A Countess of Convenience (23 page)

Neil shushed her. “Please, Pru, try to get along with him."

She looked at Neil as though he'd just said something ridiculous. “Why should I?"

"Remember, he holds a note that can send me to prison,” he whispered in a desperate voice.

"And how does that concern me?” she said with a haughty toss of her head.

His mouth dropped open in shock. Pruddy, his adoring little sister, who had laughed at his jests and easily forgiven his broken promises, had totally turned against him. He had expected her to be more constant.

Apparently his stricken expression softened her stony heart a bit, for she relaxed her shoulders and said, “The earl's just upset because his dinner will be delayed. Why don't you get into some dry clothing and go entertain him."

He bit his lower lip. “Maybe I should stay away from him."

A look approaching pity came over her face. “Suit yourself. But you're the only man here he can converse with. This might be an opportunity to soften his opinion of you."

She walked away, and Neil, knowing that Malvern might enter the hallway at any moment, darted to the back staircase.

In his room, he went about repairing his appearance. He could not avoid Malvern while living in his house and dining at his table, so Neil must preserve a gentleman's image.

He had thought himself a daring fellow. After all, he had dealt with the tradesmen who hounded him over his debts by outwitting them with excuses and promises. It had all seemed like a game until that horrid boot-maker begun to talk of legal action and persuaded others to join him.

Now the man Neil had considered a friend had become his greatest threat. If Prudence continued to vex Malvern, he might revenge himself by sending Neil to prison or more likely by ruining his chances with the Culpeppers.

Oh, God! He'd already begun to dream of someday being in charge of the squire's magnificent stables. He should have known something like this would happen. His luck had always been miserable.

After bathing in cold water, he polished his boots, brushed his coat, and took extra pains tying his cravat. If he looked like a gentleman, perhaps Malvern would treat him like one.

Prudence entered the hubbub of the laundry room and immediately realized how wise it had been to send the children here. It was warm, had plenty of racks to hang wet clothing on, and tubs and hot water for washing muddy little bodies. On one side of a wall created by hanging clothing, Polly bathed her two younger sisters while Victor, on the other side, supervised the two boys.

Freddy, the older of the Bailey boys, saw Prudence and squatted in a washtub to hide his nudity. “'Ey!” he called out in alarm.

Prudence laughed, her spirits suddenly lifted with the realization that
she
had brought these children into the safety of this house and had stood up to the earl's disapproval. He might banish her to the ends of the earth, but she would always do right as she saw it.

"Bring them to the kitchen when you're finished. Mrs. Jones will feed them,” she said to Victor and then hurried back to the kitchen herself to see about dinner for the earl. While she had no intention of letting him intimidate her, the man did deserve a decent meal, especially if he was going to start buying the groceries.

Since no servants were available to properly serve the meal, Prudence had Mrs. Jones pile the food in bowls and platters and place it all on the table at one time. In order to pass the dishes about, the three diners had to sit together at one end of the table. While Malvern was obviously uncomfortable with this homey arrangement, he made the best of it, and kept conversation going with stories of happenings in London.

Neil gradually overcame his reticence and began to ask about mutual friends.

Malvern told about Cartland repeating a story at a soiree about the Duchess of Whitmire falling while disembarking from her carriage and displaying a bright red petticoat and a bare bottom. Upon seeing alarmed expressions on his listeners’ faces, Cartland had turned and discovered the angry duchess standing directly behind him. Neil laughed heartily over Cartland's pitiful attempts to talk his way out of the embarrassing situation.

Prudence thought it served the man right for gossiping.

When Malvern asked what Neil thought of the breeding stock on Aysbeck, Neil launched into a spirited description of the poor bloodlines and facilities he had found here.

Malvern stiffened. “My father raised an Epsom champion from the stock here."

"The racing stock has been sold off. All you have now are work horses."

"Are you sure you can tell the difference?” Malvern asked with a sneer.

