“Must it?” Her voice rose. “As I said, we made an agreement. Where is your loyalty, your honor? Have you no shame at all?”
His ire stirred, and his body tensed. “I am doing this because of honor.” Trying to redirect the conversation and hopefully extract himself as quickly as possible, he said, “At least the betrothal wasn’t announced. There will be no ill effect on you.”
Her jaw clenched. “I told my friends, my family, my children.”
Bennet flinched. He’d met her younger child, a daughter, briefly. Ten years old, she was sober and exceedingly polite. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”
“Then don’t. Keep your word, and we’ll forget this unfortunate conversation occurred.”
Anger coiled within him. “While I understand this is difficult, I cannot continue with our arrangement.” Honestly, he hadn’t thought she would take it this badly—it wasn’t as if he was breaking her heart or causing her to lose anything.
“Perhaps I will consult with my solicitor and see what he says.”
Was she threatening him? Now he was becoming well and truly angry. “I have tried to be polite, but your continued refusal to accept this change is becoming tiresome. We will not be married, and that is the end of it.” He stood, more than ready to depart.
She also got to her feet. “You do disappoint me, Glastonbury. I liked you. I thought we would suit very well. This was a mutually beneficial agreement, and you can tell me you’re a man of your word and of honor, but that is simply not true. You’re a fraud and a liar, and given what I know of your father, perhaps I’ve escaped certain disaster.”
It was the one thing she could say that would hit him hard and square. Yes, it was entirely likely she’d just avoided the biggest mistake of her life. And perhaps she was right about his honor. He’d demonstrated a clear lack of it when he’d arranged to have a lady kidnapped. Desperation was an ugly thing—he was seeing it now in Mrs. Merryfield.
He felt bad that he’d aroused this in her. He was trying to do the right thing, but she would pay the price. “I truly am sorry. I didn’t want to disappoint you—or hurt you—but it’s precisely because of my honor that I must wed someone else.”
Her eyes widened. “She’s with child, isn’t she?”
Christ, how had she guessed that? Bennet said nothing.
“You could at least show me the grace of honesty.”
He’d tried to. “I’d rather not discuss it.” He ought to deny it, but when his and Prudence’s baby came so quickly after they wed, he’d be caught in a lie. He didn’t want to be what Mrs. Merryfield had called him—a liar or a fraud. But wasn’t he? His family was a shameful secret he couldn’t bear to share.
“Then I shall take that as confirmation,” she said coldly. “You’ve behaved reprehensibly and now plan to throw me over for some stupid chit. Anyone foolish enough to give herself to a man outside the bonds of marriage deserves whatever happens to her.”
Fury erupted in Bennet sharp and fast. He lunged toward her. “Shut your mouth. Don’t speak of her. Ever.”
She jerked back, her face pale. Fear glazed her eyes, and Bennet felt a surge of self-loathing so strong that he nearly shouted out his rage.
Instead, he spun on his heel and quit the room.
The footman barely got the door open before Bennet strode through it into the gray afternoon. Stalking down Bruton Street, he tried to push the anger from him, the sense that he had no control. The feeling of loss and despair followed quickly, setting him even more on edge. No, he wouldn’t let this happen. He wasn’t a bad person; he wasn’t lost in anger or emotion.
How he missed boxing. He needed to pour himself into physical exertion. Where was a storm with a resulting mess to clean up when one needed it?
After several minutes, he began to relax. At least that was done. It had gone incredibly poorly, but now he could move forward with Prudence. Into a terribly uncertain future.
After a lovely visit with Ada that morning, Prudence felt almost happy. Ada had been thrilled to hear that Prudence and Bennet would be wed and hadn’t let the news that Prudence’s dowry wasn’t a certainty affect her sentiment. Prudence wished she could share that, but until Lucien returned with a confirmed dowry, she wouldn’t be able to rid herself of anxiety.
And now she needed to tell Cassandra everything. Everything. Her anxiety tripled.
Oh stop, she told herself. Cassandra had stolen away with her husband on several occasions before they were wed. Prudence didn’t know for certain what they’d been doing, but she could guess, and Cassandra wouldn’t think less of her for what had happened with Bennet.
She supposed she didn’t need to tell Cassandra everything, just that she was marrying Bennet. That was the important part, for she’d be leaving their employ as Kat’s companion.
The moment of truth arrived as Cassandra glided into the sitting room. “Mrs. Forth said you wished to see me. Is all well?” Cassandra’s brow was slightly creased.
Prudence was already seated in a chair and gestured to the settee near her. “Please sit. I’ve something important to tell you.”
Cassandra went to sit, her ginger-colored skirts draping against the settee in an effortlessly elegant fashion. “I can’t tell if this is good important or bad important.”
“Good important, I think.” Prudence managed a small smile. “I’m getting married. For real this time.”
“Oh!” Cassandra lunged toward her, but paused, her expression confused. “Are you happy?”
While she hadn’t ever thought of getting married, she couldn’t deny she was happy to be marrying Bennet. It was difficult to acknowledge that—even to herself—when she very much doubted that he felt the same. “Yes.”
“It took you too long to say that.” Cassandra frowned and sat back down. “First you eloped, only to return saying it was a mistake, and now you are unenthusiastically announcing your plans to wed. Are you being forced into something? I hope you’re going to tell me what’s going on. I’ve been worried about you, Pru. You just haven’t been the same since the aborted elopement.”
Prudence took a deep breath. “I never planned to elope. I didn’t even write that note.”
Cassandra’s jaw dropped. “Who did?”
This was the moment—tell her everything or not? Prudence decided to do the former. She had to—they were now truly family and though she’d promised Bennet she wouldn’t reveal what happened, he’d have to understand that this was necessary. “The Viscount Glastonbury.”
Cassandra’s jaw dropped even farther. “What?”
“He’d planned to, ah, abduct you. The note was intended to be from you, explaining your disappearance. He felt confident you would be happy to elope with him.”
Slumping back against the couch, Cassandra blinked once, then stared at Prudence. “I can scarcely credit this tale, but of course it’s true.” She sat up, straightening. “He abducted you instead?”
Prudence nodded. “It was because we switched cloaks. He instructed the men he hired to take the woman in the purple cloak.”