Willing Love

by Mary Jean Adams

“But a common man, nonetheless.”

  “You know I would never hold his upbringing or his station in life against him or any man. It doesn’t bother me if he’s as poor as a church mouse and never chooses to involve himself in matters outside the stables.”

  “I’m sure it wouldn’t,” Richard said in a knowing voice. “Perhaps that’s what attracted you to him, his lack of interest in bettering himself. If he doesn’t get involved in the business, you can continue running things your own way.”

  She had been backed into a corner, again. Prudence opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn’t come up with a single response. Richard knew her too well.

  “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. Whether he involves himself or not is immaterial. I will always be here to watch out for your interests.”

  “Thank you, Richard.” Prudence squeezed his elbow.

  “So, do you think you’ll be able to convince him to attend the Governor’s Ball? Or is that a little beyond the social skills of a stable master?”

  “I think he’ll attend. He doesn’t dance, but he seems quite comfortable in society. Much more so than I would have expected.” She recalled his knowledge of Portuguese, the little blue and white tiles, and his skill at the scandalous dance he claimed to have learned while in Europe. “In fact, I think he must have traveled a bit.”

  “That’s unusual for a stable master, don’t you think?” They reached the far end of the meadow and turned back toward the meeting tree. “Are you sure he is who he claims to be?”

  “I’m certain I only know a small bit about him, but do I think he may be trying to deceive me? No. Unless he’s uncommonly good at hiding his feelings, I do not sense that kind of animosity from him.”

  “Do you sense any other kind of animosity from him?” Richard asked, his voice tense.

  “No, no, of course, not. In fact, he seems to enjoy my company as much as I do his. Perhaps he and I can be…friends.” Prudence rested her temple against his upper arm. “Not as close as you and I are, of course, but friends.”

  “I know I don’t yet need to approve of your match if you marry within the next two months, but I should like to meet this man for myself. I think I may attend the Governor’s Ball after all.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I’ve pulled everything out of your trunks, Miss Ashcroft. Would you like me to see what I can find in mine?”

  Prudence ignored Netty’s scarcely concealed sarcasm. She didn’t blame the girl for being piqued. The carriage ride from Newport to Providence had not been an easy one, and being cooped up with strangers in the rooms reserved for servants would surely be enough to fray anyone’s nerves. At least Prudence had the luxury of a room to herself. She could afford to show a little understanding.

  “That’s kind of you, Netty, but I can manage with what I have here. Why don’t I just call you to help me dress once I’ve decided?”

  “Very well.” Netty bobbed a curtsy and ducked through the door, closing it with more force than strictly necessary.

  Prudence stared at the pile of dresses that lay sprawled like fallen soldiers across her bed.

  She had plenty of gowns fine enough for the Governor’s Ball, but she had no idea what Mr. Evan would be wearing. She hated the thought of making him feel self-conscious by making his attire appear shabby.

  Somehow, he had scrounged up something appropriate for the Sheridans’ supper party. His suit of green velvet had been understated but elegant. Would he wear it again? Or would his benefactor, whomever he was, loan him another suit of clothes for the occasion? She hoped he hadn’t felt compelled to spend whatever money he had just to live up to her expectations. She had none. As long as his boots were clean, she didn’t care what he wore.

  Prudence held up a gown of rose and cream striped muslin. It had always been one of her favorites. She loved the little ivory rosettes that lined the bodice and the sleeves. She set it back on the bed with a sigh. As charming as the dress was, it just wouldn’t be right for a ball.

  She rifled through the pile of dresses, rejecting one after the other for being either too informal or too showy or too provocative. She threw an emerald green gown with a low-cut bodice on the bed. No point in emphasizing her deficiencies.

  From the bottom of the pile, she lifted a gown of blue satin and held it up. It shimmered in the fading sunlight.

  Prudence bit her lip. The dress would be lovely in the candlelight. She had rejected it once already because she hoped for something less elegant to wear. Her hopes had dwindled with the last of her dresses. The time had come to reconsider her options.

  This dress had a modest neckline, but the seamstress had managed to add a few darts in the bodice that accentuated what little God had given her. The white, English lace that fell from the sleeves added an elegant touch. Of all the gowns she had, this one was her favorite and her finest. If Mr. Evan showed up in anything less formal than the suit he had worn to the Sheridans’, he would indeed look shabby standing next to her.

  Prudence started to set the dress down on the bed, but her fingers wouldn’t let go. What if she wore the dress but didn’t wear any jewelry with it? She could have Netty sweep her hair up into a simple chignon.

  A shadow fell across the room as the sun dipped below the horizon. Whatever she decided, she would have to hurry. Mr. Evan would be arriving soon.

  ****

  Prudence’s heart gave a little leap when the inn keeper showed Mr. Evan into the inn’s private parlor. He wore a coat of midnight blue velvet embroidered in gray silk. As understated as his previous attire had been, this suit spoke of wealth. More than that, her blue satin gown looked as though it had been made to complement.

  “Good evening.”

  Prudence studied his face. He didn’t appear to be looking forward to the evening ahead. If anything, the severity in his features would have been more fitting for one headed into battle.

