“I gave you that to turn into money to keep you warm and fed,” he said.
“I kept it for the darkest moment, which happily did not arrive. There. Apart from the breeches and lack of hat, you’re almost respectable, my lord earl.”
“And in that hat, you’re quite delightful, my lady countess.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, right there in the marketplace.
“Don’t forget shift and stockings,” Cate reminded her, when she was still dazzled.
She quickly made her selection, hardly caring about the details, but as they walked on toward the Bull, she said, “Not long ago, a new shift was a dream.”
“‘With all my worldly goods . . .’” he quoted. “What else would you like? A bucket. Firedogs. A goose in a basket?”
“Madman!” She laughed. “We mustn’t dally.”
“You’re going to nag me about my duties,” he said. “How delightful. Let’s find Perry.”
They found Mr. Perriam comfortably settled in a parlor, having, he declared, restored civility by bathing and changing his linen for stuff bought at the market.
“I see you’ve been similarly engaged,” he said. “A charming hat, ma’am, and you’ve covered his shameful neck. As reward, I have cold pie and wine, and settings for three.”
“Ah, real food,” Cate said, but he smiled at Prudence. “Delightful though tarts were in the circumstances.”
“You’re looking very pleased with yourself,” Perriam said.
“And you’re wondering how much longer you’re going to have to countenance deceit. Thank you, but I’ve told Prudence all.”
“And you still have your head.” Perriam turned to her.
“Enchanté
, Lady Malzard.”
“Thank you, Mr. Perriam. And for your discretion.”
“One of my many skills, ma’am.”
Cate took another piece of pie. “I’ve tried to impress upon Prudence how challenging the future will be.”
“He’s correct,” Perriam said seriously. “You will be disliked for snatching the golden prize.” Cate snorted, but Perry turned to him. “You could be bandy-legged and warty and still be a prize.”
“Being an earl is no prize.”
Perriam waved a hand. “Enough of your nonsense. Have you considered how to smooth your wife’s path?”
“Get her to Keynings quickly and let her own fine qualities speak for her before stories circulate.”
“Adequate, but if you can get your mother and Artemis on her side, it will help.”
“Mother . . .” Cate shrugged. “She might decide to be pleased I’m married, or cross over the manner of it.”
“And over the bride,” Prudence pointed out.
“You are my choice,” he said. “Anyone who insults you will rue it. I hope Artemis will support you. She’s kindhearted.” He finished his pie and rose. “Come, let us acquire our carriage and six.”
“My packages,” Prudence said, absorbing the flat arrogance of his statement:
You are my choice
. That showed a different side of him, making him seem somewhat a stranger. And rather more the earl.
Cate knew his manner was awry, but he was suddenly sensitive to everything that might disturb his wife. Prudence was like a tree in bud that was beginning to unfurl at first touch of summer sun. Frost could still kill the buds, however, and he wanted her to flower.
Perry rose and scooped up her packages. “I’m able to play both your secretary and your angelic messenger, my lord earl. I’m sure footman isn’t beyond me, my lady.”
Prudence looked bewildered. “Will you have to call me ‘my lady’ all the time, Mr. Perriam? It seems very distant, and we have shared something of an adventure.”
He smiled at her. “From this moment you are Prudence and I am Perry—if your lord and master permits.”
Cate wasn’t sure he did. “In private only,” he said.
“You will permit me to be private with your wife?” Perry asked, all mischief.
“Your angelic halo is slipping. But yes, within reason, I will trust you.”
“I am definitely
aux anges
!” But Perry turned to Prudence. “You must not relax formality in public. My reputation is far too delicate.”
She laughed at his nonsense, and Cate ground his teeth.
As they went out to the coach yard, Prudence asked Perry, “What do I call Cate in public? Husband?”
“Déclassé,” Perry said firmly. “You aren’t shopkeepers.”
“Watch your tongue,” Cate snapped, before remembering that Perry didn’t know about Prudence’s lowest times. “My apologies. I’m on edge. Let’s complete this journey.”
