She released him. “Go through to the boudoir,” she said as calmly as she could. “I’ll join you in a moment.”
“As always, I obey my mistress.” He blew her a kiss and left.
If I truly could command you, we’d not part at all
.
Prudence inhaled, cooling herself. She could wait. It would only be until tonight. Tonight would be their true wedding night.
She dearly wished it weren’t close to the longest day of the year.
Chapter 25
C
ate found breakfast laid out on the small table. The kitchens knew what he liked, so there was beef and ale. They couldn’t know Prudence’s tastes, so they’d sent both coffee and chocolate, an assortment of breads and a plate of cheeses, finely sliced ham, and boiled eggs.
It was well-done. He must remember to send thanks and appreciation.
He sat to eat, for he’d eaten little during the extraordinary yesterday, but his mind was full of the present and future.
What had possessed him to play such seductive games? He’d almost broken his intent right there. And Prudence would not have been unwilling. Her glowing willingness had almost pushed him over the edge.
Hell and damnation.
He put down his knife and fork and drank ale.
She came in fully dressed, her hair simply pinned up. “Eat. There was no need to wait.” She sat, smiled, and poured chocolate, as brisk as a stranger, but he wanted her even now.
She sipped, then said, “Oh, my. This is the best chocolate I’ve ever tasted.”
“I must reward my chocolate maker,” he said, but the flick of her tongue to clear chocolate from her upper lip almost destroyed him.
“You’ll beggar yourself,” she said, “for I’m sure everything at Keynings is of the best.”
“I would pay every penny for your delight.”
She smiled, but clearly took it as a joke. It wasn’t.
She’d been so deprived that she was easily delighted. He wanted to delight her to death.
“Even two days ago I couldn’t have believed all this,” she said, buttering a bun. “It still doesn’t seem real.”
“Breakfast?”
She shot him a look. “Breakfast with you.”
Those heavy-lidded eyes, a smoky blue-gray . . .
“Two days ago you were preparing for your wedding to Draydale,” he reminded her. “No, I’m sorry. Don’t even think of it.”
She had frozen, but she smiled again. “I intend not to. Ever. What were you doing two days ago?”
“Having breakfast at the Talbot and planning to go to the church to see my gallant Hera triumph . . .” Another unfortunate subject. “Tell me about your little pandemonium.”
“Oh.” She put her bun down. “The demons’ dance around Karen. My maid,” she explained.
“Karenhappuch, daughter of Job. I do remember. She does seem young for the post.”
“And inexperienced.”
“Then why is she your maid?”
It was a simple question, but it struck Prudence dumb. She’d carelessly forgotten that the situation wouldn’t make sense without mention of Artemis’s hatred. She still didn’t want to tell him of his sister-in-law’s accusations, but she’d have to involve her.
“Artemis sent her,” she said. “I think she resents me. It’s understandable. I’ve replaced her here, even taking her rooms.”
“She vacated them as soon as Roe died, so that makes no sense. It must have been some confusion in the servants’ hall.”
Prudence could argue, but it would serve no purpose.
“Choose another maid,” he said.
“Karen’s quick and can learn.”
He frowned slightly, obviously puzzled. “But you need a skilled maid now, just as I need a skilled valet. One who can turn you out in style to meet local society.”
Local society. Lord, she’d forgotten there was a world beyond these rooms.
“Until my trunk arrives . . .” she said.
“Which should be today.”
“Even then, I have nothing suitable for mourning, so I can’t meet local society.”
“Some might invade. You need to look the part. A trained maid could attend to your hands.”
“You have broken nails too,” she pointed out.
He spread his hands and she saw trimmed, buffed nails. “One of the first things Ransom insisted on.”
“Very well, but I can’t acquire a skilled maid instantly.”
“Mother’s will assist you.”
“Your mother is avoiding me.”
He sighed. “I’ll speak to her.”
They were squabbling, but she’d succeeded in deflecting him from Karen. It was weak of her, but at the moment she felt the young maid was her only friend at Keynings—apart from Cate and Perry.
