Edith stopped brushing her hair, interrupting these delightful speculations. “My dear niece, you are most distracted today. I don’t believe you are listening to a word I say.”
Prudence gave a guilty start and opened her eyes. “Of course I was listening, Aunt,” she lied, straightening in her chair. “You are a most conscientious chaperone, I’m sure. Look what excellent marriages Beryl and Pearl made as a result of your efforts.”
The older woman brightened at once. “That is true. Beryl’s dear Winston is a barrister in London now, and although Pearl’s husband is still only a bank clerk, he is most respected by his employer, I’m told.”
“There, you see? You must stop worrying so much.” She started to lean back in her chair again, but Edith’s next words stopped her.
“Of course, my daughters didn’t have the dowry to tempt fortune hunters like St. Cyres.” She set aside the brush and put her hands on Prudence’s shoulders, gazing at her earnestly in the mirror. “Your situation is different. I feel such a strong responsibility to safeguard you, yet I fear I am not up to the task of keeping wolves like St. Cyres at bay.”
“He is not a wolf!” Aware that her blissful mood was once again diminishing, Prudence took a deep breath. “I like him. And should he choose to confer his attentions upon me, I see no reason to discourage him. Nor should you. He is a duke, after all, and a most courteous gentleman.”
There was a long pause as the gazes of the two women locked in the mirror. She expected her aunt to exercise her authority as chaperone and forbid her to see St. Cyres. At which point she would have to openly defy her, and that would make everything during the coming two months terribly difficult.
But to her surprise, Edith gave a gentle nod and patted her shoulder. “I understand, dear.”
Prudence was astonished at such easy capitulation. “You do?”
“Of course I do. Marrying a duke would be considered by many to be quite a coup, and of course, being a duchess is something every girl dreams of.”
“That isn’t the reason I would—”
“And the man is quite good-looking. Even I can appreciate that. Charming manners, too. His attentions would turn any girl’s head, I am sure. But you have always been such a responsible young woman, and wise beyond your years. Prudent, you know, like your name, without the reckless, immoral nature of your mother.”
Prudence tried very hard not to grind her teeth.
“I’m sure that when the time comes,” Edith went on, “you will make a wise matrimonial choice.”
“Of course.”
Edith nodded, as if they were in complete agreement about everything. “You know as well as I that to abandon the sphere into which you were born and raised is seldom wise. We are simple gentry folk, Prudence, and your upbringing makes you wholly unprepared for and unsuited to the rigorous burdens of being a duchess. And marriage for the purpose of rising to a higher social position would be a grievous thing, and most unworthy of you. It is a course I cannot, in good conscience, approve.”
Prudence bristled at that. “I believe it is the trustees, Aunt, who must give their approval.”
A dull flush crept across Edith’s cheeks. “They would hardly approve a fortune hunter.”
“And Robert’s interest is pure?” she countered before she could stop herself. “Even though he’s never paid a jot of attention to me? Why, I might have been living in America, instead of a few miles away, for all the notice he has given me over the years.”
At once, Edith’s face crumpled into lines of distress. “Now I’ve made you cross,” she said, a tremulous note entering her voice. She sank into her chair and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “I knew this would happen. I knew we would quarrel. It’s just as it was when you were a girl. Oh, dear!”
She gave a sob and buried her face in the hand kerchief. “I’m making such a mess of things. Perhaps you would be better chaperoned by Millicent.”
And have Robert hovering over her at all hours of the day? Prudence felt a pang of alarm. “I don’t believe that’s necessary, Aunt.”
Edith lifted her head with a sniff. “I only wish for you to make a match for the right reasons, Prudence, as my own daughters have done. For love, if that is possible. Or if not, then for shared affection and like minds. Which is why Robert would be a good match for you. He has been elevated to baronet, but that’s not too high for a girl of your background. He has been brought up in the same social circle as we. He is family, someone we can trust, and it’s perfectly acceptable for second cousins to marry. And he is fond of you. Oh, yes, he is,” she added as Prudence started to protest. “He is, though you don’t see it. He feels slighted by you, which is why he never called upon you in Little Russell Street. You criticize his inattention, yet you have made no effort in that regard, for not once have you called upon his mother here in London.”
