Chapter Sixteen
For over an hour, Prue trudged along, her rubbed heels causing her to limp. The tilbury had not yet returned. She was sure it would, and the fear constantly tormented her. The trees thinned out and pale sunlight filtered through, warming her a little. Had she finally reached the edge of the forest?
A half hour later, when she was sure she couldn’t go another step, the road sloped downward and gave a view of a village, and beyond that, the church spire! With a whoop, she ran, ignoring the pain in her feet and the tight band of fear which was still lodged in her chest.
Gasping, Prue slowed to a walk and entered the busy market town.
People passing stared at her. She must have looked an absolute fright.
No stockings or gloves, hatless, her pelisse and gown soiled, and her face probably streaked with mud after she’d tripped and fallen once onto the damp earth.
She was tempted to stop someone to ask for help but feared no one would believe her strange story.
At the end of Church Street stood the large, gray stone medieval church, its fearsome gargoyles glaring down from the slate roof, which had turned greenish with moss.
There was a sign in front, Church of St. Peter and St. Paul.
Could she risk it? Or would she find more danger inside?
She had to take a chance, to run if she must, although she feared her energy sapped away.
Her pulse pounding, Prue rushed up to the arched wooden doors.
One stood open. She tried to tidy her hair, then took a deep breath to calm herself and went inside.
A gray-haired, elderly man dressed in a black cassock with a clerical collar stood in front of the altar.
He turned and stared at her, his brows knitting as he took in her disheveled appearance.
In her mourning clothes, now somewhat worse for wear, she must have presented a disturbing picture as she hurried up the aisle toward him.
She swallowed, finding it hard to speak. “Vicar, please. I need your help.”
“But of course, my dear. Have you suffered some kind of accident? Why don’t you sit here, and I’ll fetch you some water.”
“No, please don’t bother, Vicar.”
“You are not from our village. Are you here for the wedding tomorrow?”
Prue swallowed hard. ‘Wedding’? Chaotic thoughts whirled in her head, making her dizzy. Her knees weakened. She groped for the back of a pew and sank down.
Concern in his eyes, the vicar hovered over her, placing a hand on her arm. “Are you feeling well, my dear? May I escort you home? Where are you staying?”
“I…”
A vehicle rattled down the street and stopped outside.
Prue looked wildly around but couldn’t see the carriage through the narrow doorway. Was it the nun back to grab her? Would this elderly man of the cloth prefer to believe a story the nun might tell him over her own?
Prue jumped to her feet and bolted for the back of the church. She found herself in the vestry and flung open the door to a side street.
“Miss!” the vicar called after her in obvious alarm, but his voice was soon lost as Prue left the church and ran for her life.
She sped through the twisting streets, searching for somewhere to hide.
But doors were all closed and most windows shuttered.
Another turn in the road brought her out into the countryside.
She stopped and looked around, then waded through the grass to a huge oak standing alone in a field, a cluster of sheep nearby.
Hunkering down behind the wide trunk, she waited.
She was forced to admit the futility of it.
For where could she go now? Any options she might have had were gone, for she couldn’t return to the church.
Prue blinked tears away, annoyed with herself.
She had gotten this far; she was not about to give up now.
The sound of an approaching carriage made her moan in distress. She risked rising to take a peep. And lost her breath. It was two men in a curricle. One of them had seen her and leaped to the ground. He ran toward her.
Prue’s knees buckled and she clutched the rough bark to stay upright. She closed her eyes. Surely, this must have been a dream? Strong hands pulled her gently to her feet and wrapped her in strong, muscular arms. “Prudence! I feared I’d never find you.”
At the gruff voice filled with emotion, she opened her eyes. Raising her chin, she gazed into his familiar gray eyes and dear face. She blinked as tears ran down her cheeks. Then she sniffed and swiped at them with a hand. “Lord Hereford. How on earth did you find me?”
“Fortunately, the carriage that brought you here was distinctive. And the vicar told me of this strange woman who had just ran out. I knew it must have been you.”
“I suppose he did find me odd. I have such a lot to tell you…” She ran out of words and clung to the lapel of his wool greatcoat. He produced a clean square of fine linen, and she blew her nose. It smelled of his citrusy soap.
