Chapter 3
Prudence awoke in the dark—far past midnight, but not yet morning—as wind and rain battered the inn. If the weather didn’t improve soon, she feared how long they’d be stranded here. Together in this room.
Opening her eyes, she looked toward the other end of the small room, where Bennet was asleep on his pallet near the hearth. His bed might be less comfortable than hers, but he had the warmth of the fire nearby at least.
This was a nice bed actually. As comfortable as the one she slept in at Evesham House in Grosvenor Square. That she inhabited such a prestigious address was still strange to her, but then so was acting as companion to the daughter of a duke. For someone who’d grown up in much less elegant surroundings, who knew how to cook and clean, and had always dressed herself, this world she’d entered a few months ago was foreign. It was becoming less so, and she was adept at acclimating—or so her friend Ada told her. Ada had also had to acclimate to a new position when she’d become the bookkeeper at the Phoenix Club, so she understood.
The Phoenix Club, London’s newest exclusive social gathering place, brought Lord Lucien Westbrook to mind. Not only was he Cassandra’s older brother, he’d been the one to help Prudence become a paid companion. But that was what he did—help people. He’d done it repeatedly for people of all social classes with a variety of problems. Lucien was a singular gentleman, and Prudence would be lying if she didn’t admit he’d rather enthralled her with his charm and kindness. He was also breathtakingly handsome and perhaps the most likeable person she’d ever met. Everyone adored Lucien.
As owner of the Phoenix Club, he’d created a place that, while exclusive in its membership, invited people who were perhaps not widely welcome or at least not terribly popular. In fact, those sorts of people were often ignored with regard to membership. Prudence didn’t know Lucien well, but she suspected he’d started the club because in some way he felt excluded. But that was just her supposition and one she would never present to him.
Especially not when he’d been so helpful to her, stepping in to change her life at a moment when everything had seemed particularly bleak. It was because of this that she wondered if he could help her with her current predicament, as in where she could say she’d been if not eloping. Furthermore, why would she have said eloping if she wasn’t? Bennet had set up a real mess.
To ask for Lucien’s help, she’d have to be very creative in how she explained the situation. She couldn’t tell him about Bennet at all, not without revealing his plan to kidnap Lucien’s sister. Prudence wasn’t going to expose Bennet to Lucien’s wrath—for while Lucien was the epitome of a kind and considerate gentleman, he would never permit such villainous behavior, particularly when it came to his beloved sister. Lucien issuing a challenge to a duel would not surprise Prudence. For that reason alone, she would keep Bennet’s role in this secret.
She looked toward where he slept again and wondered why she didn’t despise him. She had. She should! But he’d demonstrated exceptional remorse and a surprising kindness. Furthermore, there seemed to be good reason for his motivations—it sounded as though his father had left him in a very bad situation—even if his decisions had been quite poor.
He made a noise. It sounded like a word, but Prudence couldn’t make it out. Was he awake?
Slipping from the bed before she thought better of it, Prudence crept toward the fire. His eyes were closed, one bare arm thrown over his head against the pillow.
Bare.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt. And the covers were low enough that she could see the breadth of his upper chest. He was muscular, which was to be expected given his boxing habit.
A sudden and rather forbidden thought flashed across her mind. She imagined how they might spend their time while trapped here. Her eyes darted toward the bed, and she silently chastised herself for such scandalous thoughts. Would she have found them scandalous before becoming a companion, before she’d been expected to demonstrate exemplary behavior? Not that she didn’t have a reputation to uphold, even as an employee at a school. Indeed, it was in protection of her name—and even more of her person—that she’d left and found herself in dire straits to begin with. If not for the unwanted attention of that student’s father, Prudence would still be at that school.
She ought not think of Bennet as anything other than a nuisance. She oughtn’t think of him as Bennet either, but they were past that now. They weren’t friends; however, they’d formed some sort of…connection through this experience and in the dark hours of this moment she allowed herself a flight of fancy.
She took in the masculine sweep of his nose and jaw, the supple line of his lips, the golden fan of his lashes. In her mind, she saw the vibrant hue of his blue-green eyes. They seemed able to see things about her that she didn’t wish to share—or at least they tried to. He didn’t look at her and discount her presence as someone of unimportance. He’d actually known her name, which had been astonishing enough.
This was madness. She had no right to stand there and ogle him, even if he had—accidentally—abducted her. He was trying to make amends. It wasn’t his fault the weather was making a hash of everything.
Spinning on her heel, she retreated to the bed and burrowed beneath the covers. Flights of fancy were fine, but she daren’t hope for more.
Even if she should be entitled to it.
Upon waking, Bennet was surprised to find Prudence had already gone. But then, he’d slept later than normal. Which was to be expected since he’d had trouble falling asleep. He worried over getting her back to London and ensuring she didn’t suffer for his behavior.
He went downstairs to see her situated in a chair reading a book. “Good morning,” he said. “You’ve had breakfast?”
She looked up, her features serene and lovely in the gray morning light. The rain had stopped for the last while, and it wasn’t quite as dark as it had been. “I have. Mrs. Logan’s rolls are delicious. If we stay too long, I may double in size.”
He laughed, for he felt the same about Mrs. Logan’s cooking. “Wait until she makes a trifle. You’ll want to devour the entire thing. It will make you quite rudely gluttonous, I’m afraid.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Prudence said, her gaze returning to her book.
Bennet sat at the table just as Mrs. Logan came in with a tray. She bade him good morning as she set his breakfast and coffee on the table.
“I was just telling Pru about your trifle,” he said, grasping his mug.
“Oh!” Mrs. Logan blushed, then waved her hand at him. “You’re spoiling my surprise for later. How did you know?”
“I didn’t. I merely hoped.”
“You are too kind, my lord, too kind.” Smiling, she shook her head as she left.
Bennet tucked into his meal, glancing occasionally toward his pretend bride. When he was finished, he leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee, holding the mug between his hands. “Did you sleep well?”
She looked up, blinking. “Well enough. The wind was rather loud.”
“I’m afraid I slept like the dead.” The pallet had made a much better bed than the chair. “What are you reading?”