A Prudent Match Read online

  He expected her to take him to task the moment they were in the carriage, but she said nothing. Even when they were far enough away from Hawthorne Manor that she pulled the old shawl up around her shoulders, she had not a word to say for herself. Ledbetter regarded her with a frown.

  “My dear Prudence, I could tell what I said about being away upset you. I assure you I had not the least intention of doing so.”

  “You hadn't mentioned going away.”

  “No, well, I'm not certain when it will be yet.”

  “Nor for how long?”

  Ledbetter distrusted the bland tone of her voice. “Nor for how long, but I trust it won't be more than a few days, as I told Geoffrey.”

  Prudence turned a steady gaze on him. “Do you know, William, that when you made that remark, it sounded very much as though you intended to simply depart, leaving me alone at Salston for an indefinite time.”

  Conflicting emotions tugged at him. She was his bride, and he had no wish to destroy any rapport building between them, but he was also his own man, marriage or no. His autonomy got the upper hand and he asked coolly, “Should you mind that very much? It seems to me that you might rather I weren't around to . . . make demands of you.”

  She flinched at this thrust and Ledbetter cursed under his breath. With great strength he drew his pair in to a stand, and turned to her. “That was unkind of me. And disingenuous. You must realize, Prudence, that I am not in the habit of consulting anyone about my comings and goings. I admit that I had rather thought to establish you at Salston and then be off about my usual pursuits.”

  “You might have mentioned that to me,” she said in a strangled voice.

  He put a finger under her chin to lift her face. “You must tell me what you want, and I will see if I can't accommodate you.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn't matter.”

  “Of course it matters,” he said, his impatience obvious. “You don't want me to leave you alone at Salston, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “So would you prefer to come with me to London, or that I stay at Salston with you?”

  “It doesn't matter.”

  “How can it not matter? Surely you have a preference.”

  Prudence gripped the shawl tightly about her shoulders and said, “The point is that I do not wish to be deserted.”

  “Deserted?” Ledbetter's brows drew down in a fierce scowl. “I have no intention of deserting you, Prudence. Just of coming and going between here and London as I've always done. Is it that you wish to spend time in London? That could be arranged.”

  “You don't understand,” she insisted. “I would find it humiliating for you to walk away from me so soon after our marrying.”

  “Dear heaven, I'm not walking away from you.” Ledbetter raked a gloved hand through his hair. “You cannot expect me to sit in your pocket!”

  “I expect nothing of the sort. Never mind. Drive on, William. It's far too cold to keep your horses standing while we talk.”

  This at least was true. Ledbetter ground his teeth and gave a brisk slap of the reins to put the pair in motion. The abrupt movement of the phaeton nearly dislodged Prudence from her seat, but Ledbetter's arm swept out to hold her tightly in place. “Beg pardon,” he apologized between his teeth.

  His wife merely sighed.

  * * * *

  Mrs. Collins had been a great help to Prudence in choosing the evening meal. She was, of course, familiar with all Ledbetter's likes and dislikes so far as dishes were concerned. And though Prudence intended over time to introduce a few dishes with which the cook was not as yet familiar, she thought it proper to delay the start of such an effort for a few weeks. Therefore, the meal that was put before Ledbetter that evening contained only those items which were sure to please him. And Prudence made every attempt to be a conversable companion.

  “Mrs. Collins mentioned that there will be a dedication at the church on Sunday,” she said, smiling at her husband across the length of the gleaming table. “Apparently your mother instructed that there be a fine organ placed there in her memory.”

  It had seemed to Prudence that this was more than a safe topic for discussion. And yet, her husband's face became instantly stormy, his eyes flashing, his lips pressed together, his brows fiercely lowered. For some time he said nothing and she knew not how to bridge whatever chasm she had opened. So she said nothing, but waited for him to explain his distress.

  “Has Mrs. Collins seen the organ?” he eventually asked.