“Your wounds must be healing well,” she said, picking up her bun again. “You aren’t limping much, but do please summon the doctor to look at them. Wounds can fester. I knew a man who died from a gashed leg.”
He smiled. “Neither wound festers, but I love being fussed over.”
Then I’ll fuss over you morning, noon, and night, my love.
“Promise me you won’t go riding for a while.”
“You impose a penance, but I fear I’ll be so tied to a desk for the next day or two, my only hurts will be from another part of my arse.” He refilled his tankard. “I still don’t entirely understand your pandemonium. So, your maid is young and unskilled.”
“It seemed more dreadful yesterday,” she said, “but it’s still complicated. I told Karen she could be my maid for a while, but I gather that means she ranks high among the servants.”
He whistled. “Countess of Malzard in the servants’ hall. No wonder Ransom looked as if he were chewing lemons this morning.”
“But if I return her to her under housemaid duties now, I suspect the other servants will be cruel.”
“You have a kind heart, Prudence, but you can’t keep her as lady’s maid. She’s completely unsuitable.”
“
I’m
completely unsuitable.”
“Which means you need an eminently suitable maid to balance that.”
Unreasonable to have expected him to protest her unsuitability. “Very well. But why can’t I keep Karen too, to run errands and such?”
“No reason at all. There have to be some benefits to our rank, and one is commanding what we wish. She’ll need some official designation or rank. Ask Artemis. She’ll know.”
Prudence managed not to react. “I don’t like to bother her. This must be a terrible time for her.”
“You’re right. I don’t know how she manages to remain so calm.”
By eating bile, morning, noon, and night.
It was going to be torture not to tell him the truth.
“What plans do you have for today?” he asked.
Prudence realized she hadn’t made any, but she couldn’t skulk in her rooms as if afraid.
“I intend to ask the housekeeper to take me around the house.”
“Have her show you the kitchens and such, but I want to show you the family part of the house. It’ll have to be later, however. I was presented with extremely urgent matters as soon as I arrived, and I gather the merely urgent await.”
“I’m sorry you’re plagued, but I look forward to the tour of the house.”
He drained his ale and rose. “Don’t forget to order mourning clothes.”
“I won’t, and when my trunk arrives I’ll order my old blue dyed black. Do you have people here able to make simple gowns?”
“I believe they make the servants’ clothes, and mother and Artemis would have had sudden need of blacks. Ask Artemis.”
That phrase was going to choke her soon.
“I thought of visiting your mother.” She might be no better, but she, unlike Artemis, was here for life.
“I could order her to visit you,” he said.
“No. That would be awful.”
“She’s behaving badly.”
“She’s had a shock on top of grief. Be gentle with her, Cate.”
He grimaced in a way that told her he and his mother truly were at odds. Was that something she could amend?
“I must to my travails. Remember, command anything you like. Including Perry. He’s a treasure house of social wisdom. You can’t have him all the time, however. He’s playing at being my secretary.”
“Playing?”
“To him, everything is play. But summon him anytime you wish. He’s your man for finer etiquette.”
Prudence remembered the conversation about names and being alone with Perry. “I don’t want to do anything even slightly irregular.”
“Keep your maid with you. It’s fashionable for a married lady to have a gallant attendant for the times when her husband neglects her.”
“I’d rather not be neglected.”
“And I’d rather not neglect, but duty calls.” He came to kiss her cheek. “Don’t distress yourself over my mother. She’s not a delicate bloom, and she has sharp spines when upset.”
“She’s grieving, Cate.”
“Yes, but for what?”
It was an odd thing to say.
“I go to face my demons,” he said lightly, “and start a demon torment of my own.”
“What?”
“Draydale, remember. Once I know the full extent of his sins, I’ll send him where he belongs.”
She rose. “Kill him? Cate, even a lord can hang! One did, not that long ago.”
“I’m not going to kill him, even in a duel. For a man like Draydale, poverty and powerlessness are a finer hell.”
