A Prudent Match Read online

  “My dear child, I met him in London years ago. He was accepted everywhere. I doubt that has changed.”

  “No, but society is forever fawning over anyone with a title,” the innocent ten year old proclaimed. “He would have to have done something drastic to have doors locked against him.”

  “You are forgetting how very respectable his sister is, and she seems to dote on him, don't you think?”

  “Indeed she does. But that means nothing, Pru. There would naturally be a familial bond between them.”

  Prudence laughed. “Naturally? Oh, I think we've seen in our own family that familial bonds are not necessarily natural.”

  “Well, they are. It is just that our sisters are missing some facet of their characters. Why, Elinor could very well have waited another year to make her comeout in London. How dared she call you a millstone round her neck? She must have read such drivel in a story.”

  Prudence rose and smiled down at her sister. “It doesn't matter, Lizzie. She will have her chance now to go to London, as I did four years ago. I hope she may meet someone as wonderful as . . .”

  Catching herself about to utter Porlonsby's name rather than that of her bridegroom, Prudence clapped a hand to her mouth and looked positively stricken. “So much has happened in the past year,” she protested by way of an excuse. “I'd scarcely accustomed myself to poor Allen's death when Ledbetter showed up. I thought at first he had somehow heard of Elinor's famous beauty and come to court her by stealing a march on the London beaus.”

  “No, he came to win you and your money,” Lizzie said bluntly.

  “Yes, well, I don't begrudge it to him. Papa has arranged matters quite well, I think. I am to have an excessively large allowance. You know, I have always thought it would be delightful to dress in the first stare of fashion,” she said dreamily. “Will I be expected to pay for a woman to dress me out of my allowance, do you suppose?”

  Lizzie gave this matter serious thought as she guided her sister back into the house and up the stairs to the first floor. “Well, most of the staff would be Ledbetter's responsibility, but a dresser may be different. I shouldn't think one would be so very expensive, though, unless you were determined on someone with a reputation.”

  “Don't you think I shall need someone who has dressed some lady of fashion?” Prudence inquired.

  “Hardly. My dear sister, such a woman would be stuffy beyond bearing and you would not be able to put up with her for a week.” Lizzie pushed open the door to Prudence's room, only to find that Elinor and Gladys were already there.

  “Where have you been?” Elinor exclaimed. “We've been waiting forever to get you into your traveling costume. You will look excessively fine in that Prussian blue,” she added handsomely.

  Prudence thanked her and allowed the two to strip her of her wedding gown. It had seemed eminently practical to use the court dress again, for she was certain Elinor would refuse to have it for her own presentation. The traveling costume, however, was new, an exquisitely tailored gown that flattered her feminine figure.

  Elinor smoothed the fabric down over Prudence's hips, saying, “I'm sure Lord Ledbetter will have the greatest difficulty waiting until this evening to see to the disposal of these skirts. You are fortunate to have won so handsome a man, isn't she, Gladys? That should go a long way toward making her wedding night most agreeable, eh?”

  Lizzie made a face behind Elinor's back. Prudence was well aware of Elinor's unfortunate lack of delicacy in discussing men and conjugal duties. Gladys was sniggering at Elinor's remarks, adding her own perception of the situation: “His experience is sure to be helpful, too, Prudence, for you may be sure he's been with any number of women. Which could not be said for poor Porlonsby, you know.”

  Prudence was forced to bite her lip to keep from saying something most uncharitable to her sisters. Fortunately Lizzie stepped forward to place the matching blue hat on Prudence's head with an exclamation of appreciation. “Oh, you look charming. No, no, don't tuck in that curl, Gladys. The way it escapes is positively delightful. Ledbetter will think her the most beautiful woman in Hampshire.”

  Though Elinor and Gladys were wont to be amused by such enthusiasm for their sister's subtle attractions, Prudence, catching sight of herself in the cheval glass, thought that indeed she was in her best looks. Her color was a little higher than usual, owing to the excitement of the occasion. Or perhaps to the champagne. Lizzie hugged her and turned her toward the door.

