Folly's Reward

by Jean R. Ewing

“What?”

  He smiled, a smile of heartbreaking uncertainty with something of dread behind it.

  “I asked you to marry me, you know, before we were so outrageously interrupted. I rather hoped you had considered your answer.”

  “Oh, I have,” Prudence said, rising to her feet.

  He loved his brother’s wife. Miss Prudence Drake was damned if she would take second place, and break her heart over him for the rest of her life. Even without that, she was no match for him, was she? A Scottish governess and the son of an English earl.

  Prudence clasped her hands together and willed them to be still, but her voice broke and wavered.

  “I have considered everything about my situation very carefully, Mr. Acton. I shall come to Acton Mead with you, because is it best for Bobby. But I will never, ever, marry you.”

  “You deny me even hope?”

  She reached deep into some cold, dark corner of her heart, which could lend implacability to her voice, and found it.

  “I say never because I mean it. It is completely out of the question.”

  Harry looked down at the carpet. His face was almost as white as his collar.

  “Very well,” he said at last. “I’m sorry that my offer distresses you so very much. Please rest assured that I shan’t annoy you about it. Since the thought of spending your life with me causes you so much pain, I shan’t ask you again.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He glanced back at her. The harebell eyes looked as bleak as the top of Shap Fells, and seemed fathomless in his pale face.

  “Let us pretend that I was never foolish enough to ask you, and put it behind us. I suppose I had better begin readying everything for our journey. If you will excuse me, Miss Drake?”

  He closed the door softly behind him, leaving Prudence alone to bite back the bitter tears that threatened to spill in a torrent down her cheeks.

  * * *

  The carriage ride was an agony. Not physically, for Lord Jervin’s coach boasted the latest style in springs and had deeply upholstered seats, but because Prudence sat opposite the Honorable Henry Acton and made small talk. Her Prince Hal was lost to her forever.

  She must henceforth think of him as Harry Acton, the earl’s son, who was about to swim as far out of her life as the silkie diving into the ocean to return to his magical home in the Skerries.

  But there had been golden days in his company. For the rest of her life, whenever she was lonely and ignored, as governesses must be, she had something wonderful to remember. It was an unpalatable and harsh consolation.

  Harry was polite and guarded, and Prudence could tell nothing of what he was thinking. Why had she let him beguile her? Kiss her? Make her fall in love with him, as if she were a green girl instead of a sensible governess?

  They come to shore and marry real ladies, you know, and steal their hearts, but they always abandon them and their babies, and go back to the sea in the end.

  If Harry had not stopped her that night on the narrow boat, there might even have been a child.

  * * *

  They traveled fast, stopping only to pay tolls and change horses. No one intercepted them or seemed to be following them, but Hal sat tense and alert with his primed pistols at the ready. It rained hard for the entire journey, and was bitterly cold. The warm days that had blessed the wanderings of The White Lady were over, as if the weather reflected the state of her heart.

  By early evening they had reached the Chilterns. London was not too far ahead.

  Little by little their stilted conversation tailed away. Prudence found herself watching the changing countryside in a blur of suppressed tears, while Hal—no, Harry Acton—pointed out landmarks and told enchanting stories to an excited five-year-old lord whose life was in danger.

  Harry seemed untouched by her refusal of his proposal. Perhaps he was relieved. He might have found it amusing to flirt with her on the narrow boat, but now he knew who he was, he could hardly seriously consider tying himself to her for life. Thank God she had found the strength of mind to refuse him!

  If only it didn’t hurt so very much.

  It was already dark when they turned into a large deer park—grazed by a scattering of white sheep—and pulled up before the ivy-covered facade of a gracious country house. Everything dripped and ran with rainwater. The ivy sparkled with myriad jewels in the flare of several flambeaux.

  A footman opened the door and another ran out to them with an umbrella. Harry leapt down from the carriage.

  “Hello, Williams! Filthy night, isn’t it? Can someone tell Lord Lenwood that his troublesome, scapegrace, prodigal brother has come for a visit and expects him to bring forth the best robe and the ring and the shoes, and to bring hither the fatted calf and kill it?”

