Candice Hern (13 page)

“Actually,” Pru said, “I wanted to introduce
you to our fashion editor, and my friend, Mrs. Gallagher. But she has just reminded me that you met at Edwina’s wedding.”

Bartholomew stepped forward and took the hand Flora held out to him. “We did indeed. It is a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Gallagher.”

“The pleasure is all mine, sir. And what brings you to Town again so soon?”

“I had a notion that I would like to get to know my new daughter-in-law. And I thought to look up a few…old friends. In fact, I was on my way just now to call upon one of them.”

“Well, then. It was nice to see you again, sir. Perhaps our paths will cross once or twice while you are in Town?” She turned to Pru. “I’m afraid I must dash. I promised Mrs. Phillips I would stop by to see some of the gowns she would like to feature in our next issue’s plates.”

How odd. Flora had been ready to stay long enough to chat with Lucy about hairstyles, but now seemed anxious to leave.

“And don’t forget that new rule we discussed,” Flora said.

Pru smiled. “I won’t forget.”

“May I drop you somewhere, Mrs. Gallagher,” Bartholomew said. “I’d be happy to share a hackney.”

“I thank you, sir, but I have my own carriage waiting outside. Perhaps I might drop
you
somewhere, Mr. Parrish?”

“I would be delighted, ma’am. Prudence, my
dear, I will most likely be out all day and will dine with friends. If you and Nick have plans for the evening, do not worry about me.”

He offered his arm to Flora, and led her out the front door.

Both Pru and Nicholas stared after them in silence. They turned toward each other at the same moment, wearing matching expressions of puzzlement.

“That was certainly odd,” Nicholas asked. “But Father has been in a strange mood all morning.”

“Has he?” Pru could not suppress a grin.

“What? Why is everyone so damned merry this morning? What’s going on?”

Pru felt the color rise in her cheeks. “It really is none of my business.”

“What is none of your business?”

“Your father and Flora.”

Nicholas stared at her wide-eyed and incredulous. “You don’t think…? No. I won’t believe it.”

Pru shrugged. She did not know Bartholomew Parrish very well, and so would not presume to understand his behavior any better than Nicholas. But she did indeed believe there was something going on between him and Flora. When he had first come into the room and seen Flora, the air had fairly crackled with…something.

“Not Father and Flora,” Nicholas said. “No, Pru, I simply will not believe it. It is too ridiculous.”

She gazed at him, puzzled by his attitude. “Why? Why is it ridiculous? Do you disapprove because of Flora’s past?”

He frowned. “No. No, of course not. It is just not like Father to…Well, he has always kept to himself.”

“Maybe he has discovered a reason not to. She is a rather extraordinary woman.”

His frown twisted up into a smile. “She is that. I do think, though, you are being a bit hasty. He’s only just arrived. How can there be something between them?”

She supposed it was difficult to think of one’s parents as human. Pru certainly did not like to imagine her own father with another woman. She would not press the matter with Nicholas. He was clearly unsettled by the notion of Flora with his father.

“I am sure you are right,” she said.

“But tell me,” he said, “what is this new rule Flora mentioned.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks burned and she knew they must be flushed with ugly crimson patches. She looked away. “It was nothing.”

“Pru? What is it? You’re blushing.”

“I’m always bl-blushing.”

Nicholas chuckled. “It’s your fair coloring. Just like Simon. Never knew a man to pink up as much as he does. But what is it, Pru. What is this new rule that makes you blush so?”

“It is just some silliness,” she said, “about my…my manner of dress.”

“Your manner of dress?”

“Flora has taken it upon herself to be…my fashion adviser.”

“Has she indeed?”

Pru heard the smile in his voice, though she continued to look away from him.

“She is very stylish, you know,” Pru said. “And I am…not. I believe she sees me as a sort of project.”

Nicholas took her chin in his hand and turned her face so that she was made to look in his eyes. He was smiling. “It is a successful project, my dear.”

“It is?” Her voice came out in an embarrassing little squeak.

“A fine success. You look very pretty. Is that a new dress?” He gave her cheek a brief stroke with his knuckle, and released her chin.

