The Timeless Love Romance Collection

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The Timeless Love Romance Collection Page 4

by Dianne Christner


  Constance could change all that. She had seen it before, a man’s fire quenched when he fell in love and chose to please the woman he loved.

  Prudence arrived at the Common and hurried to where she knew the others would be waiting. Eleven young boys ran to greet her, relieving her of the awkward equipment.

  “Hi, Pru!” Ben, the oldest, greeted her as he always did. He felt he had a distinct advantage over the others since he had known her the longest.

  “Hi, Ben. Is everybody here?”

  “Everyone except George,” he told her. “He’s in bed with the flu. Sister said he had to stay there for a while.”

  Prudence was instantly sympathetic. “I’ll go by and see him later.” Her eyes went around the ragtag group. “Is everyone ready to play?”

  “Ready!” they all shouted in unison.

  “Okay. Ben, you captain one team. Michael, you captain the other.”

  Handing Ben the bat, Prudence stood back and watched as they moved their hands upward on the bat until Michael’s crowned the top.

  “Right. Michael, you choose first.”

  After the players were distributed, with only a minor argument over who would take William, the youngest, they made their way to their favorite spot to play.

  Michael had chosen Prudence first, and she smiled at Ben, who glowered at the young man. For a long time, he had considered Prudence his own personal property. Funny how such possessiveness showed up even in one so young.

  Prudence may not have had any men her own age seeking her hand in marriage, but her eleven devoted followers here promised they would love her forever. She grinned to herself. Oh, to be young again.

  Prudence was designated catcher to replace George, and she took her place behind the first batter. “Okay, Pete. You can do it,” she whispered, then raised her voice. “Come on, Mike. Strike him out!”

  Pete turned to her, giving her a big wink. Prudence alternately encouraged and catcalled. The boys took it all in good part, knowing that Prudence loved them all, regardless of which team they were on.

  When it was Prudence’s turn at bat, Ben turned to his teammates. “Back up!” he shouted, and the outfielders scrambled to obey.

  Prudence hefted the bat, giving a few practice swings. Pete grinned behind her. “Knock it out of the park,” he whispered before shouting to Ben, “Come on, Ben. Strike her out!”

  The ball flew through the air and connected with Prudence’s bat. Then it sailed high in the air toward the third baseman.

  “Run, Pru!” her team shouted, and Prudence needed no other encouragement. She rounded the bases one by one and was headed for home plate when little Willie snaked the ball toward the catcher. As Prudence dove for the plate, the ball flew through the air; Prudence heard the ball connect with Pete’s hand just as her own hand touched the plate.

  “Safe!” Pete called, grinning down at her.

  The team never argued about such things as ties and other questionable plays. Prudence had taught them well that the fun was in the playing, not the winning.

  Prudence got to her feet amid cheers from the other players. Brushing the grass and dirt from her outfit, she smiled at them all. The smile left her face as quickly as it had come, for there, not ten yards away, stood Constance. And beside her stood a grinning Devlin and a horrified Terence.

  Prudence stood quietly, waiting while the boys moved close beside her. They sensed something amiss and surrounded her in an unconscious effort to protect her.

  “Prudence Hilliard!” Constance seemed at a momentary loss for words.

  Devlin stepped forward, his glance raking over the boys surrounding Prudence. Eleven boys stared defiantly back at him.

  “Won’t you introduce us, Prudence?”

  Prudence could have hugged him. She began the introductions, and Devlin took the time to shake each boy’s hand. His glance came back to rest on Prudence, who cringed in embarrassment.

  Constance finally found her voice. “Wherever did you get those bloomers? You know Father refuses to allow them. Besides, they went out of fashion years ago.”

  Prudence brushed the dust off the offending articles. The Turkish trousers had a slight tear near the right gathered ankle, but other than that, they seemed to be intact.

  “They were Jessica’s. I dug them out of the trash where Father threw them.” Looking for her cloak, Prudence remembered that she had left the house in such a hurry, she had forgotten it. Shivering from cold and nervousness, Prudence tried in vain to keep warm.

