And Hera . . .
Cate tore free and turned to where she was collapsed weeping in a pew, her hand to her face, fussed over by a number of women.
One stood apart. “Really, Prudence,” she said in a strident voice. “How could you bring such embarrassment upon our family?”
This pudding-faced woman must be the sister-in-law. And heartless to boot.
Her husband—the brother—chimed in. “Indeed, Prudence. This is a terrible thing.”
“It certainly is,” Cate said, longing to pummel him as well.
However, the wedding guests were avidly watching and listening, and Prudence Youlgrave could end up ruined by all this.
“Prudence probably thought me dead,” he said, going to kneel before her. “My love, I’m sorry I didn’t return sooner.”
She looked at him, eyes as wide, shocked, and frightened as on the night they’d first met. She let him take her chilly hand, but a close observer would have trouble seeing a lovers’ reunion in her face. On top of the shock and horror of the last few minutes, she hardly knew him. He’d just beaten a man bloody. And, devil take it, there was blood on his knuckles.
Plunging in again, Cate.
But he could never have allowed the marriage to proceed without protest, and Draydale’s brutal action had proved his instincts correct. He rose, pulling her up and into his arms to offer comfort, but also to hide her blank, panicked expression.
“Sir!” protested the brother.
Cate ignored him and murmured in Prudence’s ear, “Trust me.”
The devil only knew what that meant, but some of her tension left her, despite heaving breaths. He recalled that night and their embrace, which had been strangely sweet and had never entirely left his mind.
“Sir,” repeated the brother firmly, “I must ask how you came to be betrothed to my sister without my knowledge or consent, especially as she has lived very quietly for many years.”
Cate looked at him over her silly hat. “Aren’t you interested in the scurrilous lies that cur just laid upon her?”
Youlgrave flushed. “I’m sure Mr. Draydale didn’t mean . . . But your claim was clear.”
And must be nailed down with details, Cate realized. What details would hold together, and would Prudence support them? She struggled to be free, so he had to let her go, but what in Hades would happen next?
She turned to face her brother, chin firm and raised. “Mother knew and consented, Aaron.”
“What?” the brother exclaimed. “She never mentioned it to me.”
“You visited so rarely,” she said, a dagger in every word.
’Struth!
But the courage of her, the magnificent, resolute courage, but Cate could see the strain all this placed on her. He put an arm around her to help. “Prudence feared you might disapprove, sir.”
“Would he have had
reason
to disapprove?” the plain wife demanded, eyes narrowed.
“Perhaps, ma’am. I was a soldier and without much substance.”
She took in his clothes. “And haven’t improved with time. You have just destroyed a very advantageous marriage. Father, do something!”
Her father’s features were unreadable. “I believe we should retire to somewhere more private to discuss this, my dear.”
A coolheaded man, Tallbridge. Cate wondered if that would work to Prudence’s advantage or not.
The vicar hastily shepherded them into the vestry. Cate kept an arm around Prudence, both to comfort and to compel. She’d stepped in to support his lie, but still trembled with shock. She might collapse, but judging from their last meeting, she could just as easily become as rash and impulsive as he.
The wrong move here could ruin her for life.
When he settled her into a chair he gently touched her cheek. “I’m sorry I allowed this, but your disappointed bridegroom is in much worse shape.”
“Then I’m glad of it,” she said fiercely.
“At your service, as always.”
The vicar murmured something and went out, leaving Cate and Prudence with her handsome, weak-mouthed brother; the brother’s acid-tongued wife; and cool, keen-eyed Mr. Tallbridge.
Tallbridge was a merchant, but a different type from both Draydale and Rumford. Perhaps he had been born in a cottage, but by good fortune or effort he had the slenderness admired at court, and the fine features to go with it, all enhanced by impeccably elegant clothing. He even had the speech—almost. The effect must impress the worthies of Darlington greatly, but it didn’t impress Cate.
“You must be Mr. Tallbridge, sir,” he said. “I must hold you partly responsible for this state of affairs.”
“How dare you!”
