A Countess of Convenience

by Sarah Winn

  He grinned like a schoolboy and turned to urge on Thor, but he didn't push the horse to its full capacity and Prudence kept Madge right on its tail. Malvern kept looking back at her as though he feared she might overtake him, but she knew that wasn't the real reason. Her sophisticated earl wasn't as cold and unfeeling as he portrayed himself. He had been affected by this wonderful week too.

  Her love for him, the love she'd been trying so hard to ignore, tickled her heart as champagne bubbles had once tickled her nose. A giddy joy drove her to urge Madge to greater efforts and, amazingly, the old horse pulled even with the younger steed. Prudence laughed delightedly, knowing Malvern was allowing this to happen. But he wouldn't let her pull ahead, just even, and her gallant mare tired quickly, so Prudence soon sat back and allowed Madge a slower pace.

  Malvern did the same, and the two horses moved side by side while the two riders looked across at each other and smiled. Prudence couldn't think of anything to say and knew it was just as well. Her feelings for him were too new, too nebulous, to be put into words, and she felt sure if asked, he would deny having feelings for her. But she knew that deep within him a small seed had sprouted, and she was determined to do everything within her power to nurture its growth.

  Back at the stable, Malvern glanced over the stall wall at Prudence energetically currying Madge and crooning words of praise for the horse's efforts in the race. She spoke as if she really believed the horse understood what she said, and judging from contented look in the animal's large brown eyes, Malvern thought it must.

  No wonder Madge had run harder today than she had in years. In just a week's time, the old horse had become totally devoted to her new mistress. Could the same thing happen to him?

  Of course not. He had far more intelligence than a horse.

  Prudence looked up and met his gaze. “If we return to Malvern Hall in the morning, when do we leave for London?”

  “I suppose you'll need time for packing. Could you be ready by Tuesday morning?”

  “I don't see why not. With all the servants there, I could probably be ready by mid-morning on Monday.”

  “No need of that. Besides, we can't dash off without explaining things to Mother.”

  She stopped stroking the horse and looked at him with an inquisitive frown. “What is there to explain?”

  “That you're coming with me, of course.”

  “I thought she suggested it.”

  “She did, but I didn't agree to the notion at the time, so she's still expecting you to stay with her at Malvern Hall.”

  “I hope she won't be upset by the change of plans.”

  “She's so eager for the arrival of the Malvern heir that she'll undoubtedly be delighted.”

  “Oh!” She ducked behind Madge and resumed currying.

  Prudence watched Lady Caroline carefully as Malvern explained his decision to take Prudence back to London with him. The dowager countess did seem delighted by the news and launched into a discussion of all the things that needed to be done to his town house.

  When she reached for pen and ink to make a list of the best drapers and upholsterers, Malvern excused himself to look over his correspondence. After he left, Lady Carolina smiled at Prudence. “The week at the lodge seems to have been quite a success.”

  “Yes, and thank you for the special arrangements. For a hunting lodge, it was quite comfortable.”

  “I'm glad my efforts made a contribution, but you, apparently, played your part well.”

  Prudence grew wary. While she knew Lady Caroline wished her well in her relationship with Malvern, she dared not share her hopeful feelings while they were still so fragile. “My part? I only tried to be pleasant.”

  Lady Carolina gave her a knowing look. “You must have been very pleasant. A week ago Malvern had every intention of leaving you here.”

  “But he changed his mind about redecorating his home,” Prudence explained.

  The dowager countess chuckled. “He's been content with that dreary place for years. I suspect he's using refurbishing as an excuse to keep you by his side. His resistance towards love and marriage is beginning to melt, just as I hoped it would. You continue to be pleasant, my dear, and this arrangement will blossom into a love-match.”

  Prudence made no attempt to answer Lady Caroline. But she couldn't stop herself from grinning like a halfwit, although she could take no credit for doing anything to win Malvern's affections. In truth, she hadn't known what to do.

