The Bride Hunt (18 page)

He put on a pair himself as Prudence examined the ones he’d given her. “Why would I need these?”

“To protect your eyes, of course. The wind can be fierce when you’re driving.” He put the motor in gear and the car moved smoothly forward.

“You must need very little sleep if you always start your day this early,” Prudence observed, still turning the goggles around in her hands. “It is a weekend, after all.”

“Forgive me if I stole your beauty sleep,” he said cheerfully. “But even driving at twenty miles an hour, it’ll take us nearly three hours to get where we’re going.”

“Three hours!” Prudence turned sideways to stare at him. “Where in the devil’s name are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said. “I told you, I think, that surprise is frequently the essence of a successful campaign.”

“In the law courts,” she said.

“Oh, certainly there,” he agreed with a laugh. “But, as you so rightly say, today is Sunday, so we won’t talk about the law.”

“But I thought we were going to prepare for the trial.”

“Well, we are, in a way, but not as we have been doing. We don’t want to waste a beautiful day with too much stress and strain on the nerves. Besides, in general I like to keep my weekends free from excessive work. It ensures my mind stays fresh.”

Prudence could think of nothing to say immediately. She was sitting in this motor going God only knew where, for reasons not vouchsafed, with a man she disliked more by the minute. “So you lied,” she said finally. “Just to inveigle me into spending the day with you.”

“That’s a little harsh,” he protested, smiling slightly. “I have told you once before that getting to know you is a very important part of my preparation.”

There was really very little objection she could raise to what was a perfectly logical aim. “I would have thought you’d spend your Sundays at least with your daughter,” she said.

“Oh, Sarah has better things to do this Sunday,” he responded. “Her day is packed to the minute, she has no time to spare for her father.”

“I see.” Their speed had picked up and she was conscious now of the wind making her eyes water. Resigned, she put on the goggles and turned to look at her companion.

For some reason he was smiling, and even though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the goggles, she knew the skin around them would be crinkling and there would be little dancing lights in their gray depths. His mouth had not become less sensual since she’d last seen him and the cleft in his chin seemed even more pronounced. She dragged her gaze away and stared out at the road ahead, tucking her hands deeper into her muff. “So, where are we going, Gideon?”

“Oxford,” he said. “We should be there just in time for luncheon at the Randolph. Then, if it’s not too cold, I thought we could take a punt along the river. But you’re so well wrapped that it wouldn’t matter much if it was snowing.”

“We’re driving fifty miles there and fifty miles back in
one
day?”

“I love to drive,” he said with a complacent smile. “And I love this motor. It’ll do twenty miles an hour without a problem. It’s a beautiful day, if a bit nippy. Do you have any objections?”

“It didn’t occur to you that I might have plans for this afternoon?” she said tightly.

“It did, but I assumed you would have sent me a message if my invitation wasn’t convenient.” He glanced sideways at her and his smile deepened. “I did try very hard to make it sound like an invitation and not a summons. I hope I succeeded.”

Prudence was obliged to concede this point. “It was a rather more politely couched summons than your usual,” she said.

“Oh, that is so ungenerous,” he exclaimed. “I’m trying to reform my manner and you won’t give me the least credit.”

“I have no interest in your manner of conducting yourself,” she stated. “I am interested only in how you conduct yourself in court. And, on that subject, I have some information that might interest you.”

Miss Duncan was as tough a nut to crack as he’d expected, he reflected ruefully. Women usually responded when he took the trouble to turn on his charm. He took one hand off the wheel and held it up. “Let me enjoy my Sunday a little first, Prudence. Get the cobwebs out of my head. There’ll be time enough for work later.”

And there really wasn’t anything she could say to that. The man was entitled to a little rest and relaxation now and again. Her fingers closed over the notebook in her muff. Ah, now, there was a topic to be explored.

“Well, maybe we could work on something else, then,” she said, taking out the notebook. “Since we’re going to be sitting side by side for the next three hours, we might as well do something productive.” She opened the notebook and sucked thoughtfully on the end of the pencil.

Gideon looked a little alarmed. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you forgotten that we’re charged with finding a suitable candidate for you to marry?” Prudence inquired in mock surprise.

He sighed. “Not that again. I’m not in the mood, Prudence.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But you agreed to consider our suggestions. If we can find you a bride it will make the difference between twenty percent and a hundred percent of our damages. And that’s deadly serious business to us.”

