Vexed by a Viscount (8 page)

This was what it felt like to be
free
. Uninhibited and unrestricted, like a bird sailing on the wind. She closed her eyes and smiled, soaking in this finite moment in time. She wanted to remember every step, every turn, every breath.

The wet grass made it easy to glide, and the viscount took full advantage of that fact. He moved her this way and that, his shoulders strong and straight beneath her fingers. The moon provided soft, ethereal light, bathing both the lawn and its two dancing occupants with dreamlike illumination.

She almost wished it
were
a dream. If it was, she could lean into him the way she wanted, soaking up the warmth and solid strength of him. She could wrap her arms around him, lift up on her toes, and steal the kiss she could never have in real life. A kiss that would make her heart sing and her stomach dance. One that was everything she had
hoped
her first kiss would be, instead of the cringe-inducing one she had received from the squire.

The squire.

Prudence stiffened in Ash’s arms, then jerked away, horrified that she would be daydreaming of kissing him. More than that—she
wanted
to kiss him. She was pledged to another, for heaven’s sake—as was he!

The viscount blinked in confusion as he stared back at her. “Are you well? Did you step on a rock?”

“Yes!” she said, grasping the explanation like a lifeline. But almost immediately the fib turned sour in her mouth, and she shook her head. Breaking the rules of propriety was one thing; breaking the rules of morality was quite another. “No. I’m sorry, Ash, I just can’t do this.”

He looked more confused than ever, his brows coming together as he regarded her with concern. “My apologies. I thought the waltz would be something you would enjoy.”

“It is. But that’s the problem.” She shook her head a little helplessly, trying to think of a way to explain it. “There’s being adventurous, and then there is simply torturing oneself with what is never to be. It’s just . . . too tempting.” Far, far too tempting. She couldn’t believe she’d become so thoroughly swept away.

Understanding seemed to dawn then. “Ah. I see. But perhaps it’s not so dire as all that. It’s possible that once you are married, you’ll be able to attend balls on occasion. It’s perfectly acceptable—expected, in fact—for a young matron to take to the dance floor at such events.”

Her shoulders wilted. He didn’t understand at all. That was a blessing, really. There was nothing more mortifying than the prospect of another realizing one’s attraction. Smiling stiffly, she nodded. “You’re right, of course. Thank you for the dance, my lord. It was”—she paused, searching for a proper descriptive for such an all-consuming experience—“memorable.”

***

A
sh was prepared to let the issue drop until she
my lord-
ed him. It was impossible to mistake the wooden way she said it. It was as though she had reverted to the way things used to be between them.

Setting his hands to his hips, he tried to meet her eyes, but her gaze remained stubbornly averted. “Pru,” he said, wanting her to look at him.

“Mm-hmm?” she murmured, though she still refused to make eye contact. She fussed with her skirts as though wrinkles were her worst enemy

“Prudence,” he said more sternly, this time earning her full attention. “Something is the matter. Have I done something to offend you?”

It was hard to imagine he had. The dance had been one of the finest he’d ever had, so fluid as to be almost magical. They had moved as though they had been dancing together for years, missing not a single step despite her lack of experience. In fact, up until the moment she had stopped, he would have wagered good money that she was enjoying herself immensely.

It would have been understandable if it really was simply about her fear of not being able to enjoy the dance again, but that didn’t explain why she would pull away from him. They had become closer than he would have thought possible in such a short time, and the use of his honorific felt like a slap.

She shook her head, an unconvincing smile pasted across her lips. “No, of course not.”

He crossed his arms. “I can’t say that I believe you. You don’t go from calling me Ash to addressing me as ‘my lord’ without a reason. Please tell me if I’ve upset you.”

This whole evening was supposed to be about her enjoyment. He’d come because he thought he she would like the waltz. And, of course, because he’d wanted to spend more time with her. He loved being a part of her rebellion.

She looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I wasn’t referring to the waltz,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“I beg your pardon?” He wasn’t quite sure what she meant.

