Willing Love

by Mary Jean Adams

  If only he could rescue her once more.

  Chapter Seven

  Prudence strode along the gritty path that edged the cove just above where the beach met the land. On any other day, she might have shucked her shoes and stockings and walked along the shore, letting the sun-warmed sand squish between her bare toes while she explored the flotsam left behind by the retreating tide.

  Today, however, she had more serious thoughts on her mind. She took the route toward the top of the cliffs overlooking the bay. Even as a child, this barren windswept vantage point had been the place where she sorted out her most perplexing problems.

  She would not lose the business. Grandma Rachel had run it profitably after Grandfather died, and so could she. Although she didn’t have her grandmother’s experience or her skill with people, Richard would help her avoid any poor decisions. Between the two of them, she had more ambition than Richard, but he had the experience and the wisdom. Together, they almost added up to one Rachel Ashcroft. Almost.

  Prudence paused for a moment to consider that her grandmother’s will did not necessarily require that she marry. She and Richard would be partners regardless of who owned the business.

  She kicked a small stone and watched it skip along the path then veer over the edge of the cliff.

  No, it wouldn’t be the same. She resumed her course. It was in Richard’s very nature to be more cautious, and if she worked for him, she might not have as much sway when it came time to take a few risks.

  Prudence topped the rise, and the sight of the sea, spreading out before her like a bright blue blanket, made her breath catch. The cool, salty breeze brushed at her face, making everything about her seem fresh and new, and full of possibility.

  Perhaps this was why she climbed the cliffs when something troubled her. It wasn’t that she always resolved her troubles at this height, but compared to the wonder of the ocean and the vastness of the sky, her own personal problems faded into insignificance.

  ****

  Evan Foster’s legs ached from trying to catch up to Prudence Ashcroft. The route she had taken gradually sloped up until it topped a cliff overlooking the beach. Evan glanced over his shoulder toward the stables, now some miles distant in the valley below. He would have caught up to her by now, but she strode with such purpose that he had been forced into a jog to make up the ground.

  He wasn’t unaccustomed to exercise. However, standing on the rolling deck of a ship or a vigorous ride through the countryside was exercise of a different sort. Clearly, Miss Ashcroft took this path often and had grown inured to the exertion. Had the worn path beneath their feet been entirely of her making? It wouldn’t have surprised him.

  Evan wasn’t certain what caused him to start out after her when he saw her pass the stables, the lavender bow on her straw bonnet flapping behind her like a pennant in the breeze.

  At first, he had been curious about her destination. Wherever it might be, she seemed determined to arrive as quickly as possible. Yet, nothing lay in the direction they were headed except the Rhode Island countryside and a cove favored by smugglers for generations. Furthermore, she appeared to be having a discussion with some imaginary companion. He was still too far away to hear what she said, but her lips moved and she kept waving her hand in the air as though punctuating her points. Every now and then, she stopped, placed her hands on her hips, and stared out at the sea.

  With a grunt, Evan picked up his pace. He wanted to catch up with Prudence Ashcroft before the local constable decided she had taken leave of her senses.

  When he pulled within hailing distance, Evan cupped his hands around his mouth. “Miss Ashcroft! Ahoy there.”

  She stopped her pacing and turned to watch him climb the last few yards to join her.

  “Good morning, Mr. Evan.” She squinted at him in a way that had nothing to do with the sunlight reflecting off the bay.

  He shouldn’t be surprised. Judging from the way she had charged from the room yesterday, he guessed the stipulations in her grandmother’s will had come as something of a shock. He considered for a moment that he should have let her lick her wounds in peace, but there was nothing he could do now. He trudged the last few feet to join her at the top of the cliff.

  “Good morning, Miss Ashcroft.” Evan doffed his hat and tried not to gasp for air.

  “What brings you out here this morning?”

  From any other woman, the question might have been the opening to polite conversation. From Prudence, it sounded more like a demand for information.

