The School of Charm: Books 1-5

by Maggie Dallen

  “Prudence?” Damian’s voice was soft. Gentle. “Are you all right?”

  She forced a smile. “Yes,” she said.

  She would be. Of that she was certain.

  His gaze was warm and knowing. “It will be all right, you’ll see. I’ll make certain of it.”

  Her smile trembled. That was the trouble. He would make everything all right if she let him, but she couldn’t allow that.

  He had a life ahead of him, one filled with obligations and duties that he could not shirk. His uncle would never approve of her, and society as a whole would have a fit. A marquess could not marry the daughter of a scandal. A gently bred woman, yes, but her connections were not outstanding and besides all that, she knew as well as he that it would be a union born of pity.

  Sympathy.

  Kindness.

  That was nothing to ruin a life over, and she couldn’t bear to be the cause of his downfall. He’d weathered his parents’ scandal and that was all he ought to bear.

  He might not see it yet, but being selfish never led to any good and if she let him help her, she would be making the most selfish choice of all.

  Her aunt and Sir William started to head their way.

  “Meet me tomorrow,” Damian murmured under his breath. “Promise me.”

  She nodded. It was the best she could do.

  She never had been much good at lying.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Damian stared at the miserable-looking lady’s maid who’d acted as chaperone merely two days before. “What do you mean, she is gone?”

  Her sigh was filled with impatience. “I apologize, my lord, but she is not here.”

  He gave his head a little shake and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. There had to be some sort of miscommunication here. “Where did she go? Into town?” He was already half turning toward the stables where he’d left his horse, too eager to get to Prudence this morning to walk the distance between properties.

  “She’s gone back to London.” It was the Dowager Demon’s voice in the hallway that made him freeze.

  “London?” He turned back slowly and found himself facing that frightening smile as the old lady stalked toward him.

  “Indeed.”

  “When…” He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the panicky sensation setting in. “When did she leave?”

  “First light of dawn.” Her tone was so brisk as though her words weren’t crushing him where he stood. “She should be back to that silly school of hers soon enough, I’d imagine, though what she plans to do with herself once she wears out her welcome there, I have no idea.”

  His mouth parted as he gaped at the old woman who seemed to be shooing him toward the door as she spoke. “What do you mean?”

  The dowager duchess’s mouth turned hard. Cruel. Unforgiving. “I mean, she made her bed when she refused Mr. Benedict. Now she must lie in it.”

  His heart was galloping. His blood rushing past his ears in a roar as he struggled to keep up. All he could think was—she refused him! His Pru had refused him!

  He gave his head a shake as the ramifications hit. Her aunt was cruel at the best of times, but if Pru had gone against her wishes, thrown away the alliance her great aunt set in place—no doubt for mercenary reasons on her own…

  His stomach sank. Oh, his poor Pru.

  She needed him now more than ever. “You ought to have let her see me,” he snapped.

  The older woman’s eyes widened in shock. No doubt it had been a good many years since anyone had spoken to her in that tone.

  He found he couldn’t care in the slightest if she was offended or not.

  “Ah, now I see,” the dowager duchess said with a pale imitation of a smile. “The silly brat went and fell in love with you then, did she?” She sniffed in a manner he knew well—but it was far less endearing coming from this witch. “I should have known she was just like her mother. No sense, that one, no matter how much I tried to get it through to her that she was useless. Worth nothing but what value I gave her.”

  His hands clenched, his jaw so tight he thought it might shatter.

  Never in his life had he thought he’d see the day when he itched to strike a woman. Instead, he forced words out through clenched teeth. “She is worth more than a heartless lady like you could ever imagine.”

  She froze in shock, her lady’s maid tensing beside her with wide eyes. The dowager duchess shocked them both when she let out a bark of a laugh in response. “So you’re just as much of a fool as she is, I see.” Her laughter was cold and harsh. “Perhaps you two would have made a fine pair.” She shook her head, disgust plain as day on her features. “Two selfish brats, no better than their good-for-nothing parents.”

  He let the insults slide off him. All that mattered now was finding Pru. He needed to make sure she was all right and then make this right.

  He straightened to his full height and summoned every ounce of training his uncle had instilled in him for the day he inherited the title. “I’m going to retrieve your niece now, and when I get back, my wife will expect an apology.”

  The old woman had the nerve to scoff and when she next spoke she had the sort of smug cruelty of a predator toying with its prey. “I wish you luck, I assure you. But I don’t know what makes you think that headstrong little brat will be any more reasonable for you than me. After all, I told her she ought to see you to formally apologize for embarrassing you with her poor performance the other night.”

  His stomach sank as the dowager duchess’s eyes lit with malice. He could see it coming clearly, whatever it was this old witch was holding over him.

  “Even this morning, I told her she was free to make a stop at your estate to leave a note formally apologizing and to say her goodbyes…”

  His heart twisted in his chest.

  “But I’m afraid Prudence didn’t wish to see you.” Her smile morphed into a sneer as she shut the door in his face. “And neither do I.”

  His uncle was no help whatsoever. “If she left of her own volition, I’m not sure what you can do about it.”