  “Good evening.” No sense in delaying the inevitable. “If you will just give me a minute, I will fetch my pelisse, and we can be off.

  “Just a moment.” He held out a box wrapped in silver paper.

  “What’s this for?” Prudence took the beautifully wrapped box from his palm.

  “I believe a betrothal gift is customary.”

  “A betrothal gift?”

  She knew of the tradition, of course, but she had never expected such a thing.

  “We are getting married, aren’t we?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Open it.”

  Prudence did as he commanded. Beneath her trembling fingers, the silver paper fell away to reveal a black, hinged box. Inside lay a brooch of silver filigree in the shape of…she looked closer. A gargoyle?

  Prudence picked up the delicate piece. “It’s beautiful.”

  It really was. The hideous little creature somehow managed to look cuddlier than his larger, granite cousins that guarded the corners of old buildings. He had sapphire eyes and a lopsided grin that was more impish than evil.

  Mr. Evan must have had it commissioned and, judging by the delicate metalwork, by an artisan of great skill. The gargoyle’s blue eyes sparkled in the light from the fire as only true gems would.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  Prudence glanced up at him. He didn’t look very glad. His brows were dark slashes above narrow eyes, and his lips were set in a thin line.

  “I don’t think I can accept this. It must have cost you a fortune!”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  “Contrary to your belief, I am not marrying you for your money. In fact, you might say that you are marrying me for your money.”

  “Oh, but I didn’t mean—” Her voice trailed off as his words registered. “What do you mean I am marrying you for my money?”

  “The will stipulated that you must marry someone within the next three months or control of Ashcroft is passed over to your business manager.” He spat the last words. “So, in essence, you are marrying me for your money
.”

  Prudence found herself at a loss for words. On a basic level, he spoke the truth. She did need to get married in order to retain control of Ashcroft. But that wasn’t her sole reason for marrying him. Somehow, now that she had decided upon Mr. Evan, she couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with anyone else.

  “What I can’t yet figure out is, why me?” He pierced her with speculative eyes. “Why not Richard? The two of you seem suitable enough.”

  “You know my grandmother expressly forbade Richard and me to marry.”

  Besides, although she and Richard were friends, they were not in love. At least not in the way her grandmother thought a couple should be. But then again, she wasn’t in love with Mr. Evan either. Was she?

  “Your grandmother cautioned you against marrying him, but she didn’t make it a stipulation of the inheritance. You could still have married Bainbridge.”

  “But I don’t love him!”

  Prudence regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. Hopefully, Mr. Evan wouldn’t read more into them than she had intended.

  “But surely you had other suitors who would have been happy to speed you to the altar.”

  His words stung.

  “No, as a matter of fact, I did not. You were the only eligible man available. So, depending on how you look at it, you are either lucky or cursed.”

  “I guess we’ll see who is lucky and who is cursed.” Mr. Evan threw open the parlor doors and called for the innkeeper to bring her wrap.

  ****

  The carriage ride to the governor’s mansion took less than twenty minutes, but in the small dark box, it might as well have been an eternity. Mr. Evan sat across from Prudence, his brooding face staring out the window at the passing scenery. In such close quarters, the jostling of the carriage made contact unavoidable. When her leg brushed against his, she sensed his coiled tension even through her skirts.

  Was it the ball that had him in such a foul mood? When she told him about it, he had left the manor so abruptly that she hadn’t had time to have Gil fetch the invitation that arrived that morning addressed to him. It had come attached with a note asking if she could have one of her servants deliver it since Mr. Evan’s address was unknown.

  At the time, she had been relieved. No one yet knew he lived in the small cottage not far from the stables. Nor did they know his true occupation. She was beginning to believe it might be possible to keep up his ruse forever. Not that she cared whether he had been a stable master, but he might not wish anyone to know his background. Based on how little he talked about himself, she guessed Mr. Evan valued his privacy.

  For two weeks, she waited for him to call on her. Ultimately, she gave up and asked Gil to have one of the houseboys deliver the invitation to the stables. She didn’t even know he had accepted the invitation until he sent a terse message a few days later saying he would arrive to pick her up at eight at the inn.

  At last, the carriage rolled up to the governor’s mansion. A liveried footman dressed in blue velvet with gold embroidery opened the door and lowered the steps. Prudence noted with approval how the man’s uniform colors so perfectly matched the Rhode Island seal. He even had a gold anchor embroidered over his heart. She was glad she and Mr. Evan had both chosen to wear blue as well. While her gown had been made in London, she felt somehow more loyal to her colony dressed in her colors.

  Mr. Evan got out first then turned to give Prudence his hand. She navigated the narrow steps, holding her skirts to the side with her free hand.

  They ascended the steps of the stately mansion, entering the bright foyer where another footman relieved Prudence of her wrap. She retook Mr. Evan’s arm, and he led her to the ballroom where the butler took their invitations.

  It occurred to Prudence she should have opened Mr. Evan’s invitation before giving it to him. Had she taken a quick peek, she would at least know his Christian name. If they were going to be married, she couldn’t go on calling him “Mr. Evan” forever.

