Candice Hern (3 page)

Nicholas tugged on her hands, and she forced herself to look up at him. He wore a chagrined expression, and she could swear he was blushing. “I wasn’t speaking of you, Pru.”

“Then who—”

“It doesn’t matter. I did not know this gentleman was your father. I thought he was…someone else.”

“But—”

“And now that I know who he is, and who
you
are, it is clear what must be done. I have been careless of your reputation in allowing you to work here alone. I am ashamed to say it never occurred to me how it might look to others. But the damage is done. I am sorry, Pru, for bringing this on, but we must marry. There is no other choice.”

No other choice. Because he was a gentleman and she was the granddaughter of a duke.

Unfair! There had to be other choices.

A bolt of lightning could strike the very spot where she stood. She could curl up into a ball so tiny she would float away on the wind. She could succumb to heart failure and save everyone a great deal of trouble.

But none of those things was likely to happen. And so there was no other choice.

How was she to bear it?

The tears she’d been holding back could no longer be contained. They welled up and flowed down her cheeks, completing her humiliation.

“I’m so sorry, Nicholas. I’m so sorry.”

“Good God, Nick. I cannot believe it.”

Nick sat in Simon Westover’s library, his head down, arms resting on his knees, and his hands hanging limply between them. He felt such a pressure on his stooped shoulders it was as though the world—his world, at least—had come crashing down on him. Somehow he’d managed to get himself to his friend’s house. He assumed he had dressed properly, though he could not remember doing so. He could barely remember how he got there. In fact, the events of that morning were still so jumbled in his head, he was not sure if he was coming or going.

“Perhaps you will believe it,” Nick said, “when you stand up with me for the vows. I need you with me, old man.”

“Of course. It is just…Well, it’s a bit of a shock. You’ve always been impulsive, but I never expected this.”

“I assure you, the impulse was not mine.”

“The situation was innocent. You might have resisted.”

“I suspect if I had been so inclined, her father and brothers would have ripped me to pieces and left me a bleeding hulk on my own doorstep. And those brothers are not tiny like Pru. I swear they looked like of gang of Viking warriors.”

“Egad. No wonder you capitulated.”

“That was not it at all. Her honor was indeed compromised. I ought to have been more cautious
since Edwina left. Dammit, there was not even a servant in the house. And I suppose I never thought of Pru as…I don’t know…someone to be compromised. She was always just Pru.”

“How did she handle it?”

Nick looked up. “It was perfectly dreadful. I felt so badly for her. She kept repeating over and over how sorry she was, the tears streaming down her face. She doesn’t want to be stuck with me any more than I…Well, she isn’t any happier than I am.”

Simon blew out a breath through puffed cheeks, then ran a hand through his red hair. “I suppose it could be worse.”

Nick snorted. “How?”

“Well, at least you and Pru are friends. You like each other. That’s a better beginning than many marriages enjoy. Who’s to say that friendship won’t eventually grow into love?”

“This is not one of your romantic tales, Simon. I seriously doubt this story will end happily ever after like one of your serials in the
Cabinet
. This one has all the earmarks of a tragedy.”

“Only if you make it so. There is no possibility that this marriage can be avoided?”

“None.”

“Well. I know it is not what you wanted, but since you cannot escape it, you had better start thinking of how to make the best of it.”

“I did not come here looking for advice from the Busybody.” Simon’s popular advice column in the
Cabinet
was known for its rose-colored outlook on life, and Nick wasn’t feeling particularly
rosy at the moment. “I came looking for a friend, for someone who will commiserate with me, listen to my woes, and allow me to wallow in a bit of self-pity.”

“You only have a few hours before the wedding. You do not have time to wallow.”

“Only a few hours.” He could almost feel the noose tightening. “Enough time to make a run for it. I could bolt to the continent and avoid the whole wretched business.”

“You would never do that.”

Nick shook his head. “No, of course not. I couldn’t do that to poor Pru. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing I could.”

“Exactly how much time do you have?”