“Oh, yes. I’d like to see it.”
“You will. His destruction shouldn’t take long, but be a little careful for now. Don’t go wandering.”
“Wandering?”
“Escaping wildly into the night? Or day.”
She suddenly felt cold. “You think Draydale would come
here
?”
“Or send a lesser demon. He’s the sort of bully who’ll not rest until he’s had his revenge.”
“But once he knows who you are, he won’t dare.”
“He hit you in front of the town worthies,” he reminded her, “so when enraged he loses all restraint. But, yes, I expect an indirect attack. I’ll write to your brother and Tallbridge to warn them to be on guard too.”
“You’ll tell them who you are?”
“It’s not a secret.”
“No, but . . . I think I should write the letter to Aaron. He’ll be guided by Tallbridge, anyway.”
“Will he, nill he,” he murmured. “He’ll pay a heavy price for that marriage.”
“I was willing to pay a heavier one, remember. The difference is that Susan is clever enough not to make him feel it too much.”
As you will try to do, but I’ll always know.
“You’re looking sad. On your paltry brother’s account?”
“No. But fair warning—Susan will boast of her connection to you all over Yorkshire, and she’ll expect to visit here.”
“If you can bear with my family all the time, I can bear with yours on occasions.”
He left, and Prudence could sigh. This breakfast had been sweet pleasure, but beyond these rooms lurked a kind of hell. She’d like to stay tucked away here until Cate was free to take her around Keynings, but will she, nill she, this house was now hers to command. To shirk would be to give victory to Artemis and the dowager, and she would not do that.
May all the angels of heaven be on her side.
Chapter 26
T
he tour of the house passed easily. Mistress Ingleton was calmly courteous and extremely efficient. Prudence didn’t try to claim experience she didn’t have, but her memories of Blytheby helped her to show some understanding. She knew that would be noted, and put to her credit.
First impressions, first impressions, she reminded herself as she met various servants.
Cate might not have been joking when he’d said he’d reward the person who made the chocolate. He employed a baker and a confectioner in addition to the plain cook. All inquired as to her favorite foods, so they seemed eager to please.
She gathered that the dowager was skilled in the still-room, but there was a maid especially for that area, and another with particular responsibility for the jams and preserves. Keynings was supplied from the home farm dairy, but had its own brewhouse and, of course, linen and laundry areas.
The laundry mistress was appropriately called Mistress Waters, and assured her it would be easy to dye a gown black. “Though not all colors and cloth take dyes well, your ladyship. The only way is to try and see.”
“It’s an old gown, Mistress Waters, so if it’s ruined, it will be no great loss.”
She would feel a pang, however, about the long, eye-straining work she’d done on it to prepare for her brother’s wedding. That seemed another world, but she reminded herself she must write again to Hetty, and perhaps include a gift.
She bit her lip on laughter at the thought of Hetty’s reaction to her becoming a countess. There’d be lawks-a-mercys by the bucketload.
The linen room was impressively lined with shelves upon which cloth-covered bundles contained everything from towels to curtains. Two maids sat at a long table in good light, making almost invisible mends to white sheets and garments. Three more were making clothes.
“We make the simpler garments, milady,” said the seamstress, Mistress Sawley, “especially for the servants.”
“Could you make me a simple black gown?” Prudence asked. “My trunk will arrive, but it contains no mourning wear.”
Let the servants speculate as they would.
“Certainly, your ladyship, and in a day, if very simple. Betty, get down the crape.” One of the maids hurried to climb a stepladder and take down a roll of cloth. “We always have crape to hand,” the seamstress said, “in case of . . .” But then she bit her lip.
“It was a terrible thing,” Prudence said, hoping to be believed. “So sudden.”
“Shocking it was, milady. Shocking.”
She unwrapped the roll and flung out some of the densely black material along the table. Crape was woven to be without any sheen and had the quality of seeming to suck away light. Prudence remembered that from her mourning gowns for her father.
“Please make one gown as quickly as possible. And a cap.”