The arrangement had suited Prudence perfectly, for she would much rather work upon her new book than rush about from one dreadfully crowded party to another. Phoebe seemed well pleased, too, for she was all smiles of late. There had been no more odd outbursts, and, what was more, Prudence had seen very little of Mr. Darlington, which satisfied her quite well. Everyone occupying Hugh’s apartments appeared content.
Unfortunately, it was into this pleasant atmosphere that Prudence was going to make her announcement. Knowing it would be greeted less than enthusiastically, she steeled herself for the disapproval to come. She reminded herself firmly that she was a woman of independent age and income, and, as such, did not have to bow to anyone’s rules but her own.
She cleared her throat. “Phoebe, dear, would you care to accompany me home for a short visit?” she asked.
“Home?” Phoebe asked, plainly startled. “To the cottage? To Cornwall?”
Prudence smiled. “Yes, that is our home, darling.”
“Now?” Phoebe’s normally gentle voice was rising precipitously.
Before Prudence could answer, Hugh lowered his newspaper. “Home? Who is talking about home? You aren’t thinking of leaving, are you?” Prudence felt a twinge of guilt at her cousin’s stricken expression. Although she had seen no evidence of his alleged tendre for her, he had seemed glad enough to have her company during the past few weeks. Hugh was, she decided, sadly in need of an interest to occupy his excessive free time.
“Just for a short while, I believe,” Prudence said.
“But how? When?” Phoebe asked, looking even more distressed than Prudence had expected. “I have finally made some friends here in town! You cannot expect me to just leave them at a moment’s notice.”
“I had hoped that you might enjoy a brief jaunt—” Prudence began, but her sister did not let her finish.
“The season is nearly over! You promised me a season, Prudence,” Phoebe said, in something perilously close to a whine.
Prudence sighed. “We have been here two months already, Phoebe. I just thought—”
“Two months in which I have not been afforded a chance to come into my own, but have trailed in the wake of the celebrated authoress! And now that you are the laughingstock of Ravenscar and his cronies and I am finally making my mark, you would drag me back to Cornwall!”
Phoebe rose and tossed down her napkin in a dramatic repetition of her earlier outburst. “I can see now that you had your own motives for coming to London, and I did not figure in them at all!” She glanced around the table, her lips trembling as though she might burst into tears at any moment.
“Here now, Phoebe!” Hugh said, leaping into the breach. “There is no call to take on so. If you don’t want to go home, then your sister will just have to stay here, won’t she?” he asked, eyeing Prudence pointedly.
“No,” Prudence answered firmly. “I am leaving Friday. Lord Ravenscar has promised me a look at Wolfinger Abbey, and I intend to take it. I have always maintained a keen interest in the structure—”
“Ravenscar!” Hugh and Phoebe gasped in unison. Hugh stared at her in horror, his face changing color, while he sputtered, unable, apparently, to find words to describe the depth of his distress. Phoebe, on the other hand, had no such difficulty. Her sad countenance changed to one of unmistakable rebellion.
“I will not go!” she proclaimed. “I refuse to be dragged around by that monstrous fellow!” Then she turned toward Hugh, her strident manner replaced by a soft and beseeching tone. “You understand, don’t you, Cousin? You will let me remain here, won’t you, Hugh?”
Hugh eyed her with some startlement. “Of course I understand your reluctance to go off with that…that fellow.” He glanced from Phoebe to her sister and back again, as if the situation were beyond his experience. “But, I don’t see as how you can stay here, Phoebe. It would not be entirely proper,” he protested.
“Oh!” Phoebe stamped a dainty foot and glared at both of them. “Well, then, I shall simply have to go to Emma. I will be more than welcome there, you can be sure!” Turning on her heel, she flounced out of the room, calling loudly for Jane to take round a note to her friend.
Prudence watched her go with a heavy heart, for she had not anticipated such a strong reaction to her news. Although she thought both Hugh and her sister might try to prevent her from going, she had not expected Phoebe to be quite so…petty.
