Lady Prudence could not help but gravitate toward the pair in anticipation of the coming events. Her heart pounded in her ears and she felt as if she too were a child about to be chastised. It was amazing that no matter how many years she possessed she always felt like a small girl when confronted by the anger of a grown male.
Lord Halthaven made her even more leery for he seemed far too calm and collected in this moment. Her father had been much the same. He would give the appearance of rationality until the last moment when his temper would explode into an uncontrollable rage. If ever the Baggington children thought that he had seen the reason of their ways, it was not long before they were shown otherwise.
Lady Prudence watched with trepidation as Marietta stepped toward the towering gentleman. With each passing moment Lady Prudence felt even more on edge. She wondered if Marietta knew what to expect, or if she had ever been punished before.
As his hand raised from his side and toward the air between them, Lady Prudence could no longer contain herself. Her instinct took over and without thinking she thrust herself between the pair, shielding Marietta with her own body.
“I shall take her punishment,” she gasped. Her jaw was clenched and her brow furrowed as she prepared herself for the blow.
The moment inched on as if an eternity as Lord Halthaven’s hand stood suspended between them. She closed her eyes and turned her face to offer her cheek. Still, it did not come.
“Miss Riverford, what is the matter?” Marietta asked behind her.
She heard him shift and so opened her eyes to ensure that he might not attempt to slip around her. One arm reached for the child at her back and pulled her close.
Her gaze turned back to the gentleman who had shifted to cross his arms. His jaw was set and his brow furrowed, but not in anger. First, in confusion which then melded into realization as he discovered what it was that Lady Prudence had anticipated.
“Come here, Marietta,” he said. One arm bent so that he might pinch the ridge of his nose. All of a sudden he seemed weary.
Lady Prudence was loathe to allow the child to approach but Marietta showed no sign of the fear, only concern for Lady Prudence herself.
“Yes, George,” Marietta murmured. “I am so very sorry.”
“I know that,” he replied in a soft tone. Again he raised one hand. His eyes connected with those of Lady Prudence before he moved any further so that she might follow the slow motion of his limb. Then, to her everlasting surprise, he brushed the wayward hairs from Marietta’s face and cupped her cheek so that she might feel his comfort as he spoke. He was gentle, and Marietta pressed her own hand over top of his as if they often stood in such a way when having an important conversation. “I hope you understand how worried we all were that some harm might have befallen you. It isn’t safe to be running off like that, even to visit friends.”
“I know,” Marietta nodded. “I never meant to cause alarm. It will never happen again. You have my word.”
“Get some rest,” he said with a sigh. Marietta leaned up to the tips of her toes and pressed a soft kiss to her cousin’s cheek. With one last murmured apology to her companion, she slipped from the study and off to her chambers.
Lady Prudence found that she had been holding her breath for the last of the exchange. It was as if her brain were unable to process what she had just witnessed. Had the gentleman just succeeded in teaching his charge her lesson without aggression or even outright scolding? Marietta had seemed contrite, of that there could have been no doubt. Lord Halthaven had been stern and serious in his demands, but never given into the anger that Lady Prudence had come to assume simmers beneath the surface of every gentleman’s façade. It was as if she had seen a spirit of the forest, or some mythical creature that was beyond explanation. She could not make sense of it.
Her mind was reeling as she turned to follow Marietta from the room. She had no words. Nothing to describe the kind and benevolent instruction that she had just witnessed.
“Prudence,” George’s voice called after her as her hand settled upon the knob of the door.
She grimaced and did not turn to look his way though neither did she take another step forward. She waited for him to speak. She could hear that he had approached the fire where Posey slept. Again, she was overcome with worry for the fate of the animal. Would the blame lie there instead? She turned upon her heel to see the gentleman crouched beside the sleeping form, his large hand stroking the fur until it was smooth and the pup released a sigh of contentment.
“Perhaps we ought to have a word,” he said in a low voice without looking up.
“George, I…” she knew not where to begin. Nor did she wish to explain her fears and see the disappointment, or disgust, written upon his face. The last thing that she wanted was for this gentleman to see her as damaged or unclean. “I would rather we did not,” she admitted in a small voice.
He raised his eyes to meet her own. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw none of the things that she expected there. Instead, his smile was soft and understanding.
“Alright then,” he nodded and pressed his lips together as if he would say no more. Then, unable to allow the moment to pass without clarification, he blurted, “I do not know what sort of terrors you have experienced in your life, Miss Riverford, but I can assure you of one thing beyond a doubt. I would never raise my hand against a lady. Neither you, Marietta, nor any other have reason to fear me. You are safe in my care, and always shall be.”
Lady Prudence released the breath that she had been holding but could not force a response past the lump in her throat. Instead, she nodded her head, dipped into a slight curtsy, and sped from the room. Her eyes welled with unwanted tears that threatened to spill before she reached the safety of her chamber.
She had heard many a gentleman profess such a statement, time and again. Never before had she believed it. This time, she did. There was no doubt in her mind that Lord Halthaven had been true in his promise, that he was a gentleman of the truest form.
