Prudence stared at her as words once again utterly failed her.
The countess stared at her in return. “The ring does belong to me—or it did. I gave it to the wet nurse who accompanied my daughter to her adoptive parents. I’m glad to see she passed it on as I instructed.” She studied Prudence. “I never really looked at you closely before. You resemble him. Your father, I mean. Do you know who that is?”
Slowly, Prudence nodded. She felt as if she were in a dream. “When my mother was dying, she told me that I’d been given to them to raise. Whoever had delivered me to them had given her the ring and said it was from my mother—the woman who birthed me. She also revealed my true father’s identity. You are my mother?”
“It seems so.” Lady Peterborough held up the ring between her thumb and forefinger. She smiled, and Prudence swore it was the most genuine expression she’d ever seen on the woman. “She was supposed to give this to you when you married. That’s when the firstborn daughter receives it.” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry your mother didn’t live to see that. I’m glad she gave it to you personally, though.”
Prudence could scarcely believe she was looking at the woman who’d given birth to her. “Why did you give me away?” The question was soft but harsh sounding.
“Since you know who your father was, you also know he wasn’t my husband. I’m afraid Lord Peterborough was furious that I’d allowed myself to get with child by another man. Never mind the children he sired on his mistress.” She sniffed, and Prudence felt a sudden urge to knock Lord Peterborough to the ground. “It was the only way,” Lady Peterborough said. “Pete wouldn’t claim you, and Walter’s wife didn’t want you either. I’m sorry. He gave me no choice regarding you. I had to give you away.” She reached for Prudence’s cheek but didn’t touch her before withdrawing her hand. “It was so difficult, but I knew you would be well cared for, that the couple taking you wanted you very badly. That gave me solace. I’m glad you still have the ring. You’ll give it to your daughter on her wedding day.”
Prudence’s daughter. That she could very well be carrying right this instant.
Tears blurred Prudence’s vision, and she felt wobbly as she had earlier. “I need to sit.” She practically collapsed onto the nearby settee.
Lady Peterborough sat down on the same piece of furniture, her features creased with concern. “Are you all right? You look unwell.”
“I’m… Never mind that now.” She wanted to hear the countess talk first. The countess. Her mother. “I can’t believe you’re my mother. You’re certain?”
“The more I look at you, yes.” She studied Prudence’s face and smiled again. “You are clearly Walter’s daughter. You have his eyes and his nose, the same shape of his face. It’s astonishing, really. If I’d ever looked at you properly, I would have seen it.” She laughed then, surprising Prudence. “My goodness, but that would have been a shock—for both of us.”
“I think this must be a shock right now.” Stupidly—and surprisingly—Prudence wanted this woman to want her, to be happy to see her.
“Yes.” The countess’s tawny eyes clouded, and she blinked several times. Then she wiped a tear away. “It’s a wonderful shock. I never thought to meet you. You’re so beautiful, so poised.”
Prudence worried she might burst into uncontrollable sobs. How she hated all this untidy emotion! “But I’m only a paid companion.”
“You rose from middle class to move in the highest echelons of Society.” Lady Peterborough shook her head. “You didn’t rise. You are from the highest echelons of Society. You should have been raised here, with me. You and Cassandra would have grown up together.” Her voice broke, and she looked away, her chin trembling.
Prudence didn’t know what to do. Instinctively, she wanted to comfort the woman, perhaps touch her hand or hug her even. But everything was strange and awkward. A lifetime of secrecy stood between them.
“Your Christian name is Prudence?”
“Yes.”
“It’s lovely, as are you.”
Unwanted emotions tumbled through Prudence, but she had to focus on the goal for this errand. “I’m afraid Lucien is aware of this ring.”
The color leached from the countess’s face once more. “What do you mean?”
“I gave the ring to a gentleman. He wore it, which I never expected him to do. Lucien saw and recognized it. That’s how I came to know it belonged to your family.”
The countess’s hand flew to her mouth as she drew in a sharp breath. “Pete can never know that you are here—so close to me. To him,” she added in a bare whisper.
“I understand.” Prudence wanted to allay the woman’s fears—no, her panic. She was obviously very stricken by the notion that her husband should learn that Prudence was nearly in their lives.
Nearly.
“What did Lucien say?” the countess asked breathlessly.
“I haven’t spoken to him directly. He doesn’t know the ring was in my possession, nor does he know I have it now. He wants the ring because he says it belongs with his family. However, the gentleman returned the ring to me.”
“As he should have. It’s yours.” Lady Peterborough glanced toward the window, her brow furrowed.
“The gentleman has been able to put Lucien off, but your nephew has been most insistent. I’m afraid we’re out of time. I need to give him the ring.”
“No.” The countess looked back to Prudence, her gaze intense. “That’s the one thing I will not allow. I’ve bowed to everyone’s wishes where you are concerned, but I won’t in this. I will handle Lucien.”
“What will you say?” Prudence didn’t want to cause trouble for Bennet.
Lady Peterborough arched one shoulder. “The truth, I think. Lucien is very good at keeping secrets—and at helping people. I will tell him the ring is where it belongs and to mind his own business.”
Prudence continued to be surprised by the countess. Her mother. She was behaving as a mother ought. Somewhat, at least. “Thank you.”
“Why did you give this mystery gentleman the ring?” Lady Peterborough asked.
“I gave it to him as a favor—that he didn’t ask for. I’d hoped he would sell it. In fact, I told him to. He’s in need of funds, and I wanted to help.”
“He sounds rather important to you.”
Now was the moment to spill the other reason she’d come today. “Things have changed since I gave him the ring. I find myself in the same dire straits as you once did.” Prudence hesitated the barest moment before plunging forward, heat rising in her face. “I believe I’m carrying a child. I need a dowry.”
Lady Peterborough’s eyes widened. “His child? Oh, my poor dear.”
Prudence didn’t answer the countess’s question. “Can you help me?”
“I do understand your plight—of course I do. But I can’t give you anything for fear my husband would realize some of my allowance was unaccounted for. I take it this mystery gentleman to whom you gave the ring is the father? If he’s in Lucien’s circle, he must be rather prominent.” Lady Peterborough’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Has he agreed to marry you if you provide a dowry?”