Chapter 3
This was the Duke?
The hall seemed to draw in upon itself with that simple claim.
Prudence noticed the way that the man seemed to carry himself. He had an air of intimidation around him that was not present in the other men. It seemed to come naturally to him.
Having heard the commotion, Esther came as well. She stood next to Jasper, watching the scene unfold, but Prudence could not care less about them. She was too fixated by the strange man.
“Are you telling the truth?” Giles asked though his suspicion was waning by the moment. “You are not the man they sent before.”
“And what is the point of mentioning that?” the Duke asked, raising his eyebrow. Even though he had just arrived, he looked quite done with the conversation already.
“You will show me your papers,” Giles pressed. “You must see that appearances…”
“I will show them to your steward,” the man said, and then he turned his face to Prudence “Is this Miss Bastable?”
“She is my daughter,” Giles replied.
“The one that my brother sought to marry?” the man asked, and Prudence felt a strange feeling in her stomach at the words.
“Yes. The very same,” came the reply.
The Duke observed her for a moment and then turned his attention to her siblings. “Lord Bastable, there is a large audience here, and I would prefer some privacy.”
“Esther,” Giles said sharply, “Jasper. Your father will speak with His Grace now. Leave us.”
“Father…” Esther began, eager for a front-row seat.
“Out. Do as I say,” Giles repeated and flicked a look at the butler. “No callers.”
Within moments, the drawing room was emptied out.
“Right then,” the Duke spoke again. “Now that I have some privacy, I would like to make an important announcement. The reason for my visit is very serious. I have come to claim my brother’s wife.”
Judging from the way he spoke, one would imagine that he owns the place. He had such an aura of authority that even her father looked pale in comparison. Prudence held at breath, confused by his words, but at the same time, they brought a sense of thrill that she had not quite experienced before.
“Claim?” Giles responded. He looked taken aback but relieved all the same.
“But I am not yet his wife,” Prudence argued. “As you know, the wedding never happened. And…”
“He intended it,” the Duke responded. “And that much is enough. Now that I have the title, I must take on the responsibility of the marriage. But before I can do so, there are things that I must communicate to you.”
He was directly speaking to Prudence now. She could feel her father shift in the background, growing more uncomfortable.
“Lord Bastable,” he turned to him, “would you give us a moment alone?”
“But she is unmarried, and I cannot leave her here without a chaperone,” her father argued.
The Duke did not look like a man who took no for an answer. He gave him a shrug. “She will be my wife soon enough. Therefore, the intent is there, and that should be sufficient. Now please, leave us for a moment.”
Giles muttered something under his breath but begrudgingly exited the room. He would not say no to a duke, let alone one that was like that of the Duke of Danvers.
“I am sorry for your loss,” she said once they were finally left alone. What else was there to say?
“Thank you,” he answered.
A brief silence stretched. She had learned to fear such silences; they forced her to choose her words, and she often chose wrong. But soon, he relieved her of the work.
“Now, on to the reason for my visit. I am not a man who likes to waste his time, and therefore I want to know if you truly understand the intent. My brother made a decision regarding you, and I am here to honor that claim of his.”
“You have come to tell me this yourself,” she observed, biting down on her lip.
“A letter would be unwise,” he confirmed. “Such private matters should not be relayed by something that can be intercepted so easily.”
“You expect me to agree,” she said. It was not so much as a question, but rather, she wanted to know where he stood on the matter.
“I expect you to understand,” he returned, and for the first time there was the faintest rasp in his voice. “It will not be a fussy affair, and we shall get done with the ceremony rather quickly. Your father will bring you, and you will dress as you would have done before.”
“And then what after it?” Prudence asked.
“What do you mean?” He gave her a look. “After it, we are married.”
He said it so nonchalantly, as though he was discussing a matter such as the weather.
“And then?” she asked. “What would our lives look like thereafter? You do not even know me.”
“Yes, but both of us have obligations to fulfill,” he said. “And I must re-enter society. So, this serves me fine.”
“Re-enter society?” It was at this moment that she noticed the scars that were littered across his face. Such was not usual for a man of high descent, yet it made him look all the more interesting. “Where have you been all this time?”
“War,” he shrugged. Once again, his nonchalance caught her off guard.
“I… War?” she stuttered.
“Do not act so concerned. You shall find that this is a normal reality for some of us,” he said, sounding bored almost.
“You do not know me,” she managed once again. Did that really make no difference to him at all?
“I know enough,” he replied and then, after a very small pause, “I also know you are not afraid of me. You only think you should be.”
That was true, yes. She was not afraid of him, and perhaps she was even less nervous around him than she figured she would be.
“You look like war,” she observed before she could keep the sentence to herself.
“Yes, I told you, I have come from it,” he answered. He did not take offense, but rather, he filed the remark away. “Now I am to be a duke instead. Both war and dukedom require that a man do what is set before him and save his preferences for when they are safe to use.”
“And what am I to do?” she asked. “Obey? Be patient?”
“You are to come to the church,” he said, as if she had asked for directions to a street she already knew. “You are to stand up and not faint and say the words. I am sure that you can manage that.”
She was silent. What was she to say?
“If you do not wish it,” he added, “you will tell me. I will leave you as I found you.”
“And you?” The question escaped before she could decide whether it would make her look foolish. “Will you… wish it?”
“I will do it,” he said. “What I wish will not alter the hour.”
Again, she was at a loss for words.
