How to Wed a Warrior

by Christy English

  “And good day to you as well, Your Worship. I see that you’ve an eye for a fine-looking woman. I suspect you were a good-looking girl yourself, once upon a time.”

  The white-haired duchess raised her pince-nez and gazed at the girl in front of her like a scientist cataloging a new species of fauna. The great lady was something like a battleship, her large bosom the prow. She stared down Mary Elizabeth as the silence lengthened, but the Scottish girl did not seem to mind. For all Prudence knew, she might have faced worse than a duchess before and lived to tell of it.

  “You’re my mother’s friend, which is why we’re here at all. I must thank you for opening your home to us, both here and in London. You are very kind.”

  “Hardly.” The woman spoke the one word, and then waited to see what else Mary Elizabeth had to offer. When neither the girl nor Robert said anything, the duchess continued. “And how did you find my town house, girl?”

  “Large, Your Worship. And a bit drafty.”

  Robert had the good grace to shift on his feet, while Pru cringed and twisted her gloves between her hands. The duchess did not take offense at Mary Elizabeth’s blunt speech or the incorrect title of address, but laughed out loud.

  “You remind me more and more of your mother by the minute. Sit down, girl, and tell your brother and your friend to join us.”

  Pru felt the sharp gaze of the old lady as the duchess turned and took one bare glance. She felt frozen under that hard, brown stare, thinking for one terrible moment that the woman had recognized her. But nothing else was said, so she took her place on an uncomfortable settee across from the duchess and Mary Elizabeth.

  Pru’s charge had settled herself like a little bird, perched on the overstuffed settee where the duchess was already sitting. As they took tea, the lady of the house regaled them with stories of Lady Olivia Waters’s ill-spent youth, which from the tales the duchess told, had culminated in her final moment of hell-spawn glory by marrying a Scot from the back of beyond.

  Mary Elizabeth did not let that comment pass. “Beggin’ your pardon, but that place at the back of beyond is my home. I won’t hear a word against it.”

  The old lady sniffed, lifting her eye glass to take in the contours of Mary’s face. “Outspoken, aren’t you, girl?”

  “That I am.”

  “And you have no interest in rank, I see.”

  “No, Your Worship. A man is only as good as his two hands and his brain make him.”

  “And you would say the same of a woman?”

  “I would.”

  “Well, you’ve got enough fire and vinegar in you to make two of your mother, and no mistake. I’m glad I summoned you here. You’re just what the place needs to liven it up a bit. The country is deadly dull.”

  “I disagree, Your Worship. You’ve got the sea right by you, which makes for good fishing if you’ve the nerve to sail out on it.”

  “I haven’t,” the duchess said at once. “And neither will you. If you drown yourself off my beach, your mother will have my head on a platter.”

  Mary Elizabeth looked troubled at that. “I had hoped to go sailing.”

  “My son might take you,” the duchess said. “He’s a fair sailor, when he’ll put his books down long enough.”

  “Would that be your son the duke, ma’am?”

  “None other,” the old lady groused, looking peevish. “I’ve not got another one.”

  Mary Elizabeth looked thoughtful while Robert hid his smile behind his teacup. Pru watched his face. He would be longing for a whisky but was too polite, or perhaps too wary of the duchess, to say so.

  “Well,” Mary Elizabeth said at last, “your son has nothing to fear from me. He might take me for a sail, and come back safe as houses.”

  The old lady looked shrewd, her eyes narrowing. “Safe, is he? And why might that be?”

  “Well, even if he capsized the boat and almost drowned us both, and kept me out until dark, he’d still be safe. For I’d never marry him, you see. I’m not the marrying kind.”

  Prudence wished the black-and-white parquet floor might swallow her whole. Robert did laugh then, but choked it back when the duchess’s eagle-eyed gaze fell on him.

  “Your mother wants you married, girl. A duke would be just the thing.”

