A Prudent Match (3 page)

“My sister jests,” Ledbetter hastened to interpose. He captured his bride's hand and once again placed it on his arm. With a slight frown he said to Harriet, “You will alarm my bride with such talk, dear. I'm sure I am the most reasonable of creatures, unlikely to do anything so uncivil as to ride roughshod over anyone.”

Harriet's lips twitched but she merely nodded. “As you say, Will.”

And then Ledbetter led Prudence out the front door and down the stairs to the gravel drive where his carriage waited. Her family followed a discreet distance behind them, only calling out their farewells when the newlyweds were seated in the luxuriously appointed interior and the postillions had begun to move forward. Prudence waved out her window until they had passed beyond the courtyard, and then she settled back against the squabs with a sigh.

“You're tired, my dear,” Ledbetter remarked. “Perhaps you could fall asleep for a space if your were to rest your head on my shoulder.”

“I believe I might,” Prudence agreed. “I'm afraid the champagne went to my head, and though my mind has cleared now, I feel excessively tired.”

“Come, then.” He leaned over to remove the delightful confection from her head, setting it carefully on the seat opposite them. Prudence still sat rather stiffly beside him and he smiled his most charming smile. The carriage swayed as they swept from the driveway onto the country road, propelling Prudence toward him. Swiftly he snared her against him with one firm arm. “There. That's just right. Tuck you head just so and you'll be asleep in no time at all.”

There was no reply from his bride, though she did settle comfortably against him. He liked the weight of her on his side, and he kept his arm around her to prevent her being dislodged when the carriage bumped along the ill-paved roads. Ledbetter hadn't experienced the emotion of protectiveness before, and he was rather taken with the notion of having a wife to guard against the ills of climate, transport, and hunger.

Of course, he'd been protector to a number of young women in London. Sequentially, as he had no taste for the kind of bickering he'd seen between two women both in keeping by the same man. A dubious policy in any case, to his mind. Why would a man have need of more than one woman to satisfy his needs? And if a particular woman lost her appeal for you, why would you bother to keep her any longer? Any sensible man would simply offer her a handsome parting gift and move on.

All this, of course, had nothing to do with having a wife. Since Ledbetter had not had one before, he was not precisely sure whether it would be necessary to have a woman in keeping any longer, though he suspected that it would. Most of his acquaintance seemed to do so, at all events. There was a good deal of sotto voce talk of “not wishing to impose on the dear woman,” with regard to a wife. Imposing on a mistress was the whole point, of course. A civilized system, he supposed, but he had a moment's pause in looking down at his sleeping bride.

It did seem a duplication of effort, to say nothing of a great waste of money, to have two women in keeping, especially if one of them was your wife. Ledbetter felt fortunate that he had no other woman in keeping at the moment, as Jenny had found a baker in Spencer Street who wished to make an honest woman of her. Well, more power to her. Ledbetter hoped she would enjoy the life of a shopkeeper as much as she had enjoyed that of a lightskirt. Certainly her husband should appreciate her lusty attitude toward life.

Given the direction of his thoughts, it was not surprising that the baron began to experience a certain physical interest in the woman whose head had gradually drifted down until it rested in his lap. A tendril of her hair curled against her flushed cheek. Her lips in sleep gave an occasional puff of breath, and the curve of her neck seemed exquisitely vulnerable. It was a pleasure to picture her in his bed, so innocent and trusting as she seemed. For though she had been engaged for a lengthy period of time, Ledbetter had it on excellent authority (from her sisters) that Prudence had scarcely become engaged before the young gentleman had journeyed off to India. No time for any real dalliance to happen between them. A few kisses, perhaps, but unlikely anything further. Ledbetter smiled and stroked the firm line of her jaw with his forefinger.

Chapter Three

On the instant his bride was awake. She extracted herself from his lap with alacrity, exclaiming, “Oh, I beg your pardon! I had not intended to sprawl all over you, my lord. Do forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, ma'am,” Ledbetter assured her. “You were resting so peacefully. I had no intention of disturbing you.”

Prudence straightened and looked out the window as she pushed the wayward tendril back behind her ear. “We're almost to the toll road. I must have slept for half an hour.”

