Candice Hern (11 page)

“I know ladies do not like to wear them but—”

“I do not need my spectacles, I assure you. I only wear them for close-up work.” Now she sounded petulant. Lord, what a mess she’d made of things, and after he’d been kind enough to tell her she was not plain. She felt as if she had taken one step forward and two steps back. “I am a little tired,” she said, grasping at the one excuse she could think of.

He rose and walked across the room to the sideboard. “You should make an early night of it, then. How about a brandy to relax you?” he asked.

“Yes, pl-please.” Never had she needed it more.

Nick squirmed in his seat while the Italian soprano shrieked through an aria. It was bad enough that he had to mingle once again with Pru’s Vikings, but to have to sit through such caterwauling was almost more than he could bear. It was a wonder all the windows and mirrors hadn’t shattered in protest.

He looked at Pru, to see if her more sophisticated musical ear allowed her to enjoy the performance, but she was studying the hands in her lap. She seemed to sense his gaze and looked up. Nick rolled his eyes and she chewed her lower lip to stifle a giggle. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. The soprano hit a particularly shrill high note and
Nick grabbed Pru’s hand, then had to look away or he would have started laughing.

When the aria ended, Nick lost no time in tugging Pru from her seat and leading her away. In the hallway outside the drawing room, he collapsed against the wall and gave in to laughter. Pru’s softer, melodious laugh—like the tinkling of little bells in the wind—soon joined his.

“That really was dreadful, was it not?” he asked when he could finally speak. “Or is it my unsophisticated plebeian taste that amuses you?”

“She was a bit screechy,” Pru said.

She covered her mouth with her fan as she laughed again, and Nick was thoroughly charmed by the sound of it, by the way it transformed her face. “I haven’t seen you laugh like that,” he said, “since that escapade with the misprinted magazine last year.”

An embarrassing printing error, for which Nick had been to blame, had not been caught until the evening the issues had been distributed. They had scurried about in teams all over London retrieving every copy. Nick and Pru had been one team, and they’d had a wild and adventurous time of it.

“You ought to laugh more often,” he said, and ran a knuckle softly along her check. “It suits you.”

He should have realized his touch would ignite a rosy blush. Damn. She was still so skittish whenever their conversation took a more personal direction. Or when he touched her. But he could not seem to help himself. She had the soft
est skin. He was gloved tonight, but the other day when he stoked her face with his bare fingers, she had actually trembled. How in blazes was he ever going to make her feel comfortable enough to share his bed?

“I am glad to see you two are enjoying the evening.”

Joanna Draycott smiled at Pru, who raised her fan to cover her face. Hiding her blushes, no doubt.

“What did you think of Signora Gambiatti?” Joanna asked.

A choking sound came from behind Pru’s fan.

“She was…incredible,” Nick said, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

“Really?” Joanna said. “Frankly, I found her shrill and highly overrated. I’m rather sorry I was convinced to invite her. What? What is so funny?”

“Oh, Joanna,” Pru said, her voice quivering with mirth, “she was perfectly awful. Nicholas and I had to flee the room so we wouldn’t embarrass her with our laughter.”

Joanna grinned. “Ah. Well, just be sure not to flee too far. You’re up next.”

Pru sobered instantly. “Oh, dear.”

Nick realized he still held her hand. He brought it to his lips. “You’ll be brilliant, I am sure.” He noticed once again the bulge of his signet ring beneath her glove. “Oh, but hadn’t you better remove that ring? It’s far too big and might get in your way.”

“Not to worry,” she said, and began to remove her glove.

Nick was startled by the unexpected pang of desire brought about by observing the simple act of unbuttoning a glove and sliding it down her slender, pale arm.

“I am quite prepared,” she said. When the glove was removed, she slid the ring off her finger. As always, it was wrapped in ribbon in order to fit her small hand. She unwound the ribbon, which was threaded through the ring, and slipped it over her head. Nick’s signet fell into the hint of cleavage revealed by the V-neckline of the dress.

“Excellent,” Joanna said. “It shall be your good luck charm.”

Pru’s hand went to her head and touched the bandeau of twisted fabric and pearls that did its best to hold her hair in place. “Is this thing on straight?”

