Chapter 15
Bennet’s tread was heavy as he made his way back home following his call on Mrs. Merryfield.
She’d been delighted to see him—if “delighted” could describe her closemouthed smile and invitation to have tea.
He’d wanted to decline, but supposed it made sense to spend time with the woman who would be his wife.
In a month.
She’d been eager to choose a date, and the banns would be read this coming Sunday. Bennet should feel happy, or at least relieved. Instead, he felt hollow.
Just as he reached his house, he heard his name. Lucien was bearing down on him from the opposite direction.
“Glastonbury, I’m glad I caught you.” Lucien looked rather intense, his brow furrowed and his eyes especially dark.
Bennet wasn’t in the mood to discuss the ring. “Afternoon, Lucien. I’m afraid I’m just on my way back from an errand, and I’ve relatives visiting.”
“Indeed? How pleasant. I just need a few minutes. Might we go inside?” He inclined his head toward Bennet’s house.
Resigned, Bennet nodded. He led Lucien inside directly to his small study at the rear of the house. “You’ve come about the ring, I take it?” Bennet gestured for Lucien to sit, then removed his hat and gloves before taking his favorite chair near the hearth.
Lucien perched on the edge of a chair. “Somewhat, yes. My aunt came to see me and asked me to forget about the ring. She said it’s with the person it belongs to—her daughter.”
Bennet worked to cover his surprise. It wasn’t a complete shock to learn that Lady Peterborough was Prudence’s mother, but he wished he’d heard it from Prudence. He longed to know how she’d taken the news, whether she and Lady Peterborough had formed some sort of bond.
Lucien shook his head. “I can’t believe my aunt has an illegitimate daughter, that I have a cousin I didn’t know about.”
Bennet bristled at the word “illegitimate,” but said nothing on that front.
“I’m glad that’s settled, then.” He desperately wanted to speak with Prudence, but since she hadn’t met him in the park and hadn’t sent word, he had to assume their association was finally finished.
As it should be. There was no reason for them to continue as they’d been doing, particularly since he was now betrothed.
He suddenly felt as though he’d swallowed a cup of broken glass.
“My aunt had another reason for coming to see me,” Lucien continued.
“She asked me to solicit a dowry for her daughter from the woman’s half brother, the Viscount Warfield.
Aunt Christina insists he’ll come up with the funds.
I’m not so certain, and I say that as one of Warfield’s few remaining friends.
” Frowning, he added, “Indeed, I may be the only one.”
Lady Peterborough was trying to get a dowry for Prudence?
Why? Bennet hated that his pulse sped, and a thrill shot through him.
With a dowry, Prudence would be marriageable.
He detested that he had to think of her in terms of financial benefit.
She was so much more. His thoughts were still filled with her even as he plotted a future without her.
He longed for the time they’d spent at Riverview so he could drink tea and wine with her, read to her, share a bed with her.
“How wonderful that your aunt wants to support her daughter in such a way.” He sounded stiff and bound, which he was—tied to his duties instead of free to do as he wished.
Lucien narrowed his eyes at Bennet. “Aunt Christina also said the dowry was so her daughter could marry the man she gave the ring to—that would be you.”
Bloody fucking hell.
“I didn’t realize you were getting married,” Lucien went on. “The last I heard, you were desperately seeking an heiress. This is your solution? To wed my illegitimate cousin?”
Bennet wanted to yell at him to stop calling Prudence that word.
And he wasn’t aware of any of these plans!
Furthermore, he’d just agreed to marry someone else!
Wait, did that mean he’d marry Prudence if she got this dowry from Warfield?
While it made her marriageable, it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to marry anyone, especially someone he cared about as much as Prudence.
He couldn’t ask her to suffer him if he fell under the family illness.
Remember, she doesn’t want any children. She might be perfect…
Lucien pinned him with an intense stare, startling Bennet from his rambling thoughts. “My aunt wouldn’t tell me her daughter’s name. I want you to tell me.”
Bennet shook his head. “That isn’t my secret to share.”
“I’ll find out when you marry her,” Lucien said with considerable exasperation.
“Then that’s when you’ll find out.” Bennet’s head was swimming. He had no idea what was going on. He was betrothed, but not to Prudence.
“Is this a happy union?” Lucien asked.
Bennet couldn’t answer that since this was the first he was hearing of it. “I’m sure it will be,” he said blandly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be getting on.”