Neil bristled. “Any fool can tell the diff...” He suddenly wilted. “Ah—Snavely thinks racing stock an extravagance."

"Poor Snavely seems to catch the blame for everything around here,” Malvern said as he carefully sliced his roast mutton.

Exasperated by his thick-headedness, Prudence let her fork drop against her plate with a clink. “Why are you so convinced the man is perfection itself? Oh, yes, now I remember. He makes a lot of money for you."

Neil held up a cautioning hand. “Now, Pru..."

After carefully chewing and swallowing, Malvern looked her squarely in the eye. “Surely you can see why I might appreciate someone who makes money
for
me rather than constantly demands money
from
me."

She huffed in indignation. “Yes, that would certainly matter to someone who values money as highly as you do."

He sat very straight. “I do not value money unduly, but I do know its value."

Making no attempt to hide her disdain, Prudence said, “Oh, how clever you are with words. No doubt the benefit of your exclusive public school education."

"Prudence,” Neil called out in a shocked voice.

Malvern seemed not at all offended by her statement. “Yes, I am fortunate that my parents cared enough to secure my future with a proper education."

Prudence's breath swooshed from her chest and a ringing started in her ears. How ruthless of him to call attention to parents providing adequately for their offspring—something her father had not done. She should have known that she could not match his cruelty. Forcing herself to breathe, she managed to say, “Excuse me, please. I need to see that the Baileys are settled."

Without waiting for one of the men to handle her chair, she jumped up.

As she headed for the door, she heard Malvern say, “What's wrong with her now?"

Neil meekly replied, “Who understands women?"

Shortly after Prudence returned to the kitchen, Hazel and her parents arrived, bedraggled and obviously discouraged. The children clustered around them, wanting hugs and reassurances.

"Is our ‘ouse gone?"

"Did t'cat drown?"

"Are t'chickens dead?"

Mr. Bailey assured them the house still stood, although it now had two feet of water in it, and the animals had all been moved to higher ground.

"Where are we gonna live?"

"T'water will go down,” Mr. Bailey said. Then he nodded at Prudence. “And thanks to ‘er ladyship, all our goods are safe."

Prudence was so touched by the man's stoic bravery that she had to blink rapidly as she came forward, urging the children to let their parents get to the table so Mrs. Jones could serve them some hot food. She explained that the wagon containing their goods had been stored in a barn, except for their clothing that was drying in the laundry room, that Polly had prepared beds for them all, and that they could stay as long as they needed to.

Mrs. Bailey thanked her so profusely that Prudence felt her face redden. Realizing the Baileys were hesitant to sit in her presence, she excused herself and left them to enjoy their meal.

As she climbed the stairs, she kept picturing her last glimpse of the Baileys at the kitchen table with their children clustered around them. When she compared that scene to the meal she'd had earlier in the main dining room, she found herself envying the Baileys, despite all their hardships.

She entered her bedroom. The basin of dirty water that she had earlier bathed in still stood on the now-cold hearth. She recalled the look on Malvern's face as he'd stared down at her. No need to wonder why he'd come to Aysbeck. Obviously he meant to satisfy his lust and get his heir.

Not too long ago, the thought of Malvern coming to her bed would have thrilled her. But now, knowing he considered her just another one of his limitless rights, anger boiled within her. Since arriving at Aysbeck, everything he'd done had increased her list of grievances against him. He had treated her like a child in front of the tenants, criticized the way she ran the household, scoffed at her opinion of Snavely, and totally ignored her right to privacy.

She'd better hurry and get undressed lest he barge in once again and catch her in an embarrassing state. She unfastened the first two buttons of her dress and then stopped and stared at the brass key hanging on a little hook beside the connecting door. Why should she have to rush? She quickly inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The clicking sound that secured her privacy filled her with satisfaction.

When she was in her nightclothes, she sat at her dressing table, undid her hair, and formed it into a single, fat braid. What would the smug Earl of Malvern do if he tried her door and found it locked? Knock? Wouldn't that irritate him! And when he asked for an explanation, she'd have a perfect opportunity to demand that he always knock before entering.