  Mary Elizabeth frowned like thunder. “My ma and I disagree on this point, Your Worship.”

  “On marrying a duke?”

  “On me marrying at all.”

  The old lady laughed out loud at that, setting down her cup in case she might spill her fine Darjeeling. “Well, my son is destined to wed. No doubt he’ll be glad that there’s one girl at this house party who’s not trying to catch him.”

  Mary Elizabeth looked around the room, clearly bored with the subject of dukes and marriage. Her eyes came to rest on the French doors that led out into the garden.

  “Might I explore a bit, Your Worship? I’ve been trapped in a carriage for five days. I’d like to stretch my legs a bit.”

  “By all means, dismiss the duchess before you and wander away.”

  “Thank you.”

  Without another word, Mary Elizabeth was off, gone through the door, leaving it standing open behind her. Pru could hear the faint sound of birdsong, and beyond that, the sound of the sea.

  She rose to her feet to follow her charge when the duchess’s gaze fell on her. “You’ll wait here a moment, if you will. I’ll have a word with you.”

  “Your Grace, this is Mrs. Prudence Whittaker,” Robert said, rising to his feet as well. “She’s Mary’s boon companion.”

  “Is she? A paid companion, I assume?”

  Pru felt herself blush but kept her eyes on the floor.

  “She’s a gentlewoman, who’s come to help us cope,” Robert said. Pru could hear the annoyance in his voice. She looked up at him and found the same annoyance on his face. He could not offend the duchess, his mother’s friend, for her sake.

  But before she could speak, the duchess said, “Help you cope with what?”

  “With whom, Your Grace. Mary Elizabeth.”

  The old lady turned her eyes on Pru again. “I’ll have a moment alone with your Mrs. Whittaker. Robbie, take yourself off now, like a good lad.”

  Robert clearly did not want to obey, but he must have known better than to thwart the duchess on his first hour in her house. He left the room, but turned back at the hallway door. “I’ll just be in the music room, Prudence, if you need me.”

  Her Christian name on his tongue echoed through the room like the sound of a gong. Pru swallowed hard, and squared her shoulders. “Thank you, Robbie.”

  The duchess’s gaze became even sharper in that moment, but Prudence would not hide her affection for the Waterses, not then or ever.

  When Robert was gone, his heels echoing in the hall beyond, the duchess turned to her.

  “So, Lady Prudence Farthington of Lynwood Hall, what are you playing at?”

  Twenty-one

  Prudence sat in a silent stupor, unsure of how to respond. It seemed in that moment as if all her careful planning, all her attempts to protect herself, were going up in smoke and ash.

  The duchess continued, sniffing. “I knew your mother. That disguise would not fool the mad king, God rest his soul.”

  Pru opened her mouth, but when nothing came out, she shut it again.

  “I know you cannot be one of those quiet, demure, missish girls, or you never would have tried such a scurvy trick in my household. Are you like your brother? Are you attempting to fleece and deceive my friend’s children? Tell me that when I return to London, the silver will still be intact.”

  Pru rose to her feet then, her confusion and horror overrun by fury. “Duchess, I will thank you not to speak ill of my dead again. My brother died an honorable man, if a foolish one, and I will not stand by and hear his character
slaughtered, by you or anyone.”

  “Indeed?” The duchess raised one grayed brow, but Pru was not finished with her yet.

  “I have done nothing to harm the Waterses. They do not know my name or the particulars of my life, but I have done nothing but what they have hired me to do. That is, to help Mary Elizabeth smooth her way in polite society, that she might find a suitable match for her future life.”

  The duchess snorted. “And I see how well that project is going.”

  Pru felt her anger rise even higher at the criticism of her charge. “Mary Elizabeth is a fine girl with a passion and joy for living that is rarely, if ever, seen. Any man would be lucky to claim her as his bride, even if too many men are too big a fool to know it.”