“This? Oh, no, it’s not new.” It was difficult to speak with her heart thumping so hard in her chest. His touch always did such strange and amazing things to her body. “I’ve w-worn it a hundred times before.”

“Have you? Funny. It doesn’t look familiar.”

“It’s the new rule.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Flora’s rule. She says I wear too many accessories, and I am to remove one of them before coming downstairs. She made me take off my handkerchief.”

Nicholas, still smiling, passed a hand over his mouth as he muttered something under his breath. She could not make it out, but it sounded like “Goodness Flora.” Or maybe it was “God bless Flora.”

“It seems like a fine rule to me,” he said aloud.

“Then I shall follow it. I would like…that is, I have felt…badly, that you have been saddled with such a dowdy female for a wife. I do not wish you to be…ashamed of me.”

Good Lord, had she really said that? She stifled a groan at her own stupidity. She sounded like a pathetic, abject creature. How was she to make him desire her if she behaved like such a ninny?

“Pru? Is that what you think? That I’m ashamed of you?”

She dropped her gaze and studied the toes of her slippers. “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. You are too much a gentleman to be ashamed of me.” Or to say so if he was.

He lifted her chin again. “Don’t say such things, Pru. There is nothing about you to be ashamed of. Nothing at all. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

And then a miracle happened. He bent his head and gently touched his lips to hers. Ever so softly. Ever so briefly.

It was the first time in her life a man had kissed her on the lips. Even at their wedding, Nicholas had merely given her a chaste salute on the cheek. Butthis…this was different. This was wonderful.

She gave a tiny gasp when he pulled back, startled that it was over so soon. She had wanted it to last forever. Embarrassed at her reaction, she brought a hand to her mouth, and found her lips tingling. It was as if she could still feel him there, as if his lips had left an imprint on hers. The notion sent a tremor of excitement through her body.

Nicholas had kissed her!

He released her chin and stepped back. Pru looked up at him, wide-eyed with joy.

“I’m sorry, Pru. I shouldn’t have done that.”

And the joy crumbled at her feet. What was he saying?

He wore a look of chagrin and stepped back a few more steps, deliberately putting more distance between them. More distance, when she wanted him ever so much closer.

“I promised to give you time. I promised to move slowly. I can see I have moved too quickly. I’ve frightened you. Startled you. I should never have imposed. You aren’t ready. I am sorry, Pru. It won’t happen again. I…promise. Please forgive me.”

He turned on his heel and left the room. A moment later, she heard the front door open, and close behind him. He had fled. Because he thought he’d offended her.

You aren’t ready
.

If she were any more
ready
, she’d burst.

She sank into the nearest chair before her knees could give way. She touched her lips again. How was it she could still feel him there after such brief contact? How was it such a simple, almost chaste kiss set up such a longing in her for something more? And how was it he didn’t know that?

She closed her eyes and tried very hard not to cry. This marriage was turning out so much more difficult than she expected. She had thought, at least for that first day, that Nicholas would take
what was now his, even if the imposed intimacy was feigned. Instead, he played the honorable gentleman and left the pursuit of a physical relationship in her hands. And she was too stupid and too shy to take the control he’d given her and let him know she would welcome his touch.

She could not help being shy. Modesty was a part of her nature. Nicholas no doubt equated her behavior with prudery. She was easily embarrassed by the whole business, but she was not a prude. She wanted to experience the full physical aspect of marriage. She longed for it more than anything. It was just so difficult to imagine how she was ever to let him know that. And so he would think her a prude and put off consummating their marriage as long as he could.

She didn’t know what to do.

Yes, she did. Flora had taught her, but she’d been too shy and embarrassed to put the lessons in action. Perhaps it was time to swallow her pride and make another attempt at flirtation.

Pru was going to have to flirt in earnest with her husband if she ever wanted more than a simple kiss.

N
ick opened the front door to the sound of raucous, but definitely feminine, laughter. The Crimson Ladies. He smiled as he wondered what had set them off this time. When he stepped into the entry to see his father fleeing full speed up the stairs, his smile faltered.

What had they done?

