The Bride Hunt (30 page)

“I have already done so, Miss Duncan.”

“Yes, of course you have,” Prudence murmured.

“Sir Gideon wished me to give you this, Miss Duncan.” Thadeus handed her an envelope as she stepped to the ground.

“Oh, thank you.” She looked down at it, puzzled. “What is it?”

“The lien on the house, madam. He thought you would know best what to do with it.”

Prudence tucked it into her handbag. “Yes, I think I will.”

They went into the house through the kitchen. “Oh, my goodness,” Mrs. Hudson said as they came in. “What a to-do there’s been. Men ringing the doorbell, asking questions, Lord Duncan in the worst mood I’ve ever seen him in. Locked in the library, he is. What’s been going on?”

“I trust the enterprise went in your favor, Miss Prue?” Jenkins appeared in the doorway, his face drawn with anxiety.

“Yes . . . yes, Jenkins, it did,” Prudence said swiftly. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get home earlier, but Sir Gideon thought we should avoid the newspapers. He was afraid the press would follow us here, even if they weren’t already here trying to get at Father.”

“They were here, all right,” Jenkins said grimly. “Banging the knocker. I threatened to call the police. His lordship locked himself in the library. I tried to ask him what had happened but he cursed me to the devil. I thought it best to leave well enough alone.”

“Wise of you, Jenkins,” Constance said with a faint smile. “We did win the case, but in order for us to do so, Lord Duncan had to find out the truth.”

“Ah,” Jenkins said, “that explains it, then.” Mrs. Hudson nodded gravely.

“It should make the house a little easier to manage,” Prudence said. “If we don’t have to pretend and cover up.”

Jenkins shook his head. “I don’t know about that, Miss Prue. Somehow I don’t see his lordship settling for leftovers and inferior wine.”

“No,” Prudence agreed. “We’ll still have to make shift, but at least we won’t feel we’re creeping around behind his back.”

“I think we’d better go to him now,” Chastity said. “We can’t put it off much longer.”

“There’s no putting anything off,” announced Lord Duncan from the kitchen door. “I assumed you conspirators would all be in here.” He glared at the assembled group. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know about this Jenkins, or you, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Father, it’s nothing to do with either of them,” Prudence protested. “You can blame us all you like, but Jenkins and Mrs. Hudson have only tried to help and make your life easier.”

A dull flush mounted on Lord Duncan’s cheeks. “For some reason my entire household seemed to find it necessary to shelter me from the consequences of my own folly. I do not find that a pleasant thought.” He turned on his heel. “We will discuss this further in the library.”

His daughters exchanged a look, shrugged in unison, and followed him. “There’s no need to close the door,” he said as they entered the library. “It’s clear there are no secrets in this household from anyone but myself.”

His daughters said nothing.

“How did you persuade Fitchley to let you examine my private papers?” he demanded.

Prudence sighed and told him. “You cannot blame Mr. Fitchley,” she said at the end.

“Clearly not. Of all the deceitful . . .” He turned away from them and he seemed suddenly a very old man. “Go away, all of you. I can’t face any of you at the moment.”

They left him, closing the door softly. “He can’t face us, or he can’t face himself?” Constance muttered.

Prudence was staring at the closed door, then abruptly she said, “No, we’re not bearing all this guilt. Come on.” She opened the door and stalked in, her startled sisters behind her.

“I told you—”

“Yes, Father, and we heard you. However, you might want to burn this.” She opened her handbag and took out the envelope. “I doubt very much that the earl of Barclay will be pursuing it after this afternoon.” She held it out to him.

Lord Duncan opened the envelope, stared down at the lien on his house. “He has no legal claim, then?” he said, almost in disbelief.

“No,” Prudence stated. “And he never did have. Since Barclay Earl and Associates is not a legal entity, they can’t hold property in its name. Burn it, Father.
Now.
”

He looked at them as they stood in front of him, presenting a united and determined front. And he thought of his wife, and of how like her they all were. And he thought of how much he missed her, every minute of every waking hour. And he knew that his daughters missed her as deeply, if in different ways. And he thought how they were her living embodiment.