“Your father will consent,” he went on. “He has already consented to worse I am sure, with the little information I was able to get on him.”
“He sold me the first time,” Prudence heard herself say. It was strange that she was able to be so honest with him.
“It is business to him,” he said. “To me, it is a duty. There is a difference in the keeping if not always in the doing.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I am very practiced,” he said, “in taking a thing that ought to have been done properly the first time and finishing it.”
She thought of the sweeping she would be sent back to if she refused him.
But what of the alternative? Should she agree to be his bride without knowing what her life would look like?
“You should know,” she said, “that I am not very good at being looked at. So, the idea of a ceremony is scary to me.”
“Then we will not make a spectacle,” he replied. “It will be a small ceremony, anyway.”
“You have thought of everything,” she said.
“Only of what is needed,” he answered.
He checked the clock and then pulled on the glove he had unbuttoned without her noticing. The leather slid over his knuckle. “Tomorrow at eleven, Miss Bastable.”
“Tomorrow, right,” she swallowed. “But I have not agreed yet.”
“And nor have you refused,” he shrugged. “So I believe that you are being smart and agreeing.”
“Do you not wish for me to say it?”
He gave her a look. “Fine, then. Go on and state the obvious.”
Prudence twirled her fingers in front of her, tangling and untangling them. This was perhaps the most significant decision of her life, but this time, at least she was given the courtesy of being asked.
“I agree,” she said before she could complicate the matter further with her thoughts. “I agree to what you are proposing.”
“You should already be ready to be married.” There was a lightness in his voice. “We will speak of everything else after the church.”
“Speak?”
“After,” he said and left her then.
Prudence stood very still.
Tomorrow at eleven.
The door had scarcely closed behind him when her Esther and Jasper came back in.
“Well?” Esther. “What did he want with you alone? Don’t look so pale; you invite speculation when you stare like that.”
“If it was an apology, I should like it repeated to the household,” Jasper stated.
Prudence hadn’t moved, and she looked from Esther to Jasper and then past them to the doorway where her father appeared at last.
“Well?” Giles demanded. “He did not stay to speak with me. What was said?”
Prudence opened her mouth and found there were too many words to say before she pressed her lips together.
“Perhaps there is nothing to tell. Perhaps he came to say what everyone else says — that it is your fault his brother is dead, and you are a walking calamity, and he would have nothing to do with you. There, that would be neat,” Esther taunted.
“He did not say that.” A flush climbed Prudence’s throat
“What, then?” Jasper prodded, impatiently. “Did he bring a bill for the flowers we wasted? A suggestion that you return to the nunnery and pray elsewhere?”
“Enough,” Giles snapped at his other children. “Prudence, I expect you to tell me what it was that he said to you. I still am trying to understand the little that he told me before.”
“I am to marry him tomorrow,” she said. “He came with a proposal.”
There was a stunned silence. Esther’s mouth opened, and Jasper blinked twice.
“Marry him,” Esther repeated at last, as if tasting a foreign word. “You? To a duke? Tomorrow?”
Prudence found she could nod.
“Is this a jest? Because if it is, I will say for the record it is not funny, and I do not see the shape of it,” Jasper protested.
“It is not a jest,” Prudence said. “He asked, and I agreed. We are to meet at St. Bartholomew’s at eleven.”
“You agreed?” her father said, taking two fast steps closer. “You gave your consent? Without consulting….” He stopped because the end of that complaint would not stand as the proposal had come from a duke.
“Yes,” Prudence said. She had not realized until this moment how much she needed to say that one yes for herself. “He wished for speed and thought it best. I did not have the heart to disagree.”
“Best for whom?” Esther demanded, “For him, certainly. For us, perhaps. But you cannot be serious. Two weeks ago, you were a scandal and a charity case; now, you are to be a duchess? The world is not built to be so obliging.”
“The world is built to be obliging to dukes,” Jasper said. “He truly asked you? Himself?”
“Himself,” Prudence confirmed.
“And what were his motives?”
“Nothing you need to know,” Giles cut in. “St. Bartholomew’s at eleven. We will have a carriage at ten-thirty. Esther, you will… No, you will not come; this will not be a spectacle. We will need Prudence’s gown…”
“It can be worn,” Prudence said quietly, “as it is. He had that there was no need for any modifications or needless formality. It will be a small ceremony.”
“He says so,” Esther grumbled and then, in a lower voice shot through with envy she could not quite disguise, she added, “And I suppose afterward you go to Danvers House.”
“Yes,” Prudence said.
Esther looked away then back then away again. “Well,” she said at last, “then you must not stand there. There are a dozen practicalities. Did he mention that he will be inviting his other friends who are dukes themselves?”
“Esther,” Giles said, temper pricking, “do not chatter.”
“It is not chatter. I am merely trying to see if it is worth attending,” she replied.
“Well,” Jasper said, “congratulations, I suppose. I don’t know to whom I should offer them, but I’ll say them. A duchess in the family. It will be very dull here without you to bully.”
“It will not be dull,” Esther said, too quickly. “It will be proper, and we shall we greatly relieved.”
Jasper glanced sideways at her, amused and cutting in the same look. “Proper is your word for dull.”
“Enough,” Giles said again. “Prudence, go upstairs.”
It occurred to her that their tone towards her had changed, albeit only slightly. They did not look at her like a maid any longer though respect had not arrived nor had resentment left. But something in their gaze was different for her.
Tomorrow at eleven.