Prudence waited near the corner while Cassandra tried on the gloves. She and her aunt admired them, and the purchase was made.
“Well, that was diverting,” Lady Peterborough said with a light laugh. “I’m so pleased I ran into you, my dear.” She gave Cassandra a brief hug, then glanced toward Prudence. “Good afternoon, Miss Lancaster.”
Prudence inclined her head and watched the countess leave. Cassandra clasped her new package and turned toward the door. “Ready?”
In answer, Prudence followed her from the shop. They strolled for a few minutes before Cassandra said, “I wonder if she’ll always buy me gifts out of guilt.”
“You think that’s what they are?”
Cassandra let out a soft but still unladylike snort. “Don’t you? I’ve told you enough about my aunt, and you’ve seen for yourself how she is.”
Yes, Prudence had. “Is there any chance she does it because she likes to? Everyone shows affection in different ways.” Prudence thought of her own mother, who had demonstrated her love by teaching and helping Prudence become independent. If not for her guidance, Prudence might have ended up in a workhouse. That was love just as Lady Peterborough’s purchases could be too.
“I suppose you’re right. Though, I daresay she may still feel guilty for being a terrible sponsor.” Cassandra looked toward Prudence. “Perhaps I should tell her that she needn’t feel that way. We’ve never discussed it.”
“Do you think it would help to do so?”
“I don’t want her to feel guilty. I confess I did, but that seems rather immature now.”
“I don’t think so,” Prudence said quietly. “You probably hoped she would be more of a mother to you.”
Cassandra looked ahead and blinked. “Yes. But I also understand why she was not—she had two sons of her own and an unhappy marriage. I can’t imagine things have been easy for her. And now I feel doubly immature for not recognizing that sooner.” She shook her head, returning her attention to Prudence. “You are always so wise, Pru. Mysteriously so. I should love to know your entire background—not just the parts you deign to reveal.”
“My background is dreadfully dull,” Prudence said without guile. Her life had been dull in comparison to the daughter of a duke.
“I doubt your elopement was, however,” Cassandra said wryly. “How I would love to hear what happened, but I know you don’t wish to discuss it.” There was a wistful quality to her voice that made Prudence almost want to tell her. It should have been enough that she’d told Ada, but she hadn’t revealed the entire truth. Perhaps that was what she really wanted to share. But again, that meant allowing her emotions to guide her, and she didn’t do that.
“I’m only sorry your plans didn’t work out as you’d hoped,” Cassandra said. “And I meant what I said the other night at the assembly. If you ever need to unburden yourself, I am here for you. Your secrets will always be safe with me.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Prudence said, thinking her secrets would probably shock Cassandra to her bones.
They rode back home in the coach, a luxurious equipage that made her realize just how old Bennet’s had been. Why had no one noticed that he lacked the usual trappings of a London gentleman? Prudence had heard he lived in a very small terrace near Bloomsbury Square.
Perhaps they were too dazzled by his striking good looks, charming laugh, and impeccable style. He did dress the part of affluent viscount, at least. She supposed that was all he could manage. He did have to play a role, after all. How else was he to land an heiress?
The thought of him doing so formed a ball of lead in her belly. She had difficulty swallowing as the coach stopped in front of the Wexfords’ house on George Street, on one of the corners nearest Grosvenor Square.
As she departed the coach, Prudence looked down toward Queen Street and froze. Was that…? She blinked, certain she must be seeing things. She’d been thinking of Bennet, and her mind had conjured him. Looking again, she saw that she wasn’t imagining his presence. He lingered at the corner, seemed to nod at her, then disappeared.
Prudence went inside, her pulse speeding with anticipation. Did he mean for her to go and meet him? She could take a walk…
Twenty minutes later, that was precisely what she did.
Chapter 12
Though she wasn’t a young lady who shouldn’t go walking without a chaperone, Prudence wondered if she was being foolish. If she were seen with the Viscount Glastonbury, someone would surely say something. Such gossip would be too delicious to ignore. A fallen viscount promenading with a paid companion.
It could be so much worse. What if people knew who she really was?
A fallen lord promenading with a viscount’s bastard.
She stopped just before reaching Queen Street and nearly turned around.
But then he was there, his hand clasping hers. “Pru. How lovely you look today.”
She wanted to say that he was the lovely one. He was immaculately garbed in a bottle-green coat that made his eyes look more green than blue instead of an even mix of the two.
She withdrew her hand from his. “I shouldn’t have come out. It wouldn’t be good for us to be seen walking together.”
“I’ve considered that.” He glanced about, then ushered her across the street and around the corner into the mews. The smell of horses filled the air.
He tucked them into an alcove between two carriage houses. “May I take your hand now?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Lifting a shoulder, he gave her a dazzling smile. “When have we ever let that stop us?”
Prudence could barely swallow past the tightening of her throat as emotion swelled in her chest. She couldn’t keep doing this. It was becoming too painful to walk away. And to keep her feelings at bay.
“How are you?” he asked, taking her hand. She let him.
“Fine. You?”
“Fine is not a real answer. Are you well? Busy? Utterly bored without me?”
She laughed. “You have a rather high opinion of yourself.”
“You know I don’t,” he quipped. “Especially after what I did to you.” There wasn’t any melancholy in his tone, just a statement of fact.
She needed to put some distance between them. “Have you found an heiress yet?”
He grimaced and let go of her hand. That had been her intent—to push him away—but it still stung. “I wish I didn’t need money. Perhaps I should get a job. Is there such a thing as a gentleman’s companion? You could train me up.”
Another laugh shook her frame. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of such a thing. I do know you’re good at cleaning up after storms.”
“You’re right,” he said, stroking his chin. “I could work as a gardener or a groom. I do know a fair amount about horses.”
“You could also be a teacher. I assume you went to Oxford or Cambridge and possess a great deal of knowledge to impart.”
“Like your father.” His eyes glowed with warmth.
“Not like my father. He did not attend Oxford or Cambridge. He was rather brilliant, however.” He’d taught her so much about history and science and words.