Chapter Sixteen
Prudence’s head was in a whirl, and she had a great deal of difficulty focusing on one single thing at a time.
People were constantly congratulating her, hugging her and saying nice things, and she kept smiling and thanking them, all the while wondering why everyone was celebrating a lie.
Reid, when she had chance to look at him with that very question in her eyes, simply gave her a little shrug. He had no idea what was going on either. At last, the crowd around them faded away in favour of food and dancing, and they had chance to slip away for a bit.
Taking off the wreaths, Reid led Prudence down the hallway to the small library, where he hoped they could steal a few moments alone. But it was not to be. They opened the door and right behind them was Lord Southwick.
“Please,” he said. “Give me a few moments? Then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”
“Very well, Sir. Please…take a seat.” Reid led them to the couch and chairs arranged around the fireplace. There was a good blaze going which warmed the room and helped Prudence relax a little.
She turned to Lord Southwick. “I have to ask, my Lord. Why did you do that? Acknowledge me as your daughter? I am aware of the truth of the matter.”
“I know, my dear.” He looked into the flames.
“I loved your mother to the edge of madness, but I was a terrible husband to her. I was in London too often, leaving her here alone. And when I returned, I found fault with her, expecting her to run Southwick as well as my mother had. Of course she couldn’t do that.
She hadn’t had the years to learn how to run a household.
But did I care? No. We had terrible fights and I’m ashamed to admit that I was cruel to her.
The love I bore her would see no faults, no rational logic, and in hindsight I can see how my behavior drove her into Jack’s arms.”
He shuddered then, a slight tremor that helped Prudence understand the depth of his emotions. She moved to sit next to him. “Go on.”
He glanced at her. “I had hoped that the child she carried was mine. I wanted a child very much. It was all part of the duty of being Lord Southwick. One was expected to produce an heir and for the first year or so we had failed. That also angered me. I wasn’t doing well at that time, I had business pressures and loans due.
I took my fears out on Isabel. And I’ve been ashamed of it ever since.
” He reached over and took Prudence’s hand, but still stared at the fire.
“You, child, I also took my anger out on you. Isabel told me when she was about to give birth that you were not my child. I was in my usual vile temper, and she screamed it at me, a blow that rocked my world. I had barely absorbed it when you were born – and she was gone. And just like that, my world ended.”
Now he turned and looked at her. “You are her image, you know. So very much like her. You have her beauty, her mannerisms and her charm. Even as a newborn you had the look of her. And that killed me every time I looked at you. I believed Dorothea was the only option that would save my sanity. I’m so sorry.
” He paused and shook his head. “It’s not enough.
It can never be enough. But by acknowledging you I hope I may have undone a little of the damage I caused all those years ago. ”
“You understand that I am not actually your daughter?” Prudence’s voice was low and a little rough, her emotions clogging in her throat.
“I do,” the older man nodded. “However, you are the child of the woman I loved beyond reason. For that alone, you must be dear to me. And if I could wish for a second daughter, it would be you.”
Prudence felt the sting of tears and then the comforting warmth of Reid’s hand on her bare shoulder.
“We are planning to marry, my Lord. I believe you know that.”
“I do. And I am very happy for you both.” Southwick looked at Reid. “You’re a fine young man with a good future ahead of you. I believe you’ll do well together, and I wish you many years of happiness.” He stood. “I cannot continue at this point. Forgive me but this is a difficult time for me.”
“I understand.” Prudence stood as well. “And I thank you again. You might not have been the best of husbands to my mother, but I believe you were a good father to Emmeline. And that’s what matters now. That you take the best of the past and use it to improve the future.”
“Wise girl.” Southwick managed a tiny smile, lifted her hand and kissed it. “Your mother would have been very proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
She and Reid watched him leave the room, his head down, his shoulders stooping more than they had all night.
“That was hard for him,” sighed Prudence. “But it has solved our problem, love.”
“Yes, I suppose it has.” Reid looked thoughtful. “Can you promise me to wait here for just a few moments?”
“What?”
“I promised my mother I would give you something. I have to go get it.” He headed for the door.
Prudence blew out a breath. “Go. I could use a respite from any further surprises today.”
“Wonderful. I’ll be back in a tick…”
“I could use a brandy as well,” she called after him, not sure if he’d heard.
Alone, she resettled herself in the chair, but then, restless, got up again and walked to the window.
The snow shone softly under a half-moon and there were fluffy lines of the stuff along the ledges of the windowpanes.
It was so tranquil outside, an eternal kind of beauty that would last long after she and Reid and everyone there at Chillendale Hall had long gone.
And now she had two fathers, one real and dead, the other a pretense and alive. Quite a change from having no father at all. She also had their names. Both names. Jack Rowdean and Isabel Southwick. Her parents.
And that took her thoughts back to Reid. Would he want her now that he knew the truth of her parentage? He was certainly fond of Brent – but would that extend to having a Rowdean in the family? Even an illegitimate one?
Of course, Southwick’s pronouncement had cleared away any public taint of that from her heritage. But she knew the truth and so did Reid, and Brent, and probably Reid’s parents. Would it suffice?
Before she could answer her own question, the door opened and Reid came back into the room, bearing a small tray with – she was pleased to see – two glasses of brandy on it along with a small dish and a spoon.
“Oh, how wonderful. I really do need this.” She took a glass and lifted it, indulging in a healthy swallow of the warm liquor. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. And you’re not the only one.” Reid took a gulp and swallowed it. “I don’t think I can stand too many more shocks today.”
She grinned at him, the brandy easing some of her tension. “So now instead of having no father, I have two, along with a pair of step-siblings. And yet I’m still illegitimate. I think that might be some kind of record.”