Deliberately, he tore the sheet in two, then turned and threw both pieces into the fire. He stood watching as the paper curled, caught, and fell into ash.

Lord Duncan heard the door close behind him as he remained staring into the fire, acknowledging his grief.

Chapter 20

P
rue, are you sure you don’t mind seeing Gideon alone?” Chastity asked the next morning, standing on tiptoe to see in the high hall mirror as she adjusted the brim of her hat.

“Of course I don’t,” her sister said carelessly, sweeping into the palm of her hand fallen petals from the vase of fading chrysanthemums on the hall table. “We need to get
The Mayfair Lady
out on the streets again as soon as possible, and we haven’t picked up the post from Mrs. Beedle in more than two weeks. Con’s writing up the account of the trial this morning, so it’s my task to deal with the barrister. It has been all along, after all.”

“I suppose so,” Chastity said, still sounding doubtful, but it was clear that her sister had her mind made up and it was the most sensible division of labor, since it would only take one of them to dispose of Gideon. “Very well, then, I’ll be off. I’ll only be a couple of hours, if that. It depends if Mrs. Beedle wants to chat.”

Prudence waved her away and picked up the vase of flowers. She carried it into the kitchen to dispose of them and was returning with the empty vase to the hall when the doorbell rang.

“Shall I get that, Miss Prue?” Jenkins had appeared as usual as if by magic carpet.

“It’ll be Sir Gideon,” she said, smoothing down her skirts. “Show him into the drawing room.”

Jenkins went to open the door and Prudence went into the drawing room, where she turned her attention to a bowl of late-blooming roses that seemed to require some rearranging.

“Good morning.”

She turned slowly at the soft voice. “Good morning.” She moved towards the sofa. “Do sit down.”

“Thank you.” He took an armchair and waited for Prudence to alight somewhere. She perched on the arm of the sofa.

“So, I take it you’ve come to settle our business?” she said.

“That was what I had in mind.”

Prudence folded her arms. “You don’t think it’s a little premature?” she asked testily. “We haven’t even received our thousand pounds as yet.” She got to her feet abruptly. “I don’t understand why this couldn’t have been dealt with by letter. Presumably once the damages are paid the money will go to you. Why couldn’t you simply subtract your eight hundred pounds and send us our two?”

“Well, you see, I don’t think I could do that,” he said.

“Well, I’m very sorry, but we don’t have the money. I can’t give you eighty percent of nothing, can I?” Her green eyes glared, and he could see dark emerald sparks in their depths. Miss Duncan was clearly rather irritated. He had the feeling that it had little to do with his supposed reason for this visit.

“Unfortunately, I find myself in dire straits,” he murmured apologetically.

She stared at him. “What on earth . . . How could
you
find yourself in financial straits? Don’t be absurd, Gideon. You can’t possibly expect me to believe that. I don’t believe for one minute that eight hundred pounds would make one iota of difference to your bank balance.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t,” he agreed, shaking his head. “Not one iota.”

“Then what the hell are you talking about?” She was growing more irritated by the minute, and his calm demeanor wasn’t helping.

He rose to his feet, murmuring, “Since
you
won’t sit down—”

“There’s no reason to sit down. I’ve explained the situation, and that concludes our business. You will get your share when we get ours.” She folded her arms again.

“Well, you see, I don’t think it does quite conclude our business,” he explained in the same slightly apologetic tone.

Prudence was suddenly wary. “What do you mean?”

“As I recall, there was another aspect to our business agreement,” he said. He walked to the window and looked down at the winter-bare garden. “A bride, wasn’t it? You—or rather, the Go-Between—were going to find me a bride in exchange for my defending you in the libel suit.”

Prudence was now even warier. There was something palpably dangerous in the air. She reminded herself that this man was adept at the art of ambush. She’d seen him in court, and experienced it herself once or twice. Sudden moves on her part were not advisable. She said slowly, as if speaking to one a little short on mental acuity, “You were just toying with us, with the whole idea, Gideon. You remember that.”