  “You'd best be on your way,” she urged.

  Prudence took one last long look around her room. Her trunks were packed and gone. Such mementos as she'd collected during her engagement to Allen had been relegated to the attics or the dustbin. All save the ring he'd sent her from India. That was still tucked in a drawer of her dressing table.

  Because she wanted there to be no question about who was to have his ring, she had waited until this moment to dispose of it. Taking it out of the drawer, she closed it tightly in her fist for a moment, and then handed it to Lizzie. “This is for you, my dear. You were always a great favorite of Allen's, and he would have wanted you to have it, as I no longer can. I hope you will remember him fondly, as I do.”

  “Oh, Prudence!” Lizzie stared at the gold band with its elegantly set ruby. “Thank you! Of course I shall treasure it, and always remember Allen with the deepest affection.”

  Both Elinor and Gladys were glaring at their youngest sister, but neither having had any fondness for Allen Porlonsby, nor he for them, they were helpless to protest Prudence's decision on where to bestow the treasure. Chagrin was writ large on Elinor's face, and Gladys scoffed, “Oh, Lizzie will probably lose it.”

  “I won't! I shall take the greatest care of it,” Lizzie insisted, her eyes sparkling with a suspicion of tears.

  “Of course, you will, my dear,” Prudence agreed. Her own heart felt sorely tried by having to part with this last gift from her fiancé. But she could scarcely carry it with her to her new home, could she? “I believe I'm ready now to go downstairs.”

  * * * *

  Ledbetter had arrived in the Great Hall only a short time before his bride appeared. As he watched her descend the circular sweep of the staircase, he was a little surprised by the murmurs of approval greeting her appearance. Ledbetter had always considered Prudence a handsome woman; it appeared that her family had not. He heard a cousin exclaim in an easily overheard undertone, “Why, she's quite a striking thing, isn't she?”

  The Prussian blue traveling costume did indeed bring out the best of her coloring, as the converted court dress had not. The hat that perched at a slight angle on her head gave her an air of mischievous insouciance. But Ledbetter could not be sure that it wasn't the young Lizzie who had made the final adjustment to the bonnet, perhaps even tweaking that excessively long feather so that it swept extravagantly behind Prudence like a misplaced halo.

  He stepped forward to meet her as she came down the last few steps. “Delightful,” he said, taking her hand and placing it on his arm. “Blue becomes you.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “The carriage has been brought round and, if you are ready, I should like us to be on our way.”

  “Of course.” Prudence turned to the sisters who followed her and hugged each of them in turn, holding on to Lizzie for several seconds longer than the other two. Lizzie, Ledbetter saw, had tears in her eyes. He heard her whisper, “Oh, I shall miss you, Pru. Write to me often. Promise you will!”

  “I will,” his bride agreed, “for with Ledbetter to frank my least significant words, I shan't hesitate to post them.”

  He eyed his bride sharply. Somehow it almost sounded—though of course she hadn't meant it to—as if she had married him because he could frank her letters to her sister. And there was that gleam in her eyes, the gleam he suspected meant that she was amusing herself at someone else's expense—in this case, his.

  But the gleam was gone on the instant that she turned to her mother and father. With a s
ober demeanor she thanked them and said all that was proper on the occasion. Quickly, then, she worked her way through the other guests, only pausing when she came to his sister.

  “I am so pleased that you could be here for our wedding, Lady Markham.” Prudence held both of Harriet's hands in her own. “I shall try to make your brother a satisfactory wife, and I hope you will come to visit us at Salston often. There are so many things I would like to ask you; I regret we didn't have more time together.”

  “I regret it, too,” Harriet replied, pressing the hands that held hers. “Welcome to the family, my dear. Don't hesitate to call on me at any time.” She dropped her voice so the Stockworths couldn't hear, but Prudence and Ledbetter could. “The best piece of advice I received on the occasion of my marriage was to start out as I meant to go on. With someone like Will, I think you would be wise to heed it, too.”

