“With a dowry, you go to Glastonbury with something to offer beyond yourself, something he needs.” Ada cocked her head. “That sounds reasonable and rather businesslike. I daresay that’s how the best agreements are made, even marriages.” She frowned. “However, there is no emotion to it, no mention of love. Which shouldn’t surprise me because you’re you, and you find feelings unnecessary.” Ada rolled her eyes. “Perhaps he’d want to marry you because he loves you.”
Prudence gritted her teeth. Ada possessed more romantic notion in her little finger than Prudence did in her entire body. “He doesn’t have the luxury of marrying for love. We didn’t plan for this baby—we tried to avoid it.” Prudence hadn’t planned for any of this—for Bennet’s hirelings to abduct her, to be trapped with Bennet for days, to end up wanting Bennet like she’d never wanted anyone.
Ada was silent a moment. “If you decide to find a home for the baby, you can ask Lady Peterborough about how she did that for you. If you decide to confront her, that is.”
It seemed Prudence must see her. She needed the woman’s help, either with money or advice. She thought of the innocent life inside her whose family boasted viscounts and earls and dukes. He or she would be raised without any of those benefits, just as Prudence had been. It would be fine, except if they were orphaned and alone in the world, also as Prudence had been.
There was so much to consider. Prudence could barely think straight. Her mind was still awash in anxiety and trepidation.
“There is an alternative to seeing Lady Peterborough,” Ada said, her features tensing. “You could ask your half brother for money.”
“Absolutely not.” That much Prudence was certain of. “I’ll speak with Lady Peterborough. Today, in fact.” Before she lost her nerve. She ought to see Bennet too—he’d asked her to meet him in the park that afternoon. But she couldn’t tell him about the baby in the park, and she still didn’t know what to do about the ring. Hopefully, after she saw Lady Peterborough, she would.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Ada offered.
“No, but thank you. I do appreciate your counsel and support. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Ada’s smile widened. “We may have had some misfortunes, but we were lucky enough to find each other. I’d say we have more than most.”
They did indeed. “I think I’d like some tea before I go. If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Let’s go down to the kitchen.” Ada stood and, when Prudence got to her feet, embraced her in a tight hug. “We’ll get you, and the babe, if there is one, through this. There will be happier days ahead. You’ll see.”
Prudence hoped so, because right now, she couldn’t see past the current disaster.
In his eagerness to see Prudence, Bennet arrived at the park before five. She was nowhere to be seen, but he hoped she would come. There was plenty of time. Almost right away, he caught sight of Mrs. Merryfield. Tall, with dark hair covered with a plain chestnut-colored hat, she strode toward him, a younger woman—perhaps her maid—trailing just behind her.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Merryfield.” He took her hand and gave her an elegant bow.
“Good afternoon, Lord Glastonbury. What a lovely day for a promenade.”
Bennet had no choice but to offer her his arm. They walked along the path as the park began to fill with Society. “I enjoyed our dance at the Phoenix Club the other evening.”
“As did I,” Bennet said. “You are a unique and independent woman.” Her ownership of the bank set her apart from her sex. Many found her intimidating or didn’t think she should own a bank. Bennet suspected that was why she’d been invited to join the Phoenix Club. She was precisely the sort of person the club seemed to welcome, those who were excluded or whom Society denigrated in some way.
People like him whose fathers had gambled away their entire fortune, leaving their family to behave as beggars. Perhaps he exaggerated, but not by much.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Mrs. Merryfield said with the barest hint of a smile. “There is much we can offer each other. A union between us would be mutually beneficial. I know you need money, and I’ve plenty of it. If I wasn’t clear the other night, I would very much like to be a viscountess.”
“I did gather that.” Bennet was careful to keep the irony from his tone.
“Furthermore, I’ve demonstrated my ability to bear strong, healthy children. It should be no trouble to provide you with an heir in due haste.”
Bennet nearly tripped. How to tell her he didn’t want that? He supposed he could just say so. She was being wonderfully frank.
“There is something I wish to discuss, and I hope you will be amenable. I understand you must spend time at your estate in Somerset; however, I expect to reside primarily in London, save a few weeks a year to visit—Aberforth Place, is it?” She looked at him expectantly.
“Yes.” Was she saying what he thought she was saying? She didn’t want to spend much time at Aberforth Place? She really was close to perfect. He could avoid telling her anything about his family because she’d rarely see them. Surely he could hide their affliction. Until such time as it overtook him as it had his father—if it did so.
“I’m afraid I’m needed in London,” she went on. “Because of the bank.”
“Of course. I completely understand.” He smiled widely, pleased with how bloody wonderfully this was turning out. If only he actually wanted to marry her. “May I assume your children will stay in London with you?”
“Certainly,” she answered quickly, with almost a slight affront. “My son is at school anyway.”
“Just so.” Bennet appreciated the fact that he could be a stepfather from afar.
“Now, might I ask about your pugilism habit?” She wrinkled her nose, and Bennet could guess her thoughts on the matter.
“I enjoy the sport very much.” He wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t in order to win a wife. Nor was he going to offer to stop.
“It’s rather savage. I can’t say I’d support it.”
“That’s unfortunate as I’ve no intention of giving it up.” On the contrary, he felt as though he needed it more than ever.
Glancing toward her, he saw that her lips were pursed. He felt a surge of relief that she was perhaps reconsidering their suitability, which was incredibly foolish. Mrs. Merryfield could be the solution he was looking for.
Turning the conversation to the weather and the spring flowers, he escorted her along the path until she abruptly announced her departure. “Perhaps I will see you at the Phoenix Club assembly on Friday,” she said. “Unless you call on me first.” She smiled, but he didn’t sense any genuine warmth. The entire promenade had felt like a business transaction—and one that hadn’t gone satisfactorily.
Bennet committed to nothing as he bowed and wished her a pleasant afternoon. Her maid joined her, and they walked toward the exit. Apparently, she’d accomplished what she’d come to the park to do. He, however, had not.
There were far more people about now, so it was even more difficult to find Prudence. He walked back the way he’d come, nodding and smiling at those who didn’t avoid him. No one gave him the cut direct, but some were bloody close.