Candice Hern (5 page)

Nick stifled a groan. He’d been dreading this discussion.

“You know by now that ours is quite a large family.”

“Indeed.”

“It is true, my father was a duke. But as the youngest of twelve, I fear there was very little in the way of a fortune left by the time I came along. I am not a rich man, Parrish.”

Nick breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God, he would not be saddled with an heiress.

“And I have seven children of my own,” Lord Henry continued. “So I am afraid I have very little for Prudence. I set up an annuity for her some years ago. It only gives her about a hundred a year. And I am unable to provide a dowry for her of much more than that. To speak quite bluntly, I never thought she’d need one.”

Lord, even her own father did not value her. “She does not need one,” Nick said, unable to control the edge of anger in his voice. On this matter, though, he intended to remain firm. “I certainly had not expected a dowry at all, considering the circumstances. I did not stage this morning’s events in order to get my hands on Pru’s money. I will not touch her annuity, of course. And I will accept no dowry, my lord.”

Lord Henry’s brows rose sharply and his eyes grew wide with astonishment. “Why the devil not? I do not believe you are a man of great fortune. Take what you can get, Parrish.”

“No, my lord. She is not some property to be sold. It is true, I have no great fortune of my own. But I have a comfortable house and some savings,
along with several investments from which I expect high returns.”

“Such as?”

“Some shipping ventures. Re-exports of West Indian cotton and sugar to Europe. Some imports from France, since the treaty. Shares in a few copper mines and canal projects. And one or two new industrial patents.”

Lord Henry frowned. “Risky business, all of it. More speculation than investment, I’d say.”

“But with the potential for significant returns.” In fact, he was hoping for some good news in the next weeks and already had plans for the anticipated profits. At least he had, until this morning.

“Have you had success with such ventures in the past?”

Nick shifted his weight nervously. “I, um, I’ve had a recent patch of bad luck, as it happens. The February storms and all. But I am much more confident of my current interests.”

Lord Henry studied him thoughtfully. “And the house on Golden Square—it is yours?”

“Well, not exactly.” This conversation was becoming decidedly awkward. “It belongs to my father. But he almost never comes to Town and has made it available for me and my sister these last eight or ten years. Now that Edwina has married, Father will have no objection to Pru and me making it our permanent home. And I have some income from writing as well. Not much, but it is enough. We shall be fine, my lord, I promise you.
And Pru will have her annuity to spend as she pleases.”

“She will have more than that.”

“I beg your pardon, my lord, but I thought I made it clear that I will accept no dowry for Pru.”

“I’m not talking about a dowry. I think you’re a damned fool to turn it down, but it does not signify. Pru has her inheritance, after all.”

Atiny knot began to seize up in Nick’s stomach. “What inheritance?”

“Did she never mention it? Well, she always was a quiet little thing. My sister Elizabeth left her a small inheritance a year ago.”

“Oh?” A new knot joined the other, low in his belly.

“Yes, Elizabeth was always a bit eccentric. She was the firstborn of us twelve. She married the Marquess of Worthing when I was still in skirts, so we were never close. When she died last year, there was a clause in her will leaving a tidy little sum to Prudence. She wanted the youngest offspring of the duke’s youngest offspring to be provided for. Something about not getting lost in the crowd. I am sure Elizabeth thought it a great joke.”

Nick’s throat had gone quite dry, but he forced himself to ask the question hanging unanswered in the air between them. “And how big was this inheritance?”

“Only a few thousand guineas, as I recall.”

Good God. And the man spoke as if it were pin
money. Nick began to feel sick as a whole series of knots twisted and coiled inside his gut. “A few thousand guineas.”

“It is likely a bit more now. I know Prudence has put some of it into the five-percents. She may have made other investments as well. None as risky as yours, if I know my daughter. She manages it on her own, so I cannot be sure. But it is her money, and she brings it to the marriage with her, so it is legally yours now. I thought you should know.”

“I won’t touch it.”

Lord Henry heaved an exasperated sigh. “That is between you and Prudence. But I will say this much, Parrish. My daughter is fortunate to have enough money to live very comfortably. At least as comfortably as she has lived under my roof. And by God, I will not sit quietly and watch her living like a pauper if your investments fail, just because you are too proud to spend her money.”

