Chapter 1
“Miss Bastable,” said Mr. Fallow, “I’ve always heard convent girls are silent as saints. Today, I am witnessing it myself. Surely you must have something to contribute to the conversation.”
Prudence Bastable sat on the far edge of the table, careful to keep her expression neutral.
But in earnest, the reality was anything but. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her father had arranged for a private supper with some gentlemen, none of whom she recognized. Being the only lady at the table, she felt that the attention was on her.
Oh, how I wish Esther and Jasper were here. Her siblings, of course. They were closest to her age; it was natural to seek them out even though it was not clear to her if they had any regard for her. If anything, they would ignore her for the most part.
It was not lost on Prudence the condescending tone which Mr. Fallow took on to speak to her, as though he was intentionally making her feel that there was something wrong with her. She folded her hands neatly in her lap, giving herself necessary pause before speaking.
“Mr. Fallow,” she said softly, “silence is the easiest contribution to make when the conversation is already complete without one’s help. Do you find that not so?”
“Complete?” He laughed a bit too loudly. Prudence was not sure what was so funny. “Nonsense. We have discussed nothing of consequence.”
“Then perhaps the defect is not in my silence,” she said, tilting her head, “but in the topics which cannot bear examination.”
At her words, she could see that a collection of looks were thrown in her direction, but it was too late to bite them back.
“Ha! A neat parry,” commented the gentleman to Mr. Fallow’s right. Thankfully, they had not taken any great offense. “But surely a young lady can offer something. What is it that convent girls learn? Copying prayers?”
Once again, the condescension in his tone was blatant.
“Am I the first one that you have met?” she asked, pursing her lips together. Once again, a slew of curious looks were thrown in her direction, and she found herself missing her siblings terribly.
If they were here, all the attention would not be so squarely upon me alone.
Prudence realized at that moment that she was always wishing for a change of circumstance. That had been a consistent running theme across her life, all twenty-one years.
“You are.” Mr. Fallow’s smile expanded into a grin. Prudence could not figure what was so amusing about what she said.
Perhaps she was the equivalent to a freak in their eyes.
A new, curious little creature. While they had spent their lives in normal upper-class society, she had been banished behind the walls of the nunnery where normalcy was a luxury.
That must be the reason behind their curiosity and strange looks.
Prudence looked down at her hands. She found herself uncomfortable in the role that she had been cast in. The last thing which she wanted was to be seen as out of the ordinary. Instead, she desperately wished to fit in.
“Well, then,” Prudence reeled herself in. In a desperate bid to show that she is not as big of a freak as they assume her to be, she tried to entertain their questions. “Prayer was a large part of my day, yes.”
“Oh, and you must have prayed to be placed at this very table.” One of the gentlemen grinned in a manner that made her rather uncomfortable. “How delighted are you that the prayer has been answered at last?”
She blushed at the words, feeling her cheeks heat up. It felt unpleasant to be here, and surely, her face must have communicated it because Sir Lionel was the next to speak.
“We are but teasing you, Miss Bastable,” he said as though it made everything better. “Tell us of the nunnery. Were the rules terribly strict? No laughter? What about music?”
“There was laughter,” she argued but then stopped herself from describing it any further. She had no inclination to make herself known to these strange men, who were only condescending to her in return.
She looked at her father, who was seated at the head of the table. He was engrossed in his own conversation and did not really pay his daughter much attention.
Prudence’s spoon cooled beside her untouched soup. She wished, at once, to disappear inside of it and not emerge until everyone at the table had dispersed.
The men, so perfectly comfortable in their chairs and their collars and their jokes, circled back to her as if she were a curiosity put on the table.
“Music, then…” Sir Lionel persisted. “You must have sung in the chapel, Miss Bastable, and I imagine you knew your place in the line very well.”
Prudence blushed again at that.
“And what of punishments?” he asked. “There must have been scoldings and penances and doors closed to naughty girls, eh?”
The question caught her off guard. She looked towards her father. Surely, this was an odd thing to say to a lady? But her father showed not the least bit of concern, nor did he even notice what was said to her.
“I would prefer not to speak about it.” She cleared her throat, eyes still wide from the question.
