Chapter 15 #3
Cold sweat broke out along his nape and shoulder blades.
His gaze darted to where his betrothed—he suppressed a shudder—stood speaking with another lady.
Then he looked to Prudence, serenely beautiful in her spectacular evening gown.
Except in his mind’s eye, he saw her in a simple dress with an apron, working in Mrs. Logan’s kitchen at Riverview.
She was as lovely to him in any setting, in any costume. Or in none at all.
Of course he would marry Prudence instead of Mrs. Merryfield. If he had to marry anyone at all, and he did, he would choose her.
He suddenly needed to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her. Someone came to speak with the Wexfords, and Bennet took the opportunity to move closer to Prudence. He bent his head toward her ear and whispered, “Meet me in the garden when the musicale starts.”
He gave her a slight nod, then left the drawing room before she could refuse. Bennet made his way downstairs and out to the garden. A few people stood talking near the doors, but they went inside, leaving him alone.
After waiting what seemed an interminable amount of time, he heard the beginning strains of the quartet. He looked toward the door, expectant. Perhaps she wasn’t coming. Just because he hadn’t given her a chance to decline didn’t mean she would do his bidding.
He should have asked her instead of demanding. But he needed to see her. Did she not need to see him? Apparently not.
Frustrated, his shoulders slumped, and he turned to walk through the garden.
“Bennet?”
Swinging back around, he saw Prudence framed just outside the doorway. He strode toward her, but she met him halfway. Heedless of anything and anyone, he swept her into his arms and kissed her. She threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly as he lifted her against him.
He opened one eye to make sure they were still alone, then pulled her into the shadows at the side of the garden where a tree would obscure them from the house. There, he kissed her again, his tongue tasting hers as he longed for far more than they could share in a garden during a musicale.
She was suddenly gone from him. His body went from full arousal to confusion.
Her face was pale in the light spilling from the house into the garden. “I think I’m carrying a child.”
The words tumbled from her mouth and slammed into him like rocks.
He stumbled back, and if not for the tree, he might have collapsed completely. “What did you say?” he whispered, his pulse racing and his insides twisting.
“I know you were careful at Riverview, but it seems I may be with child.”
Seems. May be. These were not words of confidence.
He took solace in her uncertainty. “You aren’t sure, then?”
“Not entirely, which is why I didn’t tell you yesterday.
I didn’t want you to feel entrapped, especially when you’ve found what you need.
” She sounded cold, which was how he felt at the moment.
“I feel badly about this. We should never have shared a bed. I shouldn’t have asked you to.
” Her cheeks flushed bright with color, and she looked away from him.
Bennet took her hand. “You didn’t ask me to do anything I wasn’t eager to. I was careful.” But even he knew the method wasn’t foolproof, no matter how cautious one was. “Have you seen a physician?”
She stared at him, blanching as quickly as she’d turned red. “Of course not. I’m unwed.”
He was an ass for asking such a thing. Now he understood why she was seeking the dowry. It wasn’t to help him, but to save her. “This is why you want the dowry.”
Nodding, she again looked away from him, but only briefly. When her eyes met his once more, they flamed with determination and self-preservation. “I don’t want my child to be illegitimate.”
Like her. She didn’t say it, but he heard the fear in her voice.
“I understand.” He took a breath, trying to slow his speeding heart. “No one knows that about you, however. You are legitimately the child of the Lancasters.”
“I know. Trust me, however, when I say it matters. I can’t expect you to understand.”
“Because my life is so easy and enviable.” He realized he sounded sarcastic and that he was inviting criticism, but she knew nothing about his reality. Nor would he tell her.
Except she was to be his wife. Or so he’d decided, even before hearing this distressing news. She wasn’t Mrs. Merryfield, who would spend her time in London away from his family. Prudence would be at Aberforth Place, and she would see everything. Everything.
Bennet pressed back against the tree as panic swirled inside him. When she saw what they could be like, what he could be like or worse, end up like, she’d want to run far away.
“Your life is easy and far more enviable than most,” she said quietly. “But I understand you have difficulties. This is why I hesitated to tell you about the child. I know how badly you need money.”
“This is about so much more than money,” he whispered. “It’s complicated—my family is complicated. You have no idea the mess my father left me.”
“No, I don’t, but perhaps you’ll tell me. If my half brother provides the dowry.”
He should tell her. Right now. But the words simply wouldn’t come.
He’d never told anyone. Not even retainers.
When new ones were hired, he left it to Mrs. Marian, the housekeeper, or Eakes, the butler and Mrs. Marian’s brother, to explain the situation to them.
Not that there’d been many new retainers.
Aberforth Place had a small staff, and not just because there was no money.
It was easier to keep things quiet when fewer people knew the truth.
Prudence took a stuttered breath. “I understand that without the dowry, you can’t wed me. Still, I wanted you to know about the baby. I didn’t think it was right to keep it from you.”