“She may do as she wishes with her money. I will not stop her from spending it any way she pleases.”

“Including household expenses?”

Nick bristled. Lord Henry certainly aimed his darts well. “It is my house, my lord. There is no need for her to spend money for its maintenance.”

“What about servants? You answered your own door this morning. Do you keep no servants?”

Nick squirmed in his chair. “There is a maid who works half days, and a cook who comes in the mornings to prepare the day’s meals.”

“And what if Prudence wanted a personal maid? Would you allow her to spend her own money to obtain one?”

“I have enough to increase the staff as needed. If Pru wants a lady’s maid, I shall see that she has one.”

“And what of clothes? There will be a great many balls and routs and such this season. Because of Arabella’s come-out, Prudence will be expected to attend several of them, at least. Will you allow her to buy her own clothes?”

Damn the man! Nick’s hands had balled into fists, and he had to remind himself that it was his father-in-law who sat behind that desk, and it would be unwise to reach across and throttle him. “It is her money to spend however she wishes.”

“Except on the basic necessities?”

“I will provide the basic necessities,” Nick said through clenched teeth. “But recall, if you will, that this marriage was not my idea. I have not come begging your approval. However, I will not have you thinking me a complete down-and-outer, Lord Henry. I am not.”

“But you are very proud. Well, I can see that you and Prudence will have to work this out between you. But mind what I said, Parrish. I will not have her living like a church mouse when she has money that could make her life more comfortable.”

Arabella and several of her cousins had obtained permission to use the duke’s box at the theater for the evening. Coaxed and cajoled with
relentless enthusiasm by her niece, Pru finally agreed that she and Nicholas would join them. She was actually rather glad to do so. It put off a bit longer the inevitable moment of being alone with Nicholas for the first time as husband and wife.

She watched him descend the terrace steps with her father, and was bewildered to note the uncharacteristically grim look on his face. In fact, her father did not appear particularly happy, either. Oh, dear. What had they said to each other? Pru did not care to think about it. The day’s events had already precipitated more emotional turmoil than she’d endured in a lifetime, and there was still the wedding night to face. She did not need one more calamity to worry about.

By the time Nicholas reached her side, he was wearing a polite smile. There was a hint of brittleness about it, though, that seemed to mask something else. Was it anger? Had he and her father quarreled?

She quickly told him of the invitation to the theater, and he gave a nod of acknowledgment, though he said nothing. He stood quietly while Arabella and two other young cousins of her own generation tittered and giggled about who had already solicited dances for next week’s ball. Arabella turned to Nicholas.

“And I trust we shall see you leading Aunt Prudence in the first dance, Mr. Parrish?”

He gave a little start, as though his thoughts had been elsewhere, then flashed a more genuine
smile. “Yes, of course.” He looked at Pru and once again wore an expression of mock devotion, remembering, apparently, that he was supposed to be in love with her. He took her hand and placed it on his arm. “I look forward to it with the greatest pleasure.”

Soon afterward, some of the guests took their leave and the crowd began to thin. Pru’s father pulled her aside to recommend that she return to his house and begin organizing the packing and removal of her things to Golden Square. Before she could respond, he was called away by his brother Frederick, and Pru was left alone to face the implications of his words.

That was it, then. The end of her life as the spinster daughter of Lord Henry Armitage. She was to quit forever the house she had been born in and grew up in, and make a new life, somehow, with Nicholas in the house on Golden Square. Today. Right now, and with very little time to accustom herself to the idea. Would her clothes share a wardrobe with his? Would her dressing gown hang on a peg next to his? Would his cook be able to make plum cake just the way she liked it? Was there enough room for her books? And what about music? How was she to survive without a pianoforte?

“It is a bit frightening, is it not?”

She looked up to find Nicholas studying her with concern. Had her thoughts been so clearly written on her face?

“To change one’s way of life overnight,” he
said, “to move away from all that is familiar. It is a shock. No less for me than for you. But we will get through this, my girl, I promise you.”

“Yes.”

“You will miss your family.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Actually, I was thinking how peaceful it will be without all my brothers under the same roof. They can be a noisy bunch. I shall enjoy the quiet with just you and…”

“Just you and me.”