“Hah,” snorted Reid. “How about we discuss that after you have some Christmas pudding. Prepared especially for you by my mother, apparently. She does like to get her hand in when it comes to the puddings. Very particular when it comes to the ingredients, I understand.”
Prudence looked at the little dish he was holding out toward her. “It doesn’t look like the puddings I’m used to.” She took the spoon.
“It’s the Chillendale version. The best you’ll ever eat.”
“Well then, here goes…” and she dug the spoon in, blinking as it clunked on something hard. “Er…did your mother remember to shell the nuts?”
“Oh, you must have the lucky sixpenny piece…” Reid leaned forward. “Can you dig it out?”
She did…and gasped. “Reid.”
A ring lay on the spoon, gold sparking beneath raisins and sultanas, and an emerald winking in the firelight.
“Reid…” she said again.
“That’s my name, yes.” He took the ring and wiped it off with the napkin from the tray.
“And this is the Chillendale ring, given to each Chillendale bride. It’s originally my grandmother’s, then my mother’s, but she never wears it, so I asked if I could give it to you and she said yes.
” He grinned. “I had no idea she’d put it in the pudding, but you have to give her credit for her ingenuity.
And it’s better than sixpence.” He peered at her. “Isn’t it?”
She lifted her head and looked at him. “Reid,” she repeated once more, and felt the tears trickle over her cheeks. “I love you so much. I didn’t want to have to give you up.” She launched herself into his arms, reaching for every bit of him she could hug. “It would have killed me.”
“Me too, darling. Me too.” He returned her embrace, pulling them both back onto the couch. “So will you marry me, Lady Prudence? Will you give up the title and become plain Mrs. Chillendale?” He held out the ring, whisking away the last bit of raisin. Clean and brilliant, it dazzled her.
“Yes please.” She held out her hand. “I want to be Mrs. Chillendale more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“In that case,” he slid the ring onto her finger where it fit perfectly, “I am very happy to grant your wish.” He kissed her, gently but thoroughly. “And I’m looking forward to a lifetime of you granting mine.”
“We have to go back to the ball,” she sighed. “It will be expected of us and I’m going to be horribly missish and tell you that I want everyone to admire my ring.” She held out her hand and watched the emerald sparkle in the firelight. “But can we return here afterward?”
His eyes roamed her face. “Of course.”
“I cannot stay the night.”
“I know.”
“But I’m sure Brent will give us an hour or two.” She grinned.
“Especially if I let him and Emmeline have some privacy in the parlour.”
“You are so brilliant,” beamed Prudence. “I will have not only the most handsome man in the county as my husband, but also the most clever.”
“Please,” Reid feigned modesty. “No more. You’ll turn my head.”
“Yes,” she said, stretching out both her hands and clasping his cheeks. “I will.”
She drew close, turned his head a little, and kissed him, a lingering of lips and tongues that brought heat and desire in its wake. “Oh Reid.”
“We’ll marry tomorrow.” He tore himself away. “I won’t last any longer. Or we’ll have to move into the hideaway until the ceremony.”
She laughed and stood. “Let’s go and find out how soon we can wed.” She held out her hand. “I am every bit as eager as you are, but something tells me that tomorrow won’t be possible. Just ask your mother.”
Reid laughed as he took her hand and led her from the room, the two of them, some might say, surrounded by a glow of happiness.
After that? The evening went as one might expect.
The announcements were made, toasts were drunk, and more dancing led to some quite boisterous reels.
Lady Jocelyn and Sir Rodney were seen to be dancing together, and comments were made as to how happy they seemed at their son’s engagement.
Brent and Emmeline thoroughly enjoyed the ball, and had some even more intimately wonderful moments later in a little parlour.
Brent declared himself forever in Reid’s debt, and Emmeline just looked…satisfied.
It was a happy time for everyone, even Lord Southwick.
To Prudence’s surprise, Lady Southwick was receiving many compliments on her husband’s generosity.
She took them all in stride, accepting them with modesty and managing to imply that it was her influence that had led him to make the decision to acknowledge his long-lost daughter. And wasn’t she a beauty?
In addition, it gave her chance to brag about Emmeline having landed herself a Viscount. So all in all, it was an enormous success, even for those who had experienced a variety of unfamiliar emotions.
As promised, Reid spirited his fiancée away at the conclusion of the evening’s festivities, back to the library where it was warm and secluded.
“I think I shall burst from happiness, Reid.” She walked to the window and laid her palm against the cold glass. “I ‘m quite beside myself.”
“I think I’d rather you were beside me.”
He was behind her, and she felt the tapes of her gown loosening. She shivered with excitement and smiled. “Here?”
“I locked the door.”
“I said you were brilliant.”
She turned and for a moment, they stood, forehead to forehead, together and so much in love neither wanted to move. His hand was at the base of her neck and her arms were around him, one pulling his head close, the other tugging him to the rest of her.
“Happy Christmas, my Pru. I love you,” he murmured, rubbing her nose with his.
“I love you as well, Reid. Happy Christmas.” She returned the words on a whisper, finally leaning in and finding his lips with hers.
From that point, it was heat, passion and desire between them, an awareness that now they could love freely and forever lending a touch of magic to their intimacy.
The Mistletoe Marquess had found his Marchioness, and persevered through rough waters to claim her.
It could have been Christmas magic or a Mistletoe miracle. But at this particular moment, neither Prudence nor Reid devoted much thought to that question. They were too busy devoting their thoughts to the other’s pleasure. And promising to do it for the rest of their lives.