Willing Love

by Mary Jean Adams

  He sounded so matter-of-fact, so business-like. How could he be like that after they had spent the night together? After they had been so intimate?

  “But why you? The day after our wedding?”

  She really ought to try to sound like she didn’t care, but there was one problem. She did. More than she would have guessed. Certainly more than she cared to admit.

  Evan shrugged. “We all do what we must.”

  Prudence picked at the velvet fleur de lis pattern on the coverlet while she tried to sort through it all. Ashcroft had plenty of captains. It made no sense that Evan should be the one to go if the cargo were nothing more than a run of household goods.

  Besides, last night had changed things. Hadn’t it?

  Drifting off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, she assumed they would spend the day together, getting to know each other. Perhaps they might even repeat the pleasures of the night before.

  She pulled at a loose thread then tried to tuck it back in when the design started unraveling. Unless, of course, he didn’t mean to continue their physical relationship now that the marriage had been consummated.

  Her hand stilled. Maybe he had a lover waiting for him in Boston.

  “Will you miss me?”

  His question brought her back to the present. She searched his dark eyes, looking for the truth they revealed.

  Were they the eyes of a man looking at his lover or those of one returning to another? She tried not to see only what she wanted to see. Last night, she had almost managed to convince herself that he loved her, or at least that he might someday. In the harsh light of morning, the fantasy seemed utterly childish. The time had come to put her childish ways behind her.

  “Of course not.” Prudence tucked her trembling hands beneath the blankets.

  She would not let him see how much his leaving hurt her. She had her pride, and perhaps he had no choice. Maybe he really did have cargo to deliver to Boston. For that matter, if he did have a mistress in Boston, why should she care?

  “I’ve lived without you for nineteen years. What’s one more day?”

  “That’s the spirit.” Evan turned back to the mirror and straightened his already straight neck cloth.

  “I could go with you.” The suggestion spilled from Prudence’s lips as soon it entered her thoughts. So much for her stoic attitude.

  “An excellent suggestion…for another time. I’ll be evaluating a potential crew on this voyage. With you aboard, I might not notice I have a crew.” Evan strode to the side of the bed and kissed her brow, the sweetness of his words and his lips toppling what was left of the wall she had built around her tangled emotions. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be back soon.”

  Swinging his coat over his shoulder, he departed through the door, leaving Prudence cold, naked, and alone.

  Listening to the clop of hooves fading into the distance, Prudence rose from the bed. Suddenly, every muscle in her body felt stiff, even some she didn’t think she had ever used before. She left her nightdress where it lay, a puddle of lace and linen in the middle of the floor, and padded over to the mirror.

  Aside from a slight abrasion on her chest—she had a vague memory of Evan’s whiskers scratching her—she didn’t look any different. Were the green eyes looking back at her those of a married woman? One who had experienced the joys of the marriage bed? And it had been a joy, more than she had ever anticipated. Even though she had practically begged Evan to make love to her, she hadn’t expected her world to fall out from under her.

  Prudence turned away from the mirror and snatched her nightdress from the floor. Pulling it over her head, her gaze fell on the rumpled bed sheets. They certainly had made a mess of things. The coverlet lay half off the bed, the top sheet rested in a pile by the headboard, and the bottom sheet had come untucked from one corner and was peeling back to reveal the tufted mattress cover.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Yes?” Prudence called.

  “Captain Foster requested that I bring you some fresh water, ma’am,” Netty said through the closed door.

  Prudence eyed the bed. She could hardly ask Netty to wait while she made it up.

  “Come in, Netty,” Prudence said, in a resigned voice.

  Netty entered, gave Prudence a quick curtsy, then carried a washbasin, pitcher, and fresh towels to the dresser. She didn’t seem to notice the bed.

  The maid picked up the old basin and the used towel next to it, then turned to her mistress. “Shall I bring you some tea or coffee, ma’am?”

  Had her gaze just flicked over her shoulder to the bed? Prudence couldn’t be sure.