  Devlin took off his own cloak and wrapped it around Prudence’s shivering shoulders. His eyes sparkled merrily, and Prudence could have cheerfully throttled him.

  She turned to the boys. “Okay, guys. That’s it for today.”

  “Aw!” They grumbled good-naturedly as they picked up the gear and handed most of it to Prudence.

  Devlin in return took it from her and handed her his handkerchief. “You have dirt on your face.”

  Prudence watched in embarrassment as the boys gathered up their belongings and, looking back over their shoulders, headed for home. It was obvious they were reluctant to leave her; she felt warmed by their chivalry.

  Prudence handed Devlin his handkerchief and turned to her sister, who was tapping her satin slipper in obvious disapproval. She flicked a glance at Terence, but his face was devoid of emotion, to say the least.

  Devlin turned to the two of them. “Why don’t I walk Prudence to my house? It’s just across the Common and you can bring her something more … um … appropriate to wear. Constance, Terence will see you home safely. Take my carriage.”

  Prudence sighed as she watched them walk away. “I suppose she’ll tell Mama and Papa.”

  “Most likely,” Devlin agreed.

  She turned to him then. “I wish you would wipe that silly grin off your face.”

  He tried, but without much success. “Tell me about them.” He nodded to the boys disappearing in the distance, still turning back every once in a while to see that she was okay.

  “They’re from St. Anne’s Orphanage.” Her eyes softened. “They’re really great kids.”

  Devlin’s lips twitched again. “Children, I assume you mean. Tell me. Where did you learn such language? From the boys?”

  Prudence’s brow wrinkled. “Many people say kids instead of children.”

  “Undoubtedly,” he returned. “I was referring to your rather extensive baseball vernacular. Like, ‘kill the ball’?”

  Prudence flushed. How long had they been standing there? She glanced at Devlin, strolling along at her side, and realized it must have been quite some time.

  He took her arm to help her up the front stairs to his home. Although Devlin’s father had chosen to live on Beacon Hill, Prudence’s father had chosen the Back Bay area that the city’s landfill project had created from a marshy section of the Charles River. Both, however, lived in townhouses, and Prudence could only hope that Devlin did not have nosey neighbors.

  Devlin took her to the drawing room and indicated that she have a seat. Realizing for the first time just how cold she was, Prudence huddled near the fire.

  Ringing for the butler, Devlin waited until he had ordered tea before seating himself beside Prudence on the settee. His eyes delved into Prudence’s, and she felt her mouth go suddenly dry.

  “Tell me about them,” he commanded softly.

  Swallowing hard, Prudence told Devlin how she had become involved with the boys from the orphanage and about her work there. How she tried to help the nuns by finding activities for the children to keep them out of trouble.

  “Boys are naturally competitive,” she told him. “Given an outlet for their desire to conquer, their energy can be channeled into a more fun way of competing.”

  Devlin’s face remained grave, but his eyes twinkled. “And how did you happen to learn so much about baseball?”

  Dropping her eyes to her lap, Prudence began picking at her Turkish trousers. “Constance was seeing a gentleman who was a
player in the sport. He … he agreed to help me learn the game.”

  “I’ll just bet he did,” Devlin grinned.

  Prudence gave him a look that would have curled the hairs of a lesser man. Devlin took her hand and began stroking it with his fingers, and suddenly Prudence forgot everything she was going to say.

  “You’re a curious mixture,” he told her softly. “Half man, half woman.”

  Affronted, she rounded on him angrily. “I am not!”

  His lips twitched. “I meant it as a compliment.”

  She studied him from his black curly hair to his shiny black boots. Her look returned to his face. “I fail to see the compliment.”

  “I meant, you think like a man, but you look like a woman.”

  His husky voice did funny things to her pulse. Jerking her hand from his, she rose to her feet and went to stare out the window at the street in front.