  “Right this way, Captain.” The butler indicated the ballroom with a white-gloved hand.

  Captain? Had he been speaking to someone behind them? Prudence glanced back over her shoulder in time to see the butler hand an invitation back to Mr. Sheridan before he waved the elderly merchant and his wife into the ballroom with the same precise gesture he had used just moments before.

  The governor’s butler was of the highest caliber. It seemed unlikely he would make such an egregious mistake. Mr. Sheridan was no sea captain. He had invested in several ships managed by Ashcroft & Sons, but he got seasick every time he stepped foot on one of them. Prudence was equally certain he had never served in any army. While most considered him a genius where investments were concerned, he had something of a weak constitution. Mrs. Sheridan would have lasted longer in the army than her husband.

  Prudence cast a sidelong glance at Mr. Evan.

  Jaw rigid, he surveyed the governor’s guests as though any one of them might pose an imminent threat. Yes, she could imagine him commanding a regiment. He would frighten the poor devils so much no one would dare cross him. One sight of his steely glare and the enemy would flee.

  She wished she knew what had happened to cause him to lose that crooked smile he had when they first met. And what had happened to the man who had been so concerned for her health after her grandmother’s funeral? Or the man she had talked so freely with on the cliffs?

  Had she made that man disappear? Did he find being married to her such an objectionable prospect that he had become a different man?

  No, she was just being overly dramatic. He had still been kind and sweet even after he agreed to marry her. He even kissed her after that horrible encounter with Simon.

  It must be the Governor’s Ball. She knew he didn’t want to come, and while she hadn’t insisted on his being here, she had done nothing to dissuade him. Prudence cast her fiancé a sidelong glance.

  I’m so sorry to drag you into this. The words echoed in her head, but now was not the time nor the place to say them aloud. They would get this ball behind them and start anew.

  Across the room, Richard conversed with a small group that included several ladies and two gentlemen. Over the head of one petite young woman, he caught sight of Prudence and grinned. His friendly face did much to relieve the strain of the carriage ride, and she raised a hand to give him a small wave before she caught herself. One did not wave to a gentleman across a ballroom at the governor’s mansion.

  About the room, ladies wielded their painted silk fans with artful sweeps, flicks, and flutters, almost as if they were fencing imaginary foes. Prudence supposed there was a certain way of flicking her fan that would symbolize a friendly greeting to Richard, but she had never been schooled in the art.

  Perhaps if she drew her fan about her in the shape of a parallelogram, he would get the hint. She giggled as she imagined herself waving and fluttering as though she were directing carriage traffic on Orange Street in Boston.

  Her laughter drew a glare from Mr. Evan. Lord, how would she get through this evening with such an ogre at her side?

  “Mr. Evan, if you prefer, you could join the gentlemen in the card room. You need not stay with me.”

  “Are you so eager to get rid of me?”

  Prudence realized with some alarm he was no longer looking at her. Instead he had his gaze fixed on Richard.

  “No, I adore your company.” She couldn’t quite manage to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, even though she was the cause of his misery. “But you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself. I thought perhaps you would be more comfortable with cards than standing around watching people dance.”

  “I don’t play cards.”

  Prudence studied his face. He didn’t dance, except for one unusual sort of dance that would surely cause a scandal in the governor’s ballroom. He didn’t play cards. Did the man spend his entire life in the stables with the horses?

  “I guess I could teach you how. It would probably be less dangerous tha
n dancing.”

  Judging by his scowl, her attempt to lighten the mood had failed.

  The orchestra played a few notes and couples filled the dance floor. To her surprise, Mr. Evan grasped her hand and tugged her into the middle of it all.

  “But you don’t need to—”

  He gave her a dark, determined look.

  The dance was a simple country dance that required very little skill and left much room for conversation between pairs of couples. Mr. Evan executed the moves flawlessly, conversing politely with the other dancers and even managing to promenade in steps that were small, yet somehow manly.

  “You’ve been practicing,” Prudence said when they came back together again.

  “Yes, I bribed one of the stable hands to teach me the steps. However, should they play the dance I showed you, we will not be able to join in as he flatly refused to partner me in that one so I could practice.”

  Prudence laughed, but her laughter died away when she realized he hadn’t smiled.

  When the music ended, Prudence led the way to the edge of the dance floor. She didn’t think she could stand the strain of another set with him.

  “Would you like some punch?” Mr. Evan asked.

  “Oh, yes, please.”

  She watched him go. Given the crush of people at the Governor’s Ball, she estimated it would be at least five or ten minutes before he returned. A blissful five minutes where she didn’t have to suffer him glowering at her.

  “My, don’t you make a lovely couple.”

  Prudence whirled around. “Richard! How happy I am to see you.”

  She had the sudden urge to throw herself into his arms, but she resisted.

  “Has your future husband claimed you for every dance, or did you save one for me?”

  “For my oldest and dearest friend, I will always save at least one.” Prudence took the arm he offered and followed him onto the dance floor.

  “Perhaps I should have asked your fiancé for permission before I asked you to dance,” Richard said after they had executed only a few steps.

  “Why on earth would you do that? We are not married yet. Besides what does he care with whom I dance?”