When Mother had announced her pregnancy to her father, Baron Sheffield, and then refused to consent to marry a man the baron wished her to accept to avoid scandal, she’d been tossed out on her own.
When she felt he was old enough to know, she’d told Ash of her affair with the Earl of Stanhope who she’d been commissioned to paint. Her story was not so very different from other women who had fallen under the spell of a master seducer. He made promises he had no intention of keeping since he’d been betrothed to a woman since his youth. Mother’s pregnancy had meant nothing to him.
Neither did Stanhope’s son mean anything to him. The irony of it was Stanhope and his countess had produced three daughters. His bastard was his only son. Never to be his heir. He’d never spoken to the man but was left with a sour taste in his mouth for all things Beau Monde.
Mother now lived in a small cottage in the Devonshire countryside. Even though she continued to paint, she only sold her work to a select few customers who’d been buying her art for years. Ash also sent her money on a regular basis to make sure she always had what she needed. A man could not ask for a better mother.
Ash tried his best to concentrate on the message Mr. Carr was delivering, but the distraction of Lady Prudence sitting near him prevented that. Her light flowery scent drifted to him, and he swore he could feel the heat coming from her body. When they stood to sing their hymns, her voice drifted over him like warm honey.
Drifted over him like warm honey? What the devil was wrong with him? He was starting to sound like a besotted fool. It was best if he avoided this woman as much as possible. With her art show coming up, contact with her was inevitable, but it would be wise to keep their engagement to a minimum. Let Ted handle the artist, and he would handle the business end of it.
Satisfied with his decision, he exited the pew as the service came to an end. He wanted more than anything to make a quick retreat, but the gentleman in him—regardless of the fact that he was not considered a gentleman by Society’s rules—made him wait for Lady Prudence and offer her his arm.
If she was surprised, she didn’t show it and took his arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Well trained, these ladies of the ton.
A scant sun greeted the members of the congregation as they left the church. Once down the steps, Lord Pomeroy stuck out his hand. “Good morning, young man. I am Lord Pomeroy, and I assume you know my daughter?”
Ash took the man’s hand. “Yes, Lord Pomeroy. I am Mr. Ashton Reeves from Reeves and Goddard Art Gallery. We are privileged to have Lady Prudence as one of our artists to be featured in an art show next month.”
“Oh, how lovely. I am so glad to meet you, Mr. Reeves.” Lady Pomeroy smiled brightly at him. “You must return to our townhouse and share luncheon with us.”
Ash glanced at Lady Prudence who looked as though she wanted him to disappear. He should probably decline the invitation, but for some reason he wanted to see Lady Prudence in her own environment. For no other reason than to justify his opinion of her. “I will be happy to join you, my lady.”
He swore he heard Lady Prudence growl.
4
Prudence could not believe the arrogant Mr. Reeves was going to be joining them for luncheon. She had planned to take a tray in her room to give her time to work on the sketches for her painting. Now if she did that, she would appear rude and crass and only give Mr. Reeves more reason to think her too lofty for him.
She almost giggled when he extended his arm since she took it without thinking, so used to gentlemen doing that. But Mr. Reeves was not, by definition, a gentleman. Of course, thinking that way only made her feel as though perhaps she was a bit high in the instep. Hopefully not. She really did not feel as though class should make a person what they were.
Mr. Goddard had been nothing but polite to her, and although Mr. Reeves did annoy her and had cast remarks in her direction about her superior position in society, he was as well-mannered as any gentleman she’d met at social events. Considering all the various attempts over the years from so-called gentlemen for stolen kisses and groping in dark gardens, he was much more so.
Mr. Reeves rode in his own carriage, which she had to admit was quite nice. Not overly elegant, but obviously expensive and in good taste. His driver and groom, while not dressed in liveries, still wore uniforms of fine cloth and muted colors.
Both carriages arrived at their townhouse at the same time. They all exited the carriages and gathered at the bottom step. Once again Mr. Reeves extended his arm and Prudence took it. Mason opened the door as they began their ascent, stepping back to allow them to enter.
Papa slapped Mr. Reeves on the back. “Come join me in the library, Mr. Reeves. We shall enjoy a drink before luncheon is served.”
After handing off their greatcoats to Mason, the men strolled down the corridor to the library, talking as if they were old friends. Of course, Papa was one of the most amicable people Prudence had ever met. He had the ability to make someone immediately comfortable.
“Why did you not tell us Mr. Reeves was so young?” Mother studied her as they removed their bonnets and pelisses. “And handsome.”
“Oh, no, Mother. Please erase that look from your face. Mr. Reeves is a business associate. He is not of our social class.”
“Oh, my! My dear daughter. I never knew you were a snob.” Her mother’s raised brows discombobulated her.
“I am not a snob!” She cringed, since that came out a bit too forcefully, bringing to mind “…the lady doth protest too much, methinks” from Hamlet, one of her favorite plays. “It is just that I made it quite clear that I was going to concentrate on my artwork and no longer pursue the idea of marriage.”
“Did anyone mention marriage?” Mother grinned. “Besides you, that is.” She patted Prudence’s cheek and moved down the corridor. “Please join us for a drink before luncheon.”