  Prudence looked puzzled. “Seen it? Why, I have no idea. Ledbetter, whatever is the problem?”

  “It's far too complicated to explain.”

  Her brows rose. “Really? I'm surprised to hear that. I should think I will need to know if there is something amiss.”

  Irritably Ledbetter dismissed the footman who was waiting on them. “It's not something I wish to be common knowledge,” he said. “Naturally, in a town as small as Forstairs, everyone knows that my mother arranged in her will for an organ to be contributed to the church.”

  “Well, on the face of it, William, it sounds a very generous thing to do.”

  “Oh, indeed it was generous.” His fingers drummed the table beside his plate. “Mother was quite specific about which organ was to be donated, as she had sent for information from a number of manufacturers. For whatever reason, and I'm sure I have not even a guess as to what the reason might be, she chose the largest, most expensive organ available.”

  “But such an organ would scarcely fit in a country church,” Prudence protested.

  “Precisely. The damn thing takes up half the building and will probably drive everyone out with the magnitude of its sound.”

  Prudence giggled. Ledbetter frowned at her. She covered her mouth with her hand, but the image of an organ of such size had struck her as immensely amusing. Despite her attempts to stifle her laughter, little gulps of it escaped past her hand and tinkled in the air between the two of them. She had an especially engaging laugh, did Prudence Stockworth Ledbetter. It rippled from her, unchecked after her initial attempts.

  “Oh, I can scarcely wait to see it,” she managed to say between gulps of laughter. “How ridiculous! How marvelous! Oh, may I go tomorrow to see it?”

  “It's no laughing matter,” Ledbetter growled.

  “But it is! It's the funniest thing I've heard in weeks!”

  “You lead a very dull life, then,” he declared, but her laughter was infectious and the corners of his mouth had begun to twitch. “They had to take the church apart to get it in,” he said.

  Prudence laughed harder. “How wonderfully absurd!” she gasped.

  “They're expecting me, us, at the dedication on Sunday,” he told her. “If you're going to laugh like this, I'm not going to take you.”

  But he had at last allowed himself to succumb to the humor of the situation and shook his head as he joined in her amusement. Prudence dabbed at her tears with her serviette and drew long breaths to bring herself to a more sober contemplation of the problem.

  “Well,” she said at length, “I can see that it's a ridiculous situation, but I suspect there is more to it, if you are so concerned. Tell me what distresses you, William.”

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  "Aside from the inordinate, and useless, expense?" he grumbled.

  "Yes, aside from that."

  He hesitated for so long that Prudence realized he could not bring himself to confide in her. She had actually begun to eat again when he said, "I dislike our neighbors having such tangible evidence of my mother's folly."

  "And perhaps that they might think it was your own folly?" she asked carefully.

  He made an irritable gesture with one hand. "Oh, the vicar seems to have made it clear that the organ was bequeathed by my mother in her will."

  "I'm surprised that you weren't able to find some way to prevent the folly from being carried through."

  Ledbetter nodded. "Precisely. You would t
hink in my position I would be able to bring the matter off satisfactorily, wouldn't you? Arrange for them to receive a smaller organ, earmark the remainder of the funds to some other worthy church project. A simple matter. But the vicar wouldn't have it. He wanted that organ, by God."

  "Which makes you look impotent."

  Ledbetter brooded on the word for a moment before grudgingly agreeing. "I even took both matters to court, but on this her will was upheld to the letter."

  Prudence's brows rose. "Both matters?"

  His face became shuttered, and he turned the subject. "I should like to give a dinner to introduce you to our neighbors, Prudence. Would that be asking too much of a new bride?"

  She looked rueful. "How soon did you intend to give it?"

  "Say, in a week or two. Nothing really elaborate, just dinner and dancing for a dozen couples."

  "Oh, nothing elaborate." Her eyes danced. "I do love the way a man views these occasions."

  "If it would be too much . . ." he said stiffly.

