Prudence (23 page)

‘Drink.’

As he commanded, so she must do, she knew that much. She complied as best she could, swallowing down much of whatever it was that he presented. At length, she was permitted to stop.

‘Good girl.’

Prue’s head was laid down again, and she sank back into the slough of forgetfulness. When she woke again, her mind was more alert, although she could not yet fathom whether what she saw was dream or reality.

In a pool of light near the still-burning fire, Mr Rookham sat in an armchair, his cravat loosened and his chin sunk upon his chest. His legs were stretched out, his arms slack as in sleep.

‘Would he remain in my room? Why is he there?’

She must have spoken aloud, for he started awake, sitting up in a bang. His eyes searched towards her, but perhaps there was not light enough for him to see that she was awake.

‘Why are you there?’

He stood up and came across, his figure blocking out
the light so that he became a silhouette. He sat on the bed, and bent towards her. His features sprang to life against the glow behind.

‘How are you feeling?’

Prue was swept with a rush of affection. She struggled to pull her arms out from under the covers that held her tightly enclosed.

‘You should keep in the warm,’ he warned.

But she paid no heed. Her hands came free. Without hesitation, she reached up to his face, pulling him down. She pressed her lips to his cheek, and drew him close, entwining her arms about his neck. His face was warm against her own, and she sighed in content.

‘Julius…’

He shifted in a convulsive movement, and Prue found herself caught up in an embrace so tight that the breath was stopped in her chest. It eased after a moment, and she gasped for air as his face came away, hovering over her own. A husky whisper reached her.

‘You impossible creature, what have you done to me?’

Then there was sensation, inexpressibly pleasurable, and utterly outside the scope of her wayward imaginings. His lips gentled hers, so that his warm breath mingled with her own. She heard him groan, and felt the pressure at her mouth intensify. A spark ignited within her, and a rush of blood to her head made her glad that she was safe in bed where she could not fall.

The kiss grew too rich to be borne, and she caught at his hair with her fingers, as if she would hold him off. But a treacherous hand caressed her throat, and the lips travelled to her cheeks, her brow, and down again to her mouth.

‘There is no turning back now, my sweet,’ they murmured, and then took her mouth anew.

‘But I have no strength,’ she uttered when she was able.

He lifted up and she saw his eyes, a glitter in the shadows. A faint laugh came.

‘I was rather forgetting that.’ A defeated sound sighed out of him. ‘Then it must wait—much to my chagrin, believe me! But I warn you, my patience is by no means inexhaustible.’

Prue was moved to laughter. ‘That I had noticed, sir.’

She saw his smile, and reached up wavering fingers to touch his face in wonder. So excellent a dream. How real it felt! She ran her finger down the length of his jutting nose. He kissed it as it reached his mouth, and then sat up.

‘You had best sleep, my Prue. Tomorrow we will arrange everything.’

Obedient to his will, she closed her eyes. With the morning light, she awoke to normality, bar a little stiffness of the joints. There was nothing in her head to guide her as to the night’s event, although she recalled something of the forester’s hut. As for her dreams, she knew nothing of them, except that they had encompassed Mr Rookham—and a sensation that it saddened her to lose.

This happy state of ignorance lasted only until Maggie arrived with her breakfast on a tray.

‘There now, miss, you look ever so much better.’

Prue struggled to sit up. ‘Better? What in the world do you mean, Maggie? I have been better for several days.’

The maid’s jaw dropped. ‘Don’t say as you can’t remember! Lordy, miss, and you setting the house by the ears!’

The tray was laid across Prue’s knees, but despite a ravenous feeling of hunger, she scarcely noticed. She stared at the girl, bemused.

‘Was it not then a dream? I had thought I was in the forester’s hut.’

‘And so you were, miss. Them naughty twins told the master as they’d kidnapped you and they wouldn’t nowise tell him where you was. They soon thought better of that, I can tell you. And the master went after you straight and brought you home. Nigh gone you were, miss! Mrs Wincle and me was that shocked to see you. I don’t wonder you don’t remember it all, now I come to think on it, for you was bare awake and he had to carry you all the way!’