He shook his head. “You really
are
a terrier. All right, if you want to play this game, then let’s play it.”

“It’s not a game,” Prudence said. “And I insist that you treat it seriously. We’ve drawn up a list of qualities that we think will be important to you. If you would just assign a number, on a scale of one to five, to each one as I go through them, that would be a great help.”

“Fire away,” he invited, assembling his features into a suitably earnest expression.

Prudence shot him a suspicious look. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his goggles but there was a telltale twitch to the corner of his mouth. “First, age,” she said. “Do you have a preference?”

He pursed his mouth. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you must have some idea,” Prudence exclaimed. “Does the idea of a young woman in her first season appeal, or would you rather meet someone of more mature years?”

He seemed to give the matter some thought as he swung the motorcar around a stolidly plodding horse and cart. The driver cursed and waved his whip at them as the horse shied, and the motor sped ahead in a cloud of dust.

“One of these days people are not going to turn a hair when they see a motor,” Gideon observed. “They’ll be the only way to get around.”

“Something will have to be done about the roads, in that case,” Prudence said as the vehicle bumped violently into a muddy rut. “They’re not designed for something traveling at this speed.”

“The Royal Automobile Club is lobbying Parliament for better roads. Are you getting dreadfully bounced around?”

“I’m not wonderfully comfortable,” she said. “But please don’t let the prospect of my discomfort for the next three hours affect your plans in any way.”

“It’s not that bad,” he said. “And we’ll stop for coffee in Henley. I’ll need to refill the fuel tank then anyway, and you can stretch your legs.”

“How nice to have something to look forward to.” She returned to her notebook. “You haven’t answered my question. What age would you like your wife to be? Within about five years.”

“Extreme youth is very tedious for a man my age. Inexperience is equally so. I have no interest in educating a virgin in the ways of the bedroom.”

This, Prudence reflected, was rather more information than her question had sought. However, the more information they had, the better able they would be to find a suitable match, so she merely nodded in a matter-of-fact way. “So, a mature woman would suit you.”

“Mature . . . now, I’m not so sure about that,” he responded. “It’s a word that conjures up images of desperate spinsters or languishing widows. I don’t think either category would suit me. Of course,” he added, “you have taken into account the difficulties inherent in matching a forty-year-old divorced father of a ten-year-old daughter with an eligible woman.”

“We decided that those difficulties were more relevant for a woman than a man,” Prudence said. “You have much to recommend you.”

“How kind. I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. I merely meant that your profession and your financial situation will probably compensate for your disadvantages with all but the most rigid adherents to the social code.”

“Oh, I see. I am suitably put in my place.”

Prudence was aware of a most inconvenient urge to laugh. She suppressed it sternly and said, “So, we’re looking for someone in her early thirties perhaps? Not over thirty-five. I know you didn’t like the sound of Agnes Hargate with her son, but are you averse to widows in general?”

“No. So long as she be not languishing in her maturity. Neither would I object to a spinster, as long as she be not desperate in hers.” He glanced sideways at her. “But I think thirty-five is a little too old for what I had in mind. Maybe you could look for someone in her late twenties.” He nodded. “Yes, the more I think about it, the more I realize that late twenties would be the perfect age.”

“All right,” Prudence said, making a note in her book. “That gives us somewhere to start.” She knew perfectly well what he was doing and she was not going to allow him to do it. He would not discompose her. She took a breath and asked casually, “Now, must she be beautiful?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Don’t be glib. Do a woman’s looks matter to you?”

“Let’s leave that question. I don’t know the answer,” he said, sounding serious for the first time.

Prudence shrugged. “Education, then? How important is that on a scale of one to five?”

“Well, until a week or so ago I would have said about two and a half. Now it’s definitely a five.”

Prudence wrote it down. He looked at her again. “Aren’t you going to ask what changed my mind?”

“No,” she said firmly. “It’s not relevant. What kind of personality do you like?”

“Oh, meek and mild,” he said definitely. “A woman who knows her place, who knows when to hold her tongue, who knows that I know best.”

That was too much. Prudence snapped the notebook shut and thrust it back into her muff. “All right, if you won’t take this seriously—”

“But I answered your question,” he protested. “Wouldn’t you assume that someone as arrogant and combative and self-opinionated as myself would want a helpmeet who would revel in those qualities—”

“Qualities,” Prudence interrupted. “They’re not qualities, they’re vices.”