Common courtesy was a small thing to ask for, but it could be the opening shot in her war to gain a little respect from her husband.

Leaving only the bedside candle aflame, Prudence pumped up her pillow and climbed into bed. Folding the covers neatly over her chest, she settled back to wait.

Dawdling over port in the dining room, Malvern listened to the sounds from the back of the house fade. The Baileys must be settled for the night. Perhaps Prudence had already gone up the back stairs. Thoughts of his wife preparing for bed further distracted him from his stilted conversation with Neil.

How would Prudence undress without a lady's maid? Should he rush up and offer his help? That had worked quite nicely at Wildwood Lodge. Of course, Victor would be waiting to assist him, making the situation somewhat awkward. Perhaps it would be best if he entered her room after they were both undressed.

Somehow, he didn't like the idea of approaching his wife's bed as a supplicant. He had full rights to her body, but he wanted to recapture the sweet excitement that had existed between them that first week. Wooing her softly was a small price to pay if it would melt her icy disdain and turn her into the sweetly passionate woman he'd known before.

After finishing his second glass of port, he bade Neil goodnight and went up to his room. As Victor carefully hung and folded his clothing, Malvern listened for any sounds from Prudence's room. There were none, but a faint light showed through the crack under their adjoining door. She waited for him. A pleasant hum ran through his body.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?"

"What? Oh, no. I won't need you anymore tonight, Victor."

The valet nodded and glided from the room.

Malvern remembered the expensive cologne he had bought just before leaving London and took the time to rub a couple of drops on neck. Then he approached the adjoining door and turned the knob. The door was locked!

How dare she lock him out! His first impulse was to kick the damn door open. He'd saved her from a life of shame and poverty; the least she should do was live up to her part of the bargain.

A lifetime of training to always maintain appearances overcame his anger, and Malvern stepped back from the door. Victor might still be in the hallway and Weathersby's room was on this wing. If things got too loud, all those Baileys might hear the Earl of Malvern pounding on his wife's locked door. Wouldn't that be grist for the tenants’ gossip mill?

He would not humiliate himself like that. But tomorrow he would tell his wife, in language plain enough for her poorly educated mind to grasp, just what her duties to him were.

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Prudence yawned and stretched, relieved to see sunshine seeping through her drapes. The rain had stopped. Good. Yesterday had been a dreadful day. Just how dreadful ran through her mind: the flood, the Baileys, Malvern's arrival, their arguments, the locked door. The pillow beside hers was still smooth and plump. Had Malvern knocked? Had she gone to sleep and not heard him?

Perhaps he decided not to bother her out of consideration for how tired she must be. More likely, he was fatigued after his trip. Should she unlock the door so that he'd never know it had been locked? She still wanted to make her point about being allowed a bit of privacy, but it might be better to discuss the matter with him rather that force another confrontation.

A nearby door shut and she heard boots marching decisively down the hall. Locking her door against him last night now seemed a stupid thing to do. With a sigh, she got out of bed and hurriedly dressed.

When she entered the dining room, Malvern greeted her with a scowl. He was alone. Neil must have hurried out to the stables to impress his employer.

Prudence forced a smile. “Good morning. I'm glad to see Mrs. Jones has prepared your breakfast.” She turned toward the back of the house. “I'll just let her know I'm here."

A tinkling sound caused her to look back and see Malvern ringing the little silver bell that usually sat on the highboy. “That's what this bell is for,” he said in a low but stern voice. “Will you please sit down? I wish to discuss certain matters with you."

Reluctantly, she moved to the table. He rose and held out the chair to the right of his. After she was seated, he returned to his chair and took an inordinate amount of time positioning his napkin in his lap.

Prudence couldn't stand the suspense. “Did you knock? I meant to wait up for you, but I was so tired..."

He glared at her so fiercely that she thought she could see steam coming from his nostrils. “Why did you lock it in the first place?"