Prue blinked dazedly at the contents of the breakfast tray, as images swam into her mind. Dodo’s excited face. The open maw of the hut’s dark interior. A vague outline of Mr Rookham’s features—at the oddest angle!—and a sensation of being held, of her head buried against a strong chest so that she heard his heartbeat.

A wave of warmth attacked her, sending shivers up her limbs. She grasped at the edges of the tray upon her knees.

‘Maggie, pray move this, for I am afraid I will upset it.’

Tutting, Maggie picked up the tray and transferred it to the corner commode. She poured tea and brought the cup across.

‘Here, you’d best drink this while it’s hot. I’ll fetch a buttered oatcake to you when you’re ready.’

Prue was none too sure that she was capable of eat
ing, despite the rumbling emptiness of her stomach, but she took the cup and sipped gratefully at the refreshing beverage. After a moment it dawned on her that the maid was eyeing her in a manner both searching and smug. A horrid feeling of apprehension invaded her.

‘Why do you look at me so?’

Maggie raised innocent brows. ‘Who, me, miss? Don’t know what you mean.’

It would not do. ‘Pray don’t trifle with me, Maggie. What is amiss?’

The maid looked conscious. ‘I don’t know as I’d say anything were amiss exactly.’

Prue was not in the least comforted. What had happened? Was it to do with last night’s events?

‘If there is something I should know, pray tell me without roundaboutation.’

‘Seemingly it’s the master should tell you. Leastways, if you don’t know already. Which the whole household wouldn’t believe, if I told them ’til I was blue in the face!’

Alarm triggered a series of thumping palpitations in Prue’s bosom. She clutched the cup with fingers that quivered uncontrollably.

The maid leaned forward and removed it from her dangerous grasp. ‘You’ll have it all over the quilt in a minute!’

As the girl set the cup down on the bedside table, Prue reached out and gripped her arm. ‘Tell me, for heaven’s sake!’

Maggie patted the hand and perched on the bed. ‘There, miss. There ain’t no call for you to fret. Why, it’s the best thing as could’ve happened. It’s fair rattled Mrs Polmont, o’course, as was only to be expected. But Mrs Wincle went dancing all round the kitchen
table, she’s that pleased! Only Mr Creggan said as how it weren’t seemly as we should all be talking on it with nothing said. But, I ask you, miss, what was anyone to think when the master insisted on staying all night in your chamber?’

A vision popped into Prue’s horrified mind. Mr Rookham—there in the chair by the fire! And then came a wash of heat as a memory—was it a memory?—slid into sight. He had kissed her!

She heard a murmur in her mind.
There is no turning back.
Oh, what had she done? What had she led him to? Hazily she recollected having been caught by a trick laid by the twins. Which must be why he had been here in her room. It must be her fault. Had he not been here, he would not have been tempted.

An urgent need assailed her. ‘Where is Mr Rookham now?’

‘Abed and asleep, miss, for I’ll warrant he was that tired. The kitchen maid found him when she come in to make up the fire.’

‘Asleep in the chair?’ Hushed, and desperate.

A coy look settled upon Maggie’s features. ‘Well, he were on the bed, miss.’

‘What?’

The maid tutted. ‘Not
in
it. Though that don’t make no difference, Mrs Wincle says. It ain’t nowise seemly, and he’s bound to see you right.’

Prue’s veins pulsed unevenly, and her voice was unsteady. ‘That is n-nonsense. I am nobody, after all, and he has been in my room b-before.’

‘But not all night,’ argued the maid. ‘And you’ve no need to fret over what Mrs Polmont says neither.’

‘What does Mrs Polmont say?’ As if she needed to ask!

‘As how you meant for to make the master marry you. I wish you’d heard Mrs Wincle! Ooh, she did go for her, she did. A right argy-bargy they had, I can tell you. Mr Creggan was afraid as they would come to blows. And everyone joining in, one way or t’other—some saying as he must, others as he won’t neither. What with Mrs Polmont declaring as she’d march out of the place, and Mrs Wincle telling her “good riddance”, you never heard such a carry-on, miss!’

Appalled, Prue could only gaze at her. How had it come to this? Was it her indulgence in daydreams that had led her to such a pass? Oh, that she had never come here! Indeed, it were better she had never been born than allow Mr Rookham to sacrifice himself. And only to quiet the ravings of a collection of servants? She must not let it happen!

