The Perfect Rake

by Anne Gracie

  “So he actually said, ‘Will you marry me?’ and used words like marriage, settlements, wedding, church, banns, speak to your grandfather.”

  Prudence tossed her head. “No, but—”

  “What words did he use?”

  Prudence did not want to share Gideon’s tender words with Phillip, but she was determined to defend him, make Phillip understand. She said proudly, “He told me he wanted me. He begged me to let him take care of me, to protect me.” Nobody in her life had ever spoken such words to her.

  “Protect you!” Phillip scoffed. “You know what that means, don’t you? To take a woman under your protection is another way of saying make her your mistress.”

  “No, that’s not what he meant! He wants to marry me!”

  “That’s what you think. It’s not what he said, though, is it?” Phillip shook his head. “You are such an innocent, Prue. How do you think rakes seduce good girls? By making them think a wedding is in the offing. Rake Carradice is too clever to say the words that will have him liable to a breach of promise case. If he did not say ‘marriage’ or ‘wedding,’ or discuss settlements, take it from me, he does not mean honestly by you.”

  “He does,” Prudence argued. “He does mean honestly by me. I’m sure of it. You simply don’t understand.”

  “I suppose you told him about the…the indiscretion.”

  He meant her baby. Prudence held her head high. “Yes, I did.”

  He nodded. “That explains it, then. Knows you’re used goods. No need to treat you like a virtuous girl.”

  “That’s not how it is!” Prudence’s voice shook. “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand, all right. Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?”

  “You are vulgar and disgusting!” She stormed to the window and stared out, mastering her emotions. He was disgusting, of course. But his words shook her more than she wanted to admit. They echoed her earlier fears about Gideon’s intentions.

  Outside, mist was beginning to gather, seeping up from the cold valleys.

  The unvarnished truth was that Gideon hadn’t used the marriage words. He hadn’t said, “Will you marry me?” He’d said, “Come live with me and be my love.”

  She pressed her hot cheek against the chilled glass of the window. Why had he put it that way? Why hadn’t he used the simple age-old words, I love you, will you marry me?

  Like acid, the questions slowly corroded away her earlier confidence.

  She turned. Phillip sat, smug and righteous in his natty coat and over-ornate tie. Her self-confidence, never very high, plummeted. Here was a living example of her ability to judge men. It was very depressing.

  All she could go on were her own feelings. She loved Gideon, she did. And he wanted her, she knew. But for what role?

  Phillip had planted doubts deep enough to take root.

  “This is what comes of running away from your grandfather. You should return there at once, where people respect you.”

  “People here respect me more than I’ve ever been respected! I will never go back to the Court!”

  “That man is out to seduce you!”

  Prudence shrugged. “I don’t believe you.” She had no intention of letting him see his doubts had affected her in any way.

  Phillip, annoyed with her refusal to be persuaded, marched several paces back and forth across the room. His brow was furrowed as he considered the situation.

  “So, you are determined to jilt me—and for a man who is a known rake!”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. But I must.”

  “You realize it will make a total laughingstock of me?”

  “I don’t know why it should, since our betrothal has been secret to all but a few.”

  He paused, then shook his head. “I have my pride, Prudence. Besides, the people I am staying with must know there is some connection, since I have been making inquiries on your behalf.”

  “You had no need to make any inquiries.”

  “I disagree. Now, how to get through this mess with the least-possible unpleasantness? I have my pride to consider.”

  “Yes, so you said, but—”

  “And since you have jilted me, I think it’s only fair that you put my interests first in this. I don’t wish to be embroiled in any awkwardness. I am to stay in Bath only another week. Would it be too much to ask if you stayed away from all public engagements for the next week, in order that we not meet in public and thus cause awkward questions to be asked?”

  “I do not see why there need be any awkwardness. The betrothal was secret.”

  He waved her objection away. “Allow me to know what is best, Prudence. Besides, I have no wish to be associated in any way with the raffish and unsavory persons with whom you have become familiar. Even as neighbors from Norfolk, we would be forced into unwelcome contact, and I do not wish to embarrass my hosts with the connection.”