“Ah. I stand corrected.” He turned the motor into a narrow lane at a signpost that said
HENLEY
,
2 MILES
.

Prudence fell silent, watching the passing autumnal countryside through her tinted goggles as the wind whipped past her fur-encased ears. The fields were brown stubble, the hedgerows rich with luscious blackberries and crimson holly berries.

“And they’re vices you agree I have?” Gideon’s question in his quiet voice startled her out of a moment’s unquiet reverie.

“I told you earlier, I’m not interested in anything about you except what relates to your ability to win this case,” she stated.

“Then let’s talk about you,” he said. “Has marriage ever tempted you, Prudence?”

“How is that question related to our suit?”

He seemed to consider this before saying, “I would prefer it in court that you didn’t come across as an ill-tempered, man-hating, embittered spinster.”

Prudence inhaled sharply, but he was continuing calmly, “As I’ve said before, you can be certain that Barclay’s barrister will do everything he can to put you in an unfavorable light. I would like to give them a warmhearted, crusading female who is out to protect the most vulnerable of her own sex from hurt and exploitation. A woman gentle of tongue but resolute. A woman who has only the softest feelings towards the male of the species, except those who are patently not deserving of softness.”

Prudence shifted slightly in her seat, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. “Do I really come across in an unfavorable light?”

Again he considered before saying mildly, “On occasion. When your hackles are raised. I’d like you to be able to control that response.”

“Because they will try to provoke it in court.”

“I think you should be prepared for it.”

Prudence was silent. He had every right to point that out, and she couldn’t help but recognize its truth. But it was a wretchedly uncomfortable recognition nevertheless.

Chapter 12

T
hey were driving down the high street in Henley-on-Thames now. The pavements were crowded with Sunday-morning strollers, the green lawns edging the river dotted with pedestrians enjoying the sunshine. A few rowboats were on the river and Prudence realized that the air was a lot warmer now. But that, of course, could have something to do with the fact that their speed had slowed to a crawl and in her fur casing she was beginning to feel like a hibernating bear.

Gideon spun the wheel and turned under an archway into the cobbled back court of an Elizabethan timbered inn. He turned off the engine and jumped down. Prudence was too eager to make her own descent to await his help and stepped down, resisting the inelegant urge to rub her backside that seemed rather numb after the jolting drive.

“Go in and order coffee,” he said. “I’ll join you in about five minutes when I’ve put more fuel in the engine.” He hauled out a can labeled
PRATTS MOTOR SPIRIT
from the enclosed compartment at the rear of the motor.

Prudence stretched and rolled her shoulders, then took off her hood and the fur coat. “It’s far too hot for these.” She laid them on the passenger seat of the car. “I’ll see you inside.”

The Dog and Partridge had a comfortable parlor just off the saloon bar. A cheerful maid promised coffee and currant buns and directed Prudence to the ladies’ lounge. When she emerged, refreshed, her hair tidied, she found Gideon already sitting in the bow window, pouring coffee. “I’d suggest we take a walk along the river but I want to be in Oxford for luncheon,” he said as she sat down.

“Why do we have to go all that way? Why don’t we stop here?” Prudence selected a sugar-sprinkled currant bun from the plate.

Gideon frowned, as if puzzled by the question. “I intended to drive to Oxford,” he said.

“But you could change your mind,” Prudence said, regarding him quizzically. It occurred to her that perhaps he couldn’t.

As if in confirmation, he said, “When I’ve made a plan, I like to stick to it.”

“Like to, or need to?”

He added sugar to his coffee with careful deliberation. It was not a question he’d ever asked himself, but the answer was immediate. “Need,” he said. He looked across at her with a rather rueful smile. “Does that make me very rigid and pedantic?”

She nodded, and drank some coffee. “I would say so. I’ll need to bear that in mind when I’m looking at candidates. Some women find that quite comforting . . . knowing that someone isn’t going to change his mind.”

“Somehow I think that you are not one of them,” he observed, taking a bite of currant bun.

“Spot on,” she said with a cool smile, breaking a tiny piece off her bun.