“Oh, no,” he said, turning around from the window. “I was not toying with you or the bargain. I did, as I recall, say that I might prefer to find my own bride, but I was certainly open to suggestions that would widen the field.”

“Oh,” Prudence said, frowning. “Would you consider meeting Lavender Riley, then? I’m sure you would like each other.”

Gideon crossed the room in three strides. “Never have I known you to be obtuse, Prudence. No, I would
not
under any circumstances consider meeting Lavender Riley.”

“Perhaps Heather Peterson—” she began, and then said no more because it was impossible to do so when her mouth was suddenly otherwise and somewhat forcefully occupied.

“Have I made myself clear?” he demanded when he finally raised his lips from hers, his hands still, however, holding her firmly against him.

“I’m not sure,” Prudence said. “You haven’t really said anything yet.”

He put his hands around her throat, lightly encircling the slender column. His eyes were dark as charcoal as he held her gaze, and she could feel his thumbs against the pulse in her throat, a pulse that was beating so fast, she could hear it in her ears.

“The Go-Between fulfilled its side of the bargain. It introduced me to the only woman who could possibly be my bride. Prudence Duncan, will you marry me?”

“Harriet?” It was the only word she seemed capable of uttering.

“Her horse trainer came back for her last week.” He released her and ran his hands through his immaculately groomed hair in a gesture that expressed frustration. anxiety, and that flash of vulnerability that she found so endearing. “Sarah . . .” he said, “I need your help, Prudence. I was wrong—hell, I’m often wrong. I admit it. But I really need you.”

“You’re not the only one who’s often wrong,” she said softly, touching his face, moving her other hand up to smooth down his hair. “I admit it freely.”

He grasped her wrists, held her hands tightly against his face, then turned his lips to kiss the inside of her wrists. “Will you marry me, sweetheart?”

She smiled. “I think you’re supposed to produce a ring and go down on one knee.”

“The ring I can do,” he said, “but I’ll be damned if I’m going down on one knee, even for you, sweetheart.”

She grinned. “I didn’t really expect you to.”

“Do I have my answer?”

“Well,” she said consideringly, “I suppose it would save us eight hundred pounds— No . . . no, Gideon.” She danced away from him as he came after her with a look in his eye that she wasn’t at all sure about. “I’ll call Jenkins.”

“Call him.” He grabbed her arm, swinging her to his body. “You are a wasp and the most impossible woman I’ve ever met.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “And I dislike
you
intensely too.”

“Then that seems like an equitable agreement.”

It was an hour later when Constance and Chastity met on the steps of the house. “Well met,” Constance greeted her sister. “Did you see Mrs. Beedle?”

“Yes, and a whole stack of letters. Did you write your article?”

Constance smiled. “Just wait until you read it.”

“But you didn’t hold Father up to ridicule?” Chastity asked with a worried frown.

“Chas!”

“No, of course you didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m just so anxious.”

“Prue? Did she see him alone?”

Chastity nodded. “I imagine he’s gone by now. But you know how she tries to hide how she feels . . . if she’s hurt, I mean. I really thought that . . .”

Constance put an arm around her. “So did I. But they aren’t compatible, Chas. Prue knows that.”

Chastity nodded as she put her key in the door. The hall was deserted when they went in, and they looked at each other in puzzlement. It was unheard of for Jenkins not to respond to the turn of a key, wherever he was in the house.

“I expect she’s in the parlor,” Chastity said, heading for the stairs. She stopped halfway across the hall as the stealthy figure of Jenkins suddenly appeared in the shadows of the stairs. He put a finger to his lips and beckoned with the other hand. Fascinated, the sisters followed him into the kitchen.

“Miss Prue is in the drawing room with Sir Gideon,” Jenkins informed them.

“Still?” Chastity exclaimed. “He was supposed to come two hours ago.”

“Yes, Miss Chas. But Miss Prue hasn’t rung for anything.”