  “Raffish and unsavory? How dare you insult the kindest—”

  He cut her off. “Carradice is a man not fit for you or your sisters to associate with. And neither, I’m sure, is this bogus duke and his opera-dancer aunt.”

  “Opera dancer, am I?” came a melodious voice from the doorway. “How delicious! I suspect I would have enjoyed being an opera dancer in my youth; they seem to have such fun.” Lady August sailed into the room, amusement writ large on her face. “Only that sort of dancing is very strenuous and sometimes painful, I believe. After my first marriage I found a much more agreeable outlet for my energy.” She smiled, her meaning as clear and shocking as it was unstated.

  Phillip straightened, affronted. He took in the bright hair and the vivid face, which anyone could see was no stranger to the paint box. Manners got the better of him, however, and he gave a stiff little bow.

  Lady Augusta looked him over, her gaze lingering on the complicated neckcloth, the extremely high, starched shirt points, the heavily embroidered waistcoat, and the tightly molded coat with its nipped-in waist. Her smile deepened, and she said, “I take it you are this Mr. Otterclogs we have heard so much about.”

  Phillip glared. “My name is Otterbury, madam. I believe you have the advantage of me.”

  “Oh, I’m certain I do,” said Lady Augusta with a soft chuckle. She sank onto the sofa in a languid swish of purple silk. “Sit down, Mr. Otterbanks, sit down.” She patted the sofa. “Miss Merridew’s long-lost betrothed need stand on no ceremony here.”

  Clearly appalled by this friendly invitation, Phillip snapped at her, “As to that, madam, Miss Merridew and I have agreed to sever our erstwhile informal agreement.”

  Lady Augusta clapped her hands in delight. “Well done, Prudence, my dear. My felicitations!”

  Phillip stiffened further. He turned to Prudence. “This is no fit company for you.”

  “I disagree,” Prudence said frostily.

  He said in a low, angry tone, “You have become very willful, Prudence. It is not seemly in a lady.”

  “Pshaw!” came a scornful voice from the sofa. “Absolute tosh, Mr. Otterbanks, and if this is the way you did your courting, I am not at all surprised that that you are still unwed.”

  To Prudence’s amazement, a dull, red color flooded Phillip’s cheeks. “My marital status is none of your business, madam,” he snapped. “Be so good as to leave me alone with Miss Merridew, if you please.”

  “I do not please,” Lady Augusta responded sweetly. “I am morally responsible for this young lady, and I can see it will do her no good at all to be alone in your company. In fact, Mr. Ottertosh”—she rose from the sofa—“I think it is high time you departed. Shoebridge shall show you the way out.” She reached for the bellpull and yanked hard.

  Phillip drew himself up stiffly. “I shall go, madam, since you demonstrate so little understanding of the ways of polite society. Not that it surprises me in the least! And my name is Otterbury, not Otterbanks or Ottertosh.” He turned to Prudence and said in a low, angry voice, “Consider what you owe me. Your grandfather’s
good will is vital to my future. I insist you return to Dereham Court.”

  “Never!” Prudence grated through her teeth.

  He set his jaw and considered her for a short moment. In a more conciliatory tone, he said, “Very well, I daresay you have your reasons. At the very least, will you refrain from making any public appearances in Bath?” He added in a low voice, “It can do you no good to be seen in public with this woman.”

  “I assure you, Lady Augusta is of the utmost—”

  “We shall not argue,” he interrupted. “Promise me not to attend any social events for the moment—your sisters, too. Will you make that small concession to me, at least? If you are determined to jilt me after all this time it is the least you can do.”

  Prudence regarded him a moment as she considered his request. Not to go to public balls and routs for a week; it was little enough to ask, and if his pride was truly lacerated by her betrayal, it might help him. Besides, they were in the throes of preparing for Charity’s wedding. There would be little time for parties. She nodded. “Very well, I agree.”

  “You promise? No public appearances for the next week?”

  She nodded again and Phillip heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Good. Then in that case I will take my leave.” He made a shallow, frosty bow in the direction of Lady August, “Good day to you, madam.” Then he allowed the waiting butler to show him out.