“Plenty of time to talk of this,” he said. “Come. I’ll take you somewhere warmer and more comfortable.”
“I don’t think I can walk another step,” she confessed.
“No matter.” He swept her up into his arms and strode toward the curricle, where his groom held the horses.
He was so big and warm, and he smelled so nice, so…manly. “You always make me feel so safe, Jack,” she confessed, then widened her eyes in horror. She’d never before addressed him by his given name. “I hope you don’t think that I…”
“Sweetheart, I want to keep you safe. You are safe.”
Prue nodded against his coat, breathing in the faint tinge of aromatic snuff. “I’ll be all right once I’ve had a nap,” she said, closing her eyes.
She heard his chuckle and smiled, vaguely aware of being driven somewhere with his arm cradling her.
The horses drew up on the main street outside an inn. “You’d best wear my ring, sweetheart.” He slipped a gold pinkie ring with a small diamond onto her finger. “I’ll tell the innkeeper you are my wife, Lady Hereford.”
Moments later, after the sympathetic innkeeper’s wife, Mrs. Bloom, had hurried upstairs to prepare the bedchamber, Jack carried Prue into the room and laid her gently on a soft bed.
A cover tucked snugly around her; she felt his light kiss to her cheek and pressed her hand to it with a smile.
She didn’t want to be alone; all her fears would come crashing in. “Will you stay? Lie beside me?”
A pause and then a deep sigh. “No, sweetheart, but I won’t be far away, I promise.”
She should have been embarrassed. But her mind skittered and her limbs felt leaden. As she drifted off to sleep, a thought struck her. Would he return and share the bed? Was she a scandalous hussy to want him to?
*
Jack had been shocked and outraged to find Lady Prudence in such a state.
She was a ‘game un,’ as his groom would say, but she’d come to the end of her tether when he’d found her.
Asking him to lie with her would have been innocent, born out of fear of what she had just been through.
But it had still been devilish hard for him to refuse her when he wanted her so much.
It wasn’t mere desire, or admiration for her pluckiness; it was something far deeper.
When he’d found her alive, after he’d feared he’d be too late, it had hit him hard how much he cared.
Was it love? He didn’t know. These emotions were new to him.
And he was a little afraid of how vulnerable they made him.
To ensure he didn’t respond to the part of his body that told him to go back and to hell with the consequences, he sought out Mrs. Bloom in the parlor.
He explained to her that the carriage bringing his wife here had been in a dreadful accident.
Although unhurt, she was feeling poorly, having also suffered a recent bereavement, and needed rest.
As reluctant as he was to leave Lady Prudence, he had to find out who’d brought her here and where she had been in the days following her abduction.
While she slept, with Mrs. Bloom hovering near in case she was needed, Jack walked back to the church to see the vicar.
His questions had to wait while a christening was held.
Once the vicar, Mr. Thomlinson, was free, he came to where Jack waited, seated on a pew a fair distance from the family clustered around the font, chatting and admiring the babe.
Jack felt a little envious of the happy family.
Did he want children? He’d rather like a son.
Damian was besotted with his little daughter.
What was this? Surprised at his thoughts, Jack noticed the christening had ended and stood as Mr. Tomlinson came down the aisle to meet him.
“Did you find the woman you sought, sir?”
“I did, thank you. She is in a distressed state, and I need to find out who brought her here.” He briefly explained that she had disappeared from home without a word.
The man’s kindly face looked troubled. “How dreadful! I’m sorry to hear that, my lord. But I know even less than you. The lady told me nothing before she ran out. I did think her mind might be disturbed due to some upset.”
“Do you know of a coach that would have come through the town a couple of days ago? One of the carriage horses was a handsome, black steed.”
“I am not one much for horses, my lord. But I do notice anyone new to our town.” He stroked his chin. “When I was out visiting my parishioners, I saw an unfamiliar coach that might have been the one you describe. It passed through the village and drove up the hill toward the convent.”
“There’s a convent here?” Jack asked, surprised.
“It is not connected to the church. A refuge for women. Perhaps your lady needed solace because of her recent loss.”
“That may well be the place I’m looking for.” Jack offered his hand. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Tomlinson.”
“It was very little, I’m afraid. If I can do more, please do come and see me,” the vicar said, shaking his hand.