“It’s perfect,” Joanna said. “You look very fine, in fact. I do like that dress. It is very becoming.”

“Do you think so?” Pru smoothed the folds of her skirt and shook out the short train. “You will see it, or something very much like it, in the next issue of the
Cabinet
.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Pru said, her voice tinged with a hint of self-satisfaction. “It was created by one of our advertisers.”

“In exchange for extra publicity?” Joanna asked. “And you get to be in the first stare of fashion. A tidy little bargain, my dear. Well done.”

Nick wondered how much the dress really cost. Though Joanna had made the assumption, Pru
never said it had been a quid pro quo transaction. She was dipping into her inheritance. He could hardly disapprove, but damn it all, he wished she didn’t have to do so. He would like to be able to clothe his own wife properly. But she was a duke’s granddaughter. It galled him to know he could never afford to provide her a wardrobe suitable to her station.

“Aunt Prudence!”

Arabella came dashing up, breathless as ever. “You are playing next! Come on! Let’s get you settled.” She turned to Nick and added, with pride, “I am her page turner.”

“And my moral support.” Pru took a deep, shuddery breath. “Come along, then, Arabella. Let us get this business over with.”

Nick’s eyes followed them as they made their way down the hall to the drawing room. Arabella was half a head taller and beautifully blond, but it was Pru he watched. She looked remarkably pretty, especially when she had laughed earlier, and Nick realized with a jolt that it had been some time now since he’d thought of her in any other way. When had he stopped thinking she was plain and mousy?

Her apricot-colored hair was gathered full and high in the back and confined with the twisted bandeau, but it was too curly to be completely tamed, and several little corkscrew curls had fallen loose and bobbed delicately against the nape of her slender neck. He watched her walk away, and a swell of white-hot lust surged through him as he contemplated kissing that pale neck.

Good God, where had that notion come from? This was Pru, for God’s sake. He’d known her four years and never found her attractive before. As she disappeared through the drawing room door, he realized what a blind fool he’d been. Just like all the rest of her family. How could he have never noticed how pretty, how desirable she was?

“Don’t worry, Mr. Parrish, she’ll be fine.”

Nick turned to Joanna. “I beg your pardon?”

“You were frowning. I thought you might be worried about her, about performing in public. You needn’t be concerned. When she plays I believe she forgets the audience and plays only for herself. She forgets to be self-conscious.”

“So I have discovered. She is very talented, isn’t she? It was extremely kind of you to send the pianoforte.”

“Yes, she is talented. I wanted to give her the Broadwood so she would perhaps feel more comfortable in her new home with you. I want her to be happy, Mr. Parrish.”

Her tone suggested she spoke of more than just the pianoforte. “So do I, Mrs. Draycott.”

“Good. I should be exceedingly disappointed to learn otherwise. Pru is very special to me.”

And to him as well. It was actually quite astonishing how special she was becoming to him as he grew to know her better.

“Tell me,” he said, “has she never had suitors?”

Joanna raised her eyebrows at his question. He wasn’t quite sure what had prompted it, except that he wanted to know more about Pru. Perhaps
if he understood more of her background, he would be able to more easily break down the barriers to intimacy, would be better able to gauge the anxiety behind her skittishness.

“None that were given any encouragement,” Joanna said. “She is painfully shy with men in that sort of situation, as you must know.”

He did indeed, damn it all. “How is it that she became so shy of men while living in a house full of brothers?”

Joanna smiled. “I believe that is part of the problem. She has heard them talk quite candidly about women, since they so often tend to forget she is there. Knowing her brothers as I do, I have no doubt she heard a great deal more than she wished. I believe it has caused her to be so anxious about what men may think or say about
her
, that she makes herself miserably uncomfortable in their company. I believe the whole business of men and women and what they…do together simply embarrasses her. Of course, I am not telling you anything you haven’t already discovered, I’m sure.”

Nick wondered just how much Pru had told her cousin about their marriage.

“I remember her Season,” Joanna continued. “She would get so flustered if a man showed an interest that she could hardly get a word out without stammering awkwardly. She hated the whole ordeal so much she refused any additional Seasons. Uncle Henry fussed and fumed that she would never find a husband, but Pru claimed she
didn’t care, that she wasn’t interested in marriage. Or so she said.”

