The Perfect Rake
Page 28
He allowed her to sit up but caught her by her shoulders, facing him. A twinge of protest came from his injury, but he ignored it. Gazing intently into her eyes, he said deliberately, “He left you, Imp. Abandoned you to fate and the mercy of your grandfather who, according to your sisters, thrashes you. Did Otterclogs know about the thrashings?”
Her gaze dropped.
“So he did know and he left you to—!”
“No.” She cut him off. “They were never as bad until…until after Phillip left.”
Gideon’s eyes bored into her. “What happened after Phillip left, Imp?” he asked softly. “What happened to make your grandfather treat you so badly?”
“I was…” Her face twisted with grief, and she tried to pull away. “No, no, I can’t!”
“You can tell me anything, love,” he said gently. “What happened after Phillip left?”
“There was…I found I w—” She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowed convulsively, took a deep breath, and said, “I discovered I was with child. That is what binds me to Phillip, not simply the promise.”
In fact, she hadn’t even realized it herself. It was Grandpapa who’d noticed she couldn’t keep her breakfast down five days in a row, Grandpapa who’d recognized symptoms of which she was ignorant, Grandpapa who informed her that, like the harlot he’d always known she was, she was breeding a bastard.
It was the worst day of her life. Until now, she’d told no one, no one except Philip. Not even her sisters knew.
Now she’d told Gideon. Without waiting to see his reaction, she fled the room.
Chapter Sixteen
“Love is the whole history of a woman’s life,
It is an episode in a man’s.”
MADAME DE STAËL
PRUDENCE FLEW UP THE STAIRS, HER HEART IN TURMOIL. SHE hadn’t been able to look him in the eye—she wasn’t sure why.
Her grandfather’s words came back to her as she sought the sanctuary of her room. No man will want another man’s leavings…
Was that how Lord Carradice would see her now? As another man’s leavings? She shuddered. No! It was an ugly image, planted in her mind by a twisted old man. She ought to know better than to think of it. She wasn’t anyone’s leavings. She was herself, Prudence Merridew, no particular bargain, perhaps, but still…
She shuddered again. It was a disgusting expression. She would banish it from her mind this instant.
She opened doors, searching for the bedchamber allotted her, but her mind worried at the question like a tongue at a sore tooth. Would this change Lord Carradice’s opinion of her? And if so, how?
Would he still want her now he knew the dreadful truth? She would find out soon enough. Had he ever truly wanted her in the first place? She’d been warned repeatedly that he was a ‘here and therian.’ That the chase was what he liked. And she had led him a chase.
Self-doubt crowded in on her. Other people’s warnings echoed in her mind. Just because he sounded sincere did not mean he was. And just because she wanted to believe him, it did not mean he could be believed. Girls were ruined every day because they believed what men told them. A girl would have to be foolish to take a well-known rake at his very appealing word…wouldn’t she? No doubt the more appeal, the more danger…
No doubt of it at all.
The only use any man would have for the likes of you is as a whore!
Stop it! Stop thinking such vile thoughts! She clapped her hands over her ears, as if the thoughts could be blocked out like that.
Lord Carradice would never think of her in that way, she told herself firmly. He wasn’t a bitter and twisted old man. He was more compassionate, more understanding. He wouldn’t try to take advantage of her secret. Prudence was certain of it.
She discovered her portmanteau sitting at the foot of a bed in the room in front of her. Her hat was on the bed. She entered the bedchamber, closing the door quietly behind her.
Prudence sat down on the bed, her knees suddenly weak. Lord Carradice had said once that Prudence was too innocent for the company of women like Theresa Crowther. Yet Mrs. Crowther had once been his own mistress. He hadn’t spoken of her with respect.
She thought of how hard it already was for him to behave with even a semblance of propriety toward her. Now that he knew she was no virtuous maiden…would he still think she didn’t belong with Mrs. Crowther and her ilk?
Of course he would, she decided. He was kind. He was not a hypocrite, like many in society. It was good that he knew her secret, knew the final guilty tie that had bound her to Phillip.