“Nor has she called upon me,” Prudence shot back, stung. “I have at least written letters inquiring after them. Millicent has never reciprocated even that. Not once. Amazing that she is so attentive to me now! I wonder why.”
She might have been talking to the wall.
“Your snub quite hurt Robert’s feelings,” Edith went on. “Yet you are ready to throw him over, and for a disreputable cad like St. Cyres. Oh, it pains me to think of it.” She lowered her head with another sob.
Prudence pressed her fingers to her forehead, feeling a genuine headache coming on. Chaperones really were the most inconvenient thing ever invented, and Edith was impossible. “The duke has expressed a polite interest in me, nothing more,” she said. “If he were to demonstrate a deeper regard…” She paused, a quiver of excitement replacing her aggravation as thoughts of tomorrow flashed through her mind. Would he touch her again as he had today? He might even kiss her. How wonderful that would be.
She took a deep, steadying breath, and told herself not to let her imagination run away with her. “Even if he were to demonstrate a deeper regard, it does not follow that I would be inclined to reciprocate his feelings.”
But as she spoke those words, Prudence knew they were rot. She feared she was half in love with the duke already. Since she’d only known him a week, that put her rather in the suds. “You may rest assured, Aunt, that I intend to marry the man whose regard for me is genuine.”
What a prig she sounded, but her aunt didn’t seem to notice. “It relieves my mind to hear you say that, dearest.” She dabbed at her eyes, lifted her head with a final sniff, and stood up. “My only wish, you know, is for your happiness.”
After Edith had gone, Prudence breathed a sigh of relief and returned her thoughts to someone who was already providing her with far more happiness than Aunt Edith ever would.
I’d best escort you back to your cousin before I forget I’m a gentleman.
The memory of those words brought back her smile. Resting her elbow on the dressing table and her cheek in her hand, she began to imagine what the duke was like when he forgot to be a gentleman.
It was a bit tricky to arrange an afternoon away from the cloying attentions of her family, but she managed it, stating that she and several of her friends from Little Russell Street were going on a picnic in Hyde Park. She emphasized the damp ground and the presence of Mrs. Morris to act as chaperone, thereby convincing Edith there would be no harm in her remaining behind to spend the afternoon shopping with Millicent. She then left the Savoy and walked to Charing Cross Station.
The train to Richmond took less than sixty minutes, but it seemed a much longer journey than that, for she was in such a dither of excitement she couldn’t sit still. She fidgeted and tapped her feet and drummed her fingers, firmly telling herself the entire time not to be nervous.
He was waiting for her on the platform. She saw him through the window the moment the train pulled into Richmond Station. He wore no coat, for the day was fine, and he looked so devastatingly handsome in his shirtsleeves, dark brown trousers, and riding boots that her throat went dry. As her train stopped, she watched him give a nervous tug to his tweed waistcoat, adjust his necktie, and rake a hand through his hair, and those efforts made her smile. She wasn’t the only one who was nervous, it seemed.
He saw her the moment she stepped down from the train. As he came forward to greet her, the pleasure in his face warmed her like sunlight, and all her nervousness slid away. “You came.”
“Are you surprised?”
“I am,” he admitted. “Most women wouldn’t have, you know. It’s not quite the thing to go picnicking alone with a man. I thought you either wouldn’t come at all or that you’d bring a chaperone with you.”
“I thought carting Aunt Edith along would put a damper on things.”
“Rather,” he agreed with feeling. His gaze lifted to the top of her head and his smile widened. “Nice hat.”
She touched a hand to the red straw boater, feeling a little self-conscious that he knew she’d worn it for him, and yet ever so pleased he’d noticed at all. Most men wouldn’t have. “Thank you.”