“Don’t be cross,” Lizzie winced. “Lord Halthaven made me promise not to tell. He knew that you would never accept the kindness.”
“I am glad for your sake,” Lady Prudence replied. “It is only that I do not know how I shall ever repay him for all that he has done.”
“You need not,” the seamstress said with a shrug. “We have all been glad to have known you. The best you could do is go on toward your own happiness, and do not forget us.”
“I shall never forget you,” Lady Prudence promised with her whole heart. “Not a single one.”
There could be no promise of letters or further visits for the Mother Abbess had made clear that once Lady Prudence vacated Halthaven she was to wash her hands of all she had once known and start anew. Any further contact or tie might only work to lead Lord Fondleton to her place of hiding.
She pressed a kiss to her friend’s cheek and thanked her a thousand times over for her skill and thoughtful care in the creation of the prized gown. Even though she had yet to don the item, Lady Prudence knew that it would be the most beautiful thing that she had ever, or would ever, wear in her lifetime.
Marietta was saddened that she could not attend the ball at her companion’s side. To relieve her sadness, Lady Prudence helped her make comfortable a vantage point from the top of the stair. They set pillows and blankets against the rail so that Marietta might look down upon the crowd as the ladies arrived in their beautiful gowns and the men in their fine silk coats. Lady Prudence promised to wave up to the girl whenever she passed, so that Marietta might feel a part of the festivities.
“When I am older I want to look just like you,” the petite blonde twirled about the room with one of the elder’s day gowns pressed to her front as if to wear.
“Don’t be silly,” Lady Prudence laughed. “You shall be beautiful and Lord Halthaven will ensure that you have the most fashionable gowns to set off your fine features.”
“Exactly,” Marietta replied with a nod as if they were in agreement. “I shall look just like a picture, like you!”
Lady Prudence could not help but be overcome with confusion. She was not beautiful. No one had ever thought to call her so and, though she did prefer the simplicity of her current style, she would never encourage one as impressionable as Marietta to wish herself a muted experience.
“Don’t clench your jaw like that,” the child scolded. “You look as if you don’t believe a word I say!”
The admonishment in her tone was sincere. Marietta was truly offended that Lady Prudence thought her opinion flawed.
“It is only…” Lady Prudence began. She was cut off before she could form the thought, which was a relief because she knew not what to say.
“Don’t be modest,” Marietta gaped with an exaggerated roll of her head. “Everyone has seen how George looks at you, and he doesn’t look at anyone that way. I’d call you a rare beauty. Unconventional, perhaps, but mesmerizing in the unique frame of your features. I would know, I am an artist after all.”
Marietta made her speech with such a nonchalance as she picked at a loose thread in the seam of the gown with which she was playing, that Lady Prudence could not help but believe that she meant every word. She knew not how to unpack the knowledge that came in such a short delivery.
Her heart thumped in her chest. It beat a rhythm all its own, like a trumpeter that had abandoned his group and gone off to his own tune. She felt a giddy, nervous sensation that she dared not evaluate. After all, she would be leaving on the morrow. It was best not to think too much on the lessons that she had learned about herself during her stay at Halthaven. Nor about the gentleman who was the source of much of that knowledge.
Lady Prudence fell silent as she completed her preparations for the ball with the boisterous girl at her side. Marietta was lively enough that she took no notice of her companion’s pensive attitude.
From the floor below they could hear the guests begin to arrive as they were greeted at the door by their host. Lady Prudence was determined to wait until the crush had arrived so that she might slip into the crowd unnoticed.
She was not well known in the community and was thankful that she ought not be required to fulfill any of the hosting duties. Lord Halthaven would be busy enough with that task. She might venture to the ballroom for a set or two before slipping back up the staircase to join Marietta behind the bannister.
“You look like an angel,” Marietta crooned as she pinched the lady’s cheeks and straightened the silver comb that had been leant from the young miss’s own collection.
“Hush now,” Lady Prudence replied. “There is no need for flattery.” Still, she kissed the girl upon the head before preceding her to the stair with a lightness in her heart from the kind word. Marietta took her place upon her cushioned throne and gave and excited wave toward the waiting staircase. With a quivering breath, Lady Prudence stepped forward to look down upon the party below.
Dozens of couples milled about as they waited for the music to begin. One lone lady descending a stair would go unnoticed soon enough on such a night. Her eyes scanned the crowd and saw not one familiar face. In such a crowd she might enjoy herself without fear that word might return to Nettlefold, or worse, Jasper. They had even contrived a false relation for the evening, Miss Prudence Riverford was to be a distant cousin to Baron Halthaven, thrice removed. With a sigh of relief she placed her hand upon the bannister and began to make her way to the lower floor.
Halfway between the landing and the main floor, she noticed a figure move to the wide, carved pillar that marked the end of the rail. Her eyes traveled from the shine of his shoes to trim hips and further still to steadfast shoulders, where she eventually came to meet the warm gaze of none other but Lord Halthaven himself.
Despite her determination to repress it, a smile broke forth and she found herself beaming down upon his happy face.