“I’m not certain. Her father is to send around a note telling me when to meet them. He is seeing to the license, of course. His connections make it easier for him to obtain it than for a simple Mr. Parrish with no position, little money, and nothing to recommend him. He’s probably on speaking terms with the Archbishop of Canterbury himself.”

“That was certainly a surprise, was it not? Pru, the granddaughter of a duke.” Simon shook his head as though he still could not believe it.

“Surprise is something of an understatement,” Nick said. “I’ve known her for years, and she never once mentioned it.”

“Did you ever ask about her family?”

“Well, no. I just assumed…” He hunched a shoulder.

“What?”

“That she was like us.”

“Like us?”

“How can she pretend to support republican ideals when her grandfather was a duke?”

Simon bristled. “My father is a baronet, and so will I be one day. Yet I support the same philosophies as you.”

“But a
duke
, Simon.”

“Even so, I would not be so quick to question the sincerity of her views.”

“Point taken. I’m all at sixes and sevens over this mess. Not thinking clearly.” He brought his hands to his head and massaged his temples.

“Did her father speak with you about her dowry?”

Nick’s head snapped up? “Her dowry?”

“You could be marrying an heiress, my friend.”

“Oh, Lord, I hope not.” They had not discussed any details, only to agree that a wedding would take place. Her father might have said something about talking with him later regarding settlements or some such thing, but Nick had been in no state to absorb seemingly irrelevant information when his life was crumbling into pieces.

But what if Pru was an heiress? His shoulders shook with an involuntary shudder. The idea unsettled him, almost frightened him. He had borne enough without adding that blow to his already battered spirit.

“I doubt she has much of anything,” he said, more to himself than to Simon. “She seems to
have a boatload of siblings. And I have dropped her off at her father’s house on occasion. It’s on Brooke Street, but rather small and modest. I’m guessing there isn’t much in the way of a fortune in that family, despite the ducal connection. Besides, I don’t want Pru’s money.”

“You could use it. That warehouse up in Derby can’t sit empty forever.”

“Of course I could use it. Especially after last month’s losses. I will miss the best opportunities to outfit the factory if I don’t move soon. But I would never take her money. Good Lord, Simon, the last thing I need is to be thought a fortune hunter. It’s bad enough that I’m marrying a duke’s granddaughter. Gad, how will I ever face them at the Scottish Martyrs Club?” He threw his head back and closed his eyes. The more he talked about it, the worse the whole situation became.

“Damn and blast,” he said. “Would it be terribly craven, do you think, if I just put a gun to my head?”

“Terribly.”

“What the devil am I going to do?” He hauled himself from the chair and began to pace the room. “Marriage was not in my plans. I cannot afford a wife and family. Not yet. And even if I could, Pru is the last—”

“Careful.”

“Well, damn it all, she would not have been my choice. You know that. She’s about as different from the type of women I prefer as she could possibly be. Too quiet. Too shy. Too pale. Not exactly a beauty.”

“Neither is she an antidote, Nick.”

“No, of course not.” He stopped pacing and looked at Simon. “But don’t you think she is just a bit…mousy?”

“You are speaking of your bride-to-be, my friend. I suspect you would level any other man who said such a thing about her.”

“I would do so even if we were not to be married. I speak bluntly to you only because I know you will not repeat it. You must understand how I feel. She is to be my
wife
, for God’s sake. We will be…But I don’t…Oh, God, what if I can’t…”

“You underestimate yourself. And Pru. Give it time.”

Nick raked agitated fingers through his hair. Every aspect of this wretched business was distasteful to him. “Pru is a sweet woman, but not…not what I had in mind for a future wife. She is not the type of woman I pictured holding in my arms at night. Dash it all, I feel like…”

“Like what?”

“Like I’ve been cheated.”

Simon glared at him. “You had better not let Pru know you feel that way.”

“Dear God, no. No, of course not. Though I’m sure she feels the same.” He groaned aloud. “What the devil am I going to do?”

“You are going to marry her and be happy for it.”

Nick sputtered in disgust. “Happy?”

“If you will quit feeling sorry for yourself, then I have a feeling this marriage may just be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I seriously doubt it.”