  Ledbetter took exception to this counsel, but his bride merely smiled and nodded. “An excellent idea,” she said. “Your brother would not wish me to pretend to a meekness which I did not possess, would he?”

  Harriet's eyes sparkled with amusement. “Indeed not. My brother does not need a compliant woman for a wife. He needs someone who will meet him word for word, else he will think he can ride roughshod over you. And that would be disastrous for you both.”

  “My sister jests,” Ledbetter hastened to interpose. He captured his bride's hand and once again placed it on his arm. With a slight frown he said to Harriet, “You will alarm my bride with such talk, dear. I'm sure I am the most reasonable of creatures, unlikely to do anything so uncivil as to ride roughshod over anyone.”

  Harriet's lips twitched but she merely nodded. “As you say, Will.”

  And then Ledbetter led Prudence out the front door and down the stairs to the gravel drive where his carriage waited. Her family followed a discreet distance behind them, only calling out their farewells when the newlyweds were seated in the luxuriously appointed interior and the postillions had begun to move forward. Prudence waved out her window until they had passed beyond the courtyard, and then she settled back against the squabs with a sigh.

  “You're tired, my dear,” Ledbetter remarked. “Perhaps you could fall asleep for a space if your were to rest your head on my shoulder.”

  “I believe I might,” Prudence agreed. “I'm afraid the champagne went to my head, and though my mind has cleared now, I feel excessively tired.”

  “Come, then.” He leaned over to remove the delightful confection from her head, setting it carefully on the seat opposite them. Prudence still sat rather stiffly beside him and he smiled his most charming smile. The carriage swayed as they swept from the driveway onto the country road, propelling Prudence toward him. Swiftly he snared her against him with one firm arm. “There. That's just right. Tuck you head just so and you'll be asleep in no time at all.”

  There was no reply from his bride, though she did settle comfortably against him. He liked the weight of her on his side, and he kept his arm around her to prevent her being dislodged when the carriage bumped along the ill-paved roads. Ledbetter hadn't experienced the emotion of protectiveness before, and he was rather taken with the notion of having a wife to guard against the ills of climate, transport, and hunger.

  Of course, he'd been protector to a number of young women in London. Sequentially, as he had no taste for the kind of bickering he'd seen between two women both in keeping by the same man. A dubious policy in any case, to his mind. Why would a man have need of more than one woman to satisfy his needs? And if a particular woman lost her appeal for you, why would you bother to keep her any longer? Any sensible man would simply offer her a handsome parting gift and move on.

  All this, of course, had nothing to do with having a wife. Since Ledbetter had not had one before, he was not precisely sure whether it would be necessary to have a woman in keeping any longer, though he suspected that it would. Most of his acquaintance seemed to do so, at all events. There was a good deal of sotto voce talk of “not wishing to impose on the dear woman,” with regard to a wife. Imposing on a mistress was the whole point, of course. A civilized system, he supposed, but he had a moment's pause in looking down at his sleeping bride.

  It did seem a duplication of effort, to say nothing of a great waste of money, to have two women in keeping, especially if one of them was your wife. Ledbetter felt fortunate that he had no other woman in keeping at the moment, as Jenny had found a baker in Spencer Street who wished to make an honest woman of her. Well, more power to her. Ledbetter hoped she would enjoy the life of a shopkeeper as much as she had enjoyed that of a lightskirt. Certainly her husband should appreciate her lusty attitude toward life.

  Given the direction of his thoughts, it was not surprising that the baron began to experience a certain physical interest in the woman whose head had gradually drifted down until it rested in his lap. A tendril of her hair curled against her flushed cheek. Her lips in sleep gave an occasional puff of breath, and the curve of her neck seemed exquisitely vulnerable. It was a pleasure to picture her in his bed, so innocent and trusting as she seemed. For though she had been engaged for a lengthy period of time, Ledbetter had it on excellent authority (from her sisters) that Prudence had scarcely become engaged before the young gentleman had journeyed off to India. No time for any real dalliance to happen between them. A few kisses, perhaps, but unlikely anything further. Ledbetter smiled and stroked the firm line of her jaw with his forefinger.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  On the instant his bride was awake. She extracted herself from his lap with alacrity, exclaiming, “Oh, I beg your pardon! I had not intended to sprawl all over you, my lord. Do forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive, ma'am,” Ledbetter assured her. “You were resting so peacefully. I had no intention of disturbing you.”