  Love was a mysterious phenomenon. From the start Malvern had acted like an uncaring manipulator, and she had tried to protect her heart from his manipulations, but once they were intimately entwined all her intentions went for naught. Did Malvern feel the same? Prudence didn't know. She could only make every effort to be pleasant to her husband and hope for the best.

  As the coach reached the outskirts of the city, Prudence felt a vague uneasiness. London still felt like an alien world to her, but she knew Malvern spent most of his time here. She could only hope the bustling city and the demands of society would not drive a wedge between them.

  His home was on Belgrave Square, a good address to be sure, but not as elegant as his mother's on Park Lane. As the coach pulled up in front of the Georgian style house, she asked, “When did you get this house?” thinking he'd probably wanted to escape his mother's supervision as soon as he reached his majority.

  With a little hitch of his shoulders, he replied, “It was my father's.”

  She busied herself gathering her shawl and other personal belongings. Of course, his philandering father would have wanted a residence separate from his wife's. Would Malvern be different?

  A somber, gray-haired man, apparently the butler, opened the door. Prudence was relieved to see no liveried footmen. This house wasn't as formal as the dowager countess's.

  “Lindley, this is Lady Malvern, my new countess. I trust her room has been prepared.”

  Lindley nodded sternly. “Yes, my lord. Mrs. Harvey has seen to it.”

  A stout woman wearing a gray dress stepped forward and dipped a short curtsy to Prudence. “Welcome, my lady. Please let me know if you need anything.”

  The offer of assistance seemed a bit grudging to Prudence, but she smiled at the woman as she introduced Janie, and inquired about quarters for her. Mrs. Harvey assured her all was in readiness.

  The footmen from the coach had brought the luggage in and were waiting for instructions. Malvern suggested Mrs. Harvey show Prudence to her room while he saw to his messages. A parade of people and trunks followed her up the stairs. Her new bedroom pleasantly surprised her. Unlike what she'd seen of the rest of the house, it was bright, cheerful, and immaculately clean.

  Prudence suspected the staff had been taking advantage of the fact this house had no mistress to supervise their efforts. A thorough cleaning would probably remove a good deal of its gloom. Redecorating would not be her only problem here.

  When Mrs. Harvey and the footmen left, Prudence and Janie darted about the room, opening trunks, and searching out the best storage locations for the packed items. After laying out some of her personal effects, Prudence wandered over and opened a connecting door.

  Malvern's valet, Victor, was in the process of unfolding a shirt from Malvern's trunk. He set the garment aside and came toward her. “May I help you, my lady?”

  A quick glance at the very masculine bedroom told her she had invaded Malvern's territory. “No, thank you. I was just—ah—looking for my dressing room.”

  “Your dressing room is on the other side of your bedroom.”

  “Thank you, Victor.”

  The door opened and Malvern hurried into the room. Seeing Prudence, he nodded curtly. “Are you finding everything all right?”

  She smiled. “Until I opened the wrong door.”

  “It's good you're here; I need to talk with you for a moment.”

  He shrugged out of the worn hunting jacket he'd worn for comfort during the coach ride. “I need a fresh shirt, Victor,”
he said.

  Then he approached Prudence, took her hand, and looked into her eyes. “My man of business has sent several messages trying to locate me. I dislike leaving you so soon after our arrival, but Walton isn't a man to start at shadows, so I must call on him.”

  Touched by his concern for her, she smiled back at him. “Don't worry about me. I have to get unpacked, and I'm eager to see the rest of the house. See what needs to be done.”

  “Ah, yes,” he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, “more of your wifely duties.” The touch of his warm tongue, just in front of her ear, reminded her of other wifely duties.

  Aware of the nearby servants, Prudence pulled back. She tried to give him a censoring look, but couldn't stop her lips from twitching upward. “Go. Take care of your business. I'll be fine.”

  As soon as Malvern sat down, Walton said, “I need to know what to do about these bills. Should I pay them?”

  Malvern frowned across the desk. “What bills?”