“When I spoke of what was never to be, I wasn’t referring to the dance.”

Before he could figure out what it was she was saying, she hurried to her shoes, stepped into them, and offered a quick wave. “Good night, Ashby. Thank you for a lovely dance.”

And just like that, she was gone. The gate squeaked as she slipped away, but that was the last he heard of her.

What the devil had just happened? One minute everything was just fine, and the next she was as skittish as a colt, escaping as though dogs were nipping at her heels.

With nothing else to do, he turned and started back to the property line, where he’d left his horse. What had that cryptic statement of hers meant? If not the dance, what had Prudence been referring to?
There’s being adventurous, and then there is simply torturing oneself with what is never to be. It’s just . . . too tempting.

As her words came back to him, he slowed his steps, realization belatedly dawning. Could she possibly be referring to
them
? He and she,
together
?

He couldn’t laugh off the thought. It held far too much truth. Such a thing would have seemed ridiculous only days ago, but much had changed in such a short time. They had truly enjoyed each other’s company. Was it possible that she was feeling something more than friendly towards him? Surely not. Only . . . there
had
been something different between them tonight. Something intangible but real, something that had deepened the connection and enhanced the pleasure of the dance.

If she had sensed that, no wonder she had withdrawn from him. She had a duty to her betrothed, just as he did to his. Entertaining any other eventuality was impossible. Contracts had been signed. Her wedding was only weeks away, for heaven’s sake.

She was right. They shouldn’t be flirting with temptation. Too many people could get hurt—Prudence most of all. And if disappointment settled deep in his gut, well, that was something he wasn’t quite willing to analyze.

P
rudence awoke much later than usual, regret as heavy in her chest as it had been the night before. She had done the right thing, she was certain of that, but that didn’t make her feel any better. Last night had given her a glimpse into the life she had always wanted, but knew she could never have.

She wasn’t the type of woman who dwelled in a dream world. The reality was, her future was decided, and nothing was going to change that. By accepting the squire’s proposal—which had technically been issued to her father first—she had given her word to marry him. Just because she didn’t want to become his wife didn’t give her license to turn back on her word.

Yawning hugely, she pushed aside the covers and sat up, glancing to the window. It was a nice day, at least. Late morning sunlight poured through the glass, making the room so bright, it was a wonder she hadn’t awoken earlier.

A knock from the corridor gave her a half-second warning before her mother breezed through the door, as impeccably dressed as if she’d been expecting the queen herself to visit. She stopped abruptly, her pale blue skirts swirling about her ankles as she gaped at Prudence. “What on earth are you still doing in bed, you silly child? Are you unwell?”

Miserable? Yes. Unwell? Not quite. “No, I’m feeling fine this morning. I . . . had trouble getting to sleep last night is all.” That was certainly true. She had gone over and over the dance and subsequent conversation with Ash, feeling the fool every single time. Why had she allowed things to progress as they had with him?

Her guilt at the way she had behaved last night was so acute, she could hardly look her mother in the eye. Her parents trusted her to behave respectably, and she’d very nearly thrown herself at another man.

“Well, now is not the time for lolling about,” her mother said, marching to the bellpull and giving it a yank. “The squire is here, and wishes to take a drive with you.”

Prudence’s spirits fell even lower. Her betrothed was the last person she wanted to see just then. “If he had earlier indicated his desire for such an outing, I would have been ready whenever he wished.”

Mama’s hands found her hips as she narrowed her eyes. “If he wishes to have an outing with you on a moment’s notice, then he very well has the right. As his bride, it is your responsibility to accommodate
him
.”

“Yes, of course,” Prudence said automatically, not wanting her mother to think she was protesting. In less than ten days, he would have complete say over her schedule—as well as nearly every other part of her life. Suppressing a sigh, she rose to her feet and began unbraiding her hair. She’d gotten away with quite enough rebellion lately. It was time to behave as the proper young lady again.

