Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage]

by What to Wear to a Seduction

  “You’re awfully quiet, Edwina,” Prescott noted. “You’re not still worried about the invitation, are you? As I told you before, the blackmailer wouldn’t have set the exchange at the Kendricks’ without knowing you’d be invited.”

  Once more, guilt washed over Edwina about not telling Prescott the whole truth. But Janelle’s arguments were persuasive enough for Edwina to keep her mouth closed. Ginny’s relief at Edwina assuming the role of victim was obvious, especially since she’d grown fond of Prescott.

  But what did Prescott think of Edwina being subject to a blackmailer’s scheme? Did he believe that she’d had a lover? That she’d broken her marital vows? The thought displeased. But then again, it might mean that she’d be open to taking a lover now…

  “I’m sure the invitation will be waiting for you when we return to your house,” Prescott assured.

  Edwina pushed aside all thoughts of lovers and Prescott and focused on the more important issue at hand, the blackmailer. “Ah, when we do receive the invitation, will you be prepared to leave promptly?”

  “My bags are already packed.”

  “Good. The earlier we’re there, the sooner we can get started searching rooms. This is quite a favorable development, knowing that the blackmailer is one of a limited pool of people.”

  “I agree. The gods seem to be shining favorably upon your plan. Another turn, my lady?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “It helps with your nerves, doesn’t it?”

  “Ah, yes, actually.” She smiled up at him. “And I do enjoy the benefits of exercise.” The actual benefit she was enjoying was his company, not the exercise. That, and the feel of his hand pressed reassuringly on hers, the now-familiar musky male scent that was exclusively his and the nimble way he moved alongside her.

  It was a rare treat to have Prescott all to herself, and Edwina savored the delicious heat that being near him stirred. He was so strikingly handsome and so exceedingly attentive that she could hardly blame herself for being infatuated with him.

  She tripped.

  Holding her up, he asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I ah, my toe caught on the edge of my skirt.” Dear heavens, she was infatuated with him! Her traitorous cheeks burned.

  “They’re calling you ‘The Blushing Widow,’ you know.”

  “‘Blushing’?” She felt her cheeks flame. “Really?”

  The twinkle in his eye was amused. “I can’t imagine why.”

  She bumped him with her hip and his smile only widened. “Don’t blame me, I didn’t come up with it. If they’d asked me, I would have come up with something much more spectacular.”

  “Like what?” She bit her lip.

  “Oh, I don’t know, perhaps, ‘London’s Wicked Widow’ or ‘The White-hot Widow.’”

  “Oh, you…” She moved to pull away from him.

  He hugged her closer. “No you don’t. You’re not going anywhere.” Squeezing her hand deeper into the crook of his arm, he leaned so close she could smell the lemon on his breath from the ices they’d been eating earlier. “I’m only teasing.”

  “I don’t like being teased,” she lied, fancying how he held her.

  “I meant wicked in the good sense. And what’s wrong with white-hot? Would you prefer stone-cold?”

  “Of course not. It’s just all so…ludicrous. My clothes may be different and my hair rearranged, but I’m still the same person inside.” Yet, that wasn’t quite true. When Edwina was with Prescott she felt different; she felt witty, pretty and, well, interesting. She didn’t feel like he was with her because she was the Earl of Wootten-Barrett’s daughter, or because she was well-heeled or because her father had pressed him into it. She felt like he actually enjoyed being with her. Though it had all begun as a ruse, the friendship was there, she could feel it.

  “Why do the gossipmongers choose to call me a widow when, to them at least, I won’t be a widow for long?”

  “I think some still believe that you won’t go through with the wedding.”

  She started. “Really?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. Crying off’s been known to happen a time or two.” He leaned over conspiratorially. “And in our case, it’s not so very far from the truth. It’s good, actually, and will make it all the more believable once we do break it off.”