  “But Uncle…” Damian dropped his head back with a groan. “I was going to propose.”

  “I know, and I already told you that I believed it was a poor decision.” His uncle’s expression was wary, as it had been the night before when Damian first told his uncle of his plan.

  He hadn’t exactly been seeking permission, but his uncle had granted it all the same—along with a word of warning about marrying for all the wrong reasons.

  Namely, love.

  “Look, Uncle Edward, I know you had a bad experience, but that doesn’t mean that I cannot make this work.”

  His uncle leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “It’s just…” He sighed again and shifted, eyeing Damian carefully. “You are young and so is she. It’s easy to confuse longing with love at your age and—”

  “I love her, Uncle. Of that I am certain.” Even as he said it, the words felt right. There was no other word for it. Did he long for her? Certainly. Did he find her beautiful and enchanting?

  Of course.

  But it was more than that. He loved the way her mind worked; he loved that he was one of few who was lucky enough to see past her prim, pursed lips and her fierce scowls to the sweet, vulnerable, giant heart that lay beneath.

  He loved that she challenged him and that she saw straight through his charm and his flirtation to the man beneath. He loved that she did not laugh at his dreams of a conservatory and that she saw all that he wished he could be.

  He loved...her. He loved her with all his heart, and he knew that she felt the same.

  “Are you certain that she shares your feelings?” his uncle asked.

  “Yes.” He said it without a doubt because if there was one thing he knew it was Prudence. And there was no denying the emotions he’d seen in her eyes when they’d been alone together. There was no way he’d been alone when the very real, very physical connection pulled them together and seemed to wrap them in a co
coon of their very own.

  He stopped pacing his uncle’s office long enough to turn and face him. “I know that she feels it, too.”

  His uncle looked like he wished to argue, but he merely nodded. “Very well, then. I suppose there’s only one thing left to do.”

  Damian was already heading toward the door. “I can be in London by nightfall.”

  “Good luck,” his uncle called after him.

  His head was spinning as he mounted his ride. He had no time to prepare for a journey, not when the woman he loved was on her own, no doubt terrified about what the future had in store.

  Why had she left like that? Why hadn’t she come to him?

  He shook off the fears that threatened to mar his certainty. He would go to her, he would find her. And once he did…

  He wouldn’t leave her side until she agreed to be his bride.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Delilah was watching her warily as she and the other girls pretended to embroider. “So you just...left, then?”

  Prudence, who actually was embroidering, continued to stare at the linen in her hands. “That is correct.”

  “Well…” Delilah’s voice trailed off in what was either shock or awe or perhaps a mix of the two.

  Prudence didn’t have to look up and see Delilah’s expression to know that she’d stunned her best friend. She’d stunned herself with her rash actions.

  “Well, I for one am proud of you,” Louisa said, leaning over to wrap an arm around her shoulders in a side hug.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Delilah said quickly. “I am so very proud of you for standing up to that nasty great aunt of yours. It’s just so surprising, that’s all.”

  “Very surprising,” Addie added as she bounced her brother Reggie on her knee.

  It was Miss Grayson who broke the silence and asked the one question she did not wish to face. “Do you have any idea what you will do now?”

  Her hands froze over the embroidery. She’d been doing nothing but think about that ever since she’d left her aunt’s house. The entire carriage ride back to town had been filled with that question.

  Well, that wasn’t quite true. The ride back she’d dwelled extensively on the dilemma of what she would do now that her aunt had washed her hands of her and the last of her family saw her as a disgrace, that was true.

  But what she studiously hadn’t thought about had seemed to fill that long carriage ride even more.

  A particular person.

  And unwanted feelings.

  She dropped her linen into her lap with a sigh. “I have no idea what I shall do, but I won’t be a burden to you any longer than I have to.”

  Miss Grayson leaned forward and laid a hand over hers. “You could never be a burden, dear Prudence. You are a part of this family, and you always will be.”

  Prudence was horrified to find tears welling in her eyes at the kindness. It was hardly unexpected—Miss Grayson was always kind. She was the kindest woman Prudence knew, and the most sensible as well. And as if that wasn’t enough, Miss Grayson was a beauty and no one could deny it.

  And yet she was nearly on the shelf.

  And Prudence was sure to follow. She glanced down at her frumpy gown and her too large hips. She did not need a mirror to see that she was plain—too plain for the likes of Damian.

  He’d see that one day, and when he did...well, she did not wish to be there as a witness.

  “Perhaps you could tell us more of this music tutor you spoke of in your letters,” Delilah said.

  Prudence sniffed, her lips pressing together in a scowl that felt too familiar. “Really, Delilah, subtlety is not your specialty.”

  Delilah grinned, utterly unrepentant. “So Rupert tells me. But it’s still amusing to play coy.”

  Addie laughed and Louisa leaned forward. “I’ve heard Lord Damian is exceedingly handsome, is that true?”

  Prudence sniffed. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “What?” Addie laughed again. “You do not have eyes?”

  “Of course I have eyes,” she said, her tone turning smug and sanctimonious.