Her sister’s own words returned to her, and Prudence decided it was a fitting description for Phoebe’s behavior. Not once during her little scene had Phoebe evidenced the slightest concern for Prudence, who would be going away with a man she considered a murderer. Nor had she considered Hugh’s feelings when she put him in such an awkward position, or those of her friend, who might be inconvenienced by her visit. Never had she stopped to wonder whether Prudence’s money was running low or what the proposed trip might entail.
Phoebe had thought only of herself. Her wants. Her need to be the center of attention.
With a shock, Prudence realized it had always been that way. Doted upon because of her beauty and her taking ways, Phoebe had reigned as the undisputed belle of the countryside. With no rivals, she might have continued on, accepting the acclaim as her due and never exposing her spoiled center. But here, among the elegant titled ladies, wealthy cits and exotic demireps, Phoebe was nothing more than a pretty, green girl with no dowry, and her character, being tested, had displayed its lack.
Obviously unable to accept the truth about herself, Phoebe blamed Prudence for her failure to become an instant sensation, and Prudence did not care for it. For the first time in her life, she was genuinely angry with Phoebe. She had worked hard to finance this season, had put up with Mrs. Broadgirdle’s ill temper and Hugh’s domineering ways, and had used what little notoriety she had to gain Phoebe entree to society. And instead of a thank-you, she received a set-down.
Dismay, disappointment and a gnawing guilt at her own part in spoiling her sister warred within her breast, and this time, Prudence did not chase after Phoebe. She simply let her go, staring after her sadly.
“Now look what you have done!” Hugh said. “I cannot believe how selfishly you have behaved toward your dear sister.”
Prudence turned to gaze curiously at her cousin, newly amazed at his lack of sensitivity. How a man could be intelligent and verbose and yet so…cloddish was beyond her. “Phoebe will be fine, Hugh,” Prudence answered tiredly. “Let her stay with her friends while I am gone, if it will make her happy.”
As if her words had recalled to Hugh his initial outrage, he began to sputter once more. “You really cannot expect me to let you go off with him, do you? Are you mad? You will be ruined!”
“Nonsense! I am simply sharing his coach. I shall take Jane with me,” Prudence added.
“Dash it all, Prudence! You cannot go. Why, you are showing no more sense than one of those witless hens you write about!” Hugh said, rising to pace around the room. “Are you deliberately following in their footsteps?”
Prudence ducked her head to hide her flushed cheeks, for she was undeniably thrilled about being whisked off to the old abbey by the Devil Earl himself. On the other hand, her practical side assured her the trip was nothing more, or less, than a carriage ride to a shared destination, however intriguing that destination might be. “Nonsense,” she argued.
“Prudence, do not go with him!” Hugh urged her vehemently.
“Oh, this is absurd! We are but using the same coach, a time-honored practice!” Prudence said. “Would you rather I took the stage?”
Hugh stopped his pacing to eye her in a considering way, and for a moment, she thought he was going to tell her to take public transportation, but then his face fell, signaling his surrender.
“No,” he said, drawing himself up. “It seems I cannot reason with you, Prudence. I would have thought a woman of your years and sensibility immune to such schemes, but then, more than one female has been gulled by the Devil Earl. Go with him, the
n,” Hugh said, raising a hand in for-bearance, “but take your chaperone, and not some silly young maid, with you.”
He paused, rocking on his heels, as if preparing to make some momentous announcement. “As to your return,” he said, studying his boots, “we shall have to see exactly when and how it is to be arranged, as to whether I can be of assistance.”
Prudence felt herself color anew at the implication of his words. If she left, against Hugh’s wishes, would she not be welcomed back? Glancing up at her cousin, she saw a rather triumphant gleam in his eyes that confirmed her suspicions all too well. Hugh was stooping to little better than blackmail!
Not to be undone by such tactics, Prudence was determined to take all her trunks with her. If truth be told, she cared little for London, preferring instead the craggy Cornwall coast and the familiar sight of the abbey. Of course, she would have to return sometime to fetch Phoebe, but right now Prudence did not want to think about her sister.
