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

But wasn’t there some honor to following his heart, too? To keep his word now...well, the stakes felt too high. He could no more imagine himself with Susannah Pratt by his side for the rest of his life than he could imagine himself singing and dancing on a stage. It was impossible. Especially now, especially now that he knew what love was.

“Perhaps,” Aurora said. “But at least when you marry Susannah Pratt, you may continue to do as you please. When I marry Sam Gunderson—if I marry Sam, I’ll have to do as he wants.”

Roan didn’t say anything to that.

“Where are we going?” Aurora asked. “Do we sail tonight? I should like the chance to say goodbye to my friends.”

“I am hardly inclined to allow a social swath through London after what you’ve done,” he said gruffly. “Tonight, we will be the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Easton. We’ll see about your farewells tomorrow.”

“Easton,” she repeated. “Who are they, friends of Auntie Mary?”

“Of mine,” Roan said. He didn’t say more than that, not trusting himself to speak about Prudence without a torrent of emotion spilling out. He wasn’t ready to tell Aurora what had happened to him here. He needed to think how to broach it. Everything had happened so fast that he hadn’t yet considered how, exactly, he would break the news to his family.

“Of yours?” She looked at him curiously. “How do you know anyone in London? Have you been here long?”

“A few days,” he said.

Aurora cocked her head. “There is something you’re not telling me, Roan.”

He couldn’t very well hide it, so Roan told Aurora about Prudence. About the coach, the trip across the English countryside. About falling in love.

Aurora took it all in without a word, listening intently. When he’d finished, she considered all he’d said for a very long while. “What of Miss Pratt?” she asked.

“I never proposed to her.”

“But everyone expects—”

“I will tell her as soon as we arrive in New York.”

Aurora pressed her lips together and nodded. “What will Father say?”

Roan gave her a squeeze of her shoulders. “I suspect he will be gravely unhappy with us both.”

Aurora turned her head and looked out the window. She said nothing more about it.

*

MERRYTON AND HIS children joined the sisters before supper. Grace had obviously told her husband some of what had happened, because it seemed to Prudence that he could scarcely look at her.

“My lord?” she said.

He glanced at her briefly and said, “I am relieved you are safe, Pru. But I think it best if we speak of...this,” he said, as if he couldn’t think of a word to describe what she’d done, “at a more opportune time.” He turned away from her and went to the sideboard.

Merryton had always been a man of few words, but Prudence could feel his displeasure radiating from him.

“He’s here!” Mercy cried, bursting into the green salon.

“Mercy, you gave me a fright,” Honor said. “Who is here?”

“The American,” Mercy said, and hurried ahead of Prudence and Honor to have a look at the man who had prompted Prudence to take that fateful ride on the stagecoach.

Roan had removed his coat and hat by the time Prudence reached the top of the stairs. He looked up and smiled at her, his gaze warm. She could see the fatigue and relief in his face, and she smiled, too. But her heart was breaking.

It took Prudence a moment to notice his sister. She was handing her cloak to a footman. “Thank you,” she said, her voice sweet, her accent flat like Roan’s. She turned and looked up to where Honor, Mercy and Prudence, and now Grace, having decided against waiting patiently to meet them, had gathered at the top of the stairs.

Miss Aurora Matheson was quite pretty, with auburn hair and vivid brown eyes. She resembled Roan—they had the same nose, the same cheekbones. She looked both surprised and delighted as the four sisters made their way down the stairs, Prudence in front. When they reached the bottom of the stairs she sank into a curtsy. “Mrs. Easton, how do you do,” she said to Prudence. “I beg your pardon for the terribly late intrusion.”

“I beg your pardon, I’m not Mrs. Easton,” Prudence said, and held out her hand to Aurora. “I am Miss Prudence Cabot.”

“May I present my sister, Miss Aurora Matheson,” Roan said, his gaze on Prudence as he made the introductions.

When he was done, Honor poked Prudence in the back, prompting her to speak. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Matheson,” Prudence said. “I’ve...I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

Aurora smiled. “I hope it hasn’t all been wretched! I beg you forgive us arriving so late and disheveled. I told my brother there is a lovely hotel right around the corner, but he insisted on coming here.”

“He was right to insist,” Honor said graciously.

“I would never dream of imposing,” Aurora continued. “I hope you haven’t heard that about me.” She smiled, seemingly not the least intimidated by the unusual situation that had brought her here.

Honor exchanged a look with Prudence. “It’s no imposition, Miss Matheson—”