  Lady Augusta watched him leave, her eyes narrowed. The moment the door closed behind him she said, “That man is hiding something, mark my words. He has his own reasons for not wanting you to to be seen abroad—and they have nothing to do with his being jilted or my so-called past as an opera dancer.”

  Prudence picked up the ring Phillip had left behind. She was tempted to throw it out the window, but it was the traditional betrothal ring of the Otterbury brides. She might be furious with Phillip at the moment, but she had no quarrel with the women of his family. Mrs. Otterbury had once been very kind to Prudence and her sisters. She slipped the ring back on its chain and catching Lady Augusta’s eyes, explained, “I’ll give it back to him next time I see him. I’ve carried it like this all these years; a few more days won’t matter.”

  Wednesday dawned fine and warm. Prudence woke early, having slept little through the night. She lay in bed, watching sun-kissed dust motes dancing in the air. The first Merridew girl would be wed this day. Did Mama and Papa know? she wondered.

  “Prue, are you awake?” Charity pushed open the bedchamber door. She was barefoot and in her nightgown. “I’m too excited to sleep. Can I come in with you?”

  “Of course, dearest.”

  With one bound, Charity jumped onto the bed and snuggled down into the bedclothes. She hugged her sister exuberantly. “I thought I would be nervous but I find I cannot wait. And yet I am a little sad, too. This is the last time we shall be sisters in quite this way. I am about to become a married lady…Prue, can you believe it?”

  Prudence laughed. “Not only a married lady, you will be a duchess.”

  Charity pulled a wry face. “Now that part I am not at all sure of,” she confessed. “I don’t feel like a duchess.”

  “But you are sure about the duke, aren’t you?”

  “Oh yes,” she said raptly. “He is so wonderful, Prue. So strong and kind and…he is such a dear, gentle, lovely man.” She blinked suddenly as tears formed on her long lashes. “I cannot believe it. Prue. That such a man would care for me. I never thought…never believed I could be so happy.” She hugged her sister convulsively. “Thank you, dearest Prue, thank you! If it had not been for your bravery, I don’t know what would have become of us. And now, here we are, and the sun is shining, and I am so very much in love and happier than I could believe possible. You did it, Prue! You have brought me to that place you promised, and I thank you with all my heart.”

  Prudence felt tears prickle against her own lashes as she hugged her sister to her. It was as if a load had been suddenly lifted off her shoulders. They had come through it. The grim days of Grandpapa were truly behind them. Charity was in love and about to be married. The Merridew girls were no longer alone and friendless. All would be well. It had to be.

  Lady Augusta poked her bright head around the door. “Girls, girls, are you awake? Come, arise, there is so much to do. It is a perfect day for a wedding!”

  Charity was radiant. Dressed in a celestial blue silk gown richly trimmed with blond lace, she was a vision to take one’s breath away. It was as if she glowed from within. Her dress was the exact color of her eyes. Mama’s eyes, thought Prudence. For a moment she wished she had not sold Mama’s sapphires. They would have looked perfect on Charity but she dismissed the melancholy thought. This was not a day for regrets. And had they not sold the sapphires, they could not have reached this point…

  They all looked beautiful, her sisters, like a bunch of perfect blooms; Faith and Hope in the palest of pale pink dresses, both with slightly scooped necklines and feeling very grown-up. Grace, like Prudence, was dressed in pale jonquil with knots of blue ribbon around the hem.

  “Oh, what perfect visions you all are,” exclaimed Lady Augusta, herself resplendent in a gown of rich maroon and aqua, which clashed brilliantly with her hair. “It is a crime, a positive crime to waste this sight on a bunch of Bath nobodies. Still, I comfort myself with the reflection that I shall attend to all your court presentations and preside over your coming-outs!”

  Prudence glanced at her in surprise.