  Edwina’s stomach sank; he said it so coolly, as if it didn’t matter. She’d miss the blazes out of him. That smile, those teasing gibes, the way she felt while with him. The friendship was nice, lovely in fact. But she wanted to explore more about how he’d made her feel when he’d kissed her. She’d never felt anything like it before and doubted that she ever would.

  But she had hardly any time left with him before he’d be gone. And then what? Would her whole acquaintance with passion have been boiled down to two startling kisses?

  She wanted more before he was gone. Much more.

  But how to do it?

  Lots of widows took lovers, so why shouldn’t she have a taste of not-so-forbidden fruit? Especially since she would never remarry. Where was the harm?

  A nervous flutter tickled her middle. Could she dare? Would she be able to go through with it? She, the woman who a handful of days before had considered herself “not built” for passion, now wanted to take a lover? It seemed too fantastic to be true.

  Prescott coughed into his gloved hand. “Lady Blankett—Janelle, as she insists I call her—is turning out to be quite the little spy. She’s already ascertained five of the other invited guests to the Kendrick estate. No doubt by tomorrow’s end she’ll know them all.”

  Edwina was surprised at the little twinge of jealousy in her heart at Prescott’s use of Janelle’s Christian name. Her stomach twisted with the stark reminder that Prescott was only pretending that she was the most special woman in his life.

  What had she been thinking when considering an affair? He didn’t want her. He’d called that kiss in the alcove an “experiment”; it meant nothing to him! Inside, she burned with humiliation. No matter what she was “built” for, it wasn’t going to happen with Prescott Devane. Or anyone else for that matter. She determined to act normal and keep up the conversation as if disappointment wasn’t spearing her heart.

  “You and Janelle seem to be getting along better,” Prescott remarked.

  “Yes, I want to thank you, Prescott, for smoothing things over between us. She still manages to challenge every idea I propose, but there isn’t the rancor that there used to be. You have a gift for understanding what makes people tick.” The first hint of breeze rustled the leaves in the trees and a young lad took off running as he attempted to fly a yellow-tailed kite on a lackluster wind. “One that I, lamentably, lack.”

  “It would be hard for anyone to see past that barbed tongue when it’s flaying one’s hide.”

  She chuckled at the vision he described. “I like the blunt way you put it.”

  “Janelle really does remind me of Mrs. Nagel and of something that Headmaster Dunn once told me. He said, ‘The sharpest tongue often guards an injured heart.’”

  Edwina was touched by the headmaster’s insight and by the fact that Prescott was wise enough to learn from it.

  “Pardon me,” a soft voice murmured from behind them.

  Stopping, she and Prescott turned. A lovely young lady with freckled cheeks, sea blue eyes and bouncy blond curls sticking out from her peach-colored bonnet stood before them. She clutched her lacy white fan before her as if in supplication. “Lady Ross, my name is Miss Matilda Gelds, and I wanted to know…wanted to ask…Well, I want to join The Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females.”

  Edwina’s smile slowly disappeared as she realized that her connection to the society had somehow become public knowledge. Her father would not be pleased. “I’m flattered, Miss Gelds, but, if I may be so bold, are you certain that your parents would approve?”

  “Your parents didn’t, and it didn’t stop you.”

  Edwina stiffened. Who
let that cat out of the bag? “A parent’s approval is not dismissed so lightly, Miss Gelds. Especially when one is still living under her parents’ roof. I was a widow—”

  “I want to do good works. Enrich my mind with engaging topics—”

  Edwina raised a hand. “Miss Gelds—”

  “I know you’re the president and I tracked you down before my friends Cornelia or Edith. I took action and sought you out. That should count for something.”

  Edwina’s eyes widened. There were others? What in heaven’s name was going on?

  “I suppose Miss Gelds will have to go through the typical membership application process?” Prescott hinted.

  Slowly, Edwina nodded. “Everyone must. Even the president cannot supplant procedure.” The society didn’t actually have a formalized process, but perhaps it soon would.