  “No, thank you, Netty. That will be all I need for now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Netty curtsied, bowing her head so Prudence couldn’t read her expression.

  Once Netty had gone, Prudence decided she was just being foolish. What did it matter what her maid thought? She and Evan were married. What they did together was their business, no one else’s.

  Prudence bent forward to straighten the bed the best she could, then decided it would be better to just remove the sheets and have them sent to the laundry. Evan would appreciate having fresh sheets when he returned. Maybe he would find her in them waiting for him. If he had a lover in Boston, she could make him forget about her. The notion put a spark in Prudence’s step and her mood.

  She had folded the coverlet and the blanket and was about to tug the bottom sheet from the mattress when a sudden realization made her knees buckle.

  There was no blood.

  She had been a virgin. Virgins were supposed to bleed, weren’t they? Everybody knew that. Even she knew that.

  Prudence shook out the top sheet. She and Evan really had made a mess of the covers. Maybe she had been on the top sheet and the blood hadn’t had a chance to soak through to the bottom. She searched every inch for even a spot, then did the same to the blankets, the coverlet, and finally the bottom sheet.

  Nothing.

  Prudence went to the dresser and poured water over the wash rag in the basin. Lifting the hem of her nightgown above her thighs, she propped a foot on a stool and gently washed herself, taking care as she discovered she really was more tender than she realized.

  She inspected the knobby cotton fabric. There were small, bright red dots. So she had bled, but just the tiniest amount, and certainly not enough to be noticed by Evan. She didn’t think virgins were supposed to bleed profusely, but from the stories she had heard, the blood should at least be visible on the sheets.

  Had Evan noticed? Her knees grew weak again, and she sank against the dresser. He must have. Maybe that was why he had been so distant.

  She put a hand to her forehead and tried to think. Evan had made it clear that he thought Richard and she were lovers, or at least had the potential to be lovers. Had last night convinced him they had been?

  Maybe he hadn’t gone to Boston at all. Maybe he had gone to kill Richard.

  ****

  “Would you like some breakfast, ma’am?” the cook asked when Prudence wandered into the kitchen.

  Prudence glanced up. “What? Oh, I’m sorry, Mary.” Prudence peeked at the lantern clock hung against the wall. Well past ten. Mary would already be planning the midday meal. “Just some jam and bread will suit me this morning.”

  Prudence took a seat at the rough kitchen table normally reserved for servants and only glanced up when Mary set a plate of warm bread, a crock of jam, and a pot of tea before her.

  She stared at the steam swirling from the spout of the silver teapot as though she could divine a proper course of action in the hazy tendrils.

  Should she try to warn Richard? It probably wouldn’t do any good. Evan knew where the offices of Ashcroft & Sons were, and he had at least an hour’s head start. That was enough time for him to reach the office, and if Richard weren’t in, to obtain the address of his townhouse from Richard’s secretary and be well on his way.

  Even if she did know exactly where he was, there simply
wasn’t enough time to catch him. Besides, how could she explain circumstances when she barely understood them herself? She had to leave it up to Richard to convince Evan that she and Richard had never been lovers and never would be.

  Her stomach tightened. If Evan refused to listen, could her poor, sweet Richard defend himself?

  “I was just making a bean soup for luncheon, and I happen to have a little too much ham.” Mary set a plate with a couple of succulent looking slices before Prudence. “I thought perhaps you might like some with your breakfast.”

  “What? Oh, yes, thank you, Mary,” Prudence said, seeing the plate of ham on the table and the expectant look in Mary’s eye.

  Prudence cut into a slice of ham and pushed the piece around on her plate.

  Mrs. Hatcher bustled into the kitchen. “Ah, there you are, dear. I’ve been searching high and low for you.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hatcher.”

  Why had she been so forward last night? Had she seemed more uncertain it might have made it easier to convince Evan. But, no, she had to practically demand that he make love to her.