“Yes.” Just she and Nicholas. What could possibly be
less
peaceful? And more likely to set her emotions into wild disorder? A silent house would surely heighten her discomfort, providing no mask of noise and activity behind which she might hide. Nicholas was right. She would soon be missing that rackety household on Brooke Street, with all the bellowing and whooping and stomping about.

“Well, there is no rush to get everything done today,” Nicholas said. “I do agree with Lord Henry that you should return home now and start getting your things packed. We can have the first of them brought over tomorrow. And since you will want to change for the theater, you will no doubt prefer to do that at home before you lose track of where you’ve put everything. I shall come by for you this evening.”

“Will you come early and have dinner with us?” It was an impulsive request, but suddenly she did not want to face her family on her own, with her
brothers’ teasing and her father’s forbearance.

Nicholas smiled. “Your last meal as hostess in your father’s house? I would be honored. Come, let me take you there now. I am sure you have much to do.”

And so her bridegroom deposited her at her father’s house on Brooke Street, leaving her feeling stupidly alone and abandoned.

N
ick’s head throbbed. He’d had far too much wine, and was well and truly foxed. Rather than blunting the anger that had roiled within his belly all day, however, the drink had merely intensified it.

Pru sat beside him in the carriage that was returning them to his middling little house on an unfashionable square barely on the fringes of Mayfair. How she must dread facing a life in such a modest setting. Her father’s house, though not grand in scale, was beautifully elegant. Her sister’s home was even more so, and he imagined every one of the aristocratic relatives he’d met today lived in fine style in houses much farther removed from the seamier side of town they were currently passing through. He was taking Pru to
his pokey little row house no more than a stone’s throw from the worst rookeries in town, and hated himself for feeling inadequate.

Ever since that awkward interrogation by Lord Henry, Nick had been quietly seething inside. He was angry about the forced marriage. He was angry about being connected now to a haughty, aristocratic family. He was angry at the way Pru was ignored, overlooked, or insulted by her own relations. He was angry at her father for assuming he would not take proper care of her.

Just about the only person he wasn’t angry with was Pru herself. None of this was her fault. She was as trapped as he was. Yes, he hated the fact that she had some money of her own while he had so little, but he couldn’t fault her for that. He couldn’t even fault her for not telling him about her background. Nick could not recall a single time when he’d asked about it.

What he hated most of all, what he was most angry about, was that he’d let these high-and-mighty people get under his skin, with their fine houses and their elegant clothes and their expensive wine. He was every bit as good as they were, damn it all. No, he was better, for he had spent his adult life fighting to help the ordinary working-class people whose efforts allowed families like the Armitages to lead lives of privilege and indolence. Yet somehow these pampered aristocrats who’d done nothing of particular value in their lives had managed to make him feel awkward and inferior.

With Lord Henry, Nick had felt like an ineligible
suitor failing miserably to plead his case. He clearly thought Nick unworthy of Pru, which Nick supposed he was. But confound it,
he
had not been the one to force the marriage.

The strangeness of the day had carried through into the evening. He’d dressed carefully and arrived at Lord Henry’s home promptly at seven, and then sat down to dinner with the five gentlemen who’d accosted him like a gang of ruffians that morning in his front hall. Their welcome had been surprisingly warm and friendly—the morning’s contretemps either forgotten or forgiven. He’d been slapped genially, but soundly, on the back so many times, he was surely bruised.

He’d sat to Pru’s right at a table where she was the only female. And none of the Armitage men, even her father, seemed prepared to modify his behavior in deference to feminine sensibilities. His sister, Edwina, would have applauded such equal treatment, as would Nick if he thought it had anything to do with the rights of women. It was no such thing. Pru was simply invisible to them. The talk was loud and general, the language sometimes rough, the drinking deep.

Pru said very little, but did not seem overly uncomfortable. Of course, she was probably accustomed to such rackety meals, having experienced them all her life. Nick had been so thoroughly aggravated with the way Pru was overlooked by this company of rogues, he had been on the verge of saying something when Lord Henry rose to his
feet. His commanding presence brought his boisterous sons to silence.

“I should like you all,” he said, “to raise your glasses to your sister.”

Bravo
, Nick had thought. Finally.

Everyone did as Lord Henry asked, after a footman had refilled all their glasses.

“She leaves us this day,” Lord Henry continued, “to begin a new life as Mrs. Nicholas Parrish. The circumstances were not, I daresay, as upright as she might have preferred. Or as romantic.”