She tilted her head to one side and studied him. “Frankly, Mr. Parrish, I think marrying you is the best thing that ever happened to her.”

“Why? She did not want it any more than I did.”

He could have bitten off his tongue. Theirs was supposed to be a love match. But he suspected Joanna knew better.

“But it is perfect, don’t you see?” she said. “Pru already knows you as a friend, she can speak to you—even laugh with you—without getting flustered.”

That ought to have been true, but quite the reverse had happened. To be sure, they were comfortable together speaking of impersonal matters. But whenever the conversation turned personal, or whenever he touched her, she became more shy and nervous than ever.

“There was no awkward courtship, no social games,” Joanna continued. “As a fait accompli, she did not have to face the agony of the marriage mart and a grand family wedding. Instead, she is married to a friend with whom she can be comfortable. I know it is not what
you
wanted, sir, but I can think of no better husband for Pru. And you, Mr. Parrish, are a very fortunate man, for you will ultimately get to know the real Pru, more than any ordinary suitor could have done. You will come to realize what a precious gem you hold in your hands.”

The real Pru. He was learning more of her every day, and found he rather enjoyed the adventure of discovery.

“Come, sir. Your wife is about to play. Let us take our seats.”

“I dropped a note in the allegro.”

“And you are the only one who knows that, I assure you. My God, Pru, you were amazing. Absolutely brilliant. I was so proud of you.”

Pru flushed with pleasure. Nick’s words were a balm to her soul. “You are very kind to say so.”

“Dammit, Pru, I wish you would stop thinking it is mere kindness when I compliment you. We’ve known each other far too long for me to offer you cheap flattery.”

“I do not think your flattery cheap, Nicholas. On the contrary, it is quite dear.” She could hardly believe she said such a thing. The darkness of the carriage must have emboldened her.

“Ah, Pru.” He took her chin in his hand and leaned toward her.

Dear God, he was going to kiss her. Wasn’t he? Please please please let him realize how much she wanted it, how
ready
she was for it. He leaned closer. She leaned closer. His eyes drifted over her shoulder.

“What the devil?”

He dropped his hand from her chin and looked out the window.

No!

“What’s going on?” he said, peering around
her. “There is light at every window. Something’s happened.”

The carriage slowed. Pru could barely breathe for choking back the sob of frustration lodged in the back of her throat. She didn’t care what was going on out there. She was dying inside.

Nick bounded over her and out the door before the carriage came to a complete stop. He looked around and was ready to charge up the front steps when he seemed to remember her. He turned back and handed her down.

He was right. There was candlelight coming through the drawing room curtains and the fanlight above the door. “Nicholas, someone is here. Look, there’s a traveling carriage. Who could it be?”

“I’m not certain, but I have a hunch.”

He led her up the front steps, and the door opened before he had time to get out his key. Lucy, wide-eyed and anxious, held open the door.

“I didn’t know what to do, sir,” she said. “He said it was all right, that it was his house, but I never seen him before in my life, so I wasn’t sure.”

Before either of them could reply, a man came bounding down the stairs. A man she had met once before. An older version of Nicholas.

“There you are!” he said.

“Father!” Nicholas grabbed him in a bear hug. “What on earth are you doing in London?”

“Since no one bothered to invite me to the wedding, I figured I’d come and offer my warmest congratulations in person. Prudence?” He took both her hands in his and smiled. “I couldn’t be
more pleased. Welcome to the family.” He bent and kissed her on the cheek.

He really did seem pleased. Pru wondered what Nicholas had said in his letter. Would his father be so happy if he knew his son had been forced into the marriage? Or perhaps he did know the truth, and was simply as kindhearted as Nicholas.

“Well done, my boy. Well done. Come upstairs. It is still early and we have a great deal to catch up on.”

Batholomew Parrish was a very handsome man. He had the same dark eyes and brows as both his children. His hair had likely once been as dark as theirs, too, but was now sprinkled with gray. Pru had met him at Edwina’s wedding and had liked him at once.