Folly