The Scoundrel and the Debutante (The Cabot Sisters #3)

Drake Matheson, a big, healthy boy, was the apple of his father’s eye. Prudence adored that child beyond measure. But she desperately wanted her sisters to meet him. The baby was too young to make the voyage, however, so Roan and George brought the Cabots en masse to America to greet the newest addition to their family.

Roan and George had indeed forged a new arrangement, wherein Roan and Beck acted as cotton brokers, sending off ship hulls full of American cotton to England on George’s ships. George had two ships now, and the arrangement had proved a lucrative one for both families. But for the Mathesons in particular, the cotton trade, in addition to the lumber trade, had made them quite well-to-do. Roan and Prudence were building a house very near his parents for the large family they hoped to have.

Honor and George, and Grace, and Augustine and Monica arrived in New York to meet the newest addition to their family. Their party was missing Merryton, who had stayed behind with the youngest of their collective broods. “He’s quite unable to make a voyage such as this,” Grace said, one of the few mentions she ever made of her husband’s peculiarities.

Neither was Mercy with them, obviously. She was still in Italy. “I think she will live there always,” Honor said.

“Do you?” Prudence said, surprised.

“I think she has a lover,” Grace said slyly, and giggled.

That night at dinner, Grace related that Mercy had written several letters home and was fully engaged in her life there. She had one more year in her schooling, and had recently sold a painting for a small sum. Mercy was thrilled that something she’d painted would be displayed in an Italian home.

“I can’t believe it!” Prudence said proudly.

George looked around at the three oldest Cabot women. “No one can ever say the Cabot girls don’t strive for what they want,” he said with a laugh.

Unfortunately, the arrival of the Cabot sisters brought sad news to Prudence, too. Her mother had died over the winter. “A frightful ague,” Honor said. “It was as if she had no desire to fight it.”

The news filled Prudence with grief. But there was also some relief in her mother’s death. Prudence had gone to see her mother before she’d sailed to America, and her mother had gazed at her with vacant eyes. Lady Beckington’s spirit had long been gone out of her, and as the weeks and months had passed, she’d grown feeble and weak, her head and her heart nothing but the fragile shell of the woman she had once been. In the end, Honor said, she didn’t even recognize Hannah.

Merryton had graciously kept the loyal Hannah on to help with the children.

Honor brought Prudence news of Stanhope, too, which she had confided one day when she and Prudence were walking. Prudence never knew exactly what Merryton said to him to make him cry off, but Stanhope had done so without equivocation. “I’ve heard his situation is quite dire,” Honor had confided in Prudence. “They say the entail of his title is so great that he owes the estate each year.”

“How dreadful,” Prudence had said. “And how thankful I am that I didn’t accept his offer.”

“Perhaps he ought to find an occupation, other than offering for rich debutantes,” Roan said crossly when Prudence told him later as they lay in bed.

That made Prudence giggle.

“What?” Roan asked.

“English lords don’t have occupations. That’s rather the point.”

“You see, that’s what’s wrong with all the royalty over there,” Roan said, casting his arm in the general direction of England.

The Cabots saw all of New York during their stay and proclaimed it smaller than they’d imagined it, but quite charming in that way colonies had of being rustically charming.

When it came time for them to return to England, Prudence cried buckets of tears, as did her sisters, while Roan and George stood by awkwardly, trying to soothe them all, but failing miserably. Augustine and Monica saw the prolonged goodbyes as an opportunity to tour the Matheson gardens once more.

That night, Roan and Prudence dined alone at the Matheson home on Broadway Street. With Drake in his crib, his governess asleep beside him, Roan and Prudence had a quiet dinner. When the meal had been cleared, and the servants retired for the night, Roan reached across the table and stroked Prudence’s face. “Are you all right?”

Prudence missed her family, but she had never been more certain of herself. She was precisely where God wanted her. To think that once she’d feared the marriage would ruin her adventure! It had only enriched it. She smiled at her husband with all the love she held for him in her heart.

“I know how much you miss them.”

“Terribly,” she agreed, appalled that she should tear up again.

“Any regrets?” he asked.

“Regrets?” Prudence stood up from the table and walked around to where Roan was sitting. She hiked her skirts and straddled his lap. “No regrets. Not once, Roan Matheson, and never will I have them. I am where I am meant to be.”

He chuckled with delight as she moved on his lap. “Mrs. Matheson, I think you’re a tart.”