She removed her short spencer jacket and hung it in the closet. Grandpapa had painted a terrifying picture of what fallen women suffered.
Had she not lost the babe, she would have learned those consequences firsthand. Grandpapa would have cast her out, never mind the slur on the family name. He’d called the death of her baby a judgment on her.
Prudence’s eyes filled with slow, bitter tears. She’d been forced to grieve in silence and in secret. Had she disobeyed, her sisters would have suffered even more for her sin. She was bidden to silence and so had told no one of the child—only Phillip, in two letters that he must not have received, for he’d never responded. She’d spent many an hour at Mama and Papa’s cairn, however, weeping alone until her eyes were swollen and dry. She’d added many a small pebble to Mama’s cairn, for the baby…
Pouring some water out of the ewer on the dresser, she wondered whether, if Grandpapa had cast her out, and if she had by some stroke of chance met Lord Carradice…no, the idea was ridiculous! She would have died in a gutter of starvation, no doubt. Or perhaps she would have gone to Mrs. Otterbury, and then Phillip would have sent for her.
Only Phillip hadn’t sent for her. She splashed cold water on her face. Why not? she wondered for the hundredth time.
Mama said you had to seize your chance at happiness. Prudence had been given her chance. She’d refused to run away with Phillip; she hadn’t been able to leave her sisters behind. She’d made her choice.
And because of it, her baby had died.
Prudence had to live with that.
A child! Gideon was stunned. It was a bigger barrier than he’d realized to win her. He’d felt quite confident of his ability to win her from Otterbury, but a child! He couldn’t compete with a child. She clearly felt the child bound her to Otterbury.
He felt a surge of rage. Dammit, what sort of a loose screw was Otterbury to get a young, gently bred girl with child and then abandon her to seek his fortune!
He wondered about the child. Was it alive still? Many babes did not see their first birthday. He tried to think back to how she had put things. That is what binds me to Phillip,not simply the promise. That being the child. Binds, she had said, not bound. So the child was still alive.
Was it a girl or a boy? And where was it? Not in Norfolk—she wouldn’t leave a child with her grandfather and flee herself. So, had the babe been wrested from its mother and hidden away from sight, farmed out to strangers for a few guineas? It was the usual thing in such cases.
Only Prudence was a rare, loyal creature. She couldn’t even give up on a man who’d left her alone to face the consequences of his lust, left her for four long years. If she couldn’t forget a creature like that, could she forget her own child? Never. Not a woman like his Prudence.
Did she ever see the child? Would she be allowed? Did she even know where he or she was? Was it a boy or a girl? He pictured a tiny girl with Prudence’s eyes. He hoped it wasn’t a girl. He couldn’t bear a little girl with Prudence’s face growing up alone and unloved. And if it were a boy…He imagined a small boy with curly red hair, a look of dogged determination on his little face, a stubborn little chin, just like Miss Imp’s firm little chin.
Oh, God, the whole idea was unbearable. He had to speak to her at once.
“Dammit, Aunt Gussie, she won’t speak to me. It’s been days now and I haven’t been able to get her alone, not even for a moment.”
“But this is important.”
Aunt Gussie waved a dismissive hand. “Pooh! You can talk to her anytime—a wedding is but once in a lifetime—and don’t look like that at me, young man, it is not my fault that both my husbands died! Women have more stamina than men, that is all. And stop distracting me! There are a thousand things to be done. Even the smallest, most private ceremony takes a great deal of organization, you know!”
Gideon gave her a blank look. “I don’t see how that follows. All you need is a bride, a groom, a parson, and a couple of witnesses, and that’s it. So there should be plenty of time for Prudence to—”
His aunt rolled her eyes. “That is exactly what Edward said to me. You men have no idea, do you?” she said. “It is still a very important day in a young woman’s life, no matter how small and private it may be. Whether there are to be five hundred guests or five, it must be a day young Charity can look back on without regrets. She is being rushed into this as it is—she has barely had a coming-out, poor child, and if she had, she would have had all London at her feet.” She shook her head. “Such an exquisite creature should have been able to spread her wings a little, experience the power of her beauty before tying the knot and being dragged off to the wilderness, as I’m sure Edward will do, the wretched boy!”