“I will remind you of those words in a year. Now, hadn’t you better go home and get dressed for your wedding?”

A very short time later, Nick stood beside Prudence in one of the smaller chapels in St. George’s and repeated the vows that made her his wife. He looked down at her to see a tear inching along her pale cheek and knew in that moment there could not be two more miserable people in all of London.

P
ru tied off the ribbon she had wrapped around the signet ring that would now serve as her wedding ring. It was miles too big, of course, and so she had pulled a ribbon from her hair and woven it around the bottom of the ring so it would fit securely on her smaller finger.

It also gave her something to do while she and Nicholas—her husband!—rode from the church to Daine House. Something besides talking, which Nicholas seemed disinclined to do. He appeared lost in his thoughts. It was just as well. She would likely embarrass herself if she attempted a normal conversation. She sometimes became tongue-tied when she was nervous, the words trapped in her throat, inching their way out in stammered fits and starts. And what could
be more unsettling than her wedding day?

Her wedding night?

But she would not think about that just now. She would make herself crazy and would not be able to string three coherent words together.

“I’m sorry about the ring,” Nicholas said, breaking the awkward silence that had hung heavy in the air since the moment the carriage door had closed on them. “I ought to have dashed out and bought one for you, but I honestly forgot.”

Pru shrugged and fiddled nervously with the ring. “It’s all right,” she managed to say, and surprised herself when there was no hint of a tremor in her voice. She was certainly trembling inside, trying not to think of—

“No, it’s not all right,” he said. There was a note of strain in his voice.

He’d been the perfect gentleman since arriving at the church with Simon Westover, but Pru knew he must be near to bursting with anger over this wretched trap he’d been caught in, forced into a ramshackle marriage with a little dab of a woman who wouldn’t catch his eye on her best day. But he had not complained at the injustice of it. He had not scowled or grown sullen or stormed about like a caged bear. He had repeated the vows in a clear voice and treated her with deference and extraordinary kindness throughout the brief ceremony.

She had been the one to cry. For ruining his life.

“I am sorry, Pru. I ought to have done better by
you. It’s been a rather hectic morning, to say the least, and the business about the ring just slipped my mind.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. She had long ago learned the trick of keeping her voice pitched very low in times of stress, making any timorousness less apparent. She made a concentrated effort to do so now. “The ring is—”

“But I’ll make it up to you. I promise I’ll get you a ring of your own so you don’t have to wear that old signet of mine.”

“No, this ring is fine. Truly.” And it was. It had been on his own finger so long his warmth had seeped right into the gold. She liked the feel of it. She would much rather have something of his than some cold thing he bought that meant nothing.

“But Pru—”

“I like it, Nicholas. I would prefer to keep it.” She looked up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “Of course I don’t mind. But if you’re worried about the expense, I assure you—”

“I’d like to keep it. Please.”

He gave a sigh. “All right, then. I just hope your family won’t think less of me—or you—for not having a proper ring.”

Lord, how was she to get through this? Nicholas was so proud. She didn’t care that he wasn’t rich. Neither was she. Just because her father was titled did not mean he had a fortune to go with it.
And yet Nicholas worried what her family would think of him—not for himself, but for what he could, or could not, do for her.

Dear Nicholas.

“About my family.” She had better warn him now, before they reached her sister’s house. “I’m very sorry you have to be tossed into their midst so soon. They can be rather…daunting.”

He sent her a rueful glance. “So I have experienced. They are certainly a
large
company.”

“I’m afraid so. I would not drag you along to this breakfast if Papa had not insisted. My sister, Margaret, has some silly notion that she absolutely cannot do without my assistance. Ridiculous, of course, since she has quite a competent household staff. But I will try not to be pulled away to help too often.”

“Don’t worry about me, Pru. I can make my way with any group. Even a gathering of the aristocratic Armitage family.”

The sarcastic edge to his voice made her wince. She had agonized over how he would feel about her background. A republican to his fingertips, he must be fuming inside to be tied now to such a family as hers. Not that she was ashamed of them. She held many of the same beliefs as Nicholas, but she would never reject her family. It was just that they were exactly the type of people he despised. She hoped he would be able to bear with them just for this one afternoon.