  “The ones for your brother-in-law.”

  “Weathersby? I don't recall owing him anything.”

  Walton shook his head. “They're his personal bills. He's told his creditors to send them to you.”

  Malvern's mouth dropped open. He finally overcame his shock enough to speak. “The devil you say!”

  Walton, who was usually the epitome of calmness, rattled some of the papers in front of him. “Yes. Apparently his creditors are ready to take legal action if payment is not forthcoming. The debts are sizable and some have been outstanding for a long time.”

  Slumping back in his chair, Malvern got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Weathersby had obviously had reasons for his trickery beyond securing his sister's future. “How much?”

  “So far, over four thousand pounds, but bills are still coming in.”

  Grinding his teeth to smother his curses, Malvern quelled his impulse to tell Walton to throw the bills in the fire. What would Prudence think if he let her brother go to debtors’ prison?

  Prudence! Did she know the extent of her brother's debts? Rather than Weathersby trying to save her, had she been part of a conspiracy to save him?

  No. He couldn't believe that. Prudence would be as shocked by this dishonesty as he. Nevertheless, like it or not, he now had a family connection to Weathersby. What should he do about the man?

  Walton cleared his throat nervously. “My lord?”

  “Have you spoken to Weathersby?”

  “He's moved from his lodgings. I'm making inquiries but haven't located him yet.”

  Propping his elbows on the arms of his chair, Malvern interlocked his fingers as he pondered the situation. Finally, he straightened and looked across at the nervous accountant. “I must speak with him before I make a decision.”

  “Perhaps his sister...” Walton's voice trailed off when he saw Malvern's angry frown.

  “She knows no more about his whereabouts than I do. You keep searching, and I'll make some inquiries of my own. In the meantime, stall his creditors.”

  Prudence looked about the dining room, noting that the furniture was really quite sound. A good rubbing with beeswax and reupholstering the chair seats would return the table and chairs to their original elegance. Of course, the draperies were faded beyond recall and the colors had worn away in some places on the carpet. The house really needed to be redone and doing it would give her another opportunity to win Malvern's admiration.

  A small noise alerted her to Lindley's presence. “Mr. Weathersby is in the sitting room, my lady. He says he must see you at once.”

  “Thank you, Lindley.” Wondering how Neil had learned she was here, Prudence hurried to the sitting room.

  As she entered, he rushed toward her. “Thank God I've found you.”

  “What's wrong?” Noting his dust-coated clothing and mud-spattered boots, she added, “You look a sight.”

  “I expected you to be at Malvern Hall and have just ridden there and back.”

  “What is so urgent?”

  “I take it your presence here indicates all is well between you and Malvern?”

  Could he possibly be this concerned about her welfare? Perhaps his conscience had pricked him over forcing this marriage upon her. She patted his hand reassuringly. “You need not worry about how we're getting on. He is a true gentleman.”

  Neil caught her hand in a grip that bespoke desperation. “You've got to help me, Prudence. Intercede on my behalf with Malvern.”

  “I think he's getting over his anger with you.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “His man of business sent for him.”

  Neil released her hand, took several steps away from her, and began to slap little clouds of dust from his shoulders. “He'll have new reasons to be angry with me when he returns.”

  She sighed. “What have you done now?”

  He turned to one side and examined a porcelain figurine on the mantel. “You know my financial situation has not been good. I've run up some debts and need Malvern's help.”

  “It hardly seems proper for me to interject myself into a business matter. I'm sure if you explain the situation, he will be willing to loan you enough—”

  “Loan?” He turned on her with flared nostrils. “You cannot receive a loan unless you have prospects of repaying it.”

  “What about the land that came with your inheritance?”

  “That went years ago; it barely earned enough to pay the taxes, anyway.”

  “What about your uncle, Viscount Weathersby? Won't he help you?”