Less than a quarter hour later, Prudence was dressed, coiffed, and seated beside her betrothed in his open-topped carriage. He smiled over at her, though the narrow seating made it awkward to properly turn toward each other.

“So glad you could indulge my whim today, my sweet. Much to my surprise, I found I desired your company and didn’t wish to wait longer than necessary.”

Was that his way of complimenting her? She knew he was initially ambivalent toward her as a person, focusing instead on the business of the match, but it was clear he was warming to her.

Acutely aware of how uncharitable both her thoughts and actions had been toward him of late, she offered up a particularly bright smile. “Thank you for the offer. It’s a good opportunity to get to know each other a little more.”

In her dismay with the match, she hadn’t wanted to spend more time with him than necessary, but that wasn’t the way to be looking at things. She should be finding out what his interests were, what made him happy, what he disliked. As his future wife, these were things she needed to know.

He flicked the ribbons and set the carriage into motion. Her overly-large bonnet kept her face completely shaded, but the sun felt quite lovely against her arms. The brisk pace made for a nice breeze, and the steady clip of the horses’ hooves was almost melodic.

“In a little more than a week,” the squire said, his voice raised above the noise, “you and I won’t have to worry about the inconvenience of separate abodes. You’ll be right there where I want you, when I want you. A definite benefit to marriage.”

She nodded in answer. His description of marriage didn’t exactly sound appealing to her. Would he look at her as another of his servants, there at his beck and call? The only thing she really knew of marriage was her parents’ example. They cohabited in relative peace, but rarely sought each other out. Even so, it was a given that her mother always deferred to her father, and that he not only had the final say, but the first one as well.

“There are other benefits to marriage, you know,” Jeffries continued. “Ever since our kiss, I’ve been thinking of them a great deal. I wonder, has your mother told you what to expect on our wedding night?”

Prudence managed to choke on thin air. Their
wedding night
? That was not something she wanted to think about, now or ever. The squire juggled the reins to one hand and patted her on the back with the other, making her discomfort even worse. Hastily swallowing in an attempt to bring herself back under control—and hopefully get him to remove his hand in the process—she shook her head. “It’s not come up,” she managed to get out, her cheeks so hot they felt burned.

The patting turned to rubbing, and it was all she could do not to bat his hand away. “That’s good. I don’t want you listening to whatever it is she has to say on the matter. All you need to know is that I will teach you exactly what it is I like, and I’m confident you’ll be a good student.”

If she could have leapt from the moving carriage and escaped this supremely uncomfortable conversation, she gladly would have. What on earth was she supposed to say? Yes, they were to marry, but he wasn’t her husband yet and it wasn’t appropriate to be discussing such things—particularly whilst in the out of doors.

He glanced over to her and smiled. “Such a sweet, biddable young thing. We’ll suit quite well. In fact,” he said, pulling his hand away in order to reclaim the reins, “I can prove it.”

What was that supposed to mean? She pressed her lips together and glanced at him, dread roiling in her empty stomach. He glanced to her long enough to wink before slowing the horses and turning off the main road onto an ill-used lane.

“Where are we going?” She tried to sound composed, but her words held a distinct edge of worry. What was he planning? Going off alone was unseemly, even if they were betrothed. An open air ride on the main roads was one thing; disappearing into the forest down a narrow lane was something else entirely.

The carriage swung precariously as they bounced from rut to puddle, and she clung to the rail at her side. Beside her, Jeffries chuckled indulgently. “Just a little detour, my sweet.”

Detour, her foot. The lane headed east off of the northbound road into town, though where it went after that, she wasn’t sure. What she was sure of was that it took them farther from town, not closer.

Swallowing, she decided to try to reason with him. “After the rains, perhaps this isn’t the best route. Maybe we should try this another day.”

“Do not presume to second guess my driving,” he said sharply. Pulling back on the reins, he waited until they came to a stop before offering her a placating smile. “A woman shouldn’t doubt a man’s abilities. See? We are safe and sound, and more important, we have a moment of privacy.”