Candice Hern (7 page)

P
ru dropped her forehead on the desk and wrapped her arms over her head, as though she couldn’t bear to show her crimson face even to the empty room. She’d never been so embarrassed in all her life.

Nicholas must think her a complete goose for running away like that, but how could she be expected to speak of such things and not be mortified to her fingertips? Last night she had been perfectly willing to
do
the thing that would make their marriage complete, but she never in a million years expected they would actually talk about it.

She supposed she ought to be happy that he did, after all, intend to make love with her. Sometime. Later. When he was sure she was ready.

But she
was
ready. More than ready. She would,
of course, rather die than tell him so. She wondered how he was supposed to know when the time was right. Pru hoped with all her heart that he didn’t expect her to walk up to him and announce, “I’m ready.” If he did, she feared this marriage would never be consummated, for she could no more say such a thing than jump over the moon.

She groaned aloud. She was seven-and-twenty years old. It was high time she overcame such maidenly self-consciousness. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she could not help blushing clear down to her toes at the very thought of making love with Nicholas. No, that was not entirely true. She could
think
about it. She had dreamed about it for years. But in her dreams he had held her in his arms and kissed her, and the only words spoken were words of love. He never spoke about what they were
doing
. And in her imagination it was always pitch dark when it was done, so she never had to actually visualize it.

If he thought she could openly admit to him that she was ready to do it, anxious to do it,
dying to do it
, then he didn’t know her very well at all.

Or perhaps she had misunderstood. Pru was not particulaly knowledgeable about such matters, after all. Maybe men did have ways of knowing when a woman wanted…
it
. Perhaps there were signals of some kind. If there were, though, she certainly did not know them, and would probably be no less embarrassed to use them if she did.

She was doomed to be a spinster wife.

Pru lifted her head and sighed. The papers on the desk were now creased. Blast. As though it were not enough having one’s life turned topsyturvy overnight, there was still the magazine to publish. She had work to do.

For the next hour she forced aside all thoughts of marriage and Nicholas and
being ready
, and concentrated on the last of the edits due at the printer in three days. When those were finished, she sought out Lucy and Mrs. Gibb and discussed an expansion of their roles. Both were willing and happy to live in. Nicholas hadn’t mentioned salary, but it must surely be increased if they were each to work longer hours. She offered what she thought was fair, and hoped Nicholas would approve.

The three of them had examined the garret rooms and found them dusty but adequate. Pru noted they could use new bed linens. She thought to ask Nicholas about it, but decided she would take care of it on her own. She had already cost him enough in added expenses. Since she would manage the household accounts, he need never know if she used her own money now and then when something extra was needed.

She returned to the office and had begun reviewing the advertisements for the next issue, when the door to the office was flung open. Mrs. Flora Gallagher, the
Cabinet
’s fashion editor, stood in the doorway.

Flora was the most infamous member of the magazine’s staff. She had been a rather notorious demi
mondaine at one time, but was said to have retired from that “profession” before coming to work for the
Cabinet
last year. She had earned a small fortune over the years, so she did not work because she needed to, but simply because she loved fashion. And gossip. The fashion reports she penned for each issue frequently dropped names of who was seen wearing what at some society event.

Pru had always been rather in awe of Flora, but liked her a great deal. She was direct and outspoken, and harbored some of the same political and social ideals as the rest of them, though she was rather more cynical about it than hopeful of any real change. She was a striking-looking woman—tall, with bright red hair, and a rather impressive bosom. And for some inexplicable reason, she had developed a particular fondness for Pru. Theirs had become a rather unconventional friendship.

She locked eyes with Pru for a long moment as she stood in the doorway, then grinned broadly and said, “You sly puss.”

Flora stepped into the office, closing the door behind her, and took a seat in the chair opposite the desk. She continued to stare, and Pru felt her cheeks flame.

“Is it true, then?” Flora asked. “You and Nicholas are married?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Afraid? My girl, you should be dancing in the streets. To have that delicious man all to yourself? My, what a coup.”

“It was not a coup, Flora. More like a disaster.”