“Very well, then,” she said, rising to her feet. His ultimatum having failed, Hugh was forced to accept her decision with good grace, but his frown was evidence of his displeasure, and his pale cheeks sagged with disappointment. For a moment, Prudence regretted their quarrel, yet she hardly thought herself at fault. And she was more than willing to make amends when, and if, Hugh should come round.
“You will take Mrs. Broadgirdle,” he said, gruffly.
Prudence sighed. “I will take Mrs. Broadgirdle,” she agreed, though she did not want the intrusion of either the chaperone or the maid. If she was to be honest with herself, Prudence would have to admit that the abbey was not the only thing that lured her to join Ravenscar. And Hugh, for all his protectiveness, might well be right to urge against her going.
For underneath her practical exterior, buried so deeply she had heretofore hardly been aware of it, was the desire for a very different sort of adventure altogether…the kind for which the count was famous and the kind that had earned the Devil Earl his wicked reputation.
Neither Hugh nor Phoebe had appeared to see her off, and Prudence knew a slight ache of abandonment until Sebastian welcomed her. Then, her insides fluttered absurdly, and she could think of nothing else but the dark appeal he held for her. Family and friends could be forsaken for the mysterious man who held her in his thrall.
Although Sebastian greeted her warmly, lingering over her hand just a bit longer than propriety allowed, he was not happy to see Mrs. Broadgirdle. When he assisted the older woman into his coach, his lips curved into a fierce frown and he quirked a dark brow at Prudence.
“Why, it is impossibly dark in here!” Mrs. Broadgirdle said immediately. “Positively black. Open the curtains, so that I might see something. I vow I cannot catch my breath!”
Sebastian pushed back the velvet window coverings as soon as he joined them in the luxurious vehicle, but it rapidly became evident that the journey Prudence had so looked forward to was going to be awkward, if not downright unpleasant. When she tried to make conversation, Mrs. Broadgirdle answered her sharply, and Sebastian refused to participate at all. He sat across from her, glowering at Mrs. Broadgirdle, his mood a sour reflection of the chaperone’s ill temper.
After two hours, Prudence began to wonder why she had argued so vehemently with her sister and cousin for this trip.
And after two days, she was beginning to think the Devil Earl could easily live up to his name.
Prudence had tried all manner of discussion, including a mention of James, but that had only earned her a black look in reply. For his part, Sebastian tried to coax Mrs. Broadgirdle to ride in the coach with the trunks, but she shook her head in a cold and determined fashion, which, of course, made him look even more ferocious. Then he sulked, in his own threatening fashion, glaring at the chaperone just as though he might suddenly rip her to pieces right there in the coach.
The earl of Ravenscar was definitely accustomed to getting his own way, Prudence decided. He was a grim, arrogant creature, and yet, she knew him well enough to overlook such faults. Beneath that harsh exterior was a man who had lost himself, and, like a baby learning new steps, he would doubtless take one stride and fall back before standing again.
Being cooped up with an unhappy Sebastian for hours on end had taken its toll on her own temper, yet Prudence felt not only the familiar exhilaration in his presence, but also that strange kinship between them. And it was growing. At times, it seemed as if they shared the same thoughts, and Prudence knew a tender regard for the earl that had nothing to do with the thrilling promise in his stormy eyes. It was just as though she were developing feelings for him that transcended his name and his person.
Prudence started at the thought. Surely that would be the height of foolishness—an old maid like her, fancying herself in love with the wicked earl! Prudence would have laughed, but something got stuck in her throat at that exact moment, making her eyes water.
In desperate need of a diversion, Prudence finally retrieved her lap desk and began working on her latest book. Having no wish to be a victim of unrequited love herself, she decided to make her heroine suffer from such a dilemma. Soon she was immersed in her writing, pouring her very soul onto the paper, but the habit appeared to annoy Mrs. Broadgirdle to no end.
Just as Prudence began to concentrate, the chaperone interrupted her with some idle comment, again and again. It was maddening, until Sebastian took control of the situation. In no uncertain terms, he told Mrs. Broadgirdle to be silent or he would toss her from his carriage. Normally, Prudence would have protested such cruelty, but this time she let the threat pass so that she might delve into her novel again.