He thought to follow his father upstairs. He’d seen very little of Bartholomew since he’d arrived a few days earlier. But perhaps he should first find out what the resident doxies had been up to. He walked to the dining room, where the Crimson Ladies worked, and poked his head in the doorway.

“’Ello, dearie.” Sadie’s voice rose about the din of chatter and laughter. “Come on in ’ere and give us grotty old tarts a rare treat, jus’ ter look at yer.”

The chatter ceased, and six pairs of eyes pinned him to the spot. Suggestive smiles, winks, and thrust bosoms were aimed in his direction.

“Ladies.” He stepped into the room, accustomed to their bold manner, unaffected by it. “Have you been misbehaving again?”

Barks of laughter filled the air, as they poked one another in the ribs and wiggled their bosoms provocatively.

“Wotcher mean, then?” Madge asked. The erstwhile supervisor of the colorists, she was always quick to rein in their raucousness and set them back to work. “We done summink wrong?”

“I suspect you spooked my father,” Nick said. He smiled as he spoke so they would know he was only teasing. “I just saw him bolt up the stairs as though running for his life.”

“Yer da?” Bess still had a bit of Ireland in her voice. “That feller was yer da?”

“Yes. What did you say to send him dashing off like a scared rabbit?”

“Nuffink much,” Sadie said. “D’int give us time. Took one look an’ was orff faster’n a bride’s nightie.” She giggled. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir.”

“Nice-lookin’ man, yer da,” Ginny said. “Clear as day where yer got t’at pretty phiz of yers.”

“I suppose you said as much to him?” Nick asked.

Ginny shrugged, her frizzy brown curls bouncing at the movement. “Dunno. Mighta done.”

“Don’t yer listen to ’er, Mr. Nick,” Daisy said above the laughter that once again filled the room.
“Ginny tol’ ’im what corner she worked an’ what time ter come by. Offered ’im a cut rate, too.”

Dear God. No wonder his father had fled. Nick bit back a smile.

“I’m dreadful sorry, Mr. Nick,” Madge said, and sent Ginny a steely glare. “We d’int know ’e was yer pa. I tries ter keep th’ girls in line, but sometime it be like ’erding cats. I keeps tellin’ ’em while we’re in yer ’ouse, we gotter act nice, like.”

“It’s my father’s house, actually. And he’s just a simple country gentleman. He’s not used to the likes of you ladies.” Nick flashed a grin. “Try not to frighten him to death, will you?”

“Sweet Jaysus, yer don’t t’ink ’e’ll t’row us out, do yer?” Bess had sobered at that thought. The Ladies needed this work. It kept them off the streets. For the most part.

“I will speak to him,” Nick said, “and explain what you’re doing. You won’t lose your work, I promise you. Just…try to behave while he is staying here.”

“Yessir, Mr. Nick,” Madge said. “We won’t be no more trouble. Else I’ll box me a few ears, I will.”

“Thank you, ladies.”

Nick grinned as he turned to leave. Lord, what must his father have thought, finding a group of old bawds occupying his dining room? He was grinning at the thought when he entered the hallway and ran smack into Pru.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, and instinctively
reached out to steady her. He dropped his hands when he felt her stiffen beneath his touch. She colored up and gazed at the floor.

“I’m s-sorry,” she said.

Damn. He had learned she stammered when she felt at her most awkward. That foolish little kiss the day before had only increased the uneasiness between them instead of chipping away at it. Damn, damn, damn.

“I am just going upstairs to speak to my father,” he said, trying to keep his tone easy, not giving away the frustration he felt. “We’ve seen so little of him, I was hoping he might be free this evening. Perhaps we could have a nice, quiet dinner here at home? Just the three of us?”

“That w-would be lovely. I’ll go d-down and talk to Mrs. Gibb about the menu.”

She looked ready to bolt, but he was determined that his wife should learn to be comfortable with him, and so he kept her talking. “Father is partial to roast lamb,” he said.

“Oh. Is he? I will send Mrs. Gibb to the butcher if she doesn’t have lamb in the larder.”

“That would be very nice, Pru. By the way, I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor?”