“Very well.” Lucien exhaled as he stood. “Wish me luck with Warfield. I’m going to visit him now. He’s a difficult sort.”
“So I hear.”
Lucien cocked his head. “What happens if he won’t provide the dowry? I know how badly you need the money.”
“For now, I’d appreciate it if you could leave this between me and the lady in question.”
“It’s hard to do that when you apparently require others’ assistance,” Lucien said drily. His features darkened. “Don’t break her heart if the money doesn’t come through. I may not know who she is—yet—but she’s my blood, and I’ll defend her honor.”
“I would never want to hurt her,” Bennet said softly. But he already had when his hired ruffians had ripped her from her sleep and altered the course of her life. To the point that she was now planning marriage when she’d indicated she wished to avoid it.
Why was she doing this? Just to help him as she’d tried to do by giving him the ring?
Something had changed. Bennet needed to know what.
Lucien left, and Bennet rose from the chair to pace as agitation raced through him. He’d suddenly gone from being desperate and uncertain to having two potentially viable options. The question was, which would he choose?
Mrs. Merryfield had the money he needed, and he’d already made a commitment to her.
Still, if Prudence had a dowry, wouldn’t he prefer to marry her?
He certainly preferred to bed her. He’d dreamed of her every night since they’d parted at Riverview.
But it was more than that. He couldn’t see Mrs. Merryfield with his family, whereas he envisioned Prudence picking flowers with Great-Aunt Flora and visiting Great-Aunt Minerva in her painting room.
While it seemed potentially charming, he knew it was a dream.
What would Prudence do when Great-Aunt Minerva threw her paint and made an awful mess?
Or when Great-Aunt Flora shredded her newspapers in a fit only to sob once she realized what she’d done?
He pushed the thoughts away. All this was moot. Prudence didn’t yet have a dowry, and he didn’t understand what was going on.
He needed answers and he needed them fast—before the banns were read on Sunday.
“I just want to make a sketch of this specimen,” Kat said, her gaze focused on the bird in the case at the British Museum. “You don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” Prudence was used to her drawing all manner of things and had brought a book. “I’ll just go find a place to sit and read.”
“Excellent.” Kat was already moving her pencil across the parchment she held on a small, thin board that provided a portable writing surface.
Prudence retraced their steps back to the entry area where there was seating. She found an empty bench and sat, opening her book on her lap.
She didn’t read a word.
Her mind was too full of thoughts of Bennet, the baby, whether she was going to have a dowry, the fact that she now had a mother who apparently loved her. It was incredibly overwhelming.
She couldn’t deny the joy she’d felt when Lady Peterborough—perhaps she ought to think of her as something less formal—had agreed to help her and even said she loved her.
She also couldn’t ignore the burgeoning happiness she felt when she thought of the child she probably carried. And what about Bennet?
“Good afternoon.”
The deep, familiar voice sent a shock of pleasure down her spine. She snapped her head up and met the disarming gaze of the person most occupying her thoughts.
“Bennet,” she whispered, utterly surprised to see him.
He smiled. “Prudence.”
He’d sent a note that morning asking to see her today. She’d responded quickly with her regrets since she had plans to accompany Kat to the museum today. He knew she would be here.
She realized she hadn’t seen him since before she’d confronted her mother. “I’m sorry,” she blurted.
He appeared perplexed despite the smile hovering about his mouth. “For what?” He sat down beside her.
“For not seeing you. For not telling you that I confronted Lady Peterborough. She is indeed my mother.”
The smile overtook him then. “I know. That’s part of why I asked to see you today. Lucien told me.” He glanced about. “Where is Miss Shaughnessy?”
“She’s sketching a bird. It will take her a while—she’s quite detailed with her work—so I came here to read.” She closed the book in her lap. “I’m afraid I wasn’t getting anywhere. Too distracted.”
“I can only imagine. What happened with Lady Peterborough? I hope she was pleased to see you.”
“She was, surprisingly. She hated giving me up, but her husband insisted. Indeed, she’s terrified of him finding out about me. I don’t know what kind of relationship we can possibly have, but I’m glad to know that she loved me. That she loves me.”
He grinned. “I’m so happy for you.”
“She also insisted I keep the ring and said she’d handle things with Lucien.”
He angled himself toward her slightly, prompting her to do the same to him. “Lucien came to see me yesterday. That’s why I sent you the note.”