Determined to visit the convent once he was sure Lady Prudence had recovered, Jack walked back to the whitewashed inn. Mounting the stairs, he met the innkeeper’s wife coming down.
“Her ladyship is feeling better, my lord. She has had a bath. It is a pity that her trunk has not arrived, but I lent her a dressing gown.”
“That is good of you, Mrs. Bloom.”
Jack knocked at the door and when Lady Prudence answered, he opened it and walked in.
She was seated before the mirror, a brush in her hand. Her hair shone like a burgundy waterfall over her shoulders. The frivolous dressing gown Mrs. Bloom had lent her was totally unexpected from such a correct lady. Pale pink, with a mass of ruffles, it failed to hide the voluptuous body beneath.
Jack groaned under his breath. The sooner he restored Lady Prudence to her great-grandmother, the better it would be for his peace of mind.
She smiled as she came toward him, her hands held out. “I am so grateful to you for coming to find me, Jack. I think of you as a good friend. May I call you ‘Jack’?”
He wanted to dispute that and take her in his arms to prove to her why ‘friend’ did not describe their relationship. But he nodded. “Of course you can.”
“Poor Gramma.” She clutched her hands together. “She must be frantic with worry. I hope it doesn’t make her ill.”
He took her small, soft hands in his. “She will be, but all will be well when I return you to her tomorrow. Do you know who is behind this?”
“No. But it must be Roland,” she said. “Why would anyone else wish to do this?”
If it was him, then the man is dangerous. “Mr. Stanton? Why would he do this?”
“My father’s will left Roland nothing but the estate and London house.
Apart from the funds tied up with the estate, which are not extensive, the rest of the properties and investments he left to me.
I don’t know why Papa should have been so harsh.
It was totally out of character for him,” she added.
“My father was a generous man. However, in truth, he was never overly fond of Roland. I suspected there was more of a reason for it than mere dislike. But he never told me why. Roland began acting oddly after Papa died; he was determined to marry me even before the will was read. Despite my firm refusal.”
Jack motioned to the chair. “Sit and tell me everything that happened since you were taken from Richmond.”
Pale but resigned, she chose to sit on the bed. Jack took the chair.
“I don’t remember how I arrived at the convent.” Stark fear in her eyes, she drew her lip between her teeth. “I was drugged.”
Jack clenched his jaw and promised himself to deal with Stanton personally, should he be behind this. “Go on.”
When she’d told him about her escape, Jack was proud of her and thankful she was safe, and so much more that he wished fervently to express. “You are very brave, Lady Prudence.”
She shook her head. “I was so frightened, I thought I would die, or what I considered even worse, to be trapped in a marriage that would be like a prison.” She swept her lustrous hair up in her hands, piling it on her head, revealing her swan-like neck and making her breasts jiggle beneath the thin silk.
Sitting uncomfortably with a raging erection, Jack wondered how he could orchestrate his departure with any dignity.
Lady Prudence toyed with the belt around her waist and the peignoir fell open to reveal a brief glimpse of a nipple before she straightened the clothing. Cream and rose, he thought abstractly.
“I hope that one day, should I survive this threat, which I don’t believe is over, you will ravish me, Jack,” she said, using his given name for startling effectiveness while her green eyes searched his.
He fought to get a steely grip on himself. “You’ve been through a lot and are not thinking clearly, sweetheart.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been as clear in my head as I am now. I only ask for one night, that’s all. I never intend to marry. I plan to run my own estate while employing all my father taught me.”
He shook his head, amused despite himself. “Oh, no, my lady. One night definitely wouldn’t be enough.”
Her eyes danced. “Is that a promise?”
She is so dashed appealing. A promise? And then think of the consequences afterward? He leaned forward to trace a finger over her velvety cheek. It was all he would allow himself. “You will change your mind when this danger is at an end.”
Lady Prudence shook her head. She was young and didn’t realize the risky outcome of such a rash act.
It could only result in marriage. Something he’d always told himself would be unfair to any woman.
Was it even possible he could be all that she wanted in a husband?
Because despite her determination to remain unmarried, after ravishing her, he wouldn’t let her go.
He stood. “Try to sleep. We’ll leave for your great-grandmother’s home in the morning. Now I must speak to my groom and see to the horses.”