“Yes. I was working on a pamphlet yesterday about the state of parish apprentices, and I fear I got a bit carried away with my invective. You are much better at this than I am. I was wondering if you’d take a look. You always seem to know the
right words, to persuade with subtlety rather than bombast. I’ve often admired that about your work.”

A rosy pink hue flooded her cheeks, but Nick sensed it was a glow of pleasure and not embarrassment.

“That is very kind of you to say,” she said.

“It’s not kindness. It’s truth. I need your help, Pru. Will you have a look at it tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Without thinking, he reached and touched a wayward curl that had sprung loose from its comb and danced fetchingly beside her eye.

She gave a little start and reached up to tuck the curl back into place, but Nick captured her hand instead.

“Leave it,” he said. “It is charming.”

She seemed thoroughly flustered and stared at their joined hands. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I adore your hair, Pru. Every defiant little curl.”

“You do?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“I do. You know how I am drawn to rebellion.” He smiled, hoping to put her at ease but failing. She seemed barely able to breathe. He released her hand and stepped back.

She expelled a shuddery breath and said, “I must speak with Mrs. Gibb.”

Before he could say another word, she had bolted past him to the door leading downstairs to the kitchen.

Nick heaved a weary sigh. Things were not going at all well with this marriage. He kept bungling it by moving too fast. The awkwardness between them had intensified since yesterday’s innocent kiss. He had so hoped a simple, uncomplicated kiss would have helped to make her more comfortable with him, but quite the reverse had occurred. Pru had trembled and gasped and stared at him wide-eyed with terror. He’d frightened her, damn it all. Perhaps she had sensed his own reaction. He had not expected a simple kiss to affect him so profoundly. But the instant his lips had met hers, a jolt of pure desire had shot through him with surprising force. He’d recognized it for what it was and pulled back at once, not wanting to take advantage of her. Her innocence had been a powerfully erotic temptation.

But he must honor that innocence and move more slowly. He must not crowd her. Their forced union was difficult enough for her without him pressing her with unwanted attentions. Besides, he had promised to wait until she was ready. He would have to be patient. Unfortunately, patience was not one of his strong suits.

He trudged upstairs and found his father in the drawing room, reading a newspaper while seated on the settee above which
Mars and Venus
was now hung, in pride of place. Nick studied his mother’s painting, in which pearly white limbs were entwined and discreet folds of deep red drapery hid very little of what the lovers did. The face of Venus was rapturous with release. Nick
wondered if he would ever see such a look on his wife’s face. Would he ever know such unbridled sexuality in his own home? Or would he be forced to seek it elsewhere? He had not yet done so. He had wanted to give this marriage, and Pru, a chance. But how long was a man expected to wait?

He tore his gaze away from the lusty and illicit lovers and stepped into the room.

“Hullo, Father. Did the Ladies give you a fright?”

Pru smiled as she listened to her husband and father-in-law reminisce about Nicholas’s boyhood in Derbyshire. She took another bite of Mrs. Gibb’s excellent apple tart and watched her two dinner companions. Her eyes were most often drawn to her husband. She was encouraged by recent developments. Even though he had backed away and apologized for kissing her yesterday, today he had taken her hand and kissed her fingers. He had done so many times before, of course, but only in the presence of her family, when he was trying to give credence to their supposed love match. There had been no one watching today, though, and so she could only surmise he had done it because he’d wanted to. And he had not apologized.

It gave her hope.

Father and son were chuckling over some remembered tale. They looked very much alike, especially when laughing and smiling, and both
were equally charming. It would be no surprise if Flora had fallen under Bartholomew’s spell. Just as Pru had—

“Is it true, Prudence,” Bartholomew said, interrupting her wayward thoughts, “that you have fifty-two cousins?”

“First cousins, yes.”

Bartholomew smiled and shook his head in disbelief. “Good Gad.”

“I have already apologized to Pru,” Nicholas said, his dark eyes twinkling, “for aligning her to such a paltry little family as ours. You could populate a good-sized town with Pru’s relatives.”

“You must, then, be accustomed to a very busy household, my dear,” Bartholomew said.

