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

“If you had twice as much sense, you might have made your way to Weslay instead of Wesleigh!”


He was momentarily disabled by the truth in that statement. “I will allow that,” he said, holding up a finger, “at least until I see you to some means for a safe return home.” He bent down, reaching for her bag.

But Prudence was faster and snatched it up before he could take it. “I will carry my own bag, thank you.”

“For the love of— It’s a long way to the next village.”

“I am aware of how far it is to the next village. It’s five miles. And I am perfectly capable of carrying my own bag!”

He muttered under his breath and hoisted his own bag onto his shoulder. “Shall we?”

“Do I have any other choice?” Prudence began to walk, her bag banging uncomfortably against her knee. “Where is your hat?” she demanded, wishing he’d stop looking at her so intently.

He frowned. “Lost,” he said curtly. “Why is it that you misses are all alike?” he added irritably, as if he was constantly running into unmarried women in the countryside.

“We misses? Have you some vast experience with misses, Mr. Matheson?”

“I have enough. Why do you think I am here in this godforsaken—”

Prudence looked at him sharply.

“Pardon. In this foreign land,” he amended.

“I don’t know,” she said insouciantly. “Presumably to instruct all of the young misses in proper behavior.”

“If only I had the time that would require. But no, I am here to instruct one miss. Imagine, it’s not even you! I am in pursuit of my incorrigible, equally headstrong and impulsive sister.”

Prudence tossed her head. “I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if she was trying to keep her distance from you and your opinions.”

“She won’t escape them,” he said flatly.

“I can’t imagine anyone could,” Prudence retorted pertly.

They walked in silence for a few moments while Prudence wondered what the sister had done, what had caused him to come in “pursuit” of her. “Where is she?” she asked.

“Yes indeed, where is Miss Aurora Priscilla Matheson?” he asked. “I very much hope she is at West Lee,” he said, gesturing impatiently with his hand at his failure to grasp the subtle differences between the names of the villages. “Shall I tell you the tale of this young woman? My aunt and uncle brought her to London last spring. It was a wedding gift of sorts, an opportunity to see a bit of the world before she marries Mr. Gunderson. But Aurora is quite impetuous, and she made many friends in London, some of whom, apparently, convinced her to stay another month or so more than was intended. When it came time to leave, she refused to return home with my aunt and uncle. She wrote my father and said she’d be along in a month or so.”

“She’s alone?” Prudence said, awed by the cheek of that.

“I assume so,” Mr. Matheson said. “That’s Aurora for you—she wouldn’t listen to reason, which surprises no one, and it has caused quite an uproar. Her marriage to Gunderson is very advantageous for my family. Almost as advantageous as—” Mr. Matheson suddenly stopped talking and looked away. “Never mind. Just believe me when I say that Mr. Gunderson was not pleased. And I was dispatched to fetch her before she does irreparable harm to her reputation, her engagement and to our family.”

“But how do you know where she is?” Prudence asked.

“I don’t, really. The last letter we had from her before I set sail said that she was traveling about, staying here and there—but that she’d been invited to visit the home of this Penfors fellow. Given the details of her letter and the date it was marked, we believe she ought to be there now.”

Prudence almost laughed out loud. It was impossible to believe, and in some respects a delight to know, that there was a young woman out there who was more incorrigible than any of her sisters. Abandoning her family for a foreign land, with no apparent regard for her virtue? Prudence would very much like to meet Miss Aurora Priscilla Matheson. She would like to lay eyes on the unmarried woman brave enough to do that—

Wait—was she truly feeling a bit of admiration for a woman like Aurora Matheson?

Mr. Matheson noticed it, too. “What’s that smile? Do my sister’s antics amuse you? Then she may count one person who she has made smile, because my family is not amused. Much is riding on her marriage. Not to mention, she is a fool.”

“One can hardly fault her for wanting a taste of adventure. Being an unmarried woman can be quite tedious you know. Always sitting about in parlors, speaking of the weather.” Prudence shifted her bag to her other hand.

Mr. Matheson snorted. “Aurora has never sat around a parlor,” he said. “She’s had as privileged a life as any young woman could expect in New York. She has squads of friends, attends all the social events—I would wager her derriere has not touched a parlor seat in months.”

Startled, Prudence looked at him.