Her brothers chuckled and chortled until their father’s steely gaze shut them up.

“However, Prudence is respectably married now, and I have every hope that she and Parrish will make a good life together.” He lifted his glass high. “Here is to Mr. and Mrs. Parrish. May they live long and happily together.”

“Hear! Hear!” rang out in a chorus around the table.

Nick had clinked his glass against Pru’s, and could swear there were tears building up in her eyes. She had looked away, though, and quickly composed herself.

“It will be downright quiet around here without you, Prudie,” William said, eliciting howls of laughter from his brothers.

Her shyness, her diffidence, was obviously some kind of family joke. She smiled at her brothers’ teasing—somewhat wistfully, Nick thought, as though she might actually miss it.

Wine and more wine was poured until Nick wondered if he would be able to stand properly. Pru drank very little. Only he and William spoke to her. The others seemed to forget she was there. In fact, if Nick had not stood up, none of them would have noticed when she rose to leave the men to their port.

Nick had made his excuses soon after, since he and Pru were due at the theater.

“If you don’t mind my saying so,” Nick had said when they were on their way, “I believe I’ve had enough of your brothers for one day.”

Pru gave a shy smile. “They
can
be overwhelming. But they’re all good men. I do believe I shall miss them.”

“And will they miss you?” Would they even notice she was gone?

She shrugged. “They are all very busy with their own lives, so I doubt they will have time to think about me.” She gave a little chuckle. “Except, perhaps, when their morning coffee isn’t quite right or the dinner menu doesn’t include their favorite dishes.”

Pru had no doubt run the household for them without their even realizing it. Nick could not feel sorry for them if their lives ran less smoothly from now on. It would serve them right, for taking her for granted for too long. She was the spinster sister who would always be there to take care of the tedious little details of their daily lives, and they never saw the intelligent, sweet woman so deserving of their regard. It quite cheered him up to
know that they would no longer have Pru at their beck and call.

Before he realized what he was doing, he’d taken her hand and squeezed it.

The gathering in the Duke of Norwich’s box at Drury Lane was no less boisterous than the one on Brooke Street. Arabella and her young friends and cousins were crackling with the excitement of a first evening in town. Their parents and aunts and uncles enjoyed themselves equally. The box was filled to bursting, and no one paid any attention to the performance on stage. Arabella, who seemed one of the few members of her family who truly appreciated Pru, gushed over the new marriage and insisted on celebrating, despite her mother’s obvious reluctance to see anyone but her daughter, or herself, as the center of attention.

Arabella had swallowed whole the story of their supposed love match, and was agog with the romance of it all. Bottles of champagne were ordered and poured almost without stopping. Most of the women, save for young Arabella, ignored Pru and flirted outrageously with Nick. He, in turn, ignored them all, and downed glass after glass of champagne.

He had been embarrassed for Pru, but again, she did not seem at all offended to be so universally overlooked. She did not cower behind a curtain, but she might as well have done, for all the notice she was given. What was wrong with these people that they didn’t appreciate Pru’s gentle nature and quiet intelligence?

Nick had watched those women, dripping in hauteur and jewels, and hated them, and not only for their treatment of Pru. They flaunted precisely the sort of social arrogance the mobs in France had risen up against. Were these British elite so secure in their privilege?

Pru was looking down at the hands in her lap, still and silent as a nun, while the carriage bounced along the uneven cobbles of Coventry Street. No doubt, she was feeling just as discomposed as he was, frustrated at the turn her life had taken that morning. Nick had known her for four years, and all along quiet little Pru had been a part of the aristocratic world he disdained. He had never guessed, but wondered if he might have done, if he had not ignored her as thoroughly as did her own family. He was only now coming to realize he’d done that, and was ashamed for it.

One thing about Pru, though, was that she would never complain that his connections were far from noble, or that he was not a rich man. He knew that much about her. Or so he believed. As for his modest town house, at least it was one with which she was familiar. She had spent a great deal of time there these last few years. Perhaps it would not be too painful an upheaval—for Pru, anyway—for her to stay on permanently.