She was stopped finally, not by Mrs. Broadgirdle, but by the rain, which, come early evening, was making itself known in a disturbingly loud fashion. Putting away her materials, Prudence prepared to rejoin the glum atmosphere set by her companions, and Sebastian dimmed the interior lights accordingly. Already he had pulled the drapes against the chill of the wind, and the interior of the coach was dark and cozy.
Selfishly, Prudence found herself wishing that they were alone inside the cozy cocoon. She glanced at Sebastian, to gauge his mood, and found that he was eyeing her under half-closed lids in a way that seemed to increase the sense of intimacy between them. She knew, just as surely as if he had spoken, that he, too, longed for them to be unattended. Dizzily, she remembered her previous ride in this vehicle, when he had taken her onto his lap and kissed her passionately.
Prudence cleared her throat. “Are we nearly there, my lord?”
“I believe so,” Sebastian answered. “Though the rain may delay us.”
“We ought to stop,” Mrs. Broadgirdle muttered. “I cannot believe it is safe racing pell-mell through a storm.”
“I would hardly call this bit of water a storm, Mrs. Broadgirdle,” Prudence replied.
“My driver will tell us if he sees problems ahead,” Sebastian answered lazily, his gaze never leaving Prudence. They were almost to his home, she realized suddenly, for she could feel his mounting anticipation, the discovery of which fed her own excitement.
“Tell me more about Wolfinger,” she whispered.
Mrs. Broadgirdle lifted a curtain and peered out. “Why, it is black as night out there. You cannot assure me that your man can see!”
Sebastian ignored her. “I must confess to a lack of knowledge concerning the abbey’s past.”
“Oh, my! You cannot mean it!” Prudence protested.
“Perhaps you can tell me what you know,” Sebastian urged, in a voice that could have coaxed a reply from a rock.
“Well, I am rather familiar with the area’s history,” Prudence admitted. “Wolfinger was originally an old outpost, perhaps dating back to Roman times. The existing structure was built around 1345 for a group of monks, offshoots of the French Cistercian order, I believe. They maintained it, in dwindling numbers, until it was confiscated by the crown, at which point it was gifted to the third earl of Ravenscar, who made it the family seat.”
&
nbsp; Prudence paused. “Apparently, the earl’s antecedents had been stripped of their northern properties by an earlier monarch, over some rather dubious dealings with the Scots. Since then, several additions have been made to the building…” She hesitated as Sebastian leaned back against the
black cushions, his lashes lowered and his mouth curved sardonically.
“And are there any ghosts at Wolfinger, Prudence?” he asked. His tone sent chills through her, but, mindful of their audience, Prudence tried to disregard his effect upon her.
“Yes, there are,” she answered directly. “In fact, the abbey is said to be haunted by both the Devil Earl and his wife.”
“Ah…” Sebastian drawled. Flicking a glance at Mrs. Broadgirdle, he smiled slowly. “But do go on. Tell us about the Devil himself.”
“Well,” Prudence said. “I fear he is quite an infamous figure.”
“Quite like myself,” Sebastian said wryly.
“No, not at all,” Prudence argued, ignoring Mrs. Broadgirdle’s barely muffled sniff of disgust. “He was without any redeeming qualities whatsoever, they say. He had no interest in business or society, but squandered his inheritance on drink and gambling and women…” Prudence’s words trailed off as she looked at Sebastian nervously. He was studying her with an amused expression that told her he well recognized the similarities between himself and his ancestor.
“The Devil Earl was completely uncivilized,” Prudence said firmly. “By all accounts, he was incapable of gentlemanly behavior, but treated everyone, from the highest peer to the lowest tradesman, with the same foul manners. He stole sheep and cattle, raped his housemaids and practically any unprotected female he came upon. He assaulted the locals until no one was safe from his tempers, and it was rumored that he condoned piracy and wrecking on the abbey’s cliffs.”
“Yet he married?”
The Devil Earl Page 16