  "I'm sure that with Mrs. Collins's help I can contrive." She set down her fork and leaned a little toward him. "You're not doing it because of what I said this afternoon, are you?"

  "This afternoon?" He looked blank. "I don't recall your discussing a dinner."

  Prudence sighed. "No indeed. Such a possibility would never have occurred to me."

  "But it pleases you?"

  "Why, yes. It does."

  "Good." He offered her a slow smile, his eyes intent on her face. "I want to please you."

  He had an odd way of showing it, she thought. But the timbre of his voice and the look in his eyes conveyed a message which made her pulse quicken. He was not talking about the dinner now. Well, she was perfectly capable of ignoring his subtle hints and discussing the many details necessary for her to arrange a dinner, and she proceeded to do so.

  Ledbetter answered all her questions with unusual equanimity. But she detected a touch of amusement in the way his eyes crinkled and the corners of his mouth twitched. And she was aware, not for the first time, of a kind of strength about him. His hands, for instance, looked strong; she was reminded of the effort he had exerted with them that day to draw his team in. They were not necessarily gentle hands, like Allen's.

  Allen's hands had been long and shapely, and very white. Ledbetter's were browned from the sun even this early in the year, and the black hair on their backs seemed to bristle. His fingers, curving around his wine glass, seemed alive with energy. Probably just with impatience, she reminded herself.

  But she suddenly wondered how they would feel if they touched her, and the thought was so startling, and so alarming, that she flushed.

  "Is something the matter?" he asked, angling his head slightly.

  "Nothing," she assured him. "I should leave you to your port."

  "You haven't finished your meal, Prudence."

  "I've eaten everything I wish to. Truly."

  Ledbetter looked doubtful, but he rose and came around the table to hold her chair, as he had sent the footman away. Before she could rise, he put a hand on her shoulder to stay her. "That portrait of my mother," he said, indicating the painting on the side wall, “was done when she was just your age. She'd already been married for five years, and I wasn't born for another three."

  "She was a beautiful woman," Prudence said. His hand remained on her shoulder and she looked at him questioningly.

  “Yes, she was, but very retiring even when she was young. I should like to think that you are more given to society than Mother was. I'm inclined to enjoy entertaining, and I hope it won't prove a burden to you."

  "I shouldn't think it would, William." The longer his hand stayed on her shoulder, the more restless she became. "We did a considerable amount of entertaining at Colwyck, and as the oldest daughter the preparations were largely my province."

  When Ledbetter finally raised his hand from her shoulder, he moved it to her hair. Prudence found herself holding her breath as he allowed his fingers to comb through her wild tresses. "Such glorious hair," he murmured. "And you wanting to hide it under a bushel."

  "Hardly that," she objected. "Just to control it a little with pins."

  "To what purpose?"

  "Why, so that it won't look unkempt. When it is loose this way it looks wild and abandoned."

  "Ah, perhaps that's why I like it this way," he teased, bringing his fingers down to trace the oval of her face. "It gives you that disheveled look of a woman just risen from her bed."

  Prudence flushed under his gaze. "That is not a look to which I aspire, my lord."

  He laughed. "Pity."

  "I'll leave you to your port," she murmured, inching past him as he continued to partially block her way.

  "Very well. I'll be along shortly."

  * * * *

  Ledbetter actually stayed for some time in the dining room, sipping at a very tolerable port his father had laid down three decades previously. His father's portrait hung on the wall opposite his mother's, and he lifted his glass to it. "Hell of a cellar you assembled," he toasted. "A shame we can't get more from France these days."

  The painting of his father had been done when the seventh baron was well into his middle years. Ledbetter supposed that earlier his father hadn't been willing to sit still long enough. The most vivid memory he had of his father was of a bruising rider gloriously charging across the north meadow at the head of the local hunt.