  “Well, bless my soul! Master Harry? Good Lord! Would you take it amiss if I were to shake you by the hand, sir?”

  “Not at all.” Harry laughed as the footman seized his hand and pumped it vigorously up and down. “It’s damned good to see you in such hale spirits, Williams, after what happened last Christmas.”

  “Aye, wicked doings, sir. Wicked doings. But there’s no more of that at Acton Mead these days, I’m glad to say. We’re blessed with a happy household now.”

  Prudence ducked under a second umbrella and ushered Bobby into the hallway after Hal. A happy household? She looked about at the lovely Jacobean ceiling and sturdy old doors. It was a building of so much simple, old-fashioned, unpretentious beauty.

  So this calm, lovely place was Acton Mead.

  One of the doors opened to reveal the slender figure of a woman. Her bright blond hair was dressed plainly in a knot at the back of her neck and she wore an elegantly simple gown, but her face shone like a lamp with contentment. She looked beautiful—radiating serenity and calm.

  As she saw the visitors she broke into a wide smile. It could only be Helena, Lady Lenwood, for her house reflected her. No wonder Harry had lost his heart!

  Prudence felt herself blush to the eyebrows. She tried with limited success to shrink back behind the footman as Helena came forward, hands outstretched.

  “Harry! Oh, Richard will be so delighted to see you. I’m so delighted to see you. Where have you been? We thought you’d gone off to Timbuktu and we had lost you forever. How could you not have sent word?”

  Helena seemed alight with pleasure.

  Harry laughed and took her proffered hands. “As if I would not come back to you and my stiff-necked idiot of a brother, beloved Helena.”

  He smiled gaily as Helena reached up on tiptoe to kiss him. How much pain lay beneath that gallant smile?

  “And who is this?” Helena asked kindly, turning to Bobby.

  “Lord Dunraven, at your service, ma’am.” Bobby offered his hand. “I’m quite hungry. Do you really have a fatted calf? I’ve always wanted to eat one.”

  “We shall see what we can do,” Helena replied, shaking the small hand very seriously. “And if there’s no fatted calf then I’m sure there are scones and honey, or maybe even cake. We’ll ask Cook.”

  Bobby beamed at her.

  Helena smiled at Prudence as Harry introduced her. “Welcome to Acton Mead, Miss Drake. Any friend of Harry’s is always very welcome here.”

  How could Helena show such a lack of curiosity or censure that her unmarried brother-in-law should turn up unannounced with an unchaperoned single lady and a child? No wonder Harry was so madly in love with her! What man wouldn’t be? Helena was everything that Prudence felt she herself was not: beautiful, graceful, and entirely self-possessed.

  Prudence dropped a curtsy. “I am Lord Dunraven’s governess, my lady.”

  “Well, you will be one of the family here. Acton Mead is shamefully informal. It belonged to Richard and Harry’s grandmother, you see, and they played here as boys. It’s an atmosphere that none of us wants to change. Let me help you off with your wet things. You must be exhausted. How far did you come today?”

  “From Oxford,” Harr
y said. “Helena, my beautiful sister, where’s Richard? I have something horrendously important to discuss with him.”

  “Now, isn’t that typical of men!” Helena laughed. “Harry goes off to France and returns almost three months later with no more warning than a March hare leaping from a hedgerow, and all he can think of is to discuss business with his brother.” She turned to Harry with a smile full of charm. “If it’s confidential, it’ll have to wait, sir. We have other company. Someone, in fact, who’s been looking for you.”

  “Looking for me?” Harry raised a brow. “Not some old crony from Oxford dunning Richard for my gaming debts, I hope, because I didn’t leave any. Or is it an irate father demanding I offer my sorry name to his ruined daughter and the brat she would like to pass off as mine? No, no, I can see from your attempt to frown that it’s someone respectable, in which case they are pulling the wool over your eyes, dear Helena. I have no respectable connections at all.”

  “Except us.” Helena slipped her hand through Harry’s arm and laid her head for a moment against his sleeve. “Richard and I have settled down to be the very picture of quiet domesticity. We think we deserve it after the outrages that took place at Christmas.”