  “Now, now, Lady Prudence, take a breath and settle yourself. I, too, find Mary Elizabeth refreshing. All she needs is a real man to love, who wants to live in the country, and she will be well contented, I think.”

  Pru was slightly mollified by that, and closed her mouth on whatever she had been about to say next. Her tongue had run away with her anger, and only now did she remind herself that she was speaking to the Duchess of Northumberland, and her hostess.

  “Please do sit,” the duchess said. “You are no actress to be throwing theatricals about my parlor. You are a lady, born and bred, whatever hideous gown you wear.”

  “Mary Elizabeth said the same thing,” Pru answered, seating herself once more across from her adversary.

  “The girl has a good eye. I am always surprised how little mothers and daughters understand each other, even when they are so much alike.”

  “Is Lady Olivia a great deal like Mary?” Pru asked, almost without thinking. She should focus on learning whether the duchess meant to cast her out for her deception. But Mary Elizabeth and her family were a far more interesting prospect. She knew then that she had come to love that girl, and that she would do a great deal to see her happy.

  “She is not one for hunting and fishing, mind, but Lady Glenderrin is a woman of very strong principals and very strong opinions. She and Mary have clashed since the girl turned twelve.”

  “What a shame.” Pru found herself thinking of her own mother. Of how much she would have loved to have her still alive to clash with.

  “Now, don’t grow maudlin, girl. The Waterses will settle their own affairs, but we must settle yours. What is your intention toward Robert?”

  Pru swallowed hard. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Don’t equivocate, girl. I saw how he looked at you—like you were meat on the plate, and he had a powerful appetite.”

  Pru felt herself flush, and looked into her now-empty teacup to see if she might discover a polite way to answer the duchess’s query lying in its dregs. Nothing there but tea leaves.

  She cleared her throat and spoke the truth. “I love him,” she said.

  There was a long silence in which all that could be heard was the clock ticking on the mantel. The brass fixture looked well polished and stately, and Pru had one moment to wonder if the fittings might not be brass but gold.

  “Hmph,” the duchess said. “I credit you with honesty, at least. A penniless widow could not have him, but the daughter of the last Earl of Lynwood might.”

  Pru stared at the old woman as if she had lost her mind. The duchess continued calmly, as if she spoke of the most natural thing on earth. “It is an odd match, but a decent one. A Highlander cannot be choosy, you know. Not when shopping for a wife among the English nobility. Robert’s father was a fortunate man indeed, to secure his bride from the house of Blythe.”

  Pru blinked at her adversary. “I am not certain Robert has marriage in mind.”

  The duchess laughed then, one loud bark. “A man never knows his own mind until a woman tells it to him. It is for you to decide if you want him. If you do, then bring him up to scratch. He’ll offer marriage, mark my words. He may have sown wild oats, but he is an honorable man.”

  “I can’t tell him who I am,” Prudence said, feeling all at once as if the fine plastered walls were closing in on her. “I could not accept him, even if he offered for me.”

  “Of course you can. And of course you will. I am willing to keep your secret until the night of Mary Elizabeth’s ball, three days hence. But longer than that, and I will tell him myself.”

  “You will keep my secret?”

  “For three days,” the old lady reminded her. “After the ball, your secret is forfeit. You may hold the wedding here, if you prefer. I will stand as witness.”

  Pru did not know what to say, but she knew that she must say something. Robert could not marry a penniless woman, no matter who her father had been. He could not take on the burden of her ruined name, and of the social ostracism that would follow in her wake all the days of her life. She would never allow it. But the fact that the duchess would choose to set aside all misgivings about her family and back her, touched her to the heart. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said. “You do me too much honor.”

  “Pish posh.” The duchess waved one hand dismissively. “You do sound like your mother now. Always standing on honor, when old friendship is the stronger thing.”

  Pru felt a lump rise in her throat, and she found that she could not swallow it down. The old lady reached out and took her hand. “I know that if our situations were reversed, and a child of mine was cast out into the world alone, your mother would have stood by her. I will stand by you, whatever Robert Waters does.”