Feeling like a recalcitrant child, Prudence plodded along behind her mother to the library where Papa and Mr. Reeves were settled in comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace, drinking and chatting away.
So young and handsome, Mother had said. Prudence studied the man who appeared so very much at ease when he had eschewed the nobility and their members. She accepted the small glass of sherry from Mother and took a seat as far away from Mr. Reeves as she could and still be in the library.
“My dear, are we going to have to shout to include you in our conversation?” Mother asked.
Unfortunately, Papa and Mr. Reeves both stared in her direction at her mother’s words. Oh, how she would love to wipe that smirk off Mr. Reeves’ face. Instead, she stood, and with her chin in the air, she glided across the room and took the seat alongside Mother.
Papa resumed his conversation with their guest which gave Prudence time to study the man. Yes, Mother was correct. Mr. Reeves was indeed handsome. As far as young, well, it depended on where you stood in life. To Mother, he probably did seem young, especially to be the owner of a well-regarded art gallery.
If she were held to the fire, she would guess his age to be somewhere in his early thirties. The few lines alongside his mouth indicated a man who laughed a great deal. She huffed. When he wasn’t insulting her, that was.
“Mr. Reeves tells me you are one of the finest artists he’s ever seen.” Papa stared at her with his usual loving expression.
“He did?” She glanced at Mr. Reeves.
“I believe I did tell you that, Lady Prudence.” He again had that look on his face as if he were the bearer of a huge joke that only she was unaware of.
“My lord, my lady, luncheon is served.” Mason stood at the doorway, his usual staid self. Thankfully, Papa and Mother did not link arms so there was no need for Mr. Reeves to once again escort her.
They all sat, and Papa continued the discussion he was having with Mr. Reeves about the art gallery.
“So, your mother is an artist, too? Quite interesting.” Papa took a sip of the white soup that was one of his very favorites and
was served to the family at least once a week. Everyone—including the staff—was extremely fond of Lord Pomeroy.
The meal passed with Papa and Mother keeping the conversation going while Prudence concentrated on her food—when she wasn’t looking at Mr. Reeves. One time she looked up from her plate and saw him watching her with a puzzled look on his face. She quickly patted her mouth with her serviette in case there was something on her mouth that she missed. He immediately turned his attention back to Mother who was regaling him with stories of her grandchildren.
Shortly after the final course of fruit and cheese had been consumed, Mr. Reeves placed his serviette alongside his plate. “I am afraid I must leave your wonderful company, but I have an appointment this afternoon that I cannot miss.”
“Oh, of course, Mr. Reeves. I hope we haven’t caused you any trouble with all our chattering.” Mother looked anything but sorry as she made that comment.
He stood, as did the rest of them. “I have thoroughly enjoyed the meal and the company.” Mr. Reeves offered them a slight bow. “Lady Prudence, if you would accompany me to the door, I would have a word with you.”
* * *
Lady Prudence appeared startled at his request but recovered immediately. “Yes, of course.”
Again, the excellent training these young ladies of Society received.
“I would like you to come to the gallery tomorrow. In the morning, if possible. Mr. Goddard wants to discuss the placing of your work, and, if you could, provide us with a list of what you are planning on having completed by the date of the show.”
“Yes, I can do that. Will ten o’clock suffice?”
His inviting lips curved into a slight smile. “Only if it doesn’t interfere with your social life.”
Her eyes flashed and she stuttered. “Oh, you, you…” The poor woman was angry enough at his comment to stamp her foot like a small child. “I will be there. Good day, Mr. Reeves.” She turned, her skirts swirling out, and stormed up the steps.
Ash left the house and walked to the mews to retrieve his carriage. Admittedly, he didn’t feel too good about himself. There was really no cause to taunt his client that way. The only excuse he could provide was his desire to stop this terrifying attraction he felt toward Lady Prudence.
Yes. He had to agree there was absolutely nothing pretentious about her parents, her home, and the meal they all shared. Her father was a delight, full of amusing stories and odd in an interesting sort of way.
Lady Pomeroy was a typical, gentlewoman of the ton, but not at all upset at being at the table with a bastard. From the brief conversation he and Lord Pomeroy had before the ladies joined them, the man was aware of Ash’s background. There was no doubt in his mind that what Lord Pomeroy knew, Lady Pomeroy knew, as well.
Despite what he’d learned through his acquaintance with the ton by way of his business regarding marriage among the nobility, Lord and Lady Pomeroy seemed to have a love match. It was quite evident to anyone who spent time with the couple that they adored each other.
That was something he’d been led to believe was not a common state of affairs among the Beau Monde. ’Twas the very reason his mother told him his wretched father refused to marry her when she told him of her pregnancy.
Stanhope’s betrothal was to provide connections, money, and power to their families, she’d explained. Ash loved the part of the story his mother told him about when Stanhope offered her carte blanche and wanted to set her up as his mistress. She threw a very expensive vase at his head and left the house, never to see the man again.
But it appeared Lady Prudence had the benefit of living with parents who not only cared for their children, but for each other. As he rode along toward his townhouse, he smiled, remembering all the stories Lady Pomeroy had subjected them to about her numerous grandchildren. The woman was a delight, as was her husband.