  She looked at Prudence and smiled again. “You must forgive me for so ignoring you, Miss Drake. Harry saved Richard’s life last winter, you see, so I will always love him to distraction.”

  Harry turned Helena’s face up to his and kissed her soundly on the forehead. He seemed filled with happiness.

  “As we all love you, Helena. Every one of us sorry Actons worships the very hem of your skirts, even my mother and, more remarkably, my father—and not only because you carry the next heir. Acton Mead is only the haven that it is because of you. You are the balm that daily heals Richard’s soul. No, don’t deny it! You’re too honest to lend weight to a lie.”

  Prudence shed her hat and gloves, and helped Bobby out of his coat. Her hands felt cold and clammy. A dreadful pain lodged in her throat, as if she would never be able to swallow again.

  Helena looked down and grinned as Bobby went up to her and trustingly put his small hand in hers, then she held out a welcoming arm, including Prudence in the hospitality of Acton Mead as if she were an old friend.

  “Come, Miss Drake! Don’t listen to Harry’s nonsense. Acton Mead is laid out like a maze. Let me guide you in and ring for some tea. You must warm yourself, before I show you to your chamber. My husband won’t mind if he meets you in your travel clothes, and neither will our guest, I’m sure. Tea should come before everything else in my opinion.”

  Helena looked down and smiled at Bobby. “Tea with scones, Lord Dunraven?”

  They were ushered through a series of rooms, each brought alive by great vases of flowers. At last Helena came to a sturdy oak door and laid her hand on the knob.

  “Richard entertains in this little study these days. We have a grand fire in here, and it’s close enough to the kitchen that the scones for Lord Dunraven will arrive still hot and dripping with butter. Come in!”

  Helena opened the door and gestured Harry and Prudence inside.

  Two gentlemen sat in earnest conversation in front of a roaring fire.

  The drapes and shutters were closed to keep out the dark of the rainy evening. Warmth and security beckoned, an ideal haven for travelers arriving on a stormy night. There was nothing overpowering or grand about Acton Mead. The room felt cozy, filled with love.

  A blond man stood up immediately at their entrance. Prudence saw him exchange a glance with Helena that made her heart contract with ungenerous envy. So this was Harry’s brother, Lord Lenwood!

  In startling contrast to the golden sheen of his hair, Richard’s eyes were as black as night. Yet there was a strong family resemblance to Harry in the straight nose and high cheekbones. Richard seemed graver, more serious, perhaps, though contentment sat in every feature.

  Helena smiled back at him. In that brief moment his eyes reflected a depth of tenderness and understanding. Was this what it meant to share love without doubt or question?

  The black eyes moved to take in the newcomers, and filled with delight and laughter.

  “For God’s sake!” he exclaimed, striding up to them. “Harry! You’re a damned reprobate, sir! Where the devil did you spring from? Do you once again promise to stay as grave and sober as a monk, and then create bedlam in my house?”

  The brothers embraced with open affection, and Richard led Harry up to the other gentleman who had been sitting with him at the fireside.

  The man rose to his feet, looking thoughtfully at the group that had entered.

  Prudence judged him to be close to fifty, perhaps, though his hair was still dark. Lean and tall, he was stunningly handsome, but there was something almost sinister in the piercing eyes and strongly aquiline nose.

  He smiled at Harry, and the menace in his look disappeared.

  She shook herself. Of course Lord Lenwood’s guest was not dangerous. He was just older and more powerful, perhaps, than the others, with something a little feral in his manner.

  “You must know,” Richard said to the older man, “that the last time Harry was at Acton Mead he came in the wake of a murderer.”

  “Not this time, I trust.” Harry laughed and held out his hand to the stranger. “This time I came here to avoid one.”

  “And the events at Christmas weren’t his fault, of course. They were mine,” Richard continued gaily. “Allow me to introduce Henry Acton, my disreputable younger brother, whom you have been seeking in vain for so long.”

  The older man shook Harry’s hand. Richard grinned at them.