  Lady Augusta caught her look. “You don’t think I am letting you go now, do you, Prudence? I haven’t had such fun in years. After this wedding I shall be Charity’s aunt indeed, and therefore, you shall all be my nieces. I never had children, you see, was never blessed. And now…it’s almost as good as having five daughters.” She blinked rapidly and exclaimed crossly, “Dratted weddings! They always make me excessively sentimental, but I shall not cry! I vow it. If I do, this lampblack concoction will run, and then I shall look a sight!” She glanced at Prudence and winked. “Well, you don’t think these dark lashes are natural, do you?”

  Prudence laughed. “I never gave it any thought, ma’am.”

  Lady Augusta turned to Charity. “Now, my dear, here is your something old and something borrowed. I was married in it in Argentina, a gift from my husband. It was his mother’s.” She produced a magnificent handmade white-lace mantilla, laid it carefully over Charity’s shining locks, and stood back. “Perfect, my dear, just perfect. You look like an angel. Oh dear, I should never have darkened my lashes.” She pulled out a wisp of lace-edged cambric and carefully applied it to her eyes.

  “Now, the something new is your gown, and I must say the dressmaker has done us proud, my dears. I hadn’t dreamed we would find someone so capable in this town at such short notice.”

  “And it is also something blue,” piped up Grace, “so that’s everything.”

  “No, not quite, my dear. My nephew Carradice sent these around this morning. Said Miss Prudence would wish her sister to go to her bridal wearing these stones.” And she drew from a box a sapphire necklace and matching earrings.

  Prudence stared. “But they are…they are…” She was unable to speak for emotion. How had he known? How could he have guessed what this would mean to her, to all of them?

  “Mama’s sapphires,” said Charity softly. She turned to her younger sisters and explained, “Mama was married in these. They were her wedding gift from Papa. Now we shall have Mama and Papa with us at my wedding. How kind of Lord Carradice to send for them. Did you ask him to, Prue?”

  Prudence just shook her head, her heart too full to speak.

  “Now, here are the carriages to take us to the abbey,” said Lady Augusta briskly. “In you get, gels. Grace and the twins in the first one with me, and Prudence and the bride in the second one. Wait a few minutes before you set off, Prudence, the bride should always be a little late.”

  “Oh, but ma’am,” Charity exclaimed.

  “Nonsense. It is
good for the groom to be made to wait. Men need to be kept on their toes, ladies, remember that. Never let them take you for granted!”

  Bath Abbey glowed in the sunshine. The bishop had agreed to perform the ceremony and stood at the altar, gorgeous in his embroidered vestments. Edward awaited the arrival of his bride, pale, neat, and anxious. Gideon lounged next to him.

  The doors opened, the organ music swelled, filling the huge, vaulted abbey with magnificence. Neither Edward nor Gideon noticed. They each had eyes only for their beloved ones.

  Prudence’s eyes clung to Gideon. She wanted to thank him, to tell him what his gesture of the sapphires had meant to her, to them all. But the wedding began and the moment was lost.

  The bishop began the service with a long and rambling sermon about the holy estate of matrimony and the solemn commitment it was. It seemed to go on forever. The attention of his small, captive congregation soon wandered.

  In such a huge and venerable church Prudence felt small and insignificant in the scheme of things. Oddly enough, it was a comforting feeling. Her mind was filled with Gideon. His eyes caressed her; she tried to avoid his gaze. She needed to talk to him, to have it clear between them what he wanted of her, but she couldn’t discuss such things at her sister’s wedding.

  She was aware of every slight shift and nuance in his posture.

  Was Phillip right? Would this be the closest she would ever get to standing in front of the altar with Lord Carradice?

  The bishop rambled on and on…and at one point surprised Prudence in a huge yawn. She’d hardly slept the night before. Embarrassed, she tried to pay better attention.

  Finally, the bishop uttered the familiar words, “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

  It was her cue. Prudence took a breath and stepped forward. As eldest sister, and in the absence of male relatives, she would give away the bride. “I—”

  “I do.” A ringing voice echoed from the back of the church.

  With one accord, the entire wedding party swung around.

  “Great-uncle Oswald!”

  And indeed it was Great-uncle Oswald himself, dressed in his finest morning suit, his hat tucked under his arm as he strode down the aisle, his face wreathed with smiles.