  Prudence straightened and looked out the window as she pushed the wayward tendril back behind her ear. “We're almost to the toll road. I must have slept for half an hour.”

  The baron nodded. “I trust it has refreshed you.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Prudence said brightly. She reached across to where her reticule lay on the opposite seat. “I have brought something to while away the hours, if you should not find it too dull a pastime.”

  Ledbetter could, perhaps, have thought of more enjoyable occupations than playing a game of chess with the clever little set his bride had brought with her. And he was not certain that her having brought it was not a bit of an insult to his conversational abilities, but, vaguely to his surprise, he found that she was by no means an unaccomplished player. Thus the afternoon passed in a mentally invigorating manner, despite the fact that he won all but one game. Ledbetter was almost surprised when they drew up at the Crown and Sceptre.

  As the carriage slowed, he glanced out into the darkening evening. Already torches were lit on either side of the inn door, and the host was hastening outside to welcome his noble guests. Ledbetter had sent ahead to arrange for a private parlor as well as a suite of rooms above. As soon as the stairs were let down, he climbed from the coach and reached up to hand down his companion.

  Prudence was hastily donning the hat he had tossed aside earlier in their journey. She looked a little flustered, as though she had been caught en deshabille. Well, his sister would not have stepped out of a carriage without her hat, either, but he had trained Harriet to prepare ahead for these contingencies. He was not a patient man, and he was accustomed to others accommodating him so that he was not forced to cool his heels. But it was his wedding day, and his bride was unaccustomed to his ways, so he stood with his hand outstretched to her for quite a full minute until she was ready to descend.

  The landlord, a short, round-faced man, wiped his hands on the clean apron around his middle and begged them to enter his hostelry. “Your horses will be given the greatest care, my lord,” he assured them as he led the way. “I believe the Crown and Sceptre has a well-deserved reputation for our services. This is Mrs. Gra
nger,” he said, introducing an amiable-looking woman of middle age. “She will see to my lady's comfort.”

  Mrs. Granger dropped a curtsy to Prudence and said, “You'll be wanting to have a bit of a tidy up before you dine, my lady. Let me show you to your room.”

  Prudence smiled gratefully at her. “Yes, that is exactly what I need, Mrs. Granger. Thank you.” She turned to the landlord and said, “Will you see that the small trunk is sent up, sir? That's all I will require.”

  And a great deal less than his sister would have, Ledbetter thought ruefully as he watched Prudence gather her skirts and ascend the staircase behind the energetic Mrs. Granger. He noticed, as he had not on previous occasions, that his new wife had a very fine set of ankles.

  “Perhaps your lordship would care for a glass of brandy to wash the dust of the road away,” the landlord suggested, indicating the open door to the taproom, from which emerged the sounds of conviviality.

  “I believe I would,” he agreed, and made his way through the narrow door into the low-ceilinged room.

  A smoking fire had filled the space with a light haze. Ledbetter settled himself at a table near the window and the landlord brought him a glass of brandy. It was a relief to be out of the jolting carriage and seated so solidly on the wooden chair, and Ledbetter relaxed back against the spindle back with a sigh. He lifted the amber liquid and took a healthy sip, allowing the fiery drink to refresh and invigorate him.

  At the tables around him were men in groups, mostly drinking ale. Some travelers, some local people, all fortifying themselves against the cool evening. One old fellow was in the midst of a long story to which the others seemed to be paying considerable attention.

  Ledbetter sipped at his brandy and soon found himself caught up in the unending tale of a young man who had run away to sea at an early age, only to find himself left behind in Africa after a bout of near-fatal illness. His adventures in making his way home to England had every man in the taproom shaking his head, or laughing, as the tale progressed.