What if this was the only romantic interlude she’d ever know?
A week ago, she wouldn’t even have considered such a thing. Romance was for other people, not her. She’d never thought about love or marriage or even sex. Well, maybe not never.
The last couple of days, however, she kept thinking of what it might be like to kiss Bennet, to have him touch her, to lose herself in something that wasn’t planned or necessary. So she’d kissed him that afternoon.
His reaction had been difficult to gauge. There’d been a flash of heat in his eyes, and he’d seemed to want more. But then he’d paused and ultimately left her. What if he thought her a wanton?
A kidnapper wouldn’t judge you, her mind argued. Or shouldn’t, anyway.
What she knew of Bennet said he wouldn’t. She had a hard time reconciling the man she’d come to know the past several days with the scoundrel who’d paid brigands to abduct her.
She ought not forget the scoundrel existed, she reminded herself.
Turning her head, she looked over the blanket roll between their pillows. He lay with his back to her so that she could only see the blond of his hair. Unlike when she’d gone to check on him, he wore a night shirt. Why was he wearing it now?
As if she didn’t know the answer to that. He might have scoundrel tendencies, but he’d kept them well reined in since they’d been stranded here together. Pity that.
Did that mean she had scoundrel tendencies? Prudence clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.
Rolling to her other side to face the wall instead of her tempting bedmate, she told herself to sleep. Tomorrow could very well be their last day at the inn. The rain had stayed away, and the river had receded, leaving the road to dry out. Now, she just needed a mode of transport.
Likely there would be a mail coach or something she could hire in Hersham. And Mr. Logan would certainly take her that far. Tomorrow, she’d settle the details. She was ready to get back to her life, even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was returning to.
She would likely need a new job, unless Cassandra and Wexford had suffered a falling-out in Croydon. Prudence highly doubted that.
Perhaps it would be best if she sought employment away from London. Then she’d never risk seeing Bennet, and she could settle into a long-term position with someone older. No more young ladies falling in love.
Did she think it was catching? What a preposterous thought.
She felt nothing for Bennet beyond a warm affection due to the time they’d spent together. The day after tomorrow, she’d leave this idyllic time—and the scoundrel beside her—in the past. She’d look forward and leave everything behind, including the truth of her birth, the hope of finding her real mother, and all the nagging emotions that accompanied those things. Clearheaded and unencumbered, she’d embrace the future and whatever it brought.
Their forced sojourn was about to come to an end.
After six long days, half of which had seen them nearly flooded away, they could finally leave on the morrow. Provided they had a means of departure. Bennet was waiting for Logan to return with good news.
Unsettled, he went out into the yard, where the dusky sky was overcast. Despite the coming of night, it was still warm, quite different from the storms that had ravaged the area just a couple of days before. The tree had been removed from the stable roof, but the repair to the building would take some time. His wrecked coach still sat beneath it.
Of course he was unsettled. He’d lost his only coach, and he didn’t have the funds to replace it. He supposed he could sell his horses since they didn’t have a coach to pull. That was a very small benefit. Except he liked those horses. Ah well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t parted with many things he would rather have kept.
If he were honest, and he wasn’t always, as evidenced by what had brought him here, he’d realize there was more to his agitation than the loss of his coach. Or the fact that he’d nearly ruined poor Prudence’s life. He’d become rather fond of her. Fond? He bloody well thought about her almost every waking moment. And many of his sleeping moments if his dreams last night were any indication.
Sharing a bed with her had been a poor idea, but they’d come through it unscathed. How many times had he nearly turned toward her and gone through with the kiss he’d intended yesterday?
He stroked his fingertips across his lips where the imprint of her lips still blazed. Shock hadn’t been his first reaction but delight, anticipation, desire. He’d nearly kissed her in return before his sanity had returned.
Yet another moment where he’d lost his control.
Clenching his jaw, he lowered his hand to his side. The sound of a horse drew him to turn.
Logan rode into the yard and dismounted. “Evening, your lordship,” he said.
“Good evening.”
“Looks as though you’ll be able to leave tomorrow, and not just because of the weather. My neighbor is going to London and can take both you and Lady Prudence.” He paused before continuing. “You should know he’ll be traveling in a cart. I will understand if you’d rather not travel in such a state.”
“It’s fine,” Bennet assured him before thinking if it really was fine for Prudence. She deserved an enclosed coach where she would be protected from the elements.
Except she wouldn’t care about that, and he’d promised her he’d return her to London as soon as possible. This was as soon as possible, and he thought he knew her well enough to know she would jump at the chance.
“It’s more than fine,” Bennet amended. “It’s wonderful. Pru will be thrilled to get back to London. Not that she hasn’t enjoyed her time here. We both have.”
“Is that possible?” Logan chuckled. “You’ve worked as hard as anyone, and she might be the best help Mrs. Logan has ever had. You’ve got yourself quite a woman there, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“I don’t,” Bennet said softly. Prudence was an incomparable woman. He meant that he didn’t mind Logan saying so, but he realized it could also have meant that he didn’t have her. Because that was the truth—Prudence wasn’t his. In that moment, the thought of parting from her was almost agony. She’d become so much a part of his daily routine. He could see them together at Aberforth Place. He’d take on repairs and working in the garden. She’d cook and keep things tidy.
And what about his family? He’d somehow keep their true natures hidden? With marriage necessary, Bennet had realized his viscountess would learn of his family’s affliction, but he’d honestly never thought about the specifics, the how and when he would tell her. He supposed he’d hoped to keep it from her as much as possible.
How foolish that sounded now. Did he really think Prudence wouldn’t notice everyone’s moods? Or the way his great-aunts obsessed over things to the point of making themselves ill. She would immerse herself in his household, as a good viscountess would.
Except she wouldn’t be there at all. This betrothal was a farce, even if it had begun to feel quite real.
Bennet pivoted toward the house. “I’d best go in. I suspect Mrs. Logan has dinner about ready.”
“I think she made something special since you’ll be leaving us tomorrow. Don’t tell her I told you.” Logan winked at him before leading the horse to the stable.