“And you’re certain Sir Gideon didn’t leave . . . when you weren’t looking maybe? Oh, of course he didn’t,” Constance corrected herself when she saw his outraged expression. “How could he have slipped past you?”

Jenkins nodded, appeased. “I thought it best not to inquire if they needed anything,” he stated.

“Yes,” Chastity said. “I would have done the same thing.” She looked at her sister. “What do you think, Con? Shall we go in?”

“And risk in flagrante delicto?”

“Oh, don’t be absurd, Con. It’s the drawing room.”

“Well, I think we’d better make a great deal of noise,” Constance said. “Kettle drums. We need kettle drums.”

“We don’t have any,” Chastity said through her reluctant laughter. “But we could try banging a couple of Mrs. Hudson’s pans together.”

“Oh, give over, Miss Chas, do,” Mrs. Hudson said, although she, like Jenkins, was trying to stifle a smile.

“I suggest you knock upon the door, Miss Con,” Jenkins said, once more his stately self. “And maybe wait a few minutes before you open it.”

“Of course, Jenkins, the perfect solution,” Constance said. She winked at him and he turned discreetly to one side, not quite managing to hide his smile.

The sisters returned to the hall. They walked around heavily for a few minutes, opened and shut the front door several times, and then approached the drawing room. Constance raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before she could do so.

“I could hear you from ten miles away,” Prudence said. “Come in. We need your advice.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected, Constance reflected. “Good morning, Gideon. Are you still finishing up business?”

“No, I believe we’re only beginning,” Gideon said, coming forward with outstretched hand. “Good morning, Constance . . . Chastity.”

They shook his hand and then turned as one to their sister. “Prue?”

“It seems,” she said, “that Gideon has decided to take up the alternative to our bargain.”

“Oh,” Chastity said with a smile. “And did we find him a bride?”

“It would seem so,” Prudence said. She moved her hand into the light. A circlet of emeralds threw green fire against the ray of sun piercing the window.

“The stones seemed appropriate . . . matched your sister’s eyes,” Gideon said, waving his hands in a slightly uncertain manner. He hadn’t realized that he would think he needed the sisters’ approval of his choice of gems. But he realized he needn’t have worried. They were not in the least interested in the ring. They brushed their sister’s hand aside as they embraced her in a hug so fierce, so all-encompassing, he couldn’t help the slightest prick of jealousy.

And then they broke apart, and he found himself embraced by Constance and Chastity, and the prick of jealousy disappeared. He thought that perhaps it would be a good idea to talk to his soon-to-be brother-in-law about what he should expect of a life married to one of the Duncan sisters.

“You said you wanted our advice,” Constance reminded them when the hugging was over.

“Oh, yes. I was thinking we should elope,” Prudence said.

“The anvil at Gretna Green is not my idea of a wedding,” Gideon said.

“But just think, we could take the overnight train to Edinburgh, it’s wonderfully romantic, and then—” Prudence stopped. “You really hate the idea.”

“I see no reason why we should hide in corners. Haven’t you been doing enough of that?”

Prudence knew this was no ambush. He was facing her with such a question when she had her sisters around her. She could only commend his courage. “Yes,” she said. “But something feels wrong about a grand spectacle at this moment. Constance’s wedding was magnificent, but that wouldn’t feel right now. We’re all too raw.” She looked at her sister for confirmation.

Constance said, “This is your wedding, love. Whatever you want to do, Chas and I will be here to support you. We’ll leave you to talk it through.” She nodded at Chastity, who nodded back and followed her to the door.

With her hand on the knob, Chastity turned back. “I do think Gretna Green is a really terrible idea, Prue.” Then they left.

“If we could wait a year,” Prudence began. “No, I don’t want to either. How small . . . ?”

“As small as you like. Your family, Sarah, you and me.”

“You don’t have any family?”

“My parents are dead and I was an only child. If you wanted a big wedding, then I could produce a reasonable showing on my side, but only Sarah really needs to be there.”

“And Mary Winston?”