  “Harry, if you weren’t such a damned shady character you could have saved Helena and myself a great deal of worry, and made things simpler for the marquess, though as it turns out he has done a remarkable job of tracking you down. Allow me to present Alexander Duchain, the Marquess of Belham, who has been longing to make your acquaintance.”

  Prudence felt the floor move beneath her. Flames seemed to roar from the fireplace to wash over them all with unbearable heat. Yet everyone continued to exchange greetings like neighbors at the county ball.

  “I am very pleased to locate you at last, Mr. Acton,” Lord Belham said, laughing openly. “None of the reports I received did you justice.”

  “Yet I would seem to have made it elementary for you to find me, sir,” Harry replied without any visible surprise or hesitation. “For here I am.”

  He grinned with irrepressible gaiety, and with a gesture invited Prudence and Bobby to step forward to join them.

  “And here is your little ward, Lord Dunraven,” Harry said, “with his governess, Miss Drake. You must have felt the most dreadful anxiety about them, too.”

  The roar became deafening.

  * * *

  Prudence awoke to find herself in a shadowed chamber. She was lying on a feather bed with a quilt over her. A fire flickered in the grate, and a single candle burned at the bedside.

  “You are awake?” It was Helena’s voice.

  “What happened?” Her own voice sounded horribly feeble in her ears.

  “You fainted. I feel entirely responsible. You must have been exhausted from the journey. It was thoughtless of me to take you straight into an overheated room like that. Are you more the thing now?”

  Prudence struggled up, pushing aside the cover.

  “I have never fainted before in my life. Lady Lenwood, I’m so sorry.”

  “Please, call me Helena. And may I call you Prudence?”

  “You’re very kind.” Prudence looked about the room and felt another flood of panic. “Where’s Bobby?”

  “The small Lord Dunraven? He’s in the kitchen with Mrs. Hood, my housekeeper, and she is smothering him with affection, primarily in the form of baked goods. Harry is with him. My brother must be very taken with your small charge, Prudence, for he refused to leave him alone for a moment. He also said that you would want Bobby to sleep in your room tonight. So we have made up an
extra bed for him, over there. Is that to your liking? If not, we have a splendid nursery.”

  “Oh, no! Pray, let him sleep in here with me. I should much prefer it.”

  “Excellent! Then we have made everyone happy. Lord Belham is very pleased to find his little ward arrived safely, as you may guess. He wants everything arranged for Bobby just as you would wish. I don’t believe the marquess is terribly comfortable with small children.”

  “Lord Belham told you he was Bobby’s guardian and that he was looking for him?”

  “Yes, indeed. And he knew you were traveling with Harry, so he decided to wait here for you all to arrive. But I will not tire you now with strings of silly questions. I’ll leave you alone to rest, shall I?”

  Helena rose to leave, but Prudence held out a restraining hand.

  “Lady Lenwood! Helena. Could you tell me something?”

  “Of course, if I can. What did you wish to know?”

  Prudence swung her legs from the bed and gathered her thoughts. If she closed her eyes she could still see the string of odd symbols on that little scrap of paper. Then she looked up into Helena’s face.

  “About Harry. Why did he go to France?”

  * * *

  Bobby sat at the kitchen table with his mouth full of scones and honey, the perfect image of a contented child. Harry managed to get Mrs. Hood, the housekeeper, away from Bobby’s plate and to one side for a moment.

  “Mrs. Hood, I know this will seem odd, but can you promise me on your most solemn oath that you won’t let that little boy out of your sight for a moment? In particular, keep Lord Belham or any of his servants from being alone with the child. I want your word on it.”

  The rotund housekeeper glanced at the child and back up at Harry with obvious distress.

  “Of course, Master Harry, if you say so.”

  “I do say so. You remember what happened at Christmas?”

  “When that wicked fellow tried to poison John and Williams? I’ll never forget it, sir. Surely you don’t think—”

  “I don’t know what to think, Mrs. Hood. But my brother John wasn’t even the intended victim, and Bobby may be. He is only five years old. There’s no room to take any chances. He mustn’t be left alone with anyone except Miss Drake or myself. Promise me!”