Returning to the inn, Bennet paused just inside the doorway. Prudence was in the common room, standing next to the table near the hearth. She wore one of the two gowns she’d brought, and though it wasn’t the most fashionable, nor was she bedecked in jewels or sporting an intricate hairstyle, she was breathtakingly beautiful. There was an ethereal quality to her, as if she’d stepped from a folktale. It was quite at odds with her strong, no-nonsense nature.
He envisioned her with jewels, an expensive costume, and sophisticated coiffure. She would steal every bit of attention at a ball.
“You’re staring at me,” she said, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“I’m struck silent by your beauty.” He went to take her hand and bowed gallantly as if they were in a ballroom. “I would ask you to waltz if we were at a ball.”
“I don’t know how.”
“It’s quite simple, really. I can teach you some time.”
“There’s no reason for me to learn. And no, you can’t. Or have you forgotten that this is the last night we’ll spend in each other’s company? That is, if we actually have a mode of transportation.”
“I have not forgotten,” he said quietly. He moved to hold her chair, and she sat down. “I have good news regarding our trip to London. Mr. Logan has secured us passage with his neighbor, who is driving there tomorrow.” He sat opposite her and poured wine from the bottle Mrs. Logan had set out.
“‘Us’?” Her brow creased. “I thought I was returning to London alone. I told you that I didn’t require your presence.”
“Don’t become agitated. Mr. Logan arranged it, and I didn’t think it wise to provoke his curiosity. Besides, it’s not the sort of transport I would prefer you take, and I’ll feel better riding with you.” She opened her mouth, and he held up his hand. “Please don’t argue with me. We’ll be riding in a cart, not a coach. I hope you don’t mind that I agreed on your behalf.”
She pursed her lips briefly. “I suppose it’s what a future husband should do. To do anything else would, as you said, provoke curiosity. Anyway, a cart is fine, so long as it delivers me within a few miles of Mayfair. I can walk the rest of the way if need be.”
“You won’t. I’ll make sure you’re delivered to Lord Lucien’s.”
“To the Phoenix Club, I think, depending on what time we arrive. It will likely be afternoon, and that’s where he is most afternoons.”
“Very well. I do hope you’ll let me know if I can be of further assistance. For anything. At any time.”
She inclined her head. “Thank you. However, I daresay Lucien will be able to help me secure a new position, and then everything will be back to normal.”
He envied her certainty, her positivity. Normal wasn’t something he recognized anymore, and he wasn’t sure he ever would again.
Mrs. Logan brought their dinner, a lovely roast with a variety of vegetables and a rich sauce made from red wine. “There’s another trifle for dessert. I know how much you enjoyed it.” She looked specifically at Bennet, who’d had three helpings of it the other night.
“You are too wonderful, Mrs. Logan,” he said, grinning. “Truly.”
“It is my pleasure, especially with all the help you and Lady Prudence have given us since the storm. I hope Mr. Logan told you he doesn’t plan on charging you for your stay.”
Bennet hated how relieved that made him feel. “That is very kind of him.”
Mrs. Logan returned to the kitchen, and Bennet lifted his glass in a toast. “To mistakes made and overcome and friendships forged.”
Prudence raised her glass. “And to not having to pay after losing your coach.” She must have seen his faint grimace because a flash of alarm darted across her features. “I know you must be relieved, and there’s no harm or shame in that,” she said softly.
“Thank you.” He wanted to take her in his arms and thank her properly. It had been a very long time since he’d revealed the truth to anyone. If he wasn’t careful, he would tell her every one of his secrets. Only, if she knew them, she’d run far away.
And he wouldn’t blame her. On the contrary, he’d be the first one to tell her to go.
They ate for a few minutes, and it seemed the air between them grew thick, with things unsaid, perhaps. Or undone.
“You aren’t a villain,” she said, picking up her wineglass. “I hope you know that.”
“So you tell me. I behaved rather villainously, however. It’s going to take me some time to get over that.” He tried to smile, to take the darkness out of his words, but failed.
She sipped her wine before setting the glass back on the table. “I suspect it’s going to take me plenty of time to get over this entire escapade. And not because it was terrible.” Her gaze locked with his, and the tension between them changed. A primal sensation seemed to arc across the table. His body tightened with yearning.
“I could almost think we were actually eloping,” he said, not looking away from her. “This has all felt very…comfortable.”
“Natural,” she said. “Pleasant.”
What was she saying? He shouldn’t hope… Hadn’t he avoided kissing her yesterday? And hadn’t he struggled to keep his hands to himself in bed last night?
“I wonder if we might pretend to be a betrothed couple—for real.” Now she looked down at her plate.
“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” His throat had gone dry, his words sounding as if he’d swallowed glass. He took a swift drink of wine.
“I didn’t mean pretend. We are pretending. For tonight, let us be betrothed. Let us be…together.” She plucked up her wineglass and took a longer drink, her cheeks flushing.
He told himself the color could be from the wine, but he knew better. He knew what she was saying. Still, he had to be sure. “You want to remove the blanket between us?” That’s what he asked? Couldn’t he be more specific?
She nodded.
“Pru, I want to be very clear about what you’re asking. You want me to take you to bed, to—” Crude and vulgar words sprang to his mind along with a host of visions of the things he would do to her and she to him. But she was innocent. He couldn’t take that from her. He’d already taken far too much.
“Yes.”
The single word from her lips stoked his desire, weakening his resolve. He gripped the edge of the table. “I can’t. Then I really would be a villain.”
She frowned. “How do you come to that conclusion? I want you to bed me. Very much.”
He groaned, then finished his wine and quickly refilled his glass so he could take another drink. “You’re innocent, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what that has to do with anything. I have no plans to wed. Ever. I’ve never considered a romantic entanglement, and it’s possible I never will again. I want to spend this night, this last night that we have, with you. As your future wife.”
“But you are not my future wife,” he whispered, disliking the sound of that for some ridiculous reason.
“We’ve shown a great aptitude for pretend,” she said coyly. “One night. And I’ve no wish for a child.”