“Be silent, Susan.” Steady eyes met Cate’s. “I wished to do well by my son-in-law’s sister, Mr. Burgoyne. I still wish the same. You admit to being lacking as a suitor before. Are you in a better state now?”
Cate dearly wanted to declare that he was now Earl of Malzard, but he’d never be believed. Even if these people knew the Earl of Malzard had died recently and been succeeded by a scapegrace younger brother, why believe this man in shabby clothing and worn riding boots was him?
Make a claim like that and Tallbridge could use it as excuse to throw him into jail for impersonating a peer. Then Cate would have to summon someone from Keynings to vouch for him, which would reveal to all there that he’d created another shambles. He’d give himself to the devil first.
But he might have done that anyway.
He’d vowed to marry the perfect countess. He’d promised his mother not to marry to disoblige her. Now, if he didn’t find a way out, he was going to have to marry Prudence Youlgrave, the most unlikely countess imaginable.
His silence wasn’t giving a good impression.
“I recently came into a property and can now provide for a wife. I sought out Prudence as soon as possible, but arrived almost too late. I wish I’d arrived sooner and spared everyone this debacle.”
“As do we all, sir. Is this truly what you wish, Prudence?”
She simply stared. Cate could understand why. She’d supported his lie in the church, but now she’d had time to think, to see all the traps before her.
“Prudence?” Tallbridge prompted. “I must remind you that Draydale made certain claims. If true, they carry weight.”
She blinked, eyes suddenly afire. “They are
not
true, Mr. Tallbridge. They are not.” She looked once at Cate and then away. “Of course I wish to marry Mr. Burgoyne. I too regret the disruption our situation has caused, and apologize for it.”
“So I should think!” protested the strident daughter. “Did you not come to me petitioning—demanding, even!—that I find you a husband? A man with a good position in society, able to provide you with a home and children. At considerable effort and expense I provided such a husband, and as thanks, you have made me a laughingstock!” She turned weeping into her husband’s arms.
Tallbridge sighed. “You’d best take her away, Aaron. There must be some back way.”
“But what of my sister, sir? After this drama, she must marry this man, but we know nothing about him.”
Perhaps he had some decent feelings after all.
“If you will permit, I’ll deal with this. I’ll discover his credentials and report to you later. Susan!” At his sharp voice, his daughter turned her tear-blotched face to him. “Think on this. You will be better served by presenting this situation to the world as a romance—lovers reunited, et cetera—rather than as a blow to your plans and pride.”
“But Mr. Draydale . . .”
“Draydale has proved unworthy. We have Prudence’s word that his claims were untrue, and his own crude action speaks against him. Aaron, I will take your sister back to my house for the night and make arrangements for her wedding to Burgoyne tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Cate shot a look at Prudence and saw the same alarm in her eyes. That left no space for maneuvering.
Aaron said, “Yes, sir,” and took his resentful wife away.
Tallbridge offered Cate snuff, but Cate declined, trying to see a path out of this mire.
Tallbridge took a pinch himself, enjoyed the effect, and then blew his nose. “Any connection to the Burgoynes of Keynings, sir?”
“Yes.” Had he underestimated such a man’s knowledge of greater affairs?
All Tallbridge said was, “Are you quite sure, with your august lineage, that you wish to ally yourself in this way?”
“I hope that doesn’t imply any lack in Prudence, Tallbridge.”
A brow rose, but Tallbridge said, “Of course not, sir. Of course not. But the expectations of society cannot be ignored.”
“Society will expect me to carry Prudence away from here immediately.”
If he could get her away, he could look after her without marriage. Establish her with a respectable lady. Discreetly provide a dowry that would buy her the worthy husband she desired.
“Society will expect you to
marry
her, and speedily, especially in light of Draydale’s insinuation.”
“He did more than insinuate.”
“You did more than protest.”
“Prudence needs time to recover from the shock and brutality.”
“Mr. Burgoyne,” Tallbridge said, “you are a stranger to us. Am I, or her brother, to allow you to carry her away unwed?”
It was, damn him, an excellent point.
