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

“Pru! You have us on tenterhooks! What will you tell us?” Mercy demanded.

“I’ve had an offer,” Prudence said. Her voice sounded distant to her, as if it were coming from someone else.

Grace gasped. Mercy stared at her. “From who?” Grace exclaimed. “Not this...this man you’ve been cavorting with?”

“Yes,” Prudence said. “From him. But I’ve had another.”

“What?” Honor all but shouted. “What are you talking about? I left not three hours ago, and you’ve miraculously gained another offer in that time?”

Prudence nodded. “From Lord Stanhope.”

A moment of stunned silence was followed by sheer pandemonium. Prudence’s sisters were talking at once, questioning her, claiming disbelief and pressing her for details.

Prudence told them everything...everything except that he’d threatened to take Mercy’s position at Lisson Grove. She knew what Mercy would do if she heard what Stanhope had threatened, because it was the same thing Prudence would do. Mercy would remove herself from the school and therefore remove the power of Stanhope’s threat to force Prudence to his will. Either way, the girl standing before her, clutching her box of paintbrushes, would lose.

Mercy would not lose. These were Prudence’s consequences to bear. If she’d never stepped foot on that stagecoach, Mercy would never have been threatened.

“I don’t believe it!” Honor’s voice was full of wonder. “What did you say?” she asked Prudence.

Prudence did not answer—they heard a commotion downstairs at the door at that moment, and Honor whirled about. “It’s George!”

All four of them rushed from the room, flying down the stairs to the foyer.

George was there, all right, the ends of his dark hair dripping with rain. He handed a wet coat and hat to a footman and removed his dress coat. “It’s a bloody deluge,” he said apologetically.

Prudence ran past him, to the open door, peering out. Where was Roan? There was no one else outside, save the boy who was taking George’s horse around to the mews. Her breath caught in her throat; she whirled around to George.

“We’ve been beside ourselves with worry, darling. Where have you been?” Honor asked, throwing her arms around her husband’s neck as he tried to untie his neckcloth.

“I’m sorry to have worried you,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Where is Matheson?” Prudence asked.

“He’ll be along within an hour or two, I expect.” George succeeded in untying his neckcloth and the ends dangled down his waistcoat. “I see the virtues have gathered,” he said, and kissed Grace and Mercy hello. “Where’s Merryton?”

“He’ll be along later,” Grace said. “What happened?”

“Give me a warm whiskey and a fire and I’ll tell you everything,” he said. He seemed exhilarated as he slipped his arm around Honor’s waist and winked at Prudence. “Shall we go up?”

“You can’t keep us in suspense!” Mercy cried as Honor and George began to move up the stairs, Prudence quickly on their heels.

“Mercy, you won’t believe the day we’ve had. What madness,” George said cheerfully, and glanced over his shoulder to Prudence. “I can’t believe I have cause to even utter these words, but, Pru, you are not the most willful young woman I’ve encountered this week.”

“George Easton,” Honor said as they entered the main salon. “Will you please tell us what has happened?” She went directly to the sideboard to pour him a whiskey.

“All right, all right,” he said with a grin. “I’ll tell you everything. Matheson and I went this morning to the Villeroys’, as you know, and he wasted no time inquiring after his sister. Villeroy confirmed that indeed, Miss Aurora Matheson had been a guest in their house for several weeks, and that the entire family had only recently returned from a country house visit to Howston Hall.”

“What were they doing at Howston Hall?” Honor asked curiously.

“Never mind that,” Prudence said. “Thank God, you found her.”

“Oh, we found her, all right,” George said jovially. “Thank you, my love,” he said to Honor as he accepted a whiskey from her. He took a good long sip before continuing.

“Naturally, Matheson assumed he’d found her,” he continued. “He asked that she be made aware of his presence and called down to the salon at once. But the Villeroys gave each other a very curious look and neither of them responded straightaway.”

“No?” Mercy asked as she sank down onto the settee.

“No,” George said, and sipped from the glass. “In fact, it was very apparent to me that the Villeroys were intentionally talking circles around the central question of where, precisely, was Miss Matheson. Mrs. Villeroy said it was early yet, and her husband asked if the breakfast had been put away, perhaps they shouldn’t have been so hasty, and they engaged in a bit of a quarrel over breakfast.”