  The seventh baron had had an excess of energy and drive, and an outgoing personality that was decidedly overbearing. That force was evident even in his portrait in the shrewd blue eyes and the bristling eyebrows, the stubborn square chin and the high color in his face. Ledbetter has inherited the piercing blue eyes but none of the other characteristics that so distinguished his father's appearance.

  And, of course, he'd inherited the impatience his father had frequently displayed. Not surprising, perhaps, since he had been subjected to it from his earliest years. And since it held no terrors for him. His mother, on the other hand, had been too timid to view such impatience with anything less than alarm. A quick, impatient word had frequently reduced her to tears, which always left the seventh baron puzzled and edgy. "What is it?" he would demand, in a booming voice, not helping the situation one whit.

  Though Ledbetter recognized the same impatience in himself, he counted himself lucky not to possess his father's stentorian tones. Given his position, people jumped to do his bidding, and there was never the least need to raise his voice. He had, in fact, learned the value of keeping a very civil tongue, and therefore he was always a little surprised when someone, usually his sister, called him on his impatience.

  "It is the tone of your voice," Harriet would insist. "There is that about it which I cannot like, as though you are angry with me."

  And Ledbetter would reply, "Nonsense! You have altogether too much sensibility, Harriet! No one is angry with you."

  Ledbetter certainly was not angry with his wife. But he was most decidedly impatient for more physical contact with her. He contemplated the last sip of port in his glass with a baleful eye. At the rate things were progressing, it would be a year before he managed to see her naked!

  And he had a real desire to see her naked.

  Ledbetter polished off the last of his port, decided against pouring himself another glass, and rose from the table.

  Well, he would do his level best to move the seduction of his wife forward. He was not, be believed, an incompetent where charming women was concerned. He had, after all, spent a great deal of time in London and much of that time he'd had some woman or other in keeping. Jenny in particular had been insistent that he pay attention to her needs as well as his own, which had been something of a revelation to Ledbetter.

  He strolled into the Gold Drawing Room with his most winning smile firmly fixed on his face—only to find that his wife was not there. "Devil take her!" he muttered. After making a close inspection of the room for some hint of where Prudence had disappeared to
, and finding nothing, he stepped back out into the hall and motioned to the footman stationed in the entry hall.

  "Do you know where Lady Ledbetter has gone?"

  "Her ladyship said to tell you, if you asked, that she would be back shortly, my lord."

  And I'm supposed to just cool my heels, am I? he thought, chagrined. Prudence was proving a great deal more trouble than he'd thought she would be. She had always struck him as a sensible girl, even when he'd met her during her Season. In fact, if that callow youth Porlonsby hadn't moved in with such surprising speed to win her, Ledbetter had intended to get to know the young woman better himself. Another lesson in carelessness for him.

  Ledbetter waited impatiently in the Gold Drawing Room for quarter of an hour. He knew he had waited quarter of an hour because the ormolu clock on the mantel chimed when he first sat down, and again as he was rising to pace about the room. Once he was on his feet, he decided that he was going to wait no longer, but go to find out what had become of his errant wife. Ledbetter was not in the habit of waiting for anyone.

  It seemed most likely that she had gone to her room, so he picked up a candle and headed in that direction. But perhaps she had needed to use the facilities, he thought, slowing his pace as he made his way up the stairs and down the hall. There was a water closet next to her room, but the door was open slightly and he could see that there was no one in it. On the other hand, the door to her room was closed and he heard the murmur of voices beyond it.

  He rapped sharply on her door and the voices stopped abruptly. After a moment, Prudence's hesitant voice called, "Ledbetter?"

  "Yes, of course it's me," he said irritably. "Is there something the matter?"

  "I intend to join you shortly."

  "So I was told some while ago. May I come in?"

  "No!"

  There was a hurried whispering, and then the maid Betsy opened the door an inch and made a deep curtsy. "My lord, my ladyship is in need of . . . um . . . something which I must go belowstairs to get for her. She begs you will pardon her and await her in the drawing room."