Nick studied her in the near darkness of the carriage. He could make out the rampant curls of her hair, the slender column of her neck, the slope of her shoulders. Out of that Viking horde of a family—tall, blond, boldly handsome—any one
of the women was more striking than Pru. That morning he’d been concerned that he might not be able to conjure up enough desire to bed her. But that was because, like everyone else, he’d never paid her any notice. He had done so today, however, and found she was more attractive, in a quiet sort of way, than he’d imagined.

Even so, Nick was still uncomfortable about consummating the marriage. This was Pru, after all. She was almost like a sister. The notion of bedding her seemed so damned awkward. He kept watching her, trying to see her as someone other than a sisterly colleague, trying to imagine making love to a woman so shy, a woman who trembled whenever he touched her hand.

Pru seemed to sense his gaze on her and looked up. Even in the dark he could see the apprehension in her eyes. She must surely be dreading the same thing as he. Poor old Pru. She wasn’t ready for physical intimacy with a husband she never wanted.

Nick wasn’t ready, either. He was too drunk and too angry to make the effort. He’d done enough playacting for one day. No doubt Pru would appreciate a reprieve for the time being. In the meantime, Nick would have to figure out how he was ever to approach intimacy with this quiet, unassertive, little mouse of a woman whose background was everything he despised.

Pru’s knees were actually shaking while Nick unlocked the front door. She was entering the
house for the first time as his wife, and she was about to discover, at long last, what it was like to have a man make love to her. A man she had loved to distraction for years.

She had dreamed of such a night, but in the privacy of her own fantasies, Nicholas had been equally in love with her. In her dreams, she was transformed into a beautiful woman whose loveliness was irresistible to him. She had dreamed of his arms around her, of him loving her.

She’d always known the dream was foolish and fanciful. But then, she could never in a thousand years have imagined how things would turn out. Tonight was no dream. Instead, she must face the reality of what was about to happen—not with a man who returned her love, but with a man who did not love her and did not want her. The intimacy would be as forced as the marriage ceremony that morning.

How was it possible, she wondered, to want something so badly and dread it at the same time?

“I am sorry there is no servant to let us in,” Nick said as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway to light a candle. “I’ve never had any live-in servants here, but perhaps you will want to hire someone.”

“Oh.” Pru could hardly speak for thinking of what was about to happen. Was her nightgown pretty enough? Would he snuff the candles and give her the advantage of total darkness? Would she die of embarrassment?

“We’ll talk about all those practical matters in
the morning,” he said. “It’s been a long day. And a bit trying, eh?”

“A bit.” She kept her voice as soft as possible in hopes he would not hear its tremor.

He led the way up the stairs, and Pru had to hold tightly to the rail. Oh God oh God oh God. It was really happening. She was going upstairs—all the way upstairs—with Nicholas.

When they reached the second floor, he said, “I had your bandbox brought up here, to Edwina’s old bedchamber.”

He stepped into the room and lit a small branch of candles. Pru had been here often, before Edwina was married. It looked more like a guest room now, with all her friend’s personal items gone, including a beautiful picture of Psyche that Pru had admired. It had been painted by Edwina’s mother, so of course she would have taken it with her.

The room had been made ready for her. Lucy, the part-time maid, had surely been at work here. Pru’s bandbox, sent over from Brooke Street that afternoon, was tucked in a corner, and its contents already emptied. The one morning dress she’d packed was hanging on a peg inside the open wardrobe. There was a basin and pitcher of water set out, with linen towels and a bar of soap. A small vase of spring flowers sat on the dressing table, where her own toiletries had also been set out.

“I thought you would be most comfortable in this room,” Nick said. After lighting the candles, he had moved to stand in the doorway.

“Yes, thank you.”

Pru’s cheeks flamed when she saw her nightgown had been laid out on the bed. It was the prettiest one she owned, with lovely lace edges and white-on-white embroidery. Had Nick seen it? She could not bear to look at him.

“Well, um…” He seemed nervous, unsure of what to do next.

He must be feeling as awkward as she was. Pru wished she could make it easier for him by answering in advance the questions he was no doubt trying to ask. Yes, she would like a few minutes alone. Yes, she would be ready when he returned. Yes, he could join her on the bed. Yes and yes and yes.

But she would be too mortified to say any such thing, too nervous to do anything more than nod when he asked. But why did he not ask and get it over with? He still stood awkwardly in the doorway, a frown creasing his brow.