The men exchanged a smirk, as though her reaction amused them.
“Perhaps we should apply such customs in London, as well,” Sir Lionel smirked. “Surely, the ladies here could learn a thing or two from Miss Bastable here.”
“Oh, that they could.” Mr. Fallow nodded a bit too eagerly. “I suppose there is a fair bit that she could learn from the ladies as well.”
They were now speaking about her as though she was not here at all.
“Some things, yes,” Sir Lionel went on. “But then, there are some things that she has been naturally gifted. That delightful cream complexion for one.”
At the words, Prudence nearly dropped the spoon from her hands, which were now shaking. Her gaze went to her father again, who still looked entirely unbothered.
What sort of a father are you? she chided internally. Do you not hear what is being said to me?
“You will frighten the lady with your frankness,” Mr. Fallow objected, but there was no rebuke in his voice.
“I believe that frankness is quite efficient,” the latter responded. “She will come to find that if she is to adjust to this society.”
Prudence placed her water glass down with care and felt heat run up from her collarbone into her cheeks.
“Tell us one thing you truly loved there,” Sir Lionel said, determined to continue their conversation.
“I cannot remember,” she replied, feeling rather numb now.
“Oh, is that the case?” Sir Lionel seemed more amused than ever. “What a shame for a pretty girl like yourself. You should really have a better memory, my dear.”
She looked up at him, feeling uncomfortable now just having him close-by.
“I suppose I can try to improve upon it,” she said in a voice that hardly felt like her own.
“Good girl,” he responded in a lower voice.
Her stomach turned, and she decided that she had enough of it at last. All afternoon, she had pretended not to feel affected by them, but now, she had reached her limit.
No, she could no longer put up with it any longer. Something had to be done.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, rising before she could talk herself out of it because if she stayed she would either cry or be sick, and neither would be forgiven. “The air is warm. I should like a moment by the window.”
“A lady does not abandon a compliment,” Sir Lionel went on, but she did not wish to hear anything else that was coming out of his mouth.
She could feel more eyes on her as she made her way around the table. Her father had finally decided to look in her direction and give her some time of day.
“Beg pardon,” she said abruptly, “Father, may I speak with you a moment?”
“Now?” her father asked, eyeing her with suspicion.
“Now,” she repeated.
Careful not to make a scene, Giles acquiesced to her request. He followed her into an empty room and shut the door.
“What is it, Prudence?” he asked, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He was making no effort to hide that he was annoyed by the interruption. “You know I can’t have you taking me away from the table like this, so I assume that there must be a legitimate reason behind this.”
“What is this supper?” she asked. “Who are those men to me?”
“They’re friends,” he replied.
“Where are Esther and Jasper?” she asked.
“Out,” he remarked, shrugging this time. He was not the kind of man who liked to explain himself much.
“It would have made me comfortable if they had been at the table alongside me.” Prudence found her voice slowly. “They were not, and I felt as though there was too much attention on myself.”
“You must get over this shyness of yours.” Her father rolled his eyes. The words stung. In the nunnery, she was often picked on for her shyness, and it was not pleasant that her father was now doing the same thing to her.
“I am merely stating that it made me feel uncomfortable,” she argued. “And if possible, I would like to retire to my room for the remainder of the night.”
She did not know how to tell him that she felt that way due a comment made by Sir Lionel.
“Retire?” he repeated. She wondered if he was going to get angry at that though she still did not fully understand what purpose she served at the table. “Well, I suppose you can now. The purpose has been served.”
“And what was the purpose?” she asked, her eyes widening slightly.
“I’ve made a good match for you.” He seemed rather pleased with himself as he said the words. “A good one, and you’ll be well kept.”
“Who?” she asked, suddenly finding it impossible to get the words out of her throat. “Who is this match?”
Her father straightened his coat. “The Duke of Danvers.”
“A duke,” she said at last. “You had a duke at supper? He was there?”
“At the supper? Oh, no,” he said impatiently. “He’s an important gentleman that doesn’t eat in other men’s houses if he can help it. But I’ve just received word that he has made an offer, and I am inclined to accept it.”