“I promise not to hold forth on factory reform,” he said, “or child labor laws or the Combination Acts, or to distribute Jacobin pamphlets. Or tell
them the truth about that little magazine you’re editing. I won’t embarrass you, Pru.”

She blushed that he had so nearly read her thoughts. “I know you won’t.”

“Besides, you did say it is only a small family gathering, did you not?”

Pru gave an involuntary little sputter of laughter.
Small family gathering?
“Oh, dear.”

“What? Have I got it wrong? I thought your father said it was only the family, getting together to welcome your niece to her first Season in Town. I must tell you, Pru, it will take some getting used to, this blue-blooded family of yours.” He reached up, unconsciously it seemed, and adjusted his collar points. “I confess I had worried that perhaps I would be faced with half of London’s aristocracy this morning. Frankly, I am rather glad it will be only a small family affair.”

“Oh, dear.”

His brow furrowed. “Pru? What is it? What have I missed? It
is
just the family, right?”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, it is just the family. But there is nothing small about it.”

“Oh, I know that. I had a good, close look at your brothers, remember.” A glimmer of amusement lit his eyes. “How does a tiny little thing like you come to have such hulking big siblings?”

She smiled at him, encouraged by that wry look. “You are stuck with the runt of the litter, I’m afraid. But I warn you, there are lots more of us. We are large in more ways than one.”

He lifted his brows. “Really? How many more brothers do you have?”

“Oh, only one more brother. Gerald is a captain in the army, so you will not get to meet him yet. And Margaret is my only sister. Just seven of us. But I have quite a few cousins.”

“Do you? And all of them large?” He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, Pru. I shall not be overwhelmed by a handful of cousins, no matter what strapping big fellows they are.”

She brought a hand to her mouth to cover the smile she could not suppress. Poor Nicholas. “You do not understand,” she said. “It is rather more than a handful. Did Papa not mention he was the youngest offspring of the old duke?”

“Yes, he did.”

“The youngest of
twelve
.”

“Twelve?”

“Yes. I have twenty-six aunts and uncles, counting those by marriage. Six on my mother’s side, twenty on my father’s side. There were twenty-two at one time, but his eldest sister and one of his brothers are deceased. And I have fifty-two first cousins.”

Nicholas had gone quite still. He stared at her, his eyes huge, his mouth gaping. “Fifty-two cousins?”

“First cousins. Only eight on my mother’s side, but forty-four on Papa’s side. And almost all of them have spouses and children, so there are really several hundred of us altogether.”

“My God.”

“So you see, there is nothing remotely small
about an Armitage family gathering. Even when only half of us show up.”

He continued to stare, as though the idea of such a family was completely beyond his comprehension. And then all at once, he burst out laughing. Loud and uninhibited, his laughter filled the air, bouncing off the carriage walls and shattering all vestiges of tension and awkwardness. In his glee, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Her heart did a little dance in her chest, and she joined in the laughter.

“What a paltry family you have married into, Pru,” he said at last, and wiped a hand across his eyes. “I have only a single first cousin to my name.”

“No! Only one cousin?”

“Only one.” He grinned. “How pathetically inadequate we Parrishes must seem to you.”

“Actually, a small family sounds rather nice. Sometimes all those cousins can be a tiresome lot.”

“And they will all be at your sister’s party this afternoon?”

“Not all of them. But a great many of them, I’m afraid.”

He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “This is going to be even worse than I thought.”

She sucked in a sharp breath at his words, quite before she realized she’d done so, and he turned to her.

“Oh, Pru, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right. I know how you m-must feel. This whole morning has been rather…unpredictable. I’m so s-sorry about…about everything.”

He still held her hand, and he took it to his lips, making her want to swoon and sob at the same time.

“I am sorry, too, Pru. Sorry you were forced into this against your will. I know that marriage to me was probably the very last thing you dreamed of—”

Ha!
If he only knew.

