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

That was unwelcome news. Prudence must have realized, too, they’d not be rid of him, as Roan felt her stiffen beside him.

The coach veered right and rolled into the picturesque village with its whitewashed cottages, a pair of churches with tall spires and a lovely center green, upon which some elderly gentlemen were lawn bowling in the late afternoon. All the passengers disembarked here; the team was taken out of its traces, and several men appeared to remove the luggage and then pull the carriage to a brick carriage house at the end of the high street.

The woman who had ridden in the coach bustled her children across a crowded street and disappeared into a path between two buildings. The two men who’d ridden up top disappeared into the inn. But the English gentleman lingered.

Of course he did.

“I shall inquire if there is transport to the hall, shall I?” Prudence asked, shaking out her skirts as she spoke.

“To the hall?” the gentleman asked, overhearing her. “I beg your pardon, I thought you were hastening to your poor father’s side.”

Prudence blinked. “We are. We will. But we should pay our respects to his lordship while we are so near.”

“Well, then! If you’re among his lordship’s guests for the weekend, there is no need for transport—I’ve already arranged a carriage.” He smiled at Roan. “You and your cousin are welcome to join me.”

“Oh no, we wouldn’t think of imposing,” Prudence said, and glanced at Roan from the corner of her eye. “We’ll manage well enough.”

“Impose! It’s a carriage, Miss...?”

“Thank you, but we might linger in the village. It’s lovely.” She clasped her hands and turned partially away from the gentleman, pretending to admire the village.

But the gentleman was not going to be swayed. “This is not Mayfair,” he said jovially. “There are not hacks on every street corner. You best seize your opportunity, and I am happy to be of service. That is...if you are certain you are not needed by your ailing father?” He smiled.

Roan didn’t know about Mayfair, but he could see the flush in Prudence’s neck and knew she did not want to get in a carriage with this man. He was also aware that the gentleman was probably correct—there were not many alternatives other than their feet. He stepped forward. “Her father is in good hands. We should like to pay a visit to his benefactor.”

“Oh, his benefactor,” the gentleman said, looking very amused now.

Roan wanted to plant his fist in the gentleman’s face. “Is there something you’d like to say, sir?”

“Only that I would be happy to take you up to the hall.”

Roan was uneasy with this turn of events. But he was also acutely aware that Aurora may be up on that hill now, preparing for supper. He swallowed his pride and misgivings—if Aurora was there, he had to reach her. “Who might we have the pleasure of thanking for this offer?”

“Lord Stanhope,” the gentleman said cheerfully, and Roan was certain he heard a tiny mewl of despair from Prudence. “And you are...?”

“Matheson,” Roan said.

Stanhope’s gaze slid to Prudence.

“We’ll just get our trunks,” Roan said.

“I’ll have the boy do it. If you’ll just tell me the names on your trunks?”

“They’re heavy,” Roan parried. “Cousin, will you come? You can carry the valise.” He put his hand on Prudence’s elbow and quickly moved her away from Stanhope.

“Roan,” she whispered frantically. “This is a disaster.” She stole a glimpse of Stanhope over her shoulder. “I should never have come! I should have stayed on the wagon, I should have gone to Cassandra!”

“No, you shouldn’t have, you should have done precisely what you did and come with me. I have never been so happy to see anyone as I was to see you. I don’t know who he is, but, Pru, don’t fret,” he said as he examined the luggage on the sidewalk. “He’s curious.”

“He’s Lord Stanhope!” Prudence frantically interrupted. “He’s an earl, Roan.”

“Royal?”

“What—no!” She grabbed Roan’s arm. “I know him,” she whispered hotly.

“Calm yourself, Pru. He’ll see your distress and suspect any number of things.”

She nodded, agreeing, and took a breath. “I know of him,” she amended, a bit calmer. “I have never been formally introduced, but Honor has, and he is familiar with my family and belongs to the same club as Augustine. He will know my name, he will know what I’ve done and he will tell all of London!”

Roan looked to where Stanhope was chatting with a porter and gesturing in their direction. “You have nothing to worry about,” Roan said. “You’re my cousin, remember? Miss Cabot has—”

Prudence gasped and punched him on the arm.

“Ow,” he said, surprised by the strength of her swing.

“Don’t utter that name!”

“I only meant to remark that...she has stayed behind at Blackwood Hall—”

Prudence gasped and punched him again.

“I didn’t say it!” Roan protested.