He offered a nod, as a true gentleman might, and awaited her approach with a proffered arm. When her feet descended the final step, she slipped her fingers into the curve of his elbow and allowed herself a shaky breath.
“You look magnificent,” he leaned close so that she might hear him over the roar of the crowd.
She could feel the blush heating her cheeks as she made some offhanded comment about his need to attend to his guests. Even to her own ears her words fell flat for it was clear that George had eyes for only one in attendance. Never before had Lady Prudence felt more welcome and adored. It was nearly enough to send her racing back to her rooms, if George had not placed his hand atop her own, under the guise of guiding her to the ballroom, to prevent it.
Once again, she found herself wishing that she could live in this lone moment forever. The harsh realities of her real life seemed another world from that which she had lived in the recent weeks. She could almost convince herself that all the danger had passed, that this was far enough from Jasper to escape his notice and start anew.
Still, it would not do.
Whether she cared to admit it or not, there was still risk that someone might bring word to the earl of her whereabouts. Even if that dreaded moment never came to pass, her dream could never be for no matter what else happened, she was already married.
This fantasy that she had created, she now realized, centered on the delusion that she might one day be able to build a future with George and Marietta. A real future, a life. It had been amplified by the arrival of her moon’s blood the week prior, finally confirming the truth that Jasper had not got her with child despite his best efforts. The truth was, that she was in love with Lord Halthaven.
She had grown to love his caring heart and the steady nature of his character. The dream of a quiet life together was never going to come to pass and she needed come to terms with that knowledge. However, a heart is not as easy to convince as the mind so when the music started up and Lord Halthaven swept her onto the dance floor, Lady Prudence could not help but give herself over to the dream for just this one night.
To
morrow, she would be gone to whatever end of the earth the Mother Abbess had secured in a valiant attempt to keep her hidden. What harm could come from allowing herself one small moment of pleasure, one which she might look back upon and treasure for the rest of her days?
The music galloped along at a lively pace, leaving the dancers winded and laughing from the exertion. There was nothing of romance about the tune but Lady Prudence enjoy herself all the more for its energetic rumble. She could feel a hundred eyes upon her as they whispered and wondered about her identity.
She allowed a giggle to bubble up from within as the fun of the game took her over. She was neither the most enchanting, nor most beautiful, lady in attendance. Nor did she wish to be. Yet, neither was she overlooked as she had come to expect.
It was a boon to her confidence to know that, as her own person, she might still have value in this fickle world. Perhaps the small neighborhood of Nettlefold had been too limited in its scope. Perhaps she had limited herself with her own assumptions about her value, or lack thereof.
This evening, she determined, would be the birth of a new Prudence. Nevermore would she look down upon herself for the amusement of others. She would surround herself only with those that brought light and happiness to her world.
How she wished, more than anything, that she might not have to leave in the morning.
She had not realized that she had spoken the words aloud until her gaze met with the warmth of her partner and she saw that very wish reflected in his eyes. Before he could reply, she turned her head and made a comment about the size of the crowd or some other such nonsense.
George had the grace not to press the topic, for it could only end in sadness for the both of them. Still, she felt his arm tighten at her back as he pulled her just a hair closer. She wondered if he too was doing his best to savor what few moments remained in their short acquaintance.
The set ended and in her flustered state, Lady Prudence decided to return to her rooms for the remainder of the evening. Just as she turned to leave, she felt a slight pressure upon her hand, the softest of touches that would have barely been noticed had it not shot straight to her heart.
“Promise me the waltz,” George begged with a regretful voice.
He was loathe to return to his duties and take his leave from her side, but the promise of another dance, a waltz at that, seemed to fortify his spirit. Lady Prudence could not deny him the pleasure. Besides, there was nothing more that she desired than to be swept along upon his arm in the risqué twirl of the dance. She would remain rooted in this very spot until he returned if he asked it. She gave the slightest of nods and felt his fingers feather against hers once more.
How was it that such a soft caress, too small to even be noticed by a prying eye, could cause her heart to race and thump as if it were trying to burst from her chest? Her head spun like a drunkard and her eyes could not help but follow him as he made his way through the crowd to the far side of the room to greet his guests.
All of Jasper’s pressure and forcefulness had been revolting. There had been nothing gentle about him and therefore he had elicited no desire from his wife. Yet, Lord Halthaven had barely brushed against her, held her in his arms only once for a dance, and never made any overt gesture toward her body.
Despite her assumptions that men turned into beasts after the chase was over and they had a woman alone, Prudence felt certain that it would not be so with George. To be loved and cared for with such tenderhearted kindness was better than any dream and yet, she could not accept his affections.
What a terrible joke The Lord in Heaven had played upon her heart to let her encounter such a man when it was already too late.
She wandered aimlessly through the crowd for a few hours, playing the role of distant cousin. She accepted a glass of liquored punch from a friendly young gentleman named called Max who declared himself the baron’s oldest school chum and went on and on about George’s fine character.
The drink, and the company, allowed her to relax. She even allowed Max to partner her for two dances in a row, which would have been scandalous if it had not been for his own wife laughing along upon the arm of George at their side.