Gideon shrugged. “I don’t know what plans they have, but Charity seems very happy to me, and Edward is floating on air. But I need to speak to Prudence, and she’s avoiding me!”
His aunt threw up her hands. “You are all too besotted to understand a thing! So it is left to me to ensure that the arrangements are perfect—there are flowers and food and champagne and all sorts of things to arrange, Edward’s house to be set in order, not to mention the matter of bride clothes.”
“She said she had plenty of clothes.”
His aunt gave him a scornful look. “You cannot possibly imagine that I would allow that beautiful child to be married in a gown she has worn before, do you, Gideon? Have you forgotten to whom you’re speaking?” She shook her head in disgust. “I have a reputation to maintain, and it shall not be said that I had the most beautiful creature in England under my care and I allowed her to be married in her old gown.”
“Prudence is more beautiful, and anyway, Charity’s dress can hardly be old, she said—”
“Pah! Out of my way, you foolish boy, I cannot waste time bandying words with a man who has only one thing on his mind.” She swatted him aside like a fly and bustled past.
“Aunt Gussie!” Gideon was shocked.
His aunt turned, her black-button eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, you do, don’t you, Rake Carradice?” She tilted her head and gave him a very knowing look. “Or are you going to suggest the idea of bedding Miss Prudence hasn’t crossed your mind, hmm?”
To his chagrin, Gideon felt his face reddening. “Well, dammit, of course it has crossed my mind—but only in the most honorable way,” he retorted.
“Said the man who swore he’d never, ever marry.” She peered up at him and laughed. “And you’re blushing! The hardened rake is actually blushing!”
“If I’m blushing, it’s for your atrocious manners, Aunt Gussie.” Gideon scrabbled for a shred of dignity. “It is hardly proper behavior for an aunt to quiz a man on his love life! Your time in the Argentine has—”
Aunt Gussie laughed delightedly. “The libertine lecturing on propriety—oh, I am enjoying this. When a rake falls, he falls so hard.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “There’s not a particle of use telling me of your intentions, honorable or not, dear boy—I’m only your aunt. Speak to Miss Prudence about it, and don’t waste any more of my time! I have a wedding to organize!”
“Yes, but that’s the problem,” retorted Gideon, exasperated. “She won’t even see me!”
But his aunt was off, sailing from the room like a small battleship in a high wind.
“Well, what about this ribbon? Do you think it matches your new dress or not? Or is it not quite the right shade of blue?” The Merridew sisters frowned over the ribbon.
“Perhaps a shade too much lavender in the tone. What about this one, Charity?” Faith suggested. Charity chewed her lip, undecided.
“Take them all to the window, and we shall compare them to your satin in the daylight,” Prudence decided.
They trooped to the window and scrutinized various ribbons carefully against a small piece of celestial blue satin from Charity’s new wedding dress. “I think the darker blue will look the best against—” Charity began.
“Look! It’s Phillip! It is! It is!” shrieked Hope suddenly. “Outside, Prudence! In the street there! See! I wasn’t mistaken the other day.”
Prudence looked to where her sister was pointing and froze. Phillip? She stared through the window. It was Phillip. Here. Strolling down a street in Bath. Vaguely, she felt ribbons slithering from her slackened hold. Some part of her heard her sisters exclaiming and chattering as her mind tried to grasp it. Phillip wasn’t in India. He was here in Bath. Bath. But how? When had he come home? Her mind tried to make sense of it, but it kept slipping out of her grasp.
“Go on, Prue. Don’t just stand there. Run out and catch him,” Hope urged her.
Prudence turned and blinked. She felt almost dizzy. Hollow. Even a little bit sick.