The baron nodded. “I trust it has refreshed you.”

“Yes, indeed,” Prudence said brightly. She reached across to where her reticule lay on the opposite seat. “I have brought something to while away the hours, if you should not find it too dull a pastime.”

Ledbetter could, perhaps, have thought of more enjoyable occupations than playing a game of chess with the clever little set his bride had brought with her. And he was not certain that her having brought it was not a bit of an insult to his conversational abilities, but, vaguely to his surprise, he found that she was by no means an unaccomplished player. Thus the afternoon passed in a mentally invigorating manner, despite the fact that he won all but one game. Ledbetter was almost surprised when they drew up at the Crown and Sceptre.

As the carriage slowed, he glanced out into the darkening evening. Already torches were lit on either side of the inn door, and the host was hastening outside to welcome his noble guests. Ledbetter had sent ahead to arrange for a private parlor as well as a suite of rooms above. As soon as the stairs were let down, he climbed from the coach and reached up to hand down his companion.

Prudence was hastily donning the hat he had tossed aside earlier in their journey. She looked a little flustered, as though she had been caught
en deshabille
. Well, his sister would not have stepped out of a carriage without her hat, either, but he had trained Harriet to prepare ahead for these contingencies. He was not a patient man, and he was accustomed to others accommodating him so that he was not forced to cool his heels. But it was his wedding day, and his bride was unaccustomed to his ways, so he stood with his hand outstretched to her for quite a full minute until she was ready to descend.

The landlord, a short, round-faced man, wiped his hands on the clean apron around his middle and begged them to enter his hostelry. “Your horses will be given the greatest care, my lord,” he assured them as he led the way. “I believe the Crown and Sceptre has a well-deserved reputation for our services. This is Mrs. Granger,” he said, introducing an amiable-looking woman of middle age. “She will see to my lady's comfort.”

Mrs. Granger dropped a curtsy to Prudence and said, “You'll be wanting to have a bit of a tidy up before you dine, my lady. Let me show you to your room.”

Prudence smiled gratefully at her. “Yes, that is exactly what I need, Mrs. Granger. Thank you.” She turned to the landlord and said, “Will you see that the small trunk is sent up, sir? That's all I will require.”

And a great deal less than his sister would have, Ledbetter thought ruefully as he watched Prudence gather her skirts and ascend the staircase behind the energetic Mrs. Granger. He noticed, as he had not on previous occasions, that his new wife had a very fine set of ankles.

“Perhaps your lordship would care for a glass of brandy to wash the dust of the road away,” the landlord suggested, indicating the open door to the taproom, from which emerged the sounds of conviviality.

“I believe I would,” he agreed, and made his way through the narrow door into the low-ceilinged room.

A smoking fire had filled the space with a light haze. Ledbetter settled himself at a table near the window and the landlord brought him a glass of brandy. It was a relief to be out of the jolting carriage and seated so solidly on the wooden chair, and Ledbetter relaxed back against the spindle back with a sigh. He lifted the amber liquid and took a healthy sip, allowing the fiery drink to refresh and invigorate him.

At the tables around him were men in groups, mostly drinking ale. Some travelers, some local people, all fortifying themselves against the cool evening. One old fellow was in the midst of a long story to which the others seemed to be paying considerable attention.

Ledbetter sipped at his brandy and soon found himself caught up in the unending tale of a young man who had run away to sea at an early age, only to find himself left behind in Africa after a bout of near-fatal illness. His adventures in making his way home to England had every man in the taproom shaking his head, or laughing, as the tale progressed.

Ledbetter only realized when the landlord came to inform him of her ladyship awaiting him in his private parlor that he had consumed two glasses of brandy, and allowed a significant amount of time to pass. Hell, he hadn't even gone abovestairs to tidy himself! He polished off the last of the brandy in his glass and rose hastily. It wouldn't do to keep Prudence waiting on their wedding day—though he was sorely tempted to hear the outcome of the story.

Across the passage he found his bride seated on a velvet sofa, her hands employed with knitting needles. Knitting needles! Good Lord, what had possessed her to bring knitting on their wedding journey? Ledbetter settled himself beside her on the sofa and said, “I hope I haven't kept you waiting.”