  “No wonder Jessica has embraced the suffragette movement so thoroughly,” Prudence derided. “Only men are considered intelligent.”

  Devlin came quickly to her side. “I didn’t mean that at all,” he disagreed.

  She cut her gaze toward him. “Then just what did you mean?”

  Devlin was unable to answer her. Hadn’t that been exactly his thoughts? He knew many intelligent women, but their intelligence showed itself only in the way they manipulated and managed people. Prudence was different. Her innocence gave her a special quality that attracted him. His eyes fastened on her lips, soft and inviting. Remembering Constance’s cool little kisses on his cheeks, he wondered what kind of kiss Prudence would bestow.

  “Have you ever been kissed, Prudence?”

  Cheeks flaming with color, Prudence glared angrily up at him. “What a question to ask! What manners!”

  “Have you?” he continued, undaunted by her growing anger.

  She stared up at him furiously, her huge hazel eyes giving an elfin quality to her face. She was debating with herself whether to tell a small fib. Ashamed of her thoughts, she shook her head and turned away.

  He caught her arm and turned her back to face him. His eyes were dancing with mischief. “We can’t have that now, can we? All young women should be able to say they’ve been kissed at least once.”

  Sliding his large palms against her cheeks, he moved his lips down to cover hers. Her small sigh of capitulation sent the blood rushing through his body and what had started out as a jest became a very serious business.

  His kiss was soft, gentle, but when he felt her lips tremble beneath his in response, his own lips became harder, more demanding.

  Alarmed, Prudence began to struggle against him. What was she doing? This man was practically engaged to her sister, yet she knew with perfect honesty she had courted the kiss.

  He released her slowly, his arms dropping to his sides. “I think, Miss Prudence,” he told her huskily, “there is more to you than meets the eye.”

  What she would have answered she did not know, for at that moment the drawing room door opened and Constance walked in followed by Terence.

  Chapter 5

  For days, Prudence had studiously avoided Devlin, who came frequently to the house with Terence. She was becoming increasingly annoyed with Mr. Scott, for he never failed to start an argument with Jessica and they always ended up in a yelling match—but never when Mother or Father was home.

  Prudence’s head was already pounding, and she had as yet to go downstairs for breakfast. When she did, she found her mother still in her dressing gown.

  “Are you not feeling well, Mama?” Prudence asked.

  Mrs. Hilliard gave a feeble smile. “I have a pounding headache. You’ll just have to go to church without me.”

  Prudence sighed. Not again. Soon her mother wouldn’t attend services at all.

  Constance came into the room looking lovely, even though the somber gray dress she was wearing was hardly her style. Surprised, Prudence studied her sister’s face and wondered about Constance’s sudden change in her clothing. The demure neckline was nothing like the lower necklines she normally preferred. Even her earrings were sedate. Instead of the dangles she normally wore, she had on small pearl studs.

  Prudence raised her eyebrows at Jessica, who only shrugged her shoulders. “Are you going to church today, Jessica?” Prudence asked.

  Jessica pulled apart the roll on her plate, picking pieces with her fingers and slipping them into her mouth. “I thought I might,” she answered.

  Prudence stared at them all in wonder. Her father came in through the doorway, stopping by his wife’s chair to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, my dear. Not feeling well?” He continued to his seat, watching his wife carefully as he sat down.

  “No, John. I have a dreadful headache. I should like to go back to bed, I believe.”

  Prudence became instantly alarmed, for it was not like her mother having once gotten out of bed to return to it. “Would you like me to stay home with you, Mama?”

  Her father answered instead. “Not necessary, Prudence. I will stay with your mother. You girls go and enjoy.”

  “Are you sure?” Prudence was unconvinced.

  “Do you think me incapable of caring for my own wife?” her father asked in exasperation.

  “No, Papa.”

  “Well, then, let’s hear no more about it.”

  The three sisters left, although Prudence was reluctant. Constance insisted they take the carriage and Prudence climbed in beside her sister, hoping against hope that Jessica and Terence would not have one of their fighting matches in the church.