  The young lady stepped forward. “I want to become a member and follow in your footsteps, Lady Ross. Pray tell me how do I go about making my application?”

  “Do you know the location of the society?”

  “Of course, 183A Girard Street, adjacent to your home. My friends are waiting for you there. I decided it would be more shrewd to seek you out before the others made their requests.”

  Others waiting…Edwina pasted on a smile. “If you leave your information with Mrs. Lucy Thomas at the society, then I will be certain that your application is duly considered.”

  “Will you put in a good word for me, Lady Ross?”

  “I cannot make any promises, Miss Gelds. But you will have as good a chance as any.” Edwina had no idea what the process might be, but undoubtedly it would be fair.

  The young lady whirled, making the fringe of her peach cottage vest and the skirts of her white jaconet muslin walking dress swirl. “Thank you, Lady Ross! I will go make my application straightaway!” In a cloud of peach and white, the young lady raced off.

  “Oh dear heavens.” Edwina pressed her hand to her heart. “What prompted that?”

  Prescott looked down at her. “For every nasty dowager out there, there are impressionable young girls taken to romantic fancy who probably delight in the notion of a lady of means marrying a man with nothing. All for love.”

  “But what has that to do with the society?”

  “Our engagement draws attention to you, and as a consequence to your endeavors. The most notable being the society.”

  “I had no idea the society would become so publicly known.” She groaned. “Oh, my parents are not going to be happy.”

  “You mean that the comment about your parents’ not approving was true?”

  “Not approve? A club for ladies? My parents are utterly mortified.” She pressed her fingers to her temple as a sudden headache came upon her. “Oh, I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

  “I can see why a harpy like your mother-in-law might not be so enlightened. But why do your parents disapprove of the society?”

  “Where do I begin? My father is dismayed that we collect clothes for the needy and actually deliver them ourselves. He’s mortified that we help women in prison. Heaven forbid these women can support themselves as servants, seamstresses and the like when released. He doesn’t like my ‘bluestocking’ friends, my opening up my home, holding meetings. The list is long.” She sighed. “I don’t understand it and doubt I ever will.”

  “Perhaps the true reason your father disapproves of your society is because he knows what goes on at his own club? The drinking, the gaming, the friends the members don’t necessarily want their families to know about…Nothing terrible, but all preferably undisclosed. Thus, no one can question their behavior.”

  Still massaging her temple, she couldn’t help the smile that teased the corners of her lips. “It sounds as if you’ve met my father.”

  “Nay. Just a few fathers now and again. The rules for them are far different than any rules might be for their daughters. And I hardly blame him. Although I won’t ever have children, I daresay that if I had a daughter, I’d likely lock her in her room and never let a man within ten feet of her.”

  She blinked. “You won’t ever have children? Not any?”

  “If you hadn’t noticed, Edwina, I’m not exactly the kind of man for marriage and I’ll certainly not cause my children the undue hardship of being born out of wedlock.”

  “Not the kind of man for marriage?” She straightened. “You seem exactly that kind of man to me.”

  “Very amusing.” His tone was irritated. “Just because I allow ladies to give me gifts does not mean that I’m for sale.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Prescott—”

  “That’s neither here nor there, I suppose,” he retorted, looking away. Staring off into the trees, his face was expressionless, his body taut.

  “I’m being sincere, Prescott. But I am a bit shocked, I confess, by your utter rejection of the marital state. Is it because you feel that you haven’t had the benefit of seeing your parents’ marriage?”

  His brow furrowed as if he couldn’t quite believe she was pursuing the topic. Well, neither, exactly could she. But she couldn’t stop; it was like a bruise she felt compelled to poke, even if it hurt.

  “It’s because I wouldn’t be any good at it.” His tone was gruff. “I’m just not that sort of man.”

  “I must respectfully disagree. You’re a first-rate listener, a highly uncommon trait in the male species, I’m afraid. Moreover, you’re good-humored and dependable. I consider those admirable virtues for any husband or father, for that matter.”