  “Just taking my morning stroll, ma’am,” he replied, thinking how pretty her eyes were when they flashed in the morning sun. At times, they looked almost transparent, at other times, dark and murky. “How are you faring this morning?”

  Prudence’s gaze dipped to her feet, and Evan felt a twinge of regret. Yes, he should have let her lick her wounds in peace.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she glanced up. “I am doing well, thank you.”

  Her bronze brows knitted together as though she wanted to say more but didn’t know where to begin. Evan waited for her to choose.

  As if donning a mask, the uncertainty disappeared, and Prudence gave an embarrassed tinkle of a laugh. “I’m glad you joined me, Mr. Evan.”

  The embarrassed laughter did not fit Prudence’s personality well. It sounded like an affectation she had picked up because she thought it expected of her. He much preferred the other Prudence Ashcroft. Stubborn. Willful. Intriguing.

  “Are you? Why is that?”

  “Well, I don’t really know where to begin, but I feel I must apologize for the way I’ve treated you.”

  Prudence started walking along the footpath that skirted Smuggler’s Bay, and Evan fell in beside her, his feet swooshing though the long grass at the path’s edge.

  “How did you treat me?” he asked.

  “Poorly. I ordered you about as if you were a servant when all you’ve done is come to my rescue.” Prudence cast him a sheepish grin. “Twice.”

  “But I am a servant,” Evan pointed out.

  Or at least Prudence thought him a servant. In time, she would find out who he really was, but he rather enjoyed being the stable master for now. It allowed him to see a side of Prudence she might not show once she understood the full truth. Besides, Stu wouldn’t mind if he borrowed his identity for such a good cause.

  “Well, yes, I suppose so, but stable master is an incredibly important position, especially at Ashcroft. Why, your role is nearly as important as Richard’s.”

  “Richard? Do you mean the stuffy young man sitting next to you at the reading?”

  Did anything lie between Richard and Prudence? Evidently, her grandmother didn’t think so, but guardians were often the last to know.

  “Richard is…was my grandmother’s man of business.” Prudence swallowed. “I guess he’s mine now.”

  A comely blush stained her cheeks.

  “For the next three months, anyway,” Evan couldn’t resist adding.

  Seeing Prudence blush over the man left Evan feeling…well, he wasn’t sure how he felt exactly. What did he care if his employer was spoken for? What did he care if the man was a stodgy-looking fool? He didn’t.

  “Yes, well anyway, I hope you’ll accept my apology for the way I behaved.” She showed admirable self-control, but Evan detected an underlying tightness in her voice.

  He turned toward Prudence, surprised to see pain instead of anger lingering in her eyes. Perhaps he had misunderstood the reason for the color in her cheeks. Perhaps her thoughts had been on her predicament and not on the man seated beside her.

  Who was the fool now?

  “I can only imagine how it must feel to lose someone you love so deeply,” Evan said, his voice conveying the sincerity of his words.

  Prudence’s shoulders relaxed as if an inner defense had crumbled. “Have you never lost someone like that?”

  “I have never loved someone like that.”

  Prudence gave a smal
l nod of acknowledgement, but Evan didn’t detect pity in her green-eyed gaze. He could almost see her processing his words, coming to grips with his statement, and filing it away. He could grow used to talking with a woman who didn’t need to pry into his background and make more out of it than it deserved.

  A flash of sunlight on a distant sail caught his eye. He turned to watch a schooner coming about. “Looks like they are patrolling the bay again.”

  “Yes,” Prudence agreed, the tight set of her jaw giving away her thoughts. “Most likely, they are on the lookout for smugglers.”

  “Smugglers?” Evan feigned ignorance. “Here in Rhode Island? What do they smuggle?”

  “W…well.” Her gaze darted about. “I hear there are some who smuggle tea, others Madeira. I suppose there is no limit to what they might smuggle considering the British controls on our imports and the outrageous duties they charge. Of course, that is all hearsay,” she hastened to add. “I only know about it through conversations I’ve overheard in town. Perhaps the tales were exaggerated.”

  “Perhaps,” Evan agreed.

