Chapter Ten
Prudence West stopped on her way toward the north-west wing, where Lord Sudbury’s rooms were and stared at the door to the guest room.
It had been an hour now since Miss Ramsey had stumbled out of the room and tumbled into Benjamin’s arms.
What had her brother been doing making his way to the guest room so late in the night? He’d carried the waif back into the room and there he stayed–fool that he was!
She looked longingly toward Simon’s room.
She needed his company.
She couldn’t sleep.
Slumber only brought nightmares of sleeping huddled in an alley outside in the dark, afraid, oh, so afraid that she would lose her brother every time he failed to return to her until the morning, beaten up and bleeding but in possession of enough money to pay for their lodgings for another few days.
But worse than him not returning to her until morning, was when he was with her, fighting off some miscreant who thought to have his way with her in the alley–-of seeing a knife in her brother and blood gushing like a spring from his belly.
Ben had no idea how much she had grown to depend on him.
She had a wonderful, handsome man who loved her and wanted to take her away but she couldn’t leave Ben–and she hated herself for it.
After more than an hour, she gave up waiting for her brother to exit the guest room.
She felt the blood rushing to her face as her careless rogue of a brother kept a woman like that for his pleasure.
How could he? she raged silently.
The woman was a pauper! Oh, their poor father! Thank God he wasn’t here to see this.
Benjamin was sure to lose their father’s fortune to some wench.
Staying in her room for so long likely meant that he bedded the urchin.
What would he do if she turned up pregnant with his child? Oh, the very thought of it made Prudence’s bones shake.
She hurried to Simon’s door.
On the way, she tried to remember any lady who sparked her brother’s interest in the past.
He was a dark, brooding killer, made all the more dangerous because he walked with the favor of the king.
After they were told about the deaths of their parents, Prudence’s soft-spoken little brother had retreated into a dark place and became an angry, vengeful young man.
Their father’s servants helped them survive for three years until Lord Addinton came to Colchester House and threw everyone out, including her and her brother.
Prudence rubbed her palm over her belly and let out a little groan.
Those were the worst days…years of her life.
She hated remembering the way she begged for food.
And she’d only finally done it because she was starving to death.
While she begged for scraps, her brother fought in competitions and often won enough for them to eat and sleep for a few days.
He fought.
That’s all Benjamin did. He didn’t give himself any time for girls or their wiles. He became one of the fiercest fighters in Colchester, where they barely survived until Lord Cambridge took pity on them and rescued them from the streets.
Oh, she hated remembering.
It was Miss Ramsey’s fault that she did.
What kind of spell had that ragamuffin put on her brother? And how could Prudence break it? She had to, for Lady Alexandra Augustus, the king’s own niece, was in love with her brother.
Benjamin was too rich, too handsome and powerful to be with just any woman.
He could propel the West name to the highest heights if he married right.
Prudence worked diligently for years building up the duke in the eyes of the most elite nobles.
But truly, all Ben needed to do was show up to melt the powder off ladies' faces. He was unquestionably the most handsome man in the kingdom, after him, of course was Lord Sudbury. Ben had money and it showed mostly in how he dressed. He wore the finest silk and silk velvets, imported cotton, and handmade lace. Other men could wear the same thing, but her brother wore it well. He was tall and elegant with an untouchable air about him. But to his sister, he would always be a young boy crying his heart out for his mother or training alone every day and night for three years, cutting the air with the fierce fury of his sword. Revenge was the source that drove him. His one and only desire was to kill Jacobites and once Prudence had a home with Lord Cambridge, her brother left her to kill for Queen Anne and then for King George. She hardly saw him for nine years, save for when he returned to Colchester House to slaughter everyone in it and then sat in his rightful place, in his father’s chair. Once he had established that everything was his, he brought Prudence back to her home, and then he left again to go fight alongside the Duke of Marlborough. He created a name for himself with his heroic deeds at a battle in southern Germany and then again when he saved the king’s life multiple times.
He could marry any woman he desired.
How could he–after everything–give up his social status for a destitute beggar?
“Lady Prudence.”
She stopped and tilted her head up.
“Simon, what are you doing in the hall at this late hour?”
“I was hoping to have a word with you.
I was on my way to your rooms.”
His velvety voice seeped through her, warming her blood.
He was Benjamin’s childhood friend and fought at her brother’s side in every battle he’d been in, including taking back Colchester House.
As far back as Prudence could remember, she’d always loved Simon Hamilton. “A word?”
Her heart thumped hard, making her feel a little ill.
“What about?”
“Come back to Sudbury with me,”
he blurted.
“What?”
A wave of lightheadedness washed over her and she held her hand to her forehead.
She laughed a little but he looked to be quite serious.
Not now. Not now.