It was in that moment that she felt an ache as the shell of her heart began to crack. Despite all reason and attempts to will it otherwise the goodness of his character spoke directly to the hurt in her soul and she had begun to fall in love with the man.
11
The Harvest Ball approached as the weather cooled and the fields were stripped of their bounty. Posey began to settle to the point where she might be trusted to sleep upon the foot of Marietta’s bed without risk of destruction.
Lady Prudence found herself spending more and more time with the Baron of Halthaven. She was fascinated by this gentleman who was everything opposite of what she had known.
She knew that it was wrong. That she should not allow the emotion that she felt blossoming within her. She would remind herself that she was a married woman, but the memory of Jasper and her previous life seemed so distant that she could almost convince herself that he was no longer a threat to be feared.
If only she could stay in this moment, everything would be perfect.
She could sense that George wished to ask her more about her reactions, and the past that she was running from, but he held his tongue. Still, it was as if they had reached some sort of understanding of one another. It was as if they knew each other’s soul. He was cautious and aware to keep his distance and allow her ample personal space, though sometimes Lady Prudence wished that he would give in to the longing that she might glimpse from time to time when he thought that she could not see.
Lady Prudence learned that Lord Halthaven’s gentle, but firm, ways were not limited to his dealings with his charge. His tenants held him in the highest of esteem. He was not only respected but honored for his kindness. Smart enough not to be taken for a fool, and understanding enough that one might ask for his aid in a time of need.
She understood now why the Mother Abbess had placed so much trust upon her nephew’s young shoulders. He was as a gentleman of rare form. As they all professed to be, but so many fell short.
&nb
sp; The afternoon was ripe with the beauty of autumnal splendor. Lady Prudence found herself breathing in the scent of the crisp leaves and the brittle grasses like a balm to the hurt of her soul.
Her chin was perched upon the cross of her hands as she leaned fully against the top rung of the fence that contained a herd of milk cows. With eyes closed she allowed her other senses to soak in the world around her. Marietta could be heard off in the distance calling down upon the animals from her vantage point in a tree that overhung the pasture.
A warm breath brushed her face and before she could retreat Lady Prudence felt a surge of wet pressure against her cheek.
She scrunched her nose and laughed, turning her face into her shoulder to protect against the gentle nudges of the cow. The animal sniffed at the twist of her hair that was piled atop her head and then moved on, deeming her curls unfit as a future meal.
“It is good to hear you laugh,” George said as he came to lean in a similar fashion upon the next fencepost down. He looked out over the fields. This allowed Lady Prudence to pretend that she had not heard his statement, if she so wished. Though there was no one else in earshot that he might have been speaking to.
“It’s easy here,” she admitted.
Finally, he turned toward her. “Are you happy?” he asked.
Lady Prudence was caught off guard by the question. She could not ever remember, in her entire being, ever having been asked something so simple as if she were happy. Well or ill, hungry or with thirst, warm or chilled. Of course those things had been asked in abundance but never once could she recall being asked if she were happy. She took a long time to consider her answer, as well as its implications, before she continued. With a sigh, she decided that she was ready to be honest, in part.
“I am happier now than I think I have ever been in my lifetime,” she said with a shrug as if it were no matter.
“I imagine most ladies would be bored with our simple life,” he added. “Though, I suppose it is not so different from the Abbey. Perhaps, even a bit more lively, I should hope.”
“Simplicity suits me,” Lady Prudence replied.
“I suppose that is what makes you wish to join the sisters,” he mused. “Or, is there more to it than that?”
“I suppose I do not seem very pious,” she laughed.
“I find that overt piety is more often an act that not,” he muttered. “The best nuns in the abbey are nothing more than regular people with a love for their faith. At least, that is what my Aunt always says.”
“A fair observation,” she agreed. “Your Aunt is a very wise woman.”
Lady Prudence stood upon the precipice of truth. She wanted more than anything to tell Lord Halthaven that she had no desire to be a nun, could never be. She knew that he longed to know her reason, and passion, for such a lifestyle. She could not bear to lie aloud to one whom had only shown her kindness and truth himself. Yet, her truth would bring forth an entirely different set of questions that she dared not face.
“You have not answered my question,” he teased.
“My skill at avoidance is not so neat as some, I see,” she laughed. “Alright, I will tell you true.” She took a deep breath and collected her courage. Without the idea of her joining the convent between them, Prudence would need to be even more careful not to encourage Lord Halthaven’s affections. She was still wed, though she could not bring herself to tell him so much, else she would also need explain her fear of Jasper. Those horrors were still too fresh to speak aloud. “I have no wish to join the Abbey, nor have I ever. The novice that visits is my eldest sister. I came to Halthaven because she was the only person that I could think of that might take me in.”
“Take you in from what?” His voice was a bare whisper as if he wished not to scare her away from the conversation, yet very much wished to know more.
She shook her head. “I have already said more than I ought. I promised the Mother Abbess to keep my silence and here I am saying too much.”
“Then, say no more,” he nodded. “Only know your words are safe with me.”