She sank back against the pillows. ‘Pray, Maggie, leave me, if you will. I need to be alone for a space.’

‘I don’t wonder, miss.’ She got up from the bed. ‘I’ll leave the breakfast things, for I’d hate to face the master this time, if he thought as I’d neglected your needs.’ With which, the maid took herself off.

Food was essential, or Prue knew she would never carry out her intention—but it must wait. Hardly had the door closed behind Maggie, than she threw aside the covers and shifted gingerly to her feet. She found herself reasonably steady. Heaving a sigh of relief, she made at once for the press and extracted her grey Seminary uniform.

With waking had come remembrance, and a feeling of intense relief. The thing was done! He need no longer expend all that wasted energy in a futile attempt to maintain the status quo. Recalling the sweet inno
cence of that fatal tender kiss, Julius experienced a surge of a like sensation to that which had led to this liberating surrender. The thrill of possession!

But it was not akin to the need which had kept him tied to his mistress for so long. This was entirely different. To have guessed at her emotions was one thing. To be the recipient of a demonstration of affection, born from a state of mind that had shaken off all inhibition, had proved altogether irresistible. And it had sealed the future with a final recognition of what he felt himself.

He leaned to tug at the bell-pull to summon his valet. Then stretching luxuriously, he settled his hands behind his head and gave himself up to thoughts of Prudence Hursley.

These readily led him to the realisation that there was much to be done—and quickly!—to secure both her reputation and her happiness. The sooner the formalities were dispensed with, the better for both of them. How soon things could be managed must be a question for the local vicar. Yes, he had best write to the fellow immediately!

He had not eaten before seeking his bed in the early hours, but his valet had the forethought to bring up coffee, accompanied by a plate of broken meats and fresh baked rolls. Partaking of this late breakfast in his bed, Julius revolved plans in his head, which persisted while his valet assisted him at his toilet.

His attention concentrated little on what he was doing, Julius allowed himself to be dressed in his usual buckskins and a frock-coat of mulberry cloth. The sight of his well-cut attire in the mirror served only to remind him that something must be done about Prudence’s wardrobe. That must begin before the ceremony. What
might she choose were she given a free rein? He would have to accompany her, if only to ensure that she set no store by expense—which she was bound to do.

He looked forward with pleasurable anticipation to see the effect upon her of all this intended generosity. Julius dared swear she would try to dissuade him from it. Well, she would not succeed. It must be his delight, let alone his duty, to shower her with all that a female ought to enjoy, and of which she had hitherto been horridly deprived.

Desire urged him to seek her out immediately. Instinct charged him to set in train his schemes before he went to her. Prudence must not suffer the slightest doubt or qualm as to his intentions. Better to present her with a
fait accompli.

Accordingly, upon leaving his bedchamber, Julius headed directly for his library with the intention of penning a note to be taken round to the vicar directly. Upon opening the door, he was brought up short by the sight of a cloaked figure before his desk, that turned as he entered. It was Prudence herself.

He started in, letting the door slide shut. ‘You are up! Are you well enough to—?’

He fell silent as he took in her appearance. She was dressed for a journey! She had on a black bonnet, and under the cloak, which hung open, he caught sight of that hideous grey ensemble in which she had entered his life. She looked both startled and guilty. Julius felt his chest cave in.

‘What in Hades are you doing?’

She swallowed, and her glance avoided his. ‘I am going away.’

‘Going away?’ Blank with incomprehension. How could she be going away? An object drew his eye, and
he saw a squat portmanteau set down a little before the desk. His guts went solid on him. ‘Oh, dear God!’

‘Pray, Mr Rookham—’

Julius snapped. ‘
Mr Rookham
—after last night! Have you run mad, Prue? What have I done to deserve that you should fly from me?’

‘Nothing, upon my honour!’

She shifted back, huddling her arms into her chest. It was then borne in upon Julius that she was clutching the multi-coloured kitten. He strode forward.

‘Hell and damnation, you
are
trying to leave!’

Prue shifted swiftly, putting the desk between them. There was a dull thudding in her bosom. Why had he to come in just at this moment? She had thought herself safe for another hour or two. It was, she had ascertained, barely eleven o’clock. Was he made of iron that he could survive on so little sleep?