  “Will the captain be returning before supper?” Mrs. Hatcher asked.

  He said he would return tomorrow. But if he were detained or decided he preferred his mistress to his wife, he could be away longer, much longer. That is, assuming, he had even gone to Boston and not to confront Richard.

  Prudence glanced up. Mrs. Hatcher seemed to be waiting for a response of some sort.

  “Oh, I think just dust the wainscot and refill the lamps.”

  Mrs. Hatcher gave Prudence a quizzical look, then understanding dawned across her wrinkled face. “I take it the master of the house won’t be back for supper.”

  Heat rose to Prudence’s cheeks when she replayed the conversation she had just had with her housekeeper. From the knowing grin Mrs. Hatcher was doing her best to hide, the old woman had a clear idea of who had her mistress’s mind in such a fuddle. She doubted, however, that the woman had any idea the true direction her thoughts had taken.

  Prudence pondered talking over her dilemma with Mrs. Hatcher. Although she had never known a Mr. Hatcher, there must have been one at one time. Somehow, she just couldn’t find the words to approach the subject.

  Gil stepped into the room. “Mr. Bainbridge is here to see you, ma’am.”

  “Richard is here?” Prudence jumped up from the table and knocked over her teacup. “How glad I am to hear of it!”

  The furrows in Gil’s brow deepened, but Mrs. Hatcher shook her head at him and set the teacup to rights. A knowing smile flitted across Gil’s features before he resumed the passionless butler’s expression he wore so well.

  ****

  Prudence threw open the parlor door with such force that it bounced against the opposite wall.

  “You’re not dead!”

  “It’s good to see you too, Pru.” Richard strode to her, grasped her hands in his, and placed a light kiss on her cheek. “I had a late night last night, drinking to the health of the bride and groom, but I didn’t think I looked that poorly.”

  Her anxiety much relieved by his sudden appearance, Prudence couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s self-effacing humor. “Of course you don’t, Richard. You are as handsome as ever.”

  “Pru, give it to me straight. Something has you in a dither, doesn’t it?”

  “Richard, how is that you can you read me so easily?”

  “It’s because I care about you, sweetheart.” He gave her an impish grin. “Plus, I know that whenever you try your feminine wiles on me, you’re hiding something.”

  Prudence considered sharing her concerns with him, but had no idea where to begin. Surely Richard had some experience with women, and he was a man, but in all their years as friends, they had never had a truly intimate conversation. How could she possibly ask him why she hadn’t bled despite being a virgin? And how could she warn him that her husband might now be searching for him in order to kill him?

  Richard narrowed his eyes. “What is it? Evan didn’t do something to hurt you, did he? I don’t care if he is bigger and meaner than me, I’ll kill him.”

  Prudence shook her head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just woke to a disconcerting dream. That’s all.”

  “Then I hope you’re not prescient,” Richard said, his usual jovial tone back.

  “Me, too,” Prudence said in a far more serious voice.

  “Come on, Pru, you should be happy today.” Richard held her hands out to her side and gave her a thorough once over with laughing eyes. “Although, I must say, you don’t look any different.”

  Prudence’s ears flamed, and she tore her hands from his grip. “You mind your manners, Richard Anthony Bainbridge. I am a married woman, and my husband might have a thing or two to say if he knew you were being forward with me.” She gave her friend a rueful smile. “Or at least he might if he were here.”

  “He abandoned you on your first day as a married couple?” Richard whistled through his teeth. “He is a brave man.”

  “Either that or very foolish.”

  “When do you expect him back?” Richard asked.

  “Evan said he had to run some cargo up to Massachusetts, and he would be back tomorrow.”

  “He chose today to make the Boston run? He certainly doesn’t let barnacles grow on his bow.”

  Richard’s knowledge of the trip to Boston took Prudence aback for a moment.

  “So you know about this run?”

  It made sense. Richard knew about all the cargo runs, large or small, from Massachusetts to Morocco. In her concern over other, more personal matters, it hadn’t occurred to her to question him about the run.