When Prudence met his gaze, he was surprised to see what he took for a flash of impatience in her eyes. But all she replied was “Not at all, my lord. We did not set any time for meeting here. I had merely assumed that I would take longer in my preparations than you would.”

It seemed to him that she was surveying him then, judging that he had not cleaned himself up at all after their journey. But Ledbetter had no inclination to explain himself. Instead he nodded to her knitting and asked, “What is it that you're working on?”

“Oh, just a shawl that I had started for the charity bazaar before we made the decision to marry. I shan't finish it in time to send, of course, but I'm not one for idle hands. I had the work in my trunk, and I asked Mrs. Granger to bring it to me when I found that I would have a little time to work on it.”

Ledbetter considered this a criticism of him for not being in the private parlor when she arrived there. Certainly he had intended to precede her there, and possibly to have already ordered their meal so that they could dine without delay.

But it was early yet, if not by country hours, then by those which governed in London. Granted, they had had nothing to eat since the large wedding breakfast. He supposed his bride was hungry and had come down expecting to be fed. “Shall I order our meal now?” he asked.

“That would be kind of you,” she said, not lifting her gaze from the green wool passing so quickly through her fingers. “I did ask Mrs. Granger if she would bring me a hot cup of tea and a biscuit or two while I waited. I'm afraid we eat rather early at home.”

Which of course he knew perfectly well, having been there for most of the last two weeks. Ledbetter had the distinct impression that they were not starting off on the right foot here. He hated being put at a disadvantage. But he was not accustomed to considering anyone else's welfare and schedule but his own. It would take time for him to adjust to this new start, as even his bride must know. He was considering whether to apologize to her when Mrs. Granger arrived with a tea tray.

Prudence smiled graciously as the landlady arranged the tray on a small table beside the sofa. Mrs. Granger had brought a plate full of dainty cakes for Prudence's enjoyment and Ledbetter thought that if she ate all of them, she would have no appetite at all for her meal. But that was what came of letting the poor woman starve, he supposed.

Mrs. Granger suggested that they might like salmon dressed with cucumbers and a roast fowl, with side dishes of stewed mutton kidneys and rissoles. Ledbetter approved the menu, before remembering to ask his bride if it was agreeable to her.

“Quite agreeable,” she said as she poured herself a cup of tea. “Shall I have Mrs. Granger bring a cup for you, Ledbetter?”

“No, thank you. I'll wait for ale with my meal.”

Mrs. Granger curtsied and hurried off to see to the various dishes, leaving the newlyweds to a heavy silence. Ledbetter eventually asked, “Are the rooms to your liking, Prudence?”

“Perfectly satisfactory. It's a well-run inn, from all I can see. I have not myself traveled much, but I understand that one can often judge the merit of the inn by the quality of the linen. And if that is true, the Crown and Sceptre has much to recommend it, for I believe both the sheets and the towels are practically new. Nothing faded or mended about either of them. And well aired, too, from my cursory inspection.”

Ledbetter hadn't been expecting a detailed report, especially from someone who probably hadn't stayed at an inn above half a dozen times in her life. But he realized that Prudence was making an effort to keep their conversation moving forward, so he said, “Good, good.”

Prudence took a sip of her tea and settled back against the sofa. With a small gesture she indicated the plate of cakes. “Would you like one, Ledbetter? Or would it spoil your appetite for the salmon?”

He had that feeling again that she was mocking him, and yet he could see not so much as a gleam in her eyes. “I think not, thank you. But please, help yourself if you are inclined.”

“Oh, I will,” she agreed, reaching a languid hand toward the plate and hesitating above first one cake and then another. “It is so hard to decide, when they all look so tempting. But I think . . . yes, the one with the nonpareils on it. I'm partial to nonpareils; are you?”

Ledbetter hadn't the slightest notion what nonpareils were, but following her hand as it reached for one of the cakes, he concluded that they were bits of colored sugar lavished on the item which she daintily picked up and transported to her waiting lips. She took a delicate bite and returned the rest of the cake to its spot on the plate. Ledbetter watched her chew the morsel with every evidence of enjoyment.