  Evidently, Prudence was not entirely in the dark on certain aspects of her family’s business. He found the idea of keeping Rachel Ashcroft’s secret from her granddaughter an unpalatable one. Of course, if she didn’t learn to control her expressions, it wouldn’t be a secret for long.

  “So tell me about Ashcroft & Sons,” Evan said.

  Prudence’s eyes widened. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, for starters, where are the sons?”

  Prudence laughed. “I’m afraid you’re looking at him.”

  Evan took the reply as an invitation to peruse her lithe figure. “I don’t believe it.”

  A blush crept to her cheeks again.

  “It’s the family curse, I’m afraid. There never were any sons. My great grandfather’s surname was Wainwright. He immigrated to America with his young daughter and not a penny in his pocket after his wife ran off with a duke.”

  Prudence clasped her hands behind her back as she strolled and recounted her family’s history. Evan wondered if she realized the position of her arms had a delightful way of making her pert breasts appear more prominent. Probably not.

  “In America, he met up with my grandfather, John Ashcroft, and they started the business. Not only were they successful business partners, but my great grandfather genuinely liked John and did everything he could to marry him to his only daughter.”

  “He must have succeeded,” Evan interjected, trying to keep his gaze from straying from Prudence’s face.

  Prudence gave him a wry smile. “I understand she put up quite a fuss. My grandfather could be a bit heavy handed.”

  “He beat her?” Evan asked. Surely, no man would raise a hand to Rachel Ashcroft.

  “Oh, no, of course not.” Prudence waved her hands. “He simply tended to like to have things his way while my grandmother liked to have things her way. Nevertheless, theirs was a marriage filled with great joy.”

  “But only one child?”

  “Yes. Great Grandfather never remarried so Grandma Rachel remained an only child and my mother hers—”

  “And you were your mother’s only child,” Evan finished for her.

  “Yes, the sad secret behind the family name is there are no real Ashcrofts left. I am, in fact, a Saunders.” Prudence gave a small shrug of acceptance. “I suppose you’re thinking that it is unfortunate there were no sons to inherit the estate.”

  “No, I’m thinking it probably made it easier not having to split the inheritance with anyone. Or, heaven forbid, be at the mercy of an idiot brother who inherited the lion’s share, then through mismanagement, a game of chance, or whatever ill-fate awaited him, managed to lose it all only to come begging for what little was bequeathed to you.”

  Prudence laughed. “My, you do have a flair for the dramatic, Mr. Evan.”

  Evan laughed with her. He had never met a woman so easy to talk with. But then again, the sisters had always been more interested in his immortal soul than in his thoughts. After escaping their clutches, he spent much of his youth aboard ship with no opportunity to talk with women, except the whores who weren’t all that interested in a scrawny young lad with no money.

  Listening to Prudence made him wonder what it would be like to actually be friends with a woman. She and that Richard Bainbridge were friends, perhaps more. When Bainbridge wasn’t hovering at her side, his hungry gaze followed her about the room.

  “Did your grandparents and your parents marry for money and not love?”

  Prudence cocked her head, and he realized how impertinent the question must sound coming from a man she thought of as a servant. He hadn’t meant to overstep his bounds; he just didn’t like thinking about Prudence in the arms of the all-too-perfect Bainbridge.

  “No, Great Grandfather never remarried. Grandma Rachel told me he kept a portrait of his wife in his bedroom until the day he died. And Grandma Rachel was desperately in love with my grandfather, although…”

  “Although?” Evan prodded.

  “Oh, it’s nothing.” Prudence waved a dismissive hand but stared at the ground as she walked.

  It didn’t appear to be nothing the way she chewed her lower lip, but Evan decided not to pull on that thread too hard lest he unravel the rapport he had managed to build with his employer.

  “How about your mother?” he asked instead.

  “My mother?” Prudence glanced up. “I’m afraid I didn’t really get a chance to know my parents. I am told my father died in a hunting accident, and my mother died soon after of a broken heart.”