  Pru did not answer then, because she was crying. Before she could draw out the handkerchief Robbie had given her, the old duchess handed her a square of linen trimmed in delicate Belgian lace.

  * * *

  Robbie lurked in the hall outside, all but pressing his ear to the door, but he could hear nothing of what was said between Prudence and the old dragon. After almost half an hour of the duchess’s country butler glaring at him, Pru finally emerged. She looked as if she had been crying.

  Robbie felt a burst of white-hot rage take fire just over his heart. He was almost through the door to confront their mother’s closest friend when Pru stayed his hand, pressing herself against him, placing herself between him and the door.

  “No, Robbie. Let it be.”

  “She hurt you,” he said. “You’re crying.”

  Prudence sniffled a little and blew her nose on a fancy bit of lace. He wondered where his decent handkerchief had got to, the one he had given her with his initials sewed onto it. He did not ask though, for she kept talking.

  “No, Robbie. She gave me comfort, and it made me cry. Women are like that, sometimes.”

  “Hmph.” Robbie did not know what to say to that without making her angry, or hurting her. Best he kept his opinions of women’s oddness to himself.

  “Well then,” he said at last. “Come walk in the garden with me. The path along the sea is very fine, if a bit windy.”

  “All right,” she said at last. She slipped the bit of lace into her sleeve and let him lead her out into the sunshine of the summer day.

  * * *

  Pru did not speak, and neither did Robbie. She reveled in the strength of his arm beneath her hand, and tried to push aside thoughts of her conversation with the duchess.

  No matter that the woman had given her an odd sort of blessing, she could not tell Robbie her secret. He would discover that she was a liar, and that would kill any feelings he might have for her. She was almost certain that he did respect her, in spite of his foolish gifts, but what did he feel beyond that? No doubt he dallied with a new woman every few months. If she chose to continue to dally with him, and then revealed that she had been lying to him all along, even about her name, it was certain that he would cast her out, and forever.

  Not that she blamed him.

  If he loved her truly, as the duchess seemed to think he did, that would be an even worse disaster. For Prudence
would no more allow him to marry her and ruin himself than she would have allowed Grathton to do so five years before. She knew her brother was innocent of thievery, but the ton did not. Were her true identity known, even as his wife, Prudence would be cast out again before she took her next breath, and Robbie with her. She could not even think of what would happen to Mary Elizabeth’s prospects if Robbie chose to marry a woman in disgrace.

  A Scottish woman with stellar social connections on her mother’s side might make a good match within the English ton, but a sword-wielding barbarian who was also linked to the thieving Earl of Lynwood could not. Even if Robbie might be tempted to marry Pru for his own reasons, he would not put his sister’s reputation at risk, nor her future hopes. Prudence must keep herself hidden, as she had done for the last five years. If the duchess revealed her true identity in three days’ time, Prudence could not take Mary Elizabeth down with her.

  Her dark thoughts were interrupted by the view of the North Sea from the cliff they stood on, and by the sound of Mary Elizabeth shouting to them jubilantly, waving from a perch farther up the rocky shore. Prudence felt the heaviness in her heart, pressing on her as her future did, a bleak existence without this family in it.

  Mary Elizabeth ran down to meet them, the color in her cheeks high, her hair falling down from its pins to fly about her shoulders in a mass of glorious curls. Pru opened her mouth to remind her to tie her hair back, but the girl looked so beautiful, and so happy, that she swallowed her words unspoken.

  “You must come and see the stables! And the buttery! What a glorious place! Almost as good as home!”

  “I’m glad you’re happy, Mary. The country becomes you.” Pru felt tears in her eyes again, and took her charge’s hand in her own. Mary Elizabeth was too happy to see her pain, for which Pru was grateful. The young woman did not hesitate, but began to drag her away, leaving Robbie in their wake.

  “Come and see the horses!” Mary Elizabeth said.