“The Chronicles of Christabelle de Mowbray.”
“I’ve read that to my aunts. My offer to read to you is still available.”
She hesitated, then held out the book.
Bennet set his coffee on the table and stood. Stepping toward her, he took the book. “Where are you?” She pointed to a place midway down the page. Nodding, he glanced over the lines before that and tried to recall the story. Then he launched into the dialogue with robust enthusiasm.
By the time he turned the page, she was smiling. As he moved to the following page, she laughed softly, her humor increasing as he increased his volume—and absurdity.
When he turned the page again, she held up her hand. “Please stop. I can’t take anymore.”
“Are you certain? I could try to be more sedate.”
One of her pale brows arched. “Can you?”
“Yes. Though it’s not nearly as amusing.” He returned the book to her, and their fingers touched briefly. Too briefly. He wanted to clasp her hand, to look into her eyes, and… what? He shook the thought away.
“I never would have thought you possessed such a sense of humor. Or do you save it for your aunts primarily?”
“My aunts require a sense of humor,” he said with dark sarcasm. He loved them dearly, but eccentric didn’t begin to fully describe them. Add in fussy, obstinate, and mercurial and the characterization got closer.
“How did you come to read for them?” she asked, holding the book open in her lap as she sat forward.
Bennet pulled his chair from the table and sat back down. “I grew up with them, and they used to read to me. They taught me to read before the governess could—by making me read to them. Over the years, I became more animated, I suppose.”
“How nice to have an extended family living with you. But I imagine your house is quite large enough to support that.”
“Yes, Aberforth Place is almost too large.” Thinking of the cavernous rooms, many of which were now empty, he revised his statement. “It is too large. Especially for me and my two great-aunts.” He really ought to make all the other relatives move in since there was plenty of room. Then he could let the cottage that Cousin Frances occupied on the estate and stop paying the lease on Aunt Judith’s house in Bath. Except Cousin Frances would never consent to living in the house, and Bennet wasn’t sure he wanted her there. Great-Aunt Flora and Great-Aunt Minerva would fight him—they desired her there even less than Frances wanted to come. Furthermore, Aunt Judith had long ago made it clear that she refused to reside at Aberforth Place with the “afflicted.” So while it made economic sense to bring them all under one roof, Bennet couldn’t do it. Not only for his own peace of mind but for theirs.
And then there was Aunt Agatha. She couldn’t come home either. Bennet had no one to look after her, not in the way that was required.
“You seem to care a great deal for them,” she noted softly. “What of your other relatives?”
“My parents are gone, and I have no siblings. I have a cousin who lives on the estate and two aunts who reside in Bath.” He wouldn’t mention Aunt Agatha or the fact that she lived in a hospital.
“I see.” Prudence looked down at her book, and he suspected she’d done the mathematics in her head. He had many relatives and likely cared for them, which was expensive.
She did not, however, confirm this. As with their other conversations, she avoided delving too deeply. In fact, today’s questions about his family seemed positively intrusive compared to her usual behavior. It was one reason he saw her as guarded. She strove to keep herself private and gave him the space to do the same.
Normally, he would be relieved and even thrilled by this. He detested revealing anything more than he had, which was to say the bare minimum. Everything else was kept hidden and buried. It was how he’d managed to keep his financial status secret for as long as he had.
But Prudence was different somehow. If she asked more, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d avoid answering—at least some things. Perhaps because he wanted to know more about her. “What of your family?” he asked.
“My parents are also dead,” she responded quietly. “I also have no siblings. Unlike you, I have no other family either.”
“No one?” The question fell from his lips before he could stop himself. He hated thinking of her being alone in the world. “I’m sorry.”
“You needn’t be. I am quite content.”
“You enjoy being a companion?”
“Very much. I hope I may continue.” Her eyes narrowed very slightly, as she closed the book over her forefinger to keep her place.
“I promise you will.” As if he could control what happened. He’d been utterly unable to manage this situation. What made him think he could guarantee her anything?
“You can’t make that promise, but I appreciate you wanting to.”
He plucked at a nonexistent thread at his knee. “I’ll do whatever necessary to ensure your reputation remains intact. Have you decided what you’d like to do?”
“I haven’t yet, so it’s just as well that we are stranded here.” She stood suddenly. “I should like to find out if the roads are improved. I daresay they aren’t.” She glanced toward the window. It was still raining.
Bennet got up from his chair and returned it to the table. “I’ll go. You stay and read. Please.”
Lifting a shoulder in silent response, she sat back down.
“Perhaps the rain will stop soon,” he said. “Or at least slow so that the stable master’s lad can get to town.”
She looked up at him with a benign smile. “We can only hope.” Then her attention returned to her book, and he was effectively dismissed.
He’d bloody well trudge to the town himself—the rain be damned.
Chapter 4
Prudence had spent the afternoon helping Mrs. Logan. Busy assembling the trifle, she startled at the sound of a door clicking shut. She looked up to see Bennet emerging, hair damp from the small bathing chamber off the kitchen. Mrs. Logan rushed to take the clothing he held.
“I’ll get this washed and dried out for you right away,” she said with a smile.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Prudence stepped around the worktable in the center of the kitchen. “What happened to your clothing?”
“I walked into town to fetch the part for the coach.”
She stared at him. While the rain had slowed a few times throughout the day, the past couple of hours had been a steady drenching as the wind had picked up once more. “You must have been soaked to the bone. How did I not see you come in?”
“You weren’t in here.”
“I must have been in the pantry.” She stared at his simply knotted cravat. “You miss your valet, don’t you?”
He laughed. “I don’t have a valet. Which is unfortunate since I’m rubbish at cravats.”
“No, you’re not. It looks nice and unfussy, not at all like most gentlemen in London. Do you prefer a more elaborate knot?”
“Honestly, I find them a nuisance. Not having to wear them while boxing is one of the things I like best about the sport.” He winked at her, and she hated how her body trembled. No one had ever flirted with her, and she likened her reaction to finding water after days in the desert.