Her sisters beamed at her. “Isn’t it wonderful, Prue?” exclaimed Charity. “Phillip will have no idea you are here. What a marvelous surprise for you both. He’ll be thrilled.”
“Yes,” Prudence said dazedly. She tried to gather her senses. “I wonder what…I mean, why…” She glanced back out of the window and it was true. Phillip Otterbury was strolling along the opposite pavement, as large as life, jauntily swinging a cane as he perused the contents of various shop windows through a quizzing glass.
“Hurry!” Charity urged, taking the last of the ribbons from Prudence’s limp fingers. “Before he disappears again!”
“Yes, yes, I must.” Prudence hurried out into the street, then stopped abruptly. What would she say to him after all this time? She took another few steps toward him, and stopped again, suddenly uncertain as questions crowded in again. Why was he in Bath and not in Norfolk? Why hadn’t he written to let her know he was returning? How long had he been back in England? Was that why he hadn’t he responded to her letters these last few months—because he was in England and her letters had gone to India?
“Go on!” Hope gave her a push from behind. “He’s right there, Prue! What’s the matter with you? Hey, Phillip! Phillip Otterbury!” she called, and waved, oblivious of the curious looks they were receiving.
Phillip turned, a slight smile on his face as his gaze swept the street. His jaw and his quizzing glass dropped as he spotted them. He glanced quickly around him, as if to check whether he was observed, and then simply stood and stared at Prudence.
She stared back. He wasn’t moving. Why not? Her gaze swept over him. He looked different, as Hope had said—thinner and browner and not as tall as she had remembered—but he was unmistakably Phillip. He was still handsome—more handsome than she remembered, though not as tall. His golden hair was burnished, brushed into careful curls and looking even fairer against the darkened color of his skin. Phillip was back in England.
“He looks very fine and elegant, does he not?” she heard Faith murmur behind her. And indeed, he was very fashionably dressed in breeches of the palest primrose, high, white-topped boots, and a coat of bottle-green, padded extravagantly at the shoulders, nipped in tight at the waist, and embellished with large, silver buttons. His shirt collar was high and stiffly starched, supporting a starched necktie of complicated design. He wore a very high-crowned hat and carried a black lacquered cane. She didn’t remember Phillip as being interested in fashion, but it seemed he now was. It was, after all, more than four years…
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“Go on, Prue! What’s wrong with you?” Hope pushed her again. Prudence’s other sisters crowded in behind her, murmuring encouragement.
As if in a trance, Prudence slowly closed the gap between herself and Phillip. Why didn’t he move? What did that look on his face mean?
And then suddenly they were face-to-face.
“Phillip,” she said, then not knowing what to do, held out her hand.
He quickly glanced around him, then took it, frowning. “Prudence, my dear girl, it is you! I thought I must have been mistaken. What on earth are you doing in Bath?”
Prudence blinked. Over the years she had imagined this moment hundreds of times. She’d imagined all sorts of places and had enacted many different scenes in her head. Not one of them bore the faintest relation to this mundane meeting in a public street. “My sisters and I are visiting friends here. I could ask you the same question, Phillip.”
He cast another glance back up the street and said hurriedly, “Oh, me, too, me, too. Visiting friends—that is to say, colonial acquaintances. Mere acquaintances. Nobody you need worry about.” He peered past her. “Good grief. Your little sisters have grown up a great deal, have they not?”
“It has been more than four years.”
He laughed heartily, as if at some witticism. “Four years! Yes, indeed, how time does fly.” He pumped her hand energetically. “I am delighted to see you, delighted, my dear. Though I might wish our meeting was not in so public a place. I cannot believe you here are in Bath.” He gestured, taking in the whole street. “Amazing coincidence.”
He seemed very nervous, thought Prudence. Ill at ease. She supposed it wasn’t surprising. She felt quite peculiar herself. She couldn’t believe that this was Phillip, that he was here in Bath, and not thousands of miles away. “How is your mother, Phillip? Is she here, too?”
“No, she is at home, with my father. Who are you visiting? Anyone we know?”