“—but we shall muddle through. We have always been friends. As Simon reminded me, that is more than many marriages have. We will get through this. Together. The blue blood and the reformer.” He smiled. “But first, I have to meet all those cousins.”

Several carriages lined all sides of the square when they came to a stop in front of a large neoclassical house of stone and brick. Nick was relived to find it was not overly grand or imposing, though it was several times larger than his own small row house on Golden Square. It was known as Daine House, Pru had told him, and her sister was married to Sir Felix Daine—a mere baronet, but obviously one with deep pockets.

“Oh, dear.”

Nick turned to Pru, who was chewing on her lower lip. “I am beginning to dread those
oh, dears
of yours, Pru. What now?”

“It is just that so many of them have already arrived. Margaret will be displeased with me at best.”

“You said she had a competent staff.”

“Yes, but she still relies on me to take care of
some of the details. She does not like to worry about anything more than getting herself and Arabella dressed properly and being on hand to greet her guests.”

“She leaves all the worrying to you, then?”

“I don’t mind. It gives me something to do.”

“Besides enjoying yourself.”

She gave a little shrug. “I am not always…comfortable in social situations. I am not outgoing like the rest of them.”

“And so you prefer to stay in the background.”

“I suppose. But Margaret can be somewhat frantic at times like this, and someone needs to give direction to the servants.”

“Well, it will have to be someone else today.”

She looked at him quizzically.

“Today is your wedding day, Pru.”

“But—”

A liveried footman opened the carriage door before Pru could protest. Nick jumped down and held out a hand for his bride.

His bride
. If he’d ever thought about it at all, he would never have associated those words with a woman like Pru. Nick had always preferred his women with dark, even exotic looks. He was easily seduced by sensuous mouths and deep-set eyes and voluptuous curves. And he was partial to women with open, uninhibited sexuality. Pru could not have been more different if she tried.

He studied her as she stepped out of the carriage and glanced apprehensively toward the house. She was slender and small, the top of her head barely
reaching his chin. Her hair, hidden beneath a plain white straw bonnet with pink ribbons, he knew to be thick and curly and of an indeterminate shade somewhere between blond and red. The face tilted up to him was heart-shaped, with round cheeks dipping down to a small chin. Her skin was clear but very pale, with a light dusting of freckles across the nose. She had a tiny pink rosebud of a mouth and small, white teeth. Her eyes were large and a very light shade of blue framed in pale lashes. Her eyebrows were rather nice, he decided. They were reddish blond and elegantly arched.

He had never considered it in all the years he’d known her, but he supposed she was not unattractive. Not exactly. She was such a shy little thing, though, that she drew little attention to herself, so that one never really noticed her.

Yet he was going to have to do more than notice her now that she was his wife. He wondered if he should bed her tonight and get it over with, or wait until she—and he—had become more accustomed to the idea.

Now, though, was not the time to think of consummating his marriage. He had a houseful of damned blue bloods to meet. And he had to be on his best behavior and stay away from politics. He resigned himself to smiling and speaking of nothing more consequential than the weather.

He stifled a sigh and placed Pru’s arm on his as he led her to the door, where a stern-faced butler met them. His eyes softened when he saw Pru.

“Good afternoon, Miss Prudence,” he said.
“Lady Daine will be glad to know you have arrived. And Lord Henry has just arrived as well.” He stepped aside to allow them into the entry hall.

Pru’s father and two of her brothers, William and Charles, had been the only members of her family to attend the brief wedding ceremony. Their carriage had been just ahead of the one carrying Nick and Pru, and they now stood at the other end of the hall. They turned and waited while Pru spoke to the butler.

“Thank you, Symonds,” she said. “We shall make our own way outside. This is Mr. Parrish, by the way.”

Hats and sticks and gloves were not relinquished, as the party was outdoors. Nick kept Pru’s hand on his arm and they joined her father and brothers. Lord Henry drew them aside.

“There is no keeping a secret in this family,” he said, “so I have no doubt most everyone knows there has been a wedding this morning. Much as I wish this could be celebration for you, my girl, I am afraid it would not be right to spoil Arabella’s day.”