  Heavens, had she always sounded so much like Mr. Benedict? How did any of her friends stand her?

  And yet she couldn’t seem to shake it. She fell back into her role of priggish Pru with ease. It was safer this way. This was far more comfortable than the Prudence she’d become these past weeks while away.

  Still the same but...different. Uncovered. Laid bare.

  And all because a rakish young gentleman had decided to flirt with her and make her laugh. She picked up her embroidery just so she could have the satisfaction of stabbing something.

  “So?” Louisa asked, all impatience and frenetic energy, as always. “Is he as handsome as they say or not?”

  “He is very handsome.” Her lips felt numb. She didn’t wish to speak of Damian. She didn’t wish to think about him or hear about him or—

  “Miss Grayson, there is a visitor.” The housekeeper looked flustered as she entered the room, and it was no wonder. It was far too late for visitors.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” Miss Grayson said before sweeping out of the room. So graceful, their Miss Grayson. So perfectly perfect.

  Prudence stabbed at her embroidery again.

  Aunt Eleanor would have loved to have a great niece like Miss Grayson.

  “Come on, then,” Delilah said, pulling the embroidery out of her hands before she could destroy it. “It is just us girls. You can tell us.”

  She feigned surprise. “Tell you what?”

  All three of them exchanged looks that made her want to scream. Like an outsider looking in, as always, but this was worse than ever because they looked so sympathetic. So understanding.

  “You have feelings for him, don’t you?” Addie asked gently.

  And that was the worst of it. They did understand.

  She shook her head but couldn't bring herself to voice the lie.

  “Oh dear, you can talk to us.” Delilah gave her a sympathetic smile as she placed a hand over hers. “If anyone understands how confusing love can be, it’s us.”

  She looked from one sweet, gentle smile to the next. Yes, they did understand...but they also had no idea.

  Because their love was reciprocated. Hers was not. It could not be.

  So she tugged her hand out from beneath Delilah’s. “This is not the same thing at all.”

  Miss Grayson reentered the room as Louisa came to sit beside her on the settee. “Then try explaining it to us.”

  Prudence shook her head, her throat growing tight with their kindness. “I cannot explain it to you, none of you would understand.”

  Miss Grayson cleared her throat softly in the doorway. “Then perhaps you ought to explain it to Lord Damian.”

  Prudence blinked in surprise. “Pardon me?”

  Miss Grayson’s wince spoke of sympathy and regret...and perhaps just a twinge of amusement. She nodded toward the entryway. “He is here and he wishes to see you.”

  Prudence’s hands were shaking as she left her friends in the warm comfort of the private sitting room and made her way toward the formal drawing room, with Miss Grayson by her side.

  “Will you be all right, dear?” Miss Grayson asked quietly when Prudence’s steps grew slower with each passing second.

  She nodded but her mouth was too dry to reply.

  “I’ll keep the door open, but I’ll give you some privacy, shall I?” Miss Grayson asked. She didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer as she nudged her into the room and poked her head through the doorway behind her. “I’ll be just out here in the hall should you need me.”

  Miss Grayson might have said more, but if she did, Prudence didn’t hear it. She was too busy gaping at the sight before her.

  Damian had never been so handsome. Nor such a mess. He hadn’t bothered to wash the dirt of travel off of himself or even shave, it seemed.

  He looked...well, he looked like a ruffian. But that somehow made him that muc
h more handsome. Like some dastardly highwayman come straight off the pages of one of Louisa’s gothic romances.

  “You’re well,” he said. He seemed to be speaking to himself as his gaze traveled over her, taking in every detail of her plain gown and her simple updo as she was scrutinizing him.

  She was surprised to see his shoulders slump in relief.

  He’d truly been worried about her welfare.

  That knowledge jarred her out of her shock long enough to assure him. “I am fine. Thank you for your concern.”

  He nodded, his expression inscrutable and his gaze fierce. “I am glad. I was worried when you left so quickly.”

  Her gaze dropped to the ground as shame washed through her. He’d worried about her. Of course he had, he was kind like that. She hadn’t meant to alarm him, only protect herself.

  “I suppose your aunt shipped you off too quickly for you to come and say goodbye,” he said, his tone holding a question and...something else. There was an edge there she’d never heard before.

  Was he angry? Upset? She glanced up and swallowed thickly at the dark intensity of his gaze.

  “Uh…” She meant to agree. It would be simple enough to blame her aunt for her hasty departure. But she’d never been good at lying, particularly not to him. “I did not wish to see you.”

  Guilt slammed into her, making her drop her gaze again in shame. What a coward. So weak in the face of her emotions. She’d known that if she’d seen him, if he’d been kind and taken pity…

  She wouldn’t have been able to walk away. She cleared her throat. “I did not want to say goodbye.”

  “I know.” His voice was clipped.

  Her head snapped up as she faced him. “You do?”

  “Your aunt told me so, but I supposed I’d hoped that she was lying.” He shrugged, his smile rueful and sad. “I wouldn’t put it past her to lie to me if she thought it would inflict pain.”

  She made a noncommittal sound of agreement.