But that did not mean his opinion of Lady Prudence had changed. He still believed that someday a man would catch her eye, and she would marry and forget all about her art. She wouldn’t be able to help it. It was there in her noble blue blood.
* * *
Ted was busy going over paperwork when Ash arrived at the gallery office the next morning.
“Good morning,” Ash mumbled as he hung up his greatcoat. “Busy already?”
“We have a problem.”
Ash took a seat behind his desk which sat opposite Ted’s desk. “Oh?”
Ted ran his fingers through is hair. “When I set up the art show for Lady Prudence, I had forgotten that Mr. Fisher had asked to have an extra two days for his show since he was expecting someone from out of town to arrive the day after his show was to end. According to him, this man is a big buyer of artwork, and particularly likes Fisher’s. I never wrote the extension down.”
“I’m assuming from your gloomy mien that it conflicts with the dates for Lady Prudence’s show?”
“Yes. I’m afraid I will have to ask Lady Prudence to move her show back a few days.”
“Ha! Good luck with that.”
“Why?”
“Because those of the upper crust do not like having to accommodate someone of a lower rank. In this case, no rank.” He shook his head. “She would never consent.”
Ted tipped his chair back on two legs and tapped a cadence on his lips with the end of his pen. “Why do you dislike Lady Prudence so much?”
“I don’t dislike her. I even had luncheon with her yesterday. In fact, we shared a hymnal in church.”
Ted’s eyes widened, and his chair landed forward with a bang. “What?”
“That’s right. I met her and her family in church, we shared a hymnal, and her very gracious mother invited me to luncheon, which I accepted.”
“So, you were invited into the lofty realms, broke bread with them, and still have the opinion that Lady Prudence is much too supercilious to descend from her throne and join the rest of us mere mortals? Did they send you to the kitchen for your meal? Ask you to use the back door to enter and exit?”
Ash narrowed his eyes. “I must reiterate. Lady Prudence is truly a gifted artist. On the same level as my mother, in fact—”
“That is something I never thought to hear from you.”
“Well, she is. However, my problem with the woman is not her talent or even her pleasant demeanor. I feel we are wasting time and money in sponsoring her because she won’t last long. As soon as some gentleman requests her hand in marriage, she will be gone.”
“And what makes you think with her looks and all those curves—and don’t tell me you haven’t noticed—that she hasn’t already received numerous offers of marriage?”
“She is considered ‘on the shelf’ in her world, Ted. No woman likes that title. She may be ready to accept whoever steps up now.”
Ted grinned. “I have a solution for that concern. A simple answer to the question.”
“What?”
“You marry her.”
5
At promptly ten o’clock in the morning the next day, Prudence stepped out of her carriage and straightened her skirts. She smoothed her hair back and adjusted her bonnet. In her hand, she carried sketches of the proposed paintings to be added to the art show. Mr. Reeves would not find anything for which to criticize her.
A very surprisingly cheerful Mr. Reeves greeted her as she entered the art gallery showroom floor. “Good morning, Lady Prudence.”
Well, then.
She offered him a bright smile. “Good morning to you as well, Mr. Reeves.”
“If you will join me in the office, Mr. Goddard awaits you.”
He waved toward the door separating the showroom floor from the back room that served as the office for the men. He followed her inside where she found Mr. Goddard busy at his desk with what appeared to be an appointment book in front of him.
“Good morning, Lady Prudence. Thank you so much for joining us today.” He waved to a grouping of comfortable chairs near the fireplace. “Shall I send for my secretary to b
ring refreshments?”
Prudence sat and removed her gloves. “No, thank you. I had breakfast right before I left my home.” She glanced over at Mr. Reeves who sat very relaxed in his chair, quite different from the staid, antagonistic man she’d grown to know. Confused at this switch in behavior, she decided to put it from her mind and concentrate on her art show, the thought of which still brought tingles of delight to her stomach.
“I have brought with me sketches of the paintings I propose to have finished in time for the art show.” She laid the papers flat on the table in front of them. Both men bent over and examined her drawings.
“I like this one very much,” Mr. Goddard said, examining the one of a young lady resting on her side with a brown and white dog nuzzling her. Her wide-brimmed hat sat near the dog. An old stone building stood behind her in an open field.
“This one is quite good, as well.” Mr. Reeves held up the one she’d done as a last minute idea. It depicted a crumbling stone country house, with cracked cobblestones leading up to the front door. Two gravestones stood about fifty feet from the east wall. It was a lonely picture, but still lovely. Even though it’d brought sadness to her heart when she drew it, she felt as though it had meaning to her and wanted to paint it.
“Yes. I agree, Ash. That is a very good one.” Mr. Goddard studied it, then placed it on the table and went through the other one she’d brought. “This is quite an undertaking, Lady Prudence. Do you feel as though you will be able to complete these in time for the show?”
“Yes. I spend all my daylight hours working in my studio.” She smiled in Mr. Reeves’ direction. “Just so you are comfortable about it, Mr. Reeves, this does not interfere with my social life.”
For the Love of the Gentleman Page 3