  “Then it wasn’t for lack of trying, was it?” Evan gave a knowing nod.

  Prudence stopped walking and turned toward him. “What wasn’t?”

  The wind toyed with a dark red curl that had crept from beneath her bonnet to play across her forehead. Evan clasped his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out to tug at it.

  “It wasn’t for lack of trying that your great grandfather, grandfather, and father only managed to sire one child apiece.”

  When he finished his explanation, Prudence’s cheeks were as crimson as the curl dancing in the sun.

  “No, I suppose it wasn’t,” she said, her tone crisp.

  Prudence turned on her heel and resumed her brisk pace up the rise leading to the top of the cliff. Evan jogged to catch up, considering whether he should apologize for the outrageous remark. He reached for her elbow, intending to stop her progress so he could at least make a proper apology. She whirled around before he had the chance.

  “The theory is that Ashcroft women are too scrawny.” Prudence held her chin in the air as though daring him to contradict her, but the dejected tone in her voice told Evan all he needed to know.

  “Scrawny?”

  Prudence lowered her chin a notch. “Yes, as in too thin.”

  Evan shrugged. “That’s a first, but then what do I know of medicine?”

  “Dr. Willis agrees with you for what it’s worth. When I was about eleven, I heard some local boys talking about it, and I worked up the courage to ask him.” She hid a giggle behind her hand. “His face looked like a beet, freshly pulled from the garden. He answered my question but told me it was not a proper topic for young ladies. I never thought a doctor could be so easily embarrassed.”

  Evan stood still, enraptured at how the emotions played across Prudence’s expressive face. One moment, the pain of the childhood taunts shone in her green eyes. The next, they sparkled with merriment as she remembered grilling poor Dr. Willis on the nuances of female fertility. Evan decided to take advantage of her momentary flash of good humor.

  “Besides, I wouldn’t say scrawny.” He gave her a head to toe perusal that had Prudence crossing her arms over her none too ample chest. “More…athletic.”

  “Athletic!” Prudence snorted. “Thank you very much. I feel so much better now.”

  “Isn’t athletic good?” Evan admired the rising color in he
r cheeks.

  “Not if you’re a woman looking to catch a husband,” Prudence said.

  “If you’re looking to catch a husband, I would have thought athletic was preferable.”

  Prudence bubbled with laughter. Evan grinned at her, letting her enjoy the moment.

  When her laughter died down, he turned serious. “Is that what you want? To catch a husband?”

  “That’s not the point of this discussion, Mr. Evan,” Prudence admonished him in a soft voice.

  “That’s not an answer either, Miss Ashcroft.”

  Prudence sniffed and turned her face toward the cove. “Perhaps not, but is the answer important? My grandmother has forced my hand.” Her eyes scanned the horizon as though she were looking for something. “You must understand that since you were at the reading of the will.”

  “So how do you propose to catch a husband?” Evan hoped to avoid the questions his presence at the reading might bring. “Despite my earlier assertions, I believe it would appear rather unseemly if you attempted to run one down.” He gave her another head to toe inspection. “Besides, you don’t appear to have the bulk to wrestle one to the ground.”

  Prudence’s laughter swelled his heart. He loved the sound of it, perhaps even more so when he was the cause.

  “Money, Mr. Evan.” The laughter in her voice faded.

  “Money?” Evan’s blood ran cold, but he tried to make light of her words. “I’ll admit, I am new to Rhode Island, but I am not aware of a market where young ladies can buy a husband.”

  “Aren’t you?” She turned and started walking back down the hill. “Money has purchased more than one husband for unmarriageable ladies throughout the years.”

  “Unmarriageable?” Evan asked. “Are you speaking of yourself?”

  Prudence shrugged. “Perhaps that is a bit strong, but I must be realistic.”

  “What about love?” Evan walked faster to catch up with her. “Your grandmother found it. Your mother found it. Why can’t you?”

  “Love?” She said the word as though it tasted sour. “Mr. Evan, I suspect you’ve made a wager or two in your life. Am I right?”