The foursome completed a quadrille, which allowed Lady Prudence a few stolen passes with the gentleman of her choice. Never had she enjoyed a ball so much as this evening. When he returned to his duties, she found herself enjoying her time with George’s friends. It was easy because she still had the waltz to look forward to.
When the first notes of the Waltz began a short while later, Lord Halthaven was nowhere to be found. Lady Prudence could not help but feel her shoulders droop in disappointment. The evening was almost over and she would miss the part that she had most looked forward to.
Then, like a rush of fresh air, he sped past from behind her, grasping her hand and pulling her along after him as they raced toward the floor. Lady Prudence laughed with glee at the carefree and childish manner that she had never once before felt bold enough to risk.
“Come now, we’re late,” he said with panting breath as he drew her into his arms.
She threw her head back and laughed with abandon. It felt good to give in to the moment, if only for just this once.
13
Jasper Numbton dipped his head low to conceal the snarl that had transformed his features from that of a jovial new acquaintance and revealed the demon that dwelled within. He had secured invitation to the Harvest Ball by having let a nearby summer house of a distant acquaintance who had returned to London for the coming winter.
A false name and the growth of neatly trimmed facial hair were enough to conceal the truth of his identity from any but those who knew him well. All of the neighborhood had been invited and so Jasper had decided to make his appearance to see if word of his wife might be found in such a crowd. Perry, waited outside, plying the drivers with drink and picking their memories for mention of a buxom lady traveling alone. When Jasper had discovered that the eldest Baggington had joined the nearby convent, it occurred to him that Lady Prudence might have stopped here.
Never had he expected that she might be in attendance. Nor that she was a clear favorite to the host, who raced away from their introductions as soon as was proper to sweep Prudence onto the dance floor for the waltz.
It was brazen! It was an outrage! Prudence was his! Had the little harlot been dancing without care all these weeks, never once concerned that Jasper might hunt her down? He was determined to out her, ruin her, take her home and beat her for her disobedience.
No, he calmed himself with a series of long, slow breaths. He must remain cool and collected. Too often rage might spoil a plot for those who were not as brilliant and cunning as himself. Lord Fondleton never allowed his emotions to take over his plotting. It was for that reason that he was so very successful in his exploits.
Except, he thought, for that one time in Nettlefold… and all knew how that had turned out. If it were not for that very slip up he would not be chasing after The Baggage and he might have had the pleasure of the fine, Juliana instead. How the lovely Juliana had escaped him, Jasper could not say, but some small part of him still blamed Prudence for that failure.
He cursed the woman. She was neither beautiful, nor interesting enough to warrant this much effort. Still, his reputation would be in shambles if it became known that his wife, and a homely one at that, had run away. And now that she would make a cuckold of him with some back country baron! The rage near over took him.
Lord Fondleton chose a shaded corner from which to watch the couple upon the floor. Prudence looked different than he remembered. Less showy and, somehow for that, more appealing. It was as if a light had lit from within her and he felt all at once possessive.
How dare she hang upon the arm of that gentleman and stare up at him with an unobstructed smile? She ought to have been honored that he had taken her as is wife, forced or not. Any woman was fortunate to have his affections and he would not be put to shame by some do-gooder named Ha
lthaven!
Of course he had heard all about Lord Halthaven. He was a private gentleman with impeccable standing in the community and a reputation of charitable endeavors. He had a charge, Jasper recalled, the young waif that was peering through the rail from above at the entrance. Why would such a man entangle himself in the complexities that was an affair with a married woman?
Perhaps it was all a show and he was really molten hearted. Had not Jasper himself done his best to keep up appearances so that all questions would be firmly absolved? He doubted it. This Lord Halthaven was all too pure and well-liked to be a blackguard. No, he must have been fooled by the witch. Perhaps she had appealed to his bleeding heart.
It made him sick to think of it. What a boring lifestyle this man must live. It was a shame really, Jasper thought, that he would waste away in this dark wood and never explore the pleasures of life that were like low hung fruit, ready for the picking by any peer who wished a taste.
Lady Prudence laughed as she whirled by. Oh how Jasper wished to jump out and reveal himself. The look on her face would be worth a thousand moments of pleasure as she crumbled before him. Yet, he did not move. As an observer of people he wished to know more about this gallant host who seemed so taken with Jasper’s own harlot wife.
He was rather proud of the wench. Never had he expected her to be so bold as to search for attentions elsewhere, so soon after having slipped away in the depths of night. Wherever had she gotten this rogue confidence? It made him hungry to have her again, if only to watch the light dim from her eyes as she became docile once more under his hand. That was his favorite part, their submission.
Knowing that he had won, that he would always win, was more gratifying than any word of praise that fell from a woman’s blasphemous lips. He’d rather they not speak at all. Perhaps when he got her home he would bid her silence for the next month or two. She did not need to speak to breed his heir.
The Countess and The Baron: Lady Prudence Baggington (The Nettlefold Chronicles Book 3) Page 10