  Neil glared at her as if she had said something truly stupid. “The only help my dear uncle has offered is a commission in the army—the infantry. If it had been the cavalry I might have considered it, but not the infantry. I really think he'd like to see me sent to a God forsaken outpost where I'd die of some miserable fever.”

  “But if you had no income, why did you go on spending money?”

  “I am a gentleman, Pru. Except for an accident of birth, I would be a viscount with a large estate.”

  She looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “I'd say it is God's will that you were the son of a second son and that your uncle now has three sons of his own. Have you never thought of providing for yourself?”

  He huffed. “I expected to marry well, but the rich guard their daughters as closely as their bank accounts.”

  Her stomach lurched as the full meaning of his words washed over her. “So, when you couldn't find a rich wife, you tricked a rich friend into marrying me. Everything Malvern has accused you of is true, isn't it?”

  He raised his hand with the palm upward. “You're well provided for, aren't you?”

  Disgust welled up in her. “Don't even pretend that you did any of this for me. You're the same self-centered boy who took every advantage my father gave you and still looked down your nose at him. It's no wonder Uncle Oscar put us all on a strict budget after Father died.”

  “Don't blame that man's parsimony on me. Your father didn't care what happened—”

  She jumped to her feet. “I won't listen to another word—”

  As she headed for the door, his voice rose in what could only be described as a wail. “I'm going to prison.”

  She froze. “What?”

  “Warrants are out. Constables are looking for me. I'm in hiding.”

  She turned to look at him. His face was pasty white and tears rimmed his eyes. “Oh, Neil, surely not.”

  “Once I'm arrested, they won't let me go until I pay all my debts.” The tears began to stream down his cheeks. He turned, propped one arm against the mantel, and buried his face against it. “If no one rescues me, I could be there for years.”

  No matter how bad or foolish his behavior had been, Prudence could not bear the thought of her, proud, devil-may-care brother being locked away in a grim debtors’ prison. She raced to his side and threw an arm around his heaving shoulders.

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&nbs
p; Chapter 11

  Malvern hurried up the steps of his town house, wondering how he should tell Prudence of her brother's latest blackguardism. Perhaps it would be best not to tell her. The news would surely distress her and add to her embarrassment over the way Weathersby had forced the two of them into marriage.

  Lindley opened the door promptly and extended his hand for Malvern's hat and gloves. As he stripped off a glove, Malvern said, “I told Blake to wait in the back hall for some messages I need delivered. I want you to take them to him as soon as I've written them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is Lady Malvern about?”

  “She's in the upstairs sitting room with Mr. Weathersby.”

  Malvern stared at the butler in surprise. “Weathersby is here?”

  “Yes, sir, he arrived a short time before you.”

  He slapped his gloves into Lindley's waiting hand. “Tell Blake I won't need him after all.” Then he turned toward the stairs anticipating the chance to tell his dishonest brother-in-law exactly what he thought of him. Brother-in-law. He reminded himself of the family connection. How could he protect Prudence's feelings and avoid further scandal and yet not mollycoddle the spendthrift?

  Opening the sitting room door, he saw the brother and sister in a tender embrace, her face etched with sympathy. Prudence saw him and pulled away from Weathersby. Guilt remolded her features. She knew. Of course she knew. Why had he thought she wouldn't? These conniving siblings had played him for a fool from the beginning.

  Weathersby faced him with a stricken expression. “I suppose your man of affairs has told you what I was forced to do.”

  Malvern's blood pounded through his veins with a martial pulse. “Forced? Did someone put a pistol to your head and force you to send half the merchants in this city to my door?”

  Trying to look manly, Weathersby stepped forward, a little in front of the whey-faced Prudence, but his voice shook with emotion. “I regret having to do that, but if you don't help me, I'll go to prison.”

  Shaking his head angrily, Malvern said, “And so you should. Debtors’ prison is meant for men like you.”

  Prudence rushed forward, laying both of her hands on his forearm. “Oh, no, Malvern, please don't let him go to prison. We can postpone remodeling the house. I won't buy any new clothes. I'll do anything you say.”