her a reason to continue their correspondence albeit in such an unusual manner. It made her feel as though she hadn’t lost his friendship completely.
Was that the reason he had left the pencil and paper—with the hope she would write again? Did she dare? Or would she be better off not doing so?
Her mind begged her to leave it alone while her heart yearned for the opposite. She tried to ignore both as she continued to read through the questions, laughing and smiling throughout. For all his words, he gave her very little information, and in the end, she couldn’t resist the temptation to ask for further clarification. She did need answers, after all, and would it be so wrong to exchange a few notes with him?
Pushing her concerns aside, Prudence pulled out a clean sheet of foolscap, wrote a brief reply, and began composing a new set of questions that were more specific than the last. Before she could reconsider her actions, she folded the page, stuffed it into the box, and reburied the thing. Then she collected Scamp and spent the entire walk home explaining to her puppy that the only reason she had responded was because she needed answers. Real answers.
Nothing more.
THE WIND WHIPPED at Brand’s face as he raced across the open meadow on the back of his horse, allowing Miss Gifford and her spirited stallion to take the lead. Her bonnet flapped in the wind behind her, and red hair flew about her head in wild disarray. She rode beautifully, and when they reached the other side, her cheeks glowed from excitement and exercise.
How different this had been from the last ride he had taken with her.
Brand grinned and attempted to tease her. “I now see how you come by your freckles.”
Instead of laughing or returning his teasing, she began patting down her curls in a self-conscious manner. Brand suddenly wished he could take his words back. Why had he said that? He should know better than to draw attention to a feature that most considered unbecoming. If only she could realize that he only teased her about it because her freckles didn’t bother him in the least.
It had been nearly a fortnight since that evening in the garden with Brute, and while Miss Gifford still showed signs of discomfort around him, those moments were gradually becoming fewer and further between. She smiled more often, talked with less reticence, and had taken a genuine liking to both Catherine and Brute. In fact, she seemed to prefer their company over his, or perhaps she was merely more herself with them, which was all the more reason he should think twice before teasing her again.
“Forgive me,” he said quickly. “I did not mean to make you self-conscious. Believe it or not, I like your freckles.”
She looked over at him, her expression doubtful. “I don’t believe it.”
Brand shrugged and squinted across the meadow. “’Tis true. I also think you ride beautifully, as does your stallion. He is a magnificent beast.” Brand introduced her horse into the conversation on purpose, knowing it would give her something to talk about that would set her at ease. Whenever she spoke of animals, Miss Gifford spoke from her heart.
Sure enough, her smile returned, and she leaned forward to run her hand down her horse’s mane. “Dominicus is magnificent, isn’t he?”
“Dominicus,” Brand mused. “That’s an unusual choice for a name.”
“Prudence thinks it’s terribly staid, but she is wrong. It means ‘holy to the Lord.’ As he was born on a Sunday, what other name could I have given him? And besides, I knew straightaway that he was meant for great things. Sometimes I worry I am holding him back by keeping him with me, but I could never part with him. My father purchased him as a colt, and when Dominicus was old enough, our groom allowed me to help with his training. I will always remember those sessions with fondness, and I’m proud of the sweet and spirited stallion he has become.”
“I’m certain it’s because he has a sweet and spirited mistress.”
Miss Gifford blushed and shifted in her sidesaddle, obviously discomfited. Lord Knave wondered how many times she had been complimented by a man before. Judging by the way she reacted to praise, he’d wager not a great deal. Perhaps he should bestow compliments on her more often to make her more accustomed to them.
“You are right to keep him,” Brand continued. “Another owner may not see his strengths or understand him as you do.”
That seemed like praise she knew what to do with, or at least believed. She nodded graciously. “Thank you, Lord Knave. You are kind to say as much.”
He smiled, and they bot
h lapsed into silence. She glanced around nervously, as though searching for something to inspire a new topic of conversation. Brand might have asked if she planned to comment on the blades of grass underfoot or the overcast skies above, but he didn’t want to cause her further embarrassment. Perhaps she would choose to speculate on whether or not rain would shortly fall—or perhaps he should speculate on it.
Prudence had chastised him over this very thing not so long ago. He pictured her in the clearing, shaking her head at him in a frustrated manner. Honestly, my lord, the weather? Could you think of nothing else to say?
At least we have progressed to speaking about animals now, he thought, already knowing what her response would be.
Yes, but if that is the only thing you can talk about, it is not much better than the weather, is it?
“What do you find so amusing, my lord?” Miss Gifford’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Brand realized he’d been carrying out a conversation in his mind. Good grief. Had it truly come to that?
He shook his head to clear his mind, then blurted out the only explanation he could think of. “I was remembering Catherine’s expression the other afternoon when Brute charged at her.”
Miss Gifford laughed—a rare sound from her. “It was priceless, wasn’t it? I had no notion eyes could grow that large.”
“I’m sure it came as quite a shock to her. Brute has only ever run to greet Stephen or me. She hadn’t expected him to come barreling at her and probably thought he’d run her over.”
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