“Prudence should decide these things. She is of age.”
“Women are easily duped, or led astray by their hearts. It is for men to guide them.”
Cate turned to Prudence Youlgrave, hoping she’d approve his suggestion, but she didn’t seem to even be listening. She was staring into space, cradling her bruised face. In shock, or simply overwhelmed.
“Look at her, Tallbridge. She’s in no state.”
“She’ll be restored by marriage. In every way. Any delay, sir, could lead some to think that you have reason to believe Draydale’s accusation. Gossip and scandal will fly and grow.”
“I don’t give a fig for the gossip of Darlington.”
Tallbridge’s lips turned up slightly in a humorless smile. “This is not the Middle Ages. Coaches leave here four times a week carrying people and letters. Darlington’s gossip reaches York in a day, London within a week, and spreads outward from both.”
“A hasty marriage will only add to the talk.”
“A hasty marriage fits your story. People will thrill to a romance worthy of the troubadours.”
“Should I attempt a ballad on the theme?” Cate snapped, feeling the noose tightening around him. It wasn’t only a noose of Tallbridge’s imagination. It was woven out of facts.
Drama and violence at the altar made just the sort of story to race around the land, with names attached, and it wouldn’t take long for it to be known to be a scandal involving the aristocracy. Even if the newspapers disguised them as B——e and Y—e, they’d add telling details such as “recently raised to a high title by the shocking death of his brother.”
He wouldn’t suffer from it, except in having his reputation for rash folly enhanced. Without marriage, Prudence Youlgrave would be ruined. With it, she could indeed be portrayed as the heroine of a grand romance.
But Hades, the reaction of his family, the disappointed hopefuls and their families, the county, the country, king, court, and all!
“You agree?” Tallbridge prompted, in a manner of one who held all the cards.
Without a doubt he was trying to seal a link to a noble family, but was he aware of the richer one? His daughter being closely connected to an earl? Whichever, he was clearly set on it, but more than that, he was right. By his intervention, Cate had declared his intent to wed Prudence Youlgrave, and so for her sake and his own, he must.
“I agree,” Cate said. “But we’ll need a license.”
“The Bishop of Durham is little more than twenty miles away, but we can discuss that more once Prudence is in my cousin’s care.”
“Your cousin?”
“A Mistress Pollock who keeps house for me. A kindhearted woman.”
Cate didn’t want Prudence under Tallbridge’s roof, for the man would always put his own interests first, but there was nowhere else where she’d be safe from Draydale. There was a man who’d want revenge for being revealed as a cur.
Her brother’s house would not be as safe, and there she’d be at the mercy of the ranting sister.
He could hardly take her back to his inn.
He glanced at Prudence again, but she was still far away.
Tallbridge was right. They must put as fine, as romantic a gloss on this as possible, but also, everything must be completely beyond reproach. From now on, there must be no hint of scandal. In the not-too-distant future, the whole world would be avid for details about the unlikely new Countess of Malzard. Her life would be difficult enough without shadows and shame.
Chapter 11
“I
t’s time to go.”
Prudence looked up at Catesby Burgoyne, the man who’d arrived in her life again to rescue her, but also to create mayhem and bloody disaster. Tallbridge had left. They were alone together.
He raised her gently from her chair, frowning at her throbbing cheek. “He’ll pay for that in full one day,” he said.
The concern stirred life in her again. He was wild, he was rash, he was violent, but he cared for her.
“Hold me,” she said.
He did, enclosing her in strong, warm arms, as he had once before, when her distress had been much less. She’d never forgotten that. She rested there, taking comfort from the smells of his clothes. They weren’t the sort of smells to normally entrance a woman—old wool and leather that carried traces of past smoke and other adventures—but they were the same smells that had lingered in her memory from last time.
From the house in White Rose Yard.
From a brandy-fueled conversation between two people with nothing in common, but who had understood each other very well. He was the only person she’d ever felt such a bond with. That bond had allowed her to ask for a kiss. A dangerous kiss that had led to the tender, unforgettable embrace.