“I suppose so,” Pru replied. “With five brothers and a sister, plus a constant flow of visiting cousins, it was always a bit crowded. But I didn’t mind. It was just the way things were. I never knew any other way to live.”

“Well, I must confess I have grown accustomed to my solitude,” Bartholomew said. “I have lived alone for so long that all the comings and goings here are a bit disconcerting at times.”

Nicholas laughed. “It is the Crimson Ladies that disconcert you, I believe.”

“Oh, dear,” Pru said. “Have the Ladies been bothering you, sir?”

Bartholomew gave a sheepish grin and hunched a shoulder. “Let us just say they startled me a bit. I had not expected to find such…color
ful characters in my dining room. But it is not just the Ladies. There is a great deal of activity here, which I have found somewhat surprising.”

“It is the
Cabinet
business,” Nicholas said. “What with printers’ apprentices and binders and engravers and distributors and advertisers, there is always someone about.”

“So I have noticed,” Batholomew said. “I confess I hadn’t realized how busy it could be. But of course, I am accustomed to my solitary existence in the country and not used to the noise and bustle of city life.”

“That’s why I am still surprised you returned to London so soon after your last visit,” Nicholas said. “You are always welcome, of course. And it
is
your house. But I don’t wish for you to be unhappy, or uncomfortable here.”

“I am nothing of the sort,” Bartholomew said. “In fact, I am enjoying my stay in Town more than I could have imagined. Getting to know my new daughter-in-law. Renewing old acquaintances. It is all rather pleasant, actually.”

Throughout the rest of the evening Pru was unable to shake off the uneasiness brought about by Bartholomew’s offhand comment about the busy atmosphere of the house. It belonged to him, after all. Was he too kind to admit that he did not want her and Nicholas and the
Cabinet
to remain there?

Nick could not concentrate. He was trying to write an article in support of the new factory bill under discussion in the House, but his eyes kept
drifting across the room to where Pru sat working at the desk. Normally, when she escaped into her work on the
Cabinet
she seemed to relax, to be more at ease than at any other time. But she was not relaxed at the moment. There was tension in the way she held her shoulders and in the set of her jaw. It pained him to see her so on edge. He wished he could break through, or help her break through, the awkward barrier still between them.

“What’s troubling you, Pru?”

She looked up at him, her blue eyes large behind the spectacles she wore when she worked.

“Is it something I can help with?” he asked. “You’ve taken on so much in Edwina’s absence. Please don’t hesitate to delegate something to me. I am happy to help.”

“Thank you, Nicholas, but I believe the next issue is under control. As long as you finish that article you promised. No, I was thinking of something else. I was thinking of your father.”

“Father? What about him?”

“I realize he is your parent and I don’t know him very well, but…”

“But?”

She started to say something more, stopped, seemed to consider it, started again, and stopped again. What was it she was finding so difficult to say?

“Don’t tell me you are still thinking about him and Flora?” he asked. “I shouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking of Flora.” She pulled a face, as though considering the idea, and added, “Not exactly.”

“What, then?”

“It’s just…I don’t think he likes us using his house for the
Cabinet
.”

“You are thinking of what he said last night.”

“Yes. And I know he said it was just that he is not accustomed to being in Town, but Nicholas, it
is
his house.”

“And?” He did not like the direction in which he feared this conversation was headed.

“And it is a bit crowded, what with all the magazine work and the Ladies coming and going. And…and with the three of us living here. He did say he was accustomed to more privacy. I was just wondering if…if he would prefer it if we moved into a place of our own.”

Nick looked down at the half-written page in front of him. His spine prickled with annoyance. He was not going to listen to such nonsense. “I am sorry, Pru, but I cannot afford to buy us a house of our own.”

“But I can.”

He looked up sharply. “No. I have told you I will not take your money.”

“But—”

“I said no, Pru and I mean it.” His voice had risen with anger, but he could not help it. This was not a subject for discussion. He had told her from the beginning how it would be and she had agreed. Or so he had thought. But he’d been wrong. She
had no doubt been waiting for the right moment to broach the subject again. And his father’s presence in the house and his comment about the busy atmosphere was the perfect opportunity.