  “Was your husband any of those things?”

  “No, actually…he was not.”

  “My point exactly. Women don’t want good listeners. They want money, status, ambition or in the best of circumstances, all three. I have none.” His tone grew heated. “Moreover, I’ll never put up with all of the idiocy that goes along with being leg-shackled to a woman.”

  She straightened, shocked by the strength of his conviction. “I had no idea you had such a negative view of women.”

  “Oh, I love women. I enjoy them immensely. I’ll just never count on one for anything, and certainly not for the rest of my life.”

  Heavy silence draped over them, only to be broken by the birds’ chirping in the trees and the shouts of the children playing nearby.

  Edwina shook her head, upset by his declaration. “I wonder, Prescott, who has wounded you to the point that you make such a sweeping condemnation of my kind?”

  He turned away from her then, taking off his hat and running his gloved hand gently through his hair. Staring off through the trees at the Serpentine beyond, he did not answer. The afternoon sun glistened on his auburn mane, streaking copper in the brown.

  “Was it Catherine Dunn?” she asked quietly.

  “I learned a lot at Andersen Hall.” Turning back to face her, he set his hat back upon his head. “She was only one of my instructors.” His tone brooked no further inquiry, and Edwina bit her tongue, despite her raging curiosity about Prescott and Mrs. Catherine Dunn.

  His eyes were cold as marble. “So you can rest assured, my lady, that I will not hold you to the engagement.”

  Somehow this comment hurt Edwina more than the dowager’s slap to her face.

  Extending his arm, he did not meet her eye. “I need to get back to Andersen Hall and check on Evie. It’s been too long. And I’m sure Dr. Winner would like a word as well. Shall we?”

  With a sadness she didn’t quite comprehend, Edwina slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and moved in step alongside him, the sun seemingly less bright and the day far more somber than just moments before.

  Chapter 20

  Holding aside the drape, Edwina peered out the window, looking for any sign of Prescott. Their discussion during the promenade at Hyde Park yesterday had left her feeling unsettled, and she was hoping for an opportunity to restore matters between them. They hadn’t exactly quarreled, but the silence in the carriage ride home had been unnerving, to say the least. She felt
his detachment like a splinter stuck deep in her finger; whenever she explored it, it stung like the dickens.

  It was her own fault, really, for being such a nosy-body. The man had suffered greatly in his life and his convictions obviously reflected that fact. Who was she to question his choices? Yet, deep in her heart she just knew that he would make a wonderful father. And husband for that matter. He was so astute and considerate and good-natured…She was certain that with just a little encouragement…

  She straightened. What was she thinking? She certainly wasn’t going to marry him and yet she became fairly jealous when he even spoke another woman’s Christian name! She must be going daft from all of the Machiavellian musings about the blackmailer. That had to be it. Why else would she be tying herself up in knots?

  It was her friendship with Prescott that mattered; it had become quite precious to her during their short acquaintance. Lord it felt like much more than mere handfuls of days. That probably resulted from the fact that before she’d even met him she’d spent days investigating his makeup. Yet her studies had hardly scratched the surface of the wonderfully complex character that was Prescott Devane.

  He was certainly forbearing enough to forgive a little prying, wasn’t he? All she needed to do was apologize for being such a nosy ninny and all would be sunshine and roses between them. It had to be, or else…or else…She bit her lip as a shadow of doubt slithered across her heart.

  The door to the blue room opened and Ginny peered around the wooden entry. “Ah, there you are, my dear.” As she approached, her lacy blond skirts swooshed with every limping step. “Hiding out from the applicants?”

  “Uh, yes.” Quickly Edwina turned away from the window and dropped the drapery. “Um, I had no idea there’d be so many.”

  “We offer something they cannot get anywhere else: a safe haven where they get the encouragement to explore topics otherwise barred from them. A few even seem interested in our good works.”