  “I suggested he might want to take the shipment himself.” Richard glanced at Prudence’s expression. “But I swear I didn’t mean today.”

  “What is the cargo?”

  “Just household goods.” Richard set one hip on the side of the desk and turned his attention to a stack of ledgers.

  He thumbed through them as though looking for one in particular.

  Prudence set her hands on her hips. “My husband left me in our marriage bed to take a load of pots and pans to Boston?”

  “Well, I might not have put it that way, but yes.” Richard opened the ledger and flipped a few pages. “It’s a shame, really. If he were going to leave your side tonight, I would have thought he’d want to put his new ship through her paces. It’s a perfect night for it.”

  “His ship is ready?” Prudence asked. “Does he know that?”

  “He must. He’s been hanging out at the factory for days, overseeing every little detail. I think the workers finished it two weeks early just so they could rid themselves of him.”

  “I could have sworn he said the Cythraul wasn’t complete yet,” Prudence said, more to herself than to Richard.

  “Maybe it wasn’t ready when he told you that. She was supposed to be launched just this morning.”

  “Maybe.” And maybe Bolt would sprout wings. Just this morning Evan said he would have to take one of the other Ashcroft vessels. She was sure of it. So why would he lie to her?

  “What else is bothering you, Pru?”

  “Richard, have you ever been with a woman?”

  She hadn’t planned to ask the question, but Richard had been her confidant since childhood. Somehow the words just slipped out.

  However, Richard’s expression reminded her of a rabbit that had run across her path in the garden last summer. From the panic in its round eyes, she knew it wanted to run, but fear rooted its feet to the ground. As soon as Prudence moved on without so much as a glance, the rabbit darted into the bushes.

  She took pity on Richard in much the same way. “Oh, never mind. Of course you have. You need not answer that question.”

  Richard relaxed against the desk. “I’m relieved to hear that, but do I want to know why you asked the question in the first place?”

  “Probably not,” Prudence admitted. “I’m just wonderin
g if perhaps…if maybe his going to Boston had something to do with me.”

  From the way Richard tensed up again, she was glad she hadn’t phrased that last as a question.

  “Now why would you think that? Did last night not go as planned?” Richard looked as if he really didn’t want to hear the answer.

  It was sweet of him to care enough to allow her to talk if she needed to, but Prudence decided not to burden him with the intimate details. She would find her answers some other way.

  “As you know, he thinks you and I were lovers. Somehow you have to help me convince him we weren’t.” Prudence left her explanation purposefully vague.

  “Pru, give him time. Give yourself time. And get rid of the ridiculous notions you have about what your marriage is and isn’t supposed to be. One night with you in his arms, and he’ll know that you and I were no more than friends and never will be.”

  “Maybe,” Prudence said, not at all convinced.

  One night with her had probably convinced Evan she had been somebody’s lover, if not Richard’s. On top of that, he didn’t trust her enough to be honest about where he was going this morning. If he wasn’t headed to a lover in Boston, where had he gone?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As the clop of hooves from Richard’s horse faded into the distance, Prudence took a seat in a winged chair angled in front of the window. She picked up some embroidery from the side table. She had started the pattern months ago but lost interest soon after finishing the first green leaf in the morning glory design. At least it would keep her hands busy.

  She threaded the needle with lemon-yellow silk and focused on the flower, determined to finish at least one. If she could do nothing but wait, she might as well accomplish something with the time other than simply fretting.

  “A Mr. Manley to see you, ma’am.” Gil stood at the doorway.

  Prudence’s needle slipped, and she poked her finger, dotting the center of the flower with crimson.

  What could he want?

  “Tell him I’m not at home, Gil.”

  Simon may be an absolute boor, but surely he understood it would be poor form to pay a visit to a newly married woman the day after the wedding. Did he hope to goad Evan into some sort of confrontation? She could not imagine what sort of confrontation would favor Simon.