Cate knew he should tell his friend everything, but he hoped to keep White Rose Yard, at least, secret from all.
The chaise stood ready but he hesistated, unwilling to begin the journey that would lead to the inevitable troubles at Keynings.
“I see I am condemned to ride again,” Perry said with an injured air.
“Ignore him, Prudence. He wins steeplechases, and he’ll be more comfortable than we will.”
“Torture box,” she said with a sigh. “But I don’t much like riding, and I don’t want to damage my hat. You could ride, however.”
“I prefer to be with you.”
Cate handed her into the carriage, but then he circled the vehicle, thoroughly checking it for tampering.
“You’re being very careful,” Perry said.
“I have much to cherish.”
“She’s a remarkable woman.”
“Yes.”
But that didn’t mean that the next little while wasn’t going to be hell.
Chapter 21
T
hey traveled in silence for a while, and Prudence couldn’t think how to break it. She still stung a little from Mr. Perriam’s careless comment. She’d never been a shopkeeper, but the women of White Rose Yard often used “husband” instead of a name. So had her mother, if it came to that.
How many other things that seemed normal to her were déclassé or simply old-fashioned? A deep weariness swept over her, drowning the exhilaration and joy she’d briefly felt. She was married and would remain so, and she loved her husband, but she was completely unsuited to her new position, and Cate, though kind and appreciative, didn’t love her.
If she was exhausted, it was hardly surprising. This morning she’d said her vows, but that had been the culmination of days of turmoil and sleepless nights.
She glanced at Cate and saw tiredness stamped on him, too. He’d ridden to Darlington, and then yesterday to Durham and back. Today he’d been wounded and bled quite a lot. He limped only a little, but his wounds must still bother him.
She was bruised from the accident, and her face still ached a little at times. She supposed that mark could be put down to the carriage accident, so Draydale’s menace had served one good purpose.
She looked outside, wondering whether Draydale would try some open attack. Surely not. They traveled with three postilions and two armed gentlemen, and Cate had checked the vehicle for tampering. She’d seen that. They were probably safe from Draydale, but not from the terrors that lay ahead.
Cate’s home, Cate’s family, Cate’s mother.
Even if that went well, how on earth did she become a true countess?
She’d once seen the Countess of Arradale on the street in Northallerton, pausing on her way to or from London and her estate in the dales. Though she’d been dressed plainly for travel, it had been obvious that every stitch was of the finest, and she’d worn it with such an air, like a creature from another world.
She choked back a laugh.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, rousing out of his own thoughts, or even a doze.
“I was thinking of a countess I once saw.”
“I sometimes think of other earls. Which countess?”
“The Countess of Arradale.”
“’Struth, don’t measure yourself against her. She holds the title in her own right. She was born to the splendor and has married even higher—a marquess.”
“So I won’t be expected to be like her?”
“No.”
“Thank heavens for that. But you’d better start teaching me some of what I need to know. The order of rank is duke, marquess, and earl, isn’t it?”
“Then viscount and baron.”
“Then you outrank Lord Lolingford.”
“Who’s he?”
“The grandest personage in the neighborhood of Blytheby. He was a baron. We were all in awe.”
“And now you find he’s the lowest of the low,” he said with a smile. “If you ever meet him, you can look down on him from your lofty height.”
He was teasing, but it made her uncomfortable. “I won’t be expected to, will I? I’d hate that.”
“No, but people have expectations and they seem upset if we don’t conform to them. Servants at Keynings who were at ease with me as simple Cate Burgoyne now keep their distance from the earl. It’s not fear. It’s their sense of what’s right. At least Jeb’s still the same—when we’re alone, at least. He’s one of the grooms, but we’re the same age. We played together as boys.”
“I used to play with the gardener’s daughters, but Mother never really approved. When they turned twelve, they went into service.”
“Have there been any friends since your father’s death?” he asked.