Flora studied her with concern. “Tell me what happened.”

And Pru did. The words spilled out in a bubbling frenzy, like champagne that had been shaken too much before the cork was released. Without Edwina to talk to, or her favorite cousin Joanna, Pru had bottled up everything inside her. It was a great relief finally to tell someone everything she’d been feeling since waking up in this office yesterday morning.

“He has not bedded you, then?”

“Flora!” Pru’s cheeks flamed hotter.

“Well, obviously he has not, or you would not be in such a dismal state this morning. You would be walking on air. I have no doubt that man knows a thing or two about pleasing a woman. I can always tell, you know. He has a certain look in those lovely dark eyes.”

“And I am just about the last woman on earth in whose direction he would ever cast those eyes. He’s ten times more beautiful than I could ever be, Flora. It’s monstrous that he should be saddled with a little dowd like me.”

“A little dowd?”

Pru shrugged. “I know how to use a mirror.”

“But not your brain, apparently. Good God, girl, do you think I managed to interest men with my looks alone? I’ve never been a beauty. But I recognize my best assets and know how to show them to advantage.”

Pru’s gaze involuntarily dropped to Flora’s bosom. When she realized where she was look
ing, she quickly lifted her eyes to find Flora smiling. “That is, of course, one of my best assets. But not my only one, I assure you. My point is that you are foolish to assume you are not beautiful enough for Nicholas. You are a very attractive young woman, my dear. If you made a bit of an effort you could knock the man flat. Besides, you have more than beauty. You have brains. You have compassion. You are talented with your pen, and probably in other ways I don’t know about. I will not have you believing you are not good enough for him. He is lucky to have you, whether either of you knows it or not. And so, you must take him to bed, my girl, the sooner the better.”

Was Pru the only one uncomfortable speaking of such private matters? Nicholas, at least, recognized her uneasiness. She had a feeling Flora would not moderate her conversation no matter how embarrassing it was for Pru. Of course, Flora was a bit of an expert in this area. There could be no better confidante, if Pru needed encouragement or advice.

“H-he has suggested we wait,” she said.

Flora raised her eyebrows.

“He thinks we were too rushed, and we should take time to become accustomed to each other.”

“Hmm. And how long does he intend to wait?”

“I…I don’t know.” Until he realized she was
ready
.

“Well, let’s hope it is not long. You must make yourself irresistible to him.”

Pru gave a little bark of laughter. “Me? Irresistible?”

“Don’t be a fool, my girl. Any woman can make a man take notice of her. It’s a matter of self-confidence.” She leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes. “You do have some small portion of confidence, do you not?”

Pru gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. I suppose so.”

Flora pursed her lips and shook her head. “This will not do, my girl. If you ever hope to make this marriage work, you must assert yourself. Nicholas will not want a timid little mouse of a wife. Show him you are made of sterner stuff. Show him you are more than worthy of him.”

“How?”

Flora continued to shake her head in obvious frustration. “Heavens, Pru, are you that unsure of yourself?”

“Yes, I am.” How pathetic she sounded. The sting of tears was building up behind her eyes. Before she could stop herself, in a tiny whisper of a voice she said, “Help me, Flora. Please.”

She could not look up, ashamed at behaving in such an abject manner. Good Lord, she had sunk into a bog of self-pity. How foolish. Nicholas had said they should not waste time repining what could not be changed, and he was right. If he, who’d got the worst end of the bargain, was willing to make their marriage work, then by God, so was she. After a moment, she felt Flora’s hand take hers and squeeze it. Pru lifted her eyes.

“I am sorry to sound like such a pitiful creature,” she said. “Forgive me, Flora. My emotions have been running high, and I fear I have been feeling sorry for myself.”

“And why is that? You have what most women dream of. You are married to a devilishly handsome man, someone you care for deeply.”

Pru gave a little gasp.

Flora smiled. “You think I didn’t know? You do tend to wear your heart in your eyes, my girl.”

“Oh, dear.” Was it so obvious? Did everyone know? Did Nicholas?