  Devlin had continued to attend, but Prudence suspected it had more to do with Terence than any desire to be closer to God. Feeling ashamed of herself for such a judgment, she promised herself to take the first opportunity to find out what Devlin had against God.

  That opportunity came sooner than she expected. After services were over, Constance stopped by Gaylord’s side. “We would like to invite you to a picnic,” she told him. “Prudence, Jessica, and I were going to have one on the Common. Perhaps you would join us? And you and Terence, too, Devlin.”

  Jessica and Prudence exchanged glances. Now what was Constance up to? Neither of them knew anything about the said picnic.

  “I’d be delighted, Miss Constance,” Gaylord conceded, smiling at them all.

  Oh well, Prudence thought, at least nothing much could happen with the preacher in tow.

  When Constance pulled a picnic hamper from the back of their buggy, Jessica and Prudence exchanged surprised looks. Obviously, this was no spur-of-the-moment decision.

  Surprisingly, Terence affixed himself to Jessica’s side, and Jessica seemed not to mind. For the first time Prudence could remember, they actually acted congenial toward each other.

  After Gaylord spread out the blanket and Constance set out the food, Devlin sat down next to Prudence. He nodded his head at his cousin. “It seems we’re making progress.”

  Prudence nodded, watching her sister. “So it would seem.”

  Devlin’s eyes studied her face. “And how about you, Prudence. Have you forgiven me for the other day?”

  Color flooded her face, but she looked him in the eye. “Are you asking forgiveness?”

  Devlin studied the soft mouth before him. Was he asking forgiveness? Given the opportunity, he knew he would do the same thing again. “Perhaps not,” he told her, grinning when her eyes sparked with temper.

  “Devlin Drake, you are impossible!”

  Unrepentant, Devlin continued to grin at her, amused by the easy way he could fire her temper. He loved the way her eyes glowed when she was angry, and the blush that came to her cheeks was most becoming.

  He decided not to push his luck and hastily changed the subject. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. What happened with your … um … baseball attire?”

  The color that had receded from her cheeks flew back into them again. She glanced over to where Constance and Gaylord were deep in conversation. “Father had them destroyed.�


  “That’s too bad,” he empathized, and he truly sounded sympathetic. “I understand bloomers have started making a comeback and are being used in all kinds of sports.”

  Prudence looked back at him. “Father has forbidden me to play baseball, or to wear bloomers.”

  He leaned back on his hands, studying her from where he sat. The shade from a majestic oak tree added moving shadows to her face as she continued to avoid his eyes.

  “Perhaps I could help,” he offered.

  Startled, she stared at him in surprise. “You? However could you help?”

  He continued to study her thoughtfully. “I know I am no substitute for you, but perhaps the boys would allow me to take your place as a coach. You are the coach, are you not?”

  A dimple formed in her cheek as she smiled at him. “Such as I am.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit, I think. From what I saw, you have done exceptionally well.”

  Unused as she was to compliments, Prudence struggled not to blush. Devlin had been the cause of enough color in her face. She turned to study him where he was reclining. Whatever could Constance be thinking to turn from such a man? Or had she?

  Prudence noticed that Constance seemed oblivious to everything around her, but was she? Was it possible that Constance was trying to make Devlin jealous? He had certainly refused to become just another one of Constance’s conquests. He was different from anyone Prudence had ever met.

  “I think maybe they would like that, Devlin. And perhaps you would be good for them. They have no man to look up to.”

  “Do you play with them every Saturday?” he wanted to know.

  She nodded her head. “I’m the only one who has a bat and ball.”

  Devlin’s lips twitched. “And where did the boys happen to get the uniform shirts?”

  Prudence bit her lip and turned to watch some children playing in the distance.

  Devlin awaited her answer, fairly certain she would not give him one. “Never mind, Prudence. I think I already know.”

  She turned back and their eyes locked. Devlin saw confusion in the deep hazel depths of her eyes and wondered if it had anything to do with him.

 

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