“We seem to be concentrating on my character flaws this morning,” Gideon observed. “I
had
been hoping for a pleasant day of getting to know one another.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing? Flaws and all?” she inquired. “And on that subject, if Barclay’s barrister is going to attack me, wouldn’t it be better if you asked me first the hostile questions he might ask . . . spike his guns, as it were. Then I might be able to respond with proper composure.”

“That was one of the tactics I was considering,” he conceded. “But whenever I start to ask them, you attack with all the ferocity of a swarm of hornets.”

“Ah, but that was because I hadn’t realized it was a tactic. Now I know that it’s just preparation and you’re not expressing your own views, I’ll practice moderating my responses.” She took off her glasses and rubbed them on a napkin, unaware that it was a reflex action whenever she felt on her mettle. “Am I right to assume that you
aren’t
expressing your own views?”

“It wouldn’t matter if I were. My views are not at issue here.” He pushed aside his coffee cup and sat back in the deep leather armchair. The light was dim in the low-ceilinged parlor, and the diamond-paned windows let in little sunshine. In the gloom he noticed how her hair glowed a rich copper and how her eyes were a brilliant glinting green in the smooth cream oval of her face.

“To answer an earlier question,” he said, “I have decided that a woman’s personal appearance is very important to me.”

Prudence set down her coffee cup. “She must be beautiful?”

He shook his head. “No, not at all. Interesting . . . unconventional. Those are the adjectives I would choose.”

“I see.”

“Aren’t you going to write that down?”

“My notebook is in the motor.” She wanted to glare at him; she wanted to smile at him. But instinct told her she could do neither. Not unless she was prepared to let down her guard. He was trying to draw her into playing this game of allurement. It wasn’t naked seduction, it wasn’t as banal as flirtation, it was just a beguiling invitation to join the dance. And a little voice that she tried to ignore was questioning:
Why not join the dance?

The answer, however, was as clear as day. She . . . her sisters . . . they all needed this man’s complete professional attention.
She
needed his single-minded professional attention on the issue, or she’d lose her own. There was no room for anything but a purely business relationship with the barrister. And besides, she reminded herself, she disliked him excessively.

When it was clear that he was not going to get a more interesting reaction, he said neutrally, “Ready to continue?” He stood up, shoveling a handful of coins from his pocket onto the table.

“Since Oxford needs to be the destination,” she said, rising in her turn.

“You will enjoy it,” he promised, moving ahead of her to open the door to the bright, sunlit outdoors. “And I own, I’m curious to see how well I remember punting. It’s been nigh on twenty years.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. Prudence closed her lips firmly. She was not going to give him the compliment he was fishing for. She was not going to join this dance.

“I don’t think I need this fur,” she commented when they returned to the motor. She folded it carefully over the back of her seat.

“You’ll need the hood and the goggles,” Gideon said, putting on his own goggles. “And I think you’ll find in a few minutes that you need the coat. Once we’re on the open road.” He put on his own coat then turned his attention to the crank that would start the engine. It sprang to life after a couple of turns and he stowed the crank and climbed behind the wheel, saying as cheerfully as if he was not beginning to feel disheartened, “Ever upwards and onwards.”

“How far is it from here?”

“About twenty miles. We should do it in an hour, or just over. The road’s quite good. I’ll be able to open her up.”

Prudence fastened the hood beneath her chin, reflecting that his clear enthusiasm at the prospect of bouncing along rutted roads at top speed was not something she could share. She pulled the fur coat up over her shoulders as the rushing air chilled her anew and rather gloomily contemplated the prospect of the three-hour return journey. By the time they left Oxford, the sun would be going down and the air would be even colder. Her companion, who was humming contentedly to himself, obviously had no such qualms.

“Are you ever free in the afternoons?” she asked.

Gideon stopped humming. “Unless I’m actually in court, or have a business meeting, I can be,” he said. “Why?”

“We usually use our At Homes to introduce likely couples. I was thinking that you could vet some of the possibilities one afternoon.”

A terrier with a bone, no other description would do. He sighed and accepted the inevitable. “And do you have any possibilities in mind? Apart from this Agnes Whatever-Her-Name-Is.”

“Hargate,” she said. “And I really think you’re doing yourself a disservice by not at least meeting her. You would like her very much. You haven’t even listened to a description.”

“I had an instinctive reaction,” he stated. “The minute you mentioned her, I knew we would not get on at all.”

Prudence surveyed him with growing irritation. “I don’t know how you can be so certain.”

“Well, I am.”