Prudence thought about that. “No. There’s Hetty, but I can’t count her as a friend, though I think in other circumstances we could be. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly. I met a few men in the army like that. But their rank was too low for true friendship. It would fracture the stability of the universe. Let’s attempt to prepare you so that doesn’t happen.”
Prudence paid attention, but she struggled to truly grasp the nature of Keynings, house and estate. She’d never been inside a house larger than Blytheby Manor, and clearly Keynings was of a different order.
“How many rooms are there?” she asked.
“I’ve no idea. Perhaps fifty.”
“Fifty!”
“That’s a mere guess. Why does it matter?”
“They all have to be taken care of. Why so many? You can’t use all of them.”
“Not day to day, but we need many bedchambers for a house party, and a series of saloons that open into a ballroom when required. As for the others, I was surprised to realize that there were a number I’d never entered.”
“I’ll get lost.”
“The house is quite regularly laid out, so I doubt it, but if necessary, there are plenty of servants to rescue you.”
“Very well,” she said. “Tell me about the servants.”
“They are as orderly as the army. We’ll start with the general—the house steward, Flamborough. . . .”
They paused briefly for a change of horses, and as they rolled onward, the lessons continued. By the time they stopped for another change, Prudence’s head was pounding with information, most of it undigested. She accepted the offer of tea with relief, and tried to pay attention as Cate and Perry discussed niceties of etiquette, in particular how to distinguish between the three Lady Malzards.
“You’re Lady Malzard,” Perry said. “Cate’s brother’s wife is Artemis, Lady Malzard. Only his mother is the dowager countess.”
“I can’t call her Artemis, Lady Malzard, day to day.”
“You don’t have to. If you ask where Lady Malzard is, it clearly isn’t you, and it’s not the dowager. However, it would certainly be simplest if you could settle on ‘sister’ between you.”
“I’d like to have a sister,” she said.
“Then I hope it becomes so,” Cate said, “but she’ll likely leave Keynings soon. It can’t be comfortable for her.”
His mother, however, would remain Flavia, Dowager Countess of Malzard. When they returned to the chaise for the last stage to Keynings, she asked, “How will your mother react to our arrival?”
“With shock, I’d think.”
“Don’t say it as if it doesn’t matter! You should have sent warning.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“She’d have had time to prepare.”
“To load the guns, you mean.”
“Cate!”
“I’m sorry, but she’s not going to like it, if only because I’ve married without a word to her.”
“It’s reasonable that she feel that way. I was hurt not to be invited to my brother’s wedding.”
“You weren’t invited?”
“No, but stick to the immediate. Your mother will be hurt.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “But I told you the truth. She wants me married. If you prove fertile, and especially with male children, she’ll forgive all.”
Prudence shivered under that announcement. “And if I don’t?”
“We’ll all live with the disappointment. It won’t be disastrous as long as I outlive her. You see, if I die without a male heir, the next earl will expect her to leave Keynings. Which would break her heart.”
Prudence understood how having to leave a home could hurt, but he painted an omninous future.
“How old is she?”
“Fifty-five, I think.”
The Dowager Countess of Malzard could live another thirty years. Thirty or more years, during which she’d disapprove of her son’s wife even if there were children. If there weren’t, she’d watch Prudence’s waistline until all hope was gone.
All the same, she said, “I do understand. Leaving Blytheby broke my father’s heart.”
He took her hand. “And yours, perhaps.”
“Yes, though I didn’t realize it at the time. My father felt it most. He’d been there fourteen years, and built the collections of antiquities from nothing. When . . .”
Prudence had been about to speak the truth—that the owner had died and Blytheby had been sold to pay Sir Joshua’s debts—but she remembered her deception. She’d let Cate think her a daughter of the manor and it had pleased him.
“When we had to leave,” she said, “Mother and I tried to adjust, but my father wanted only one thing—to return. When he accepted that would never happen, he died. Shattered dreams can break hearts. But so can dreams clung to for no reason.”
He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “We’ll keep our dreams modest, and nothing will shatter them. We will be good companions, and we’ll do our duties well.”