“Let’s leave in the morning, Pru.
After our marriage–”
“Simon,”
She took a step back, shaking her head.
“What is this about? Did Benjamin put you up to this? He wants me to leave.
Do you think I would wed you because my brother is forcing you to do so?”
He smiled, but Prudence knew him well enough to recognize that he was anything but happy.
“Forcing me?”
he asked.
“How long have I been asking, Prudence? You always have a reason to postpone it.
I don’t want to wait anymore for Ben to take a wife.”
“But he needs–”
“No, he doesn’t.
He’s a grown man who can make decisions on his own.
He doesn’t need you meddling in his affairs.”
“Simon.”
She pulled on his sleeve and opened the door to his rooms, then pulled him inside.
“I saw him take Miss Ramsey to the guest room over an hour ago, and he still remains.
“So?”
he argued.
“He’s fought on battlefields! He’s not a child.”
“But she has nothing! She’s a street urchin!”
His strained smile faded.
“Instead of worrying over her social status, be glad your brother is finally taking an interest in something other than killing.”
She wanted to say more, but he did have a point.
But oh, why did the first woman to bend Benjamin’s iron resolve have to be someone like Miss Ramsey? It was clear that Simon didn’t understand.
“My dear,”
her beloved softened his tone and pulled her gently into his arms.
“I want you to be mine completely.
Marry me and come live with me in Sudbury.”
He lowered his head and kissed her, muddling her thoughts.
No, just this one thing.
Let her help her brother find a wife worthy of him and the name West.
Oh, for her father’s sake, let her help bring pride to their name.
“Simon,”
she said, pressing her palms to his chest to push him away, “Don’t you remember how my father’s name was dragged through the dirt as being a debtor and causing his children to be cast out into the street? Well, just as my brother wanted to clear our father’s name, I want to elevate it.
I want everyone to know the name West and to respect it.”
He was quiet and kept his head down.
“Well? Do you have nothing to say? I’m telling you my brother won’t be respected if he falls in love with a girl from the street.”
He finally looked at her.
“Things could turn around for her, as they did for you.”
If he were anyone else, she would have slapped his face for making such a comparison, but she loved him too much to put her hand to hurt him.
“It’s not the same thing, Simon.
My prestige was taken from me.
All we know of Miss Ramsey is that she came here from Ipswich with nothing.
She’ll bring everything down.”
“Pru, you don’t know her.
She’s doing him good.”
What? What was this she was hearing? “Are you defending her?”
But it wasn’t the first time, was it? He liked the urchin.
She fell back into a chair and fanned herself.
“My love,”
he said as he knelt before her and took her hand, “in your zeal to elevate your father’s name, you have become someone I no longer understand.”
She pulled her hand away from his and bolted to her feet.
She pushed past him and went to the door.
“You can leave now,”
she said, opening it.
“Prudence, I’m on your side.”
“Are you on the side of someone you don’t understand?”
“I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
“Go,”
she insisted, too angry to care.
Not only was her fool of a brother in love with that woman, but the man Prudence loved most defended her!
“Prudence,”
Simon said in a sterner tone.
“This is my room.”
“I don’t care. Get out!”
“If you keep this up you’re going to lose him.
We all might.”
“What? What does that mean? How might we all lose him?”
He didn’t answer but moved toward the door.
She stepped in front of him, blocking the way.
He could have easily moved her out of his way, but he didn’t.
“My love…”
“Yes?”
“He can’t go on much longer with so much darkness in him without fighting.”
“But he can’t fight–”
“He practices every day without fail,”
Simon pointed out.
Just as he practiced when he was a boy and became good enough to fight for the queen.
Her eyes opened wider as the horrifying truth dawned on her.
“He intends to return to the king.”
Loyal to who he was, he neither denied nor affirmed it.
“I think she can stop him.”
The urchin could stop it? “How? By falling in love with her? Tell me, is she that special?”
“Yes.
I believe for Ben, she is.
His happiness is important to you, isn’t it?”
“He can be happy with the king’s niece,”
she insisted.
“No.
He has no interest in her, in any of them.
You know that.”
“You’re asking me to stand by and let him wed a beggar.”
“If he returns to the king,”
he countered, “whatever more he can do for your father’s name might end for good.”
She paled.
Returns to the king.
Yes, Benjamin would do that, and he could die.
Even if he brought shame to their father’s name, she didn’t want to lose him to some Jacobite blade.
She’d lost enough to them already.
“Is he able to fight again, Simon? The truth, please.”
“You know how determined he is, Prudence.
He can fight.
I don’t know for how long, but long enough to convince the king that he’s ready.”
She held her hands to her mouth and swayed for a moment.
Simon was there immediately to hold her up.