Prudence opened her notebook again. She looked at the few names that she and her sisters had come up with. “All right, let’s try again. You might get on well with Lavender Riley. I’m sure I could get her to come to an At Home if you were available on a Wednesday.”

“No,” he said firmly.

“No, you wouldn’t be available on a Wednesday?”

“No, I would not be interested in Lavender Riley.”

“How could you possibly know that? I haven’t told you anything about her.” Exasperation rang in her voice.

“You told me her name. I forgot to mention that names are very important to me. Perhaps you should write that in your little book. I could not possibly live with someone called Lavender.”

“That is so ridiculous. You could give her another name . . . a pet name.”

“I find the whole concept of pet names quite revolting,” he said. “Besides, everyone else would be calling her Lavender. I’d never get away from it.”

“If you’re just going to make frivolous objections—” She stopped abruptly. She was just laying herself open to mockery by persisting, and she wasn’t going to encourage him any further.

However, it seemed he didn’t need any encouragement. He continued blithely into her frozen silence, “Now, the names of the virtues I find most appealing. Hope—”

“Hope is not a virtue,” Prudence snapped.

“Oh, I think a hopeful character is a virtuous one,” he demurred. “But Charity is an appealing name; Patience, I like. Oh, and Prudence, of course. Now, that’s a very attractive name, if a rather stolid virtue.”

Prudence clasped her hands inside her muff and refused to smile.

He glanced at her and grinned. “Come on,” he said. “I can see you want to laugh. Your eyes are shining.”

“You can’t possibly see what my eyes are doing behind these goggles.”

“I can imagine them very easily. Your mouth is quivering just the tiniest fraction, and when it does that your eyes sparkle. I’ve noticed often.”

“Considering what little reason I’ve had to smile in your company since we first met, I find that an unlikely observation.”

“It was intended as a compliment,” he said rather plaintively.

“An empty one, in that case.” She shrank deeper into her coat as the motor’s speed increased and the wind whistled by.

“You are a very stubborn woman,” Gideon said. “I had planned a delightful day out and you’re doing your level best to spoil it.”

Prudence turned sideways in her seat to face him. “
You
had planned a delightful day out. Without one word of consultation with me. Without a moment’s consideration of my own possible plans, or indeed of my wishes. And now you’re accusing
me,
who was dragged along willy-nilly, of spoiling
your
plans. You said we were going to work on the case.”

“Well, we are, but unfortunately it’s not going as well as I had hoped,” he said. “I wanted to see how you are when you’re relaxed, comfortable, not on the offensive . . . or defensive. I had thought that if I provided the right situation and surroundings, you would show me that side of yourself. If such a side exists,” he added a shade dryly. “If it doesn’t, this is indeed a wasted day.”

Prudence was silent for a minute. Then she said, “It does, actually. Why do you need to see it?”

“Because that’s the side that’s going to win this case for us,” he said simply. “I want the warm, intelligent, compassionate Prudence Duncan on the witness stand. Can you give her to me?”

There was silence then between them. Prudence was absorbed in her own reflections and assumed her companion was in his. It was such a simple, reasonable explanation, and she was beginning to wonder why she had resisted the appeal of this outing, fighting his efforts to charm her, disarm her, amuse her, with such dogged persistence. There was surely no need to do so, not when his objective was so directly related to their libel suit.

Gideon broke the silence finally. “It’s a lovely day, we have a delicious lunch waiting for us, followed by a quiet trip on the river. We’ll stop for dinner in Henley on the way back, and then you can sleep the rest of the way home curled up in your furs. How could you possibly resist such a prospect?”

“It is irresistible,” she responded, feeling the tension suddenly leave her shoulders. She hadn’t even realized how tightly clenched her muscles had been, as if she had been arming herself against something. “If you promise not to annoy me, I will show you my other side.”

“I can’t promise,” he said, turning to smile at her. “Sometimes it’s inadvertent. I’ll ask that you give me the benefit of the doubt if something slips.”

“All right,” she agreed. “Just for today. But in return I ask that you listen to two things about the case that I have to tell you. We don’t need to discuss them, but you need to hear them so that you can think about what we should do.”

“Fire away.”

“First, my father is going to take the stand as a character witness for Barclay.” She watched for his reaction but there was none. He merely nodded.

“Don’t you see how awkward . . . in fact, terrible . . . that is?”