“Don’t worry, Pru. I am sensitive to such things. Not everyone is.”

“Oh, dear. You d-don’t think—”

“Men are
never
that sensitive. He doesn’t know, I assure you.”

“Oh, Flora, I would die if he knew how I felt.”

“You’re not going to die, my girl. All you need to do is work on making him fall in love with you, too.”

Pru gave an unladylike snort. “You should write fiction instead of fashion reports. You have as romantic an imagination as Simon Westover. Perhaps you should pen the
Cabinet
’s next sentimental tale instead of him.”

“Bosh. There’s nothing to making a man fall in love with you. And you’ve got proximity on your side, which can only help matters. What you need, Pru, is to believe you are worthy of his love. And of course, you are.”

“How am I? I’m not remotely beautiful. I’m too small. I’m too quiet. He hates my family.”

“You have filled your ledger with too many liabilities, my girl. Let us balance them with assets. First, hardly any of us is truly beautiful, but we all have good features. You have lovely blue eyes. And creamy skin.”

“I have freckles.”

“Charmingly sprinkled across your nose. Your smattering of freckles is most endearing, and helps to keep you looking young. A definite asset. Your hair…”

“I know. It’s a fright.”

“Not at all. It’s a bit untamed, but I do admire its color, a shade more red than blond. Very distinctive. Another asset, with help from a good hairdresser. Now, stand up and come over here. Yes, that’s right, I want to get a good look at you.”

Feeling foolish, and decidedly lacking, Pru walked around the desk and stood before the elegant, voluptuous Mrs. Gallagher. “I’m too short, I know.”

“A lack of height in a woman can make a man extraordinarily protective, which can be used to your advantage. And a small woman makes a man feel taller. They like that, you know. It is another asset.” Her eyes raked Pru from top to toe. “Your wardrobe, however, is not.”

Flora circled her, lifting the white muslin of her dress, running the fabric through her fingers, examining seams and construction. “You often wear
this type of ill-fitting garment,” Flora said. “It is time I took you in hand.”

Since Pru liked to sew and often made her own clothes, including this round gown and bodice, she winced at the insult.

“You really should wear more color, my girl. Your own special peaches-and-cream coloring is not set off well in white. I’m afraid it makes you look quite pallid.”

“Most of my dresses are white.”

“So I have noticed. Well, we shall need to add a bit of dash. The right cut and fabric, the right accessories can make all the difference. It would do you no harm to pay closer attention to our fashion plates, and my fashion reports. Now, as to your figure, you are delicate-boned and slender, which means you can carry your clothes with more flair. Let me see…”

Pru squealed when Flora grabbed the back of her muslin bodice and pulled it tight.

“Pru! You have a bosom!”

“Flora!”

“Well, one would never know it with all the fichus and tuckers and handkerchiefs you use as disguise. Most definitely an asset. Here, let me unpin this and see what we have.”

Pru reached up to clasp the whitework fichu crossed over the bodice of her dress. “Flora, please!”

“For heaven’s sake, girl, don’t be such a ninny. If you won’t remove a simple fichu in front of me,
how do you ever hope to bare all in front of Nicholas?”

Pru gulped.

“You did ask for my help,” Flora said. “I just want to see what we have to work with. Now, take your hands away and let me unpin this thing.”

Pru did as she was asked. There was little choice with someone like Flora. The lace pins were removed and the fichu unwrapped. The bodice edge, cut low to allow a shirt or tucker, skimmed the top of her stays, exposing a great deal of bare skin. Pru shivered. She started to lift her hands to cover herself, but Flora took them and held them out to her side.

“My dear Mrs. Parrish, you have been hiding your light under a bushel. Mr. Parrish has a surprise in store. With the right dress, you could have him eating out of your hand.”

“But I feel quite naked.”

“Get used to it, my dear. Your husband will want to see a great deal more of you, I’m sure. Now, we must contrive some sort of evening affair where you can wear something suitably revealing.”

“There is no need to contrive. My niece is coming out this Season, and my sister has a long list of events I will be expected to attend. A ball for Arabella is being held next week.”