These were her choices? Lose her brother to a pauper, or lose him to death.
Either way… She wanted to weep, to yank out her hair and wail.
How could he even consider returning to the battlefield? Was fighting and killing truly all he cared about?
“I need to think about all of this,”
she told Simon, sounding defeated.
“Very well then, I’ll walk you back to your rooms.”
He took her hand without another word and led her out.
When they passed the guest room door, she stared at and wished her brother would open the door so she could throw her shoe at his stubborn head.#
Fable sat at the hand-carved wooden table in the dining Hall.
It was the first time she actually sat at the table and ate.
As a matter of fact, it was the first time she’d ever sat at any table.
And she’d never imagined one could look like this one–covered in different dishes of food.
That was what Ben had used to lure her here.
Food.
He’d asked her what she liked to eat for breakfast. She told him scrambled eggs, buttered toast and a cup of coffee.
She smiled now lifting a hunk of bread that looked as if it had been roasted over a flame, to her mouth.
He’d had the cook prepare what she liked, and–with Fable’s prompting, what he liked; barley cakes, biscuits, over-easy eggs, ham, fresh butter, marmalade, and various fish dishes.
There were melons, grapes, berries and different creams.
She’d never seen so much food in one place.
He’d had Stephen out since early this morning buying coffee beans, roasting them, grinding and finally boiling them.
She brought her cup to her mouth next and sipped the strong, bitter beverage.
It made her shiver.
She guessed this was what coffee was supposed to taste like.
She added some fresh sweet milk then closed her eyes and almost purred like a satisfied cat.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that Ben was watching her from across the table, wearing the faintest hint of a smile.
His declaration from the night before resonated in her head.
I’m almost fully certain that I love you, Miss Ramsey.
He loved her? That’s when she knew all this was a dream.
She was in a coma somewhere.
He loved her? What did it mean? What should she do about it? She knew one thing, she was losing her hardened heart to him.
“Have I thanked you for all this, Your Grace?”
“Yes.
A dozen times,”
he answered, looking as if he didn’t mind at all.
He rested his hands from eating and looked at them, rather than at her.
“Have I told you…”
he paused to clear his throat “...
how lovely you look?”
“Many times.”
She let out a little laugh while she ate.
She’d felt lovely, like a pampered princess, standing still while seamstresses measured her for new gowns, which His Grace had ordered to be fashioned not only for beauty, but for comfort without any whale bones to pinch and prod, or corsets that cut off her air.
Just a few hours later two gowns had already been finished.
She chose one made of fine, sapphire-colored, silk velvet with silver thread sewn into soft swirls throughout.
It was unbelted and hung in flowy waves and pleats from her shoulders to the floor over a matching bodice and soft, cotton petticoats instead of hoops.
She had sat impatiently, wanting to see him while two different women washed and dried her hair.
She loved all the attention and enjoyed it while they brushed her long locks and pinned them up.
“I have to write some letters this afternoon,”
he told her while they ate together this morning.
“After that I can teach you fencing.
I need to practice.”
“When will you teach me to read and write?”
she asked, spooning some cream onto a chunk of melon and then happily eating it.
“Tonight,”
he told her, gazing at her.
“Over candlelight and wine?”
She smiled, blushed, and nodded.
She couldn’t help but think about the night she’d spent in his arms.
Though he’d kissed her with passion and promises, he hadn’t tried to have his way with her.
He was as awkward and untried as she was.
He’d slept for what was left of the night.
She lay awake as the hours passed, listening to him breathing next to her, staring at his beautiful face while he dreamed, hopefully of her.
The thought of spending another night with him thrilled her.
“Ah, Miss Ramsey,”
the villainess snarled as she approached the table on the arm of a man who Fable pitied.
“I wasn’t told you would be joining us for breakfast.”
She shot a scornful glare at Ben.
“I could have made arrangements for food more to your taste.”
Wow.
She was an evil villainess, all right.
She didn’t waste time but struck with a smile on her pretty face.
Ben sipped his coffee and stared at his sister.
“Prudence, make arrangements for the next time I don’t tell you something because it will happen again.
You aren’t Mother, and I’m not a child.
As for the food, I’ve arranged it.
It’s all her favorites.”
He looked at Fable and smiled.
“You like it, hmm?”
She smiled at him.
How could she hide it after all he’d done this morning? “Yes, thank you.”
He laughed quietly over her thankfulness while Lady Prudence stared at him.
It was because Fable was leaning in that she heard Lord Sudbury’s soft voice when he spoke to Ben’s sister.
“I haven’t seen him this happy since he was ten years old.”
Fable couldn’t help but glance at Lady Prudence to surprisingly find her big, dark eyes shining with tears while she stared at her brother.