“Of that I am fully aware.” Lady Prudence could not help but offer him a small smile. He was the closest thing to a true friendship that she had ever experienced. She had the utmost faith that her revelations would go no further.
“On a brighter note,” Lord Halthaven stood and clapped his hands together as if to signify that the conversation might move onward, “I have spoken with my Aunt about the Harvest Ball and she agrees that there no reason that you ought not attend. The event is within the confines and safety of my properties and is not the sort of thing that draws much attention from those outside of our neighborhood.”
“Perhaps that is so,” she replied, “but I still see no reason to step forth in a crowd when...” She stopped herself before she could reveal that any number of guests might know the well-traveled and deviously charming Earl of Fondleton. “No,” she shook her head, “I still do not think it a wise idea.”
“She asked that I might deliver this letter,” he said with a proffered envelope marked with the Abbey’s seal. “She seemed to think it might bring you some relief.”
Lady Prudence took the letter with trembling fingers. She knew that Lord Halthaven was thinking along a similar train of thought; that there might be news within that promised that the danger had passed and she was free of all she ran from.
The wax peeled away in one smooth piece, having only been set that morning it was not yet brittle to the touch.
Inside was the elegant script of the Mother Abbess as she set about the task of explaining all that had transpired in the weeks since Lady Prudence had arrived on her doorstep. Many of the names and titles were unknown to Lady Prudence’s own recollection. If nothing else she could see that the nun had stitched together an elaborate network of valuable resources during her time at the Abbey.
“I see,” Lady Prudence murmured with her best attempt at disguising the unexpected wave of disappointment that had washed away the happiness that had once pervaded the sunny afternoon.
“What is it?” George asked.
“Well, it explains why she sees no fault in my attendance of the ball,” she said with a shrug. She handed the letter over so the he might peruse the contents for himself. “I shall be leaving the day next for an undisclosed location to start my life anew.”
She should have been happy. She should have felt nothing but relief and gratitude that the Reverend Mother had been able to find a place that was safe from the reaches of Jasper Numbton and his wicked ways. She should have been happy, but she was not.
The idea that she would soon leave this place brought a lump to her throat. Even Lord Halthaven seemed unable to formulate a response as his did his best to hide the disappointment that flickered briefly across his face.
“You shall go then,” he murmured. It was more statement than question. They both knew that she must.
“It appears so,” she replied. Lady Prudence tucked the letter into the waist fold of her gown. There seemed much left unsaid between the pair but there was no point in saying anything else now. Soon enough she would be gone and she might never lay eyes upon George or Marietta again.
“Well,” he took a fortifying breath and did his best to reveal a convincing smile. “The Harvest Ball shall double as your farewell. You must attend. I shall not take no for an answer.”
She had no way to decline without speaking more upon her departure. If he would lead the way for the appearance of a happy farewell, she would follow suit. Though it seemed a fool’s errand to celebrate what was sure to be a heartbreaking evening as she prepared to leave this peaceful life forever, perhaps she might look forward to one last happy memory.
“Alright,” she said with a firm nod. “If the Mother Abbess approves, then I shall make the best of my final hours here in Halthaven.” Lord Halthaven offered his arm so that they might walk to collect Marietta from her tree. He spoke of the festivities with renewed excitement, promising that it would be t
he best Harvest Ball that the town had ever seen. Lady Prudence could almost bring herself to pretend that she looked forward to the event.
12
The preparations for the ball were bittersweet. Lady Prudence was forced to fight back tears every time that she thought about leaving the serenity that she had found in this quaint little estate. Lizzie threw herself into the making of the going-away gown, though her swollen fingers were beginning to promise the coming on of her labor in the approaching weeks.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Lady Prudence exclaimed with a sigh of pleasure at the sight of the elegant gown.
The delicate ivory overlay glistened in the light as the tiniest beads that Lady Prudence had ever laid eyes upon created an ethereal dusting of reflective shimmer that seemed to float around the gown, rather than adhere to it. “It is as if you’ve captured a snowfall under the full moon!”
Lizzie laughed.
“Well, I am glad you like it,” she clasped the hands of her friend who had grown most dear in their quiet visits. “It is my first attempt at beading. Mother helped, as well as my cousin, Rose. Together it was not a chore in the least. We talked and laughed and I almost forgot that I am tied to this blasted bed. Though, I cannot tell a lie, there were moments when I nearly pitched the entire thing.”
“How could you?” Lady Prudence cried. “It is a masterpiece. I shouldn’t wear it, you should save it for yourself.”
“Nonsense,” Lizzie replied. “Lord Halthaven has paid me well for my efforts. This gown was made for you and I expect you to keep it.”
Lady Prudence forced her mouth closed as it had been left to hang open in her shock. She had not known that George had been paying for the use of her wardrobe, or the commission of such a fine gown. She was happy for it, because it made Lizzie’s effort well worth her time. The young mother-to-be could use the funds though Lady Prudence had had none herself to offer, and any talk of repayment had been refused with a firm scowl.
The Countess and The Baron: Lady Prudence Baggington (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 3) Page 9