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

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

PRUDENCE SLIPPED OUT of Roan’s room sometime before dawn and crawled into her bed, emotionally and physically spent. One week ago, she’d yearned for something to fill her days, something that would make her feel the corners of her soul. But tonight, she was feeling things, so many conflicting things that her emotions were a shambles. Every moment she was with Roan was another breath lost to joy, another flutter of her heart. Every moment away from him was a nervous ache. Was this love? Was it love that burned so hot in her chest? Would one journey across an ocean douse the flame, or would it make the flame burn brighter? Those questions tormented her.

Prudence rose later than usual, and when she arrived at breakfast she found Honor and her oldest daughter, Edith, at the table.

Augustine was in the breakfast room, standing at the windows and peering out, his familiar, corpulent shape swaying a little from side to side as if he were humming a tune to himself.

“Good morning,” she said sheepishly.

Augustine whirled around, his eyes wide. “Prudence Martha Cabot!” he said loudly. “I should lock you away in a tower.”

“You can’t lock Auntie Pru away!” little Edith cried as Augustine barreled around the table, knocking into a chair in his haste to reach Prudence. He grabbed her up before she could speak and squeezed her tightly to him.

“Mamma, don’t let him lock Auntie Pru away!” Edith sobbed.

“Uncle Augustine isn’t locking anyone away, darling,” Honor said. “He was teasing Auntie Pru.”

“Well, of course I won’t lock her away,” Augustine said, and let go of Prudence. He turned about to the little girl and said, “But you mustn’t ever run away as Auntie Pru has done. Do you promise me?”

“I promise,” Edith said, and slid out of her seat, running around the table to throw her arms around Prudence’s legs.

Prudence dipped down and swept her niece up in her arms, holding her tight. “I didn’t run away, darling. I went on an adventure!”

“That’s an appalling interpretation,” Honor said, appearing next to Prudence. She ran her hand lovingly over her daughter’s head. “Come along, Miss Edith, your nurse is waiting for you.” Prudence reluctantly let Edith go. She watched as Honor led her from the dining room, wondering how she might never see Edith again. The thought twisted unpleasantly in her chest.

“Prudence, dearest,” Augustine said anxiously when the pair had left the room. “What have you done?” He took Prudence’s hands in his. “How we worried for you! You must have a care for your virtue.”

She wanted to argue that she must care for her virtue, that it was her virtue to do with what she liked, but she said simply, “I’m sorry, Augustine.”

Augustine looked very earnest as he squeezed her hands. “I thought we might put this all to bed before word gets round, but I think it too late! Lord Stanhope caught me at White’s—”

“What?” Prudence gasped. “When? How?”

“When? Last night. He said he’d borrowed a horse from Howston Hall and had accompanied the estate’s agent to London. He said he’d been pleasantly surprised to make your acquaintance there.”

Tendrils of trepidation began to snake in around Prudence’s gut. “What did he say?” she asked weakly. She could imagine it all, the ever-present, knowing smile on Stanhope’s face. I met Mrs. Matheson, my lord. I hadn’t heard your sister had married! Poor Augustine. He was a simple man and liked a simple life. She could imagine his shock, the way he’d bluster and fidget through such an encounter.

“He said he should like to come round this evening and speak to me privately, that’s what,” he said nervously. “And when I mentioned it to Honor, she confided in me that you had been there with a gentleman,” he whispered, as if Prudence had been in the company of Satan himself.

“Oh God,” Prudence moaned.

“Pru, darling, I won’t ask about the gentleman, for I think I can’t bear to hear it,” Augustine said as Honor walked back into the dining room. “But I think it best if you hurry back to Blackwood Hall straightaway. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.”

“And what good will that do?” Prudence asked him, and walked away, to the windows. “It won’t stop anyone from talking. Does it even matter if people talk? Haven’t they said all there is to say about the Cabot sisters?”

“What? Of course it matters!” Augustine said, his voice rising. “Do you mean to dishonor us all?”

“Fine. Send me into hiding like a criminal,” she snapped irritably.