Lady Prudence, the wicked villainess of Fable’s tale, was actually very beautiful when she wasn’t glaring, snarling, or hurling insults.
Her eyes and face were rounder, her nose smaller than her brother’s.
Otherwise, she resembled him.
Those glassy eyes fell on Fable and hardened looking her over.
“New gown?”
“Yes.
It was made for me this morning,”
Fable happily told her.
“His Grace took pity on me when I mentioned the bone stays in my last gown stabbing me.
This is so soft.”
She held out her arm.
“Do you want to feel it?”
Lady Prudence somehow managed to smile through her icy expression.
Fable continued to smile at her, and also at Lord Sudbury.
“No.
I do not want to feel it,”
the lady sneered.
“Oh, Stephen!”
Fable held up her index finger to Lady Prudence and then waved to the steward.
“The coffee is delicious,”
she told him.
“Pure heaven.
Thank you for all your trouble.”
“It was no trouble at all, Miss,”
the steward told her with a kind smile.
He was very fatherly looking, Fable decided.
He had kind eyes and a patient smile.
“Have you had breakfast?”
Fable asked him.
“Come and sit and have some of your wonderful coffee with us.”
The steward cast Ben an uncertain look.
“It’s all right, Stephen,”
Ben told him.
“You may sit with us.”
Fable clapped her hands and then hurried to get the steward a cup of coffee.
When she returned, Ben was, as usual, smiling at her.
His sister was not.
“Miss Ramsey, we don’t serve the servants.”
Fable’s smile softened.
“My lady, I didn’t ask you, His Grace, or Lord Sudbury to serve anyone.
There’s nothing wrong with a servant serving another servant.”
“You are no one’s servant,”
the duke corrected.
Fable graced him with a smile, then shifted her gaze back to his sister.
“Stephen worked all morning to make the coffee we’re all enjoying.
Whether one has an abundance–”
She looked around at all the food on the table, “or if you have nothing, gratitude is something we should all practice.”
“He can drink it in the kitchen,”
Prudence said unmoved, and pushed her cup away.
Stephen began to rise from his chair.
Fable didn’t want him to go.
If this was what having money and power did to a person, she wanted no part of it.
This wasn’t her home.
She couldn’t tell Lady Prudence that if she didn’t like it, leave.
“Stephen, sit down.”
The duke’s rumbling voice warmed her blood and made her want to smile.
“Prudence, he’s my loyal steward.
He’ll sit at my table from this day on.”
“Sir, I–”
Stephen tried.
“Drink your coffee,”
the duke ordered.
The steward obeyed.
“It’s very good,”
Ben added, holding up his cup to Stephen.
“Thank you.”
Sitting near Ben, Lord Sudbury caught Fable’s eye and smiled with a slight nod.
Beside him, the villainess cast her a stunned look.
Fable didn’t want to be her rival, or her enemy in any way.
After all, she was falling in love with her brother.
Enemies only made one’s life miserable, and this life she was living right now was too good to harbor animosity toward anyone.
But could a street urchin find warmth in a heart so cold? She remembered winning the heart of cranky Old Ernest Hemmingway from Bleecker St.
back in twenty-seventeen.
She knew Ernest Hemmingway wasn’t his real name, but if that’s what he wanted to be called, who was she to argue? One good thing about living on the streets was that you could be whoever you wanted to be.
Old Ernest sold fish behind the piers.
Every Tuesday, Fable’s mother set off with Fable in tow to the piers.
Old Ernest used to save fish for her that was starting to lose its freshness.
But after her mother tried to steal two bluefish, he refused to ever speak to her again.
Fable and her mother went three months without any seafood–until her mother begged her to go speak to Old Ernest for her.
She hadn’t gone directly to him, but stayed half-hidden and watched him from where he could see her.
Finally, he called her over. She went with her long hair bouncing around her delicate shoulders. She didn’t ask him for food, but smiled at all the filets and whole fish over ice. Fable didn’t like seafood, but her mother did. By the end of the day, the cantankerous old man smiled at her as if she were his treasured grandchild. She returned to her mother with three bass and a bag of shrimp.
Fable knew how to win affection.
She didn’t smile now, in case Lady Prudence thought she was gloating over having her way.
She looked away and set her gaze on Lord Sudbury.
“My lord,”
she said, keeping her voice soft, but just loud enough for Lady Prudence to hear.
“You spoke the truth when you said the duke’s sister was the most beautiful woman in England.”
Lady Prudence blushed and then smiled into her hand.
There now, Fable thought, quietly slapping her hands together under the table.
That wasn’t so difficult.
“Miss Ramsey,”
the duke of Colchester said in a quieter voice so that only she and Stephen could hear, a look of pure entertainment on his face.
“What other wonders are you hiding?”