Chapter 2
Prudence surveyed the common room, a cozy space with two small tables and a comfortable seating area, but her gaze was drawn to the tall, blond scoundrel staring in her direction.
Yes, he was a scoundrel, even if he was devilishly attractive.
Devilish, she decided, was the perfect word to describe him.
As was attractive. He looked handsome despite his somewhat rumpled state.
She’d noticed the blanket on the chair in their chamber and deduced that was where he’d slept.
While he wore a waistcoat, he hadn’t donned a cravat, leaving a bare triangle of skin from his upper chest to the hollow of his throat.
She’d never imagined that view could be alluring, especially on a man she considered a villain.
And yet it was. Disturbingly. Prudence averted her gaze.
A middle-aged woman with light hair and a welcoming smile stood near him. “Good morning, my lady,” she said.
“This is Mrs. Logan,” Glastonbury blurted as he took a step forward. “Allow me to present my betrothed, Lady Prudence.”
He knew her Christian name too? And apparently expected her to masquerade as his future wife. Well, she supposed she could do that for the short time they were here. She was anxious to leave.
Mrs. Logan dipped into a brief curtsey. “Can I fetch you some coffee, my lady? Breakfast will be ready soon.”
“I’d prefer tea, if you have it? With a bit of cream and sugar, please.”
“Certainly!” Mrs. Logan took herself off, and Prudence eyed the small round table that Glastonbury stood next to.
He gestured to a chair. “Care to join me?”
“I suppose I must if I’m your betrothed.” She slid into the chair.
He sat opposite her with a weak smile. “I hope you don’t mind pretending. It seemed easiest.”
“For you,” Prudence noted. “I’m eager to be on our way. Cassandra is going to be worried sick about me.”
“Ah, perhaps not,” he said, wincing in discomfort, his cheeks flushing.
Prudence pursed her lips in irritation, wondering what else he hadn’t told her. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
“Because you wrote her a note.” He glanced toward the fire. “Rather, Cassandra left a note explaining that she was eloping. That way, no one would come after her.”
She blinked at him. “Except Cassandra isn’t gone.”
“She was supposed to be, and the note was from her so others wouldn’t worry. I didn’t sign it since I have no idea how she writes her name.”
“How scheming of you,” she murmured. “I might think you planned this well, if not for the way your hirelings handled me.”
“It was a ridiculous plan from the start.” He sounded bitter. And even disgusted.
She had better descriptions for his stratagem.
“Nefarious and ill-conceived.” She appreciated that he didn’t look affronted.
In fact, he seemed to silently agree with her.
“You were foolish to think no one would come after Cassandra. Of course they would—Wexford, her brothers, her father. You really didn’t think this through. ”
He exhaled. “I told you I was desperate.”
Mrs. Logan returned with the tea, but didn’t linger, for which Prudence was grateful. They couldn’t discuss what was actually happening or had happened in front of her.
Glastonbury drank his coffee, his brow set into contemplative lines.
“I don’t know how you can drink that,” Prudence commented. “So bitter.”
“Perhaps I’m a bitter person,” he said.
She’d thought he seemed so, but was surprised to hear him describe himself that way. “Are you?”
He only shrugged in response. “I hope the tea is to your liking.”
She took a sip and found it quite delicious for such an isolated place. “It is, thank you. I can’t believe you authored a fake note. You really are a blackguard.”
“Yes. I’m afraid your opinion of me and this situation is about to get even worse.
There is a problem with the coach requiring repair.
It won’t be ready to leave until tomorrow, which is probably for the best since the rain has likely made the roads quite slow.
It would take us twice as long to reach London. ”
They were trapped here for another night?
“I didn’t think my opinion of you could sink any lower.
I was wrong.” She took another drink of tea as anger swirled inside her.
The problem with the coach might not be his fault, but the fact that she was even here was.
If not for him, she’d be on her way back to London with Cassandra right now.
“I am deeply sorry for everything.”
“So now I must keep up the charade of being your betrothed for an entire day.” She glowered at him. “I want a separate room.”
“The inn only has two rooms, and when I arrived, Logan noted that the smaller one has a leaky window. He indicated that he wouldn’t be taking any other lodgers because the room isn’t fit for habitation at the moment.
I am confident he wouldn’t allow us to sleep there. He takes our comfort very seriously.”
That was certainly convenient, she mused—for Glastonbury.
Except he hadn’t planned to be closeted with her.
He’d expected Cassandra, who would have been even more upset by this situation.
She had a family and a man she loved, and Glastonbury would have ripped her away from that.
What had he taken Prudence from? A job that was likely coming to an end soon. Friends, but no family.
Did that mean her life was somehow less? That she wouldn’t be missed?
She shook the silly, emotional thoughts away, as she’d done for years. Ever since her father’s death when she was fifteen and her mother had admonished her to “tuck away” her grief. She’d said, “No one wants to see your emotions, Pru. They’re messy and ultimately useless.”
“Even love?” Prudence had asked. Her mother had said that love was something to be held close to the heart and that those worthy of the sentiment knew they were loved, as she knew Prudence loved her and she loved Prudence.
It had felt like a secret, a bond that only they shared.
In the wake of her father’s death, she’d found comfort in that.
Then, after her mother’s death, she’d buried everything away.
Emotions were useless when life and everything in it was so incredibly fleeting.
Bringing herself back to the present, Prudence asked, “How did you even find this place? It barely seems like an inn.”
“Years ago, on my first trip to London, I wasn’t able to make the final leg of the journey due to rain.”
“Sounds familiar,” she said quietly.
“I ended up here. It’s a farm, but they also operate as an inn, albeit a small one.”
“So you routinely stay here? I assumed you chose this place because it’s isolated. Less chance of being caught with a kidnapped heiress.”
“That’s rather cynical.”
She narrowed an eye at him. “But accurate, yes?”
“Yes,” he admitted with a sigh. “However, I would have chosen Riverview anyway. Because, as you said, I routinely visit on my way to London from Somerset.”
Prudence sipped her tea, then frowned. “I wish you hadn’t used my Christian name. In fact, I am surprised you even knew it.”
“I pay attention. No one will know who you truly are, if that’s troubling you.”
He was right. No one here would ever think she was Miss Prudence Lancaster, paid companion. Here, she was Lady Prudence. “Is my father a duke?” she asked sarcastically.
“Do you want him to be?”
“My father was a teacher,” she said quietly, looking down at her tea as she recalled the man who’d raised her until he’d died.
Her real father wasn’t a duke, but he wasn’t far off.
She began to panic that Bennet would somehow read her thoughts—that she’d been adopted and that her entire life was a fabrication that could fall apart with the wrong utterance.
Fleeting, indeed. She jerked her head back up and rushed to divert the subject of their conversation.
“I’m still struggling with how you could be so desperate to do something this despicable.
I understand you’re in need of money, but this is beyond the pale. ”
His features, which had softened, now stiffened, his jaw clenching. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“You said that last night. Because I’m not from your class?” Prudence kept herself from snorting in derision.
His eyes widened briefly. “Not at all. My father wasn’t nearly so lovely as yours. He left me a mess that I’ve been trying to tidy for the past year.”
“Why would you say that about my father?” she asked. “How could you know?”
“I can see you remember him fondly. I do not hold my father in the same regard.”
“Oh.” She regretted allowing Bennet to glimpse even the faintest of her thoughts or emotions—it soured her mood. Eager to turn the conversation away from herself, she asked, “You didn’t have a good relationship with your father?”
His jaw tightened. “It was difficult. He was difficult. His legacy includes insurmountable debt, an estate in disarray, and other…things.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It doesn’t seem you’re having much success with your efforts at fixing whatever he did.”
“Yes, thank you for that,” he said with as much sarcasm as she’d done earlier.
They glowered at each other over the table, each sipping their drink. Prudence hadn’t meant to prick his ire. She was too caught up in her own irritation. This was why emotions were to be avoided.
“My goodness, but the love between you is evident to any observer,” Mrs. Logan, who’d somehow arrived at the table noiselessly, remarked. She beamed at them as she set down a basket of rolls as well as plates before each of them. “How lovely. I’ll be back with some ham.”
As she hurried off, Prudence arched a brow. “Evident,” she remarked softly.
“Evidently.” He smirked. “You are correct about everything. I am despicable, and it was a horrible plan.”
“Your dastardly kidnapping scheme aside, you should have been honest with Cassandra about your financial state.”
“That too,” he admitted. “In my defense, I assumed it would preclude me from courting her—and I was right. As soon as the duke learned of my shallow pockets, he ended our association.”