Authors: Anne Gracie
Gideon did not rejoin the party for some time. He sat down and considered what had just happened. In one sense it was a scenario he was more than familiar with; a few stolen kisses, a few illicit caresses in a secluded room during a party or ball. On the other hand…
Lord! Who could believe that a man of his experience could be knocked all on end by a couple of clumsy, heartfelt kisses, delivered in anger—or so she claimed. One had even almost missed his mouth.
But he had been utterly bowled over by them. Because those sweet, clumsy kisses had brought with them a revelation that had shocked him to his back teeth.
He didn’t want it to be a false betrothal. He really wanted Prudence. As his lover. But not as his mistress. There was only one solution he could see to that conundrum.
After some time he stood and left the room. He wandered through the crowded ballroom like a man in a daze. He was reeling. His whole life plan had been turned upside down.
He left the ball and walked out into the dark streets. Eventually he found himself staring at the knocker on his cousin’s door and realized he had no memory of walking home. He would have been easy meat for Mohocks and foot-pads.
What did that matter when the fundamental premise of his whole life had been suddenly overturned?
He broached the matter in oblique fashion to his cousin the next evening. “Found any likely prospects yet, Edward?”
The duke started. He’d been in a brown study, staring off into middle distance. “Likely prospects?”
Gideon looked at his cousin. “In your search for a suitable bride.” He frowned. “
Suitable
being the operative word. It must be damned difficult. I mean, our parents charted their courses to marriage in all innocence, and look how that ended up!”
Edward smiled ruefully. “I know. But now I’ve decided we have no choice except to do what they did: marry and take a chance.”
Gideon sat up. “What? You don’t mean…?”
“Yes, Gideon, I’ve found my suitable bride.” Edward looked a little sheepish.
“Excellent!” He topped up his cousin’s glass. “Who’s the girl? Anyone I know?”
Edward hesitated. “If you don’t mind, I won’t mention her name until I’ve addressed the question to her and received an answer.”
Gideon frowned. “You needn’t fear I’ll blab it about town. Dammit, Coz, you know me better than that.”
“Oh, of course. You know I’d trust you with my life. It’s not that, it’s just…tempting fate, I suppose you’d call it.”
“Oh, well, if you’re steeped in superstition, Edward, that’s your affair. It’s not as if you’re likely to be turned down. But tell me, do I know her?”
His cousin considered the question. “Yes, you’ve met her several times.”
“And she’s everything you said you wanted? Plain, quiet, dull—er, docile? Not the sort to stir up unpleasant emotions?”
“That’s not exactly how I’d describe her. But she is the bride for me.”
“Excellent. So she’s nice and plain?”
Edward’s mouth quirked. “You were not struck by her beauty, at any rate.”
Definitely plain, Gideon decided, for he was quite a connoisseur of feminine beauty. It was natural that Edward would not wish to dwell on the girl’s lack of looks. He was going to marry her, after all. Gideon swirled the port in his glass, eyeing the candle flame through the ruby liquid, and cast his mind over the many plain girls he recalled from this year’s crop of debutantes. There were too many to recall any particular plain Jane who’d been singled out by his quiet cousin. In fact, it was an especially dull batch, he decided; there was only one beauty who sprang to mind, Miss Prudence Merridew, and Edward had not paid her any particular attention, he was sure.
“What are your plans for the morrow, Edward? Going to speak to the girl’s father?
“No. I have an engagement to escort the Misses Merridew to Astley’s Amphitheater in the afternoon and am promised to Featherstonehaugh for dinner—”
Gideon looked up. “Astley’s Amphitheater? Whatever are you going there for?”
The duke shrugged. “It came up in conversation last week, and the young ladies expressed great interest in it. They haven’t seen many of the city’s delights as yet, and Miss Faith and Miss Hope in particular were very eager to observe the lady equestriennes. So I offered to escort them.”
“Is, er, Miss Prudence to be one of the party?” Gideon said in a casual tone.
“I think so. Certainly she seemed as eager as her sisters when informed of the prospect by Miss Charity.”
Gideon picked up an ornament and toyed with it. “Sounds like rather a lot for you to handle, Edward. One lone gentleman escorting so many young and excitable females. Would you like a hand with them, by any chance?”
His cousin smiled. “Why Gideon, how very kind of you to offer. But there’s no need to worry about me. I can manage. They’re not all that excitable, you know. No, no, dear boy—you stick to your own plans.”
“Oh, there’s nothing that cannot be put off,” Gideon said decisively. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you to cope with a gaggle of young girls all alone. I’ll come.”
The duke observed him in silence a moment and then said in a voice that had the tiniest quaver in it, “I’m touched by your thoughtfulness, Cousin. Such noble self-sacrifice.”
Gideon’s eyes dropped ruefully before the gentle irony in his cousin’s. He set down his glass and dragged his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Hang it all, Edward, I haven’t the faintest notion of what to do. I’m in desperate straits, here. You’ve no idea!”
“Oh, I think I do understand,” said the duke gently. “You’re not alone in those straits, you know.”
Gideon looked up, startled. “You mean your plain and sensible choice—”
“Is not the slightest bit plain! In fact she’s a diamond of the first water. Probably the most beautiful girl in the ton,” Edward told him glumly. “And the worst thing is, I’m head over heels in love with her. It is exactly what I feared would happen and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.”
“Good God!” Gideon reached for the decanter and refilled both their glasses.
“I know. And we both swore never to let it happen. How did it happen, Gideon? How, after all these years and all this careful avoidance, did it happen? Because one minute I was sailing along perfectly happily, my nice, safe course chartered and the next minute I was knocked all a’beam and in well over my head.”
Gideon shook his head, gloomily. “Yes, that’s it exactly. Drowning in her eyes—and happy to do so.”
“After one look, one glance! And despite all my plans.”
Gideon sighed. “That’s all it took with me, too. One look. Oh, I fought it for a time, but now…besotted!”
Edward sighed. “I shall seek an appointment with her great-uncle the day after tomorrow.”
Gideon sat for a moment, pondering their confessions, and slowly his cousin’s words filtered through to his brain. A beauty with a great-uncle! He exploded suddenly from his chair. “Speak to her great-uncle, you said! Dammit, Edward, you can’t be in love with Prudence, too, blast you! Because if you are—”
Edward waved his anxieties aside. “No, no, calm yourself, cousin, it’s not Prudence. It’s almost worse than that. It’s Charity.”
Gideon sank back in his chair. The relief was overwhelming. It was a few moments before the appalling significance of Edward’s words struck him. “Charity? You cannot mean it. Not…her
sister?
”
Edward nodded. “Yes—the gossips will have a field day. History repeating itself all over again. We shan’t have a moment’s peace, once word gets out.” He heaved a gloomy sigh. “You know how I hate a fuss!”
Chapter Eleven
“Let us not love in words or speech but in deed and in truth.”
J
OHN 3:18
“T
HAT,
” H
OPE ANNOUNCED AS THE CARRIAGE PULLED UP IN FRONT
of Great-uncle Oswald’s house, “was the the most exciting thing I have ever seen! The music, the spectacle, the lady riders—and the way that man rode on the horse’s back standing upright. How I would like to try that.”
“And he wasn’t even holding on to the reins!” her twin agreed. “He was quite handsome, too, in a barbaric sort of way, didn’t you think?”
The carriage door opened. Gideon stepped out and proceeded to hand down the ladies. The twins alighted first, followed immediately by Prudence. She accepted his hand but refused to meet his eyes. Gideon suspected she couldn’t. He had an idea that his little hawk was flustered beyond anything by her forwardness in kissing him at the ball. If he was any judge of feminine behavior, she was mortified as much by her obvious response to him as with her out-of-character actions. And so she was pretending it hadn’t happened. Ever since the kiss, she had treated him with reserve and a great deal of formality. She was, in fact, thought Gideon with an inner chuckle, doing her very best to pretend that they’d never even met.
But if she thought severe formality would force him to keep his distance, she was in for a disappointment. She was adorable as a formidable little dowager. If she treated him with much more of her disdain, he’d have to kiss her again.
Gideon held her hand a moment or two longer than strictly necessary, and she stood there waiting for him to release her, refusing to look at him. Finally she lifted her gaze and glared up at him, tugging her hand in vain. He lifted her gloved hand to his lips, turned it over, peeled back her glove and kissed the naked flesh revealed, all the while quizzing her wickedly with his eyes.
A fiery blush lit her cheeks, and she snatched her hand back and stepped briskly away from him. A moment later a maidservant darted up the side steps onto the wet pavement and thrust a piece of paper into her hand.
Gideon turned to help the next girl down, but his cousin was there before him.
“Miss Charity,” Edward murmured reverently.
Charity laid a gloved hand in Edward’s and stepped down.
“Did you enjoy the show?” the duke inquired gravely, still holding on to her hand, even though she had alighted safely. Gideon smiled to himself. The flags of the pavement were slightly uneven, after all.
Charity’s face glowed with pleasure. “I thought the horses were the cleverest, knowing exactly what to do without anyone telling them. If anyone had told me that horses could perform a dance with perfect timing and execution—well, I wouldn’t have believed them! To think I have seen an equestrian ballet! Thank you, Your Grace, for taking us. It has been a truly wonderful experience.” She smiled, and suddenly Gideon could see her resemblance to Prudence. It was obvious to him now why his cousin thought Charity a diamond of the first water. Her smile was the same as Prudence’s.
“The pleasure was all mine,” the duke declared, flushing. Gideon observed his cousin compassionately, seeing the glazed look, the distinctly codlike helplessness and devotion. Yes, they were both well and truly hooked.
Gideon turned to assist Grace, but she had scrambled down unaided. She hooked her arm through his in a friendly manner. “I liked the battle scenes best—all that smoke and the cannons and the soldiers so brave and smart in their uniforms,” she declared.
But Gideon’s attention was suddenly caught as he realized Prudence had frozen, stock-still. She was as pale as the crumpled piece of paper clutched in her hand. As he watched, she swayed slightly, as if suddenly faint.
Gideon sprang forward and wrapped his arm around her waist. “What is it, Prue? Bad news? Are you ill?”
It spoke volumes for Prudence’s state of mind that she did not seem to notice his intimate hold, let alone his use of her name. She held up the paper and in a sombre voice said to her sisters, “It’s from Mrs. Burton.”
It was as if a small flock of happy chicks had suddenly spotted a snake above them, he thought. The carefree excitement of a moment before was extinguished by a sudden tense silence.
The twins moved closer, their hands linked in unconscious solidarity, their eyes fixed on Prudence. Grace turned as white as her sister. Prudence stepped away from Gideon and gathered the little girl to her protectively. Charity stood biting her lip, then quietly stepped away from the duke and went to stand on the other side of Grace, so that Prudence and the child were enclosed.
Gideon exchanged glances with Edward and with one accord, they stepped closer to the huddle of girls, in time to hear Prudence explaining, “Mrs. Burton doesn’t know how he found out. She thinks the new boot boy let something slip, but when she wrote this”—she checked the letter again—“the day before yesterday, he’d ordered the coach to be made ready for a long trip. He’s coming to London to look for us. She sent this note with one of the stableboys, who rode on the mail. He cannot be far behind.”
The girls looked wildly around as if he—whoever “he” was—might be anywhere. Prudence swallowed and continued in a calm voice. “It is all right. We shall be safe, I promise you.”
“We will have to flee, won’t we Prue?” Charity said quietly.
Prudence hesitated, then nodded. “I can see no other alternative.”
“Won’t Great-uncle Oswald help us?” Grace asked.
Prudence looked troubled. “He would try, I’m sure, darling. But he is entirely dependent on Grandpapa financially and he has been so kind to us, I don’t think we should ask him to risk his very livelihood.”
“And he is not so strong or as vicious as Grandpapa,” Hope stated bluntly. “Grandpapa would just knock him down and start on us.”
“He might not even believe us,” added Faith. “Nobody ever did before. Not until Dr. Gibson saw Grace with his own eyes.”
“Besides,” Charity added practically, “Great-uncle Oswald is away for the day and Grandpapa could arrive at any minute.”
“What’s going on, Prudence?” Gideon scanned her face worriedly. She looked so frightened, dammit! They all did. He wanted to snatch her back in his embrace but she was surrounded by sisters. He clenched his fists. What the devil was happening and why did they seem to think that flight was their only alternative? He glanced at Edward, who returned his look with a worried shrug.
“We have to leave—now,” Prudence said in a flat voice. “Thanks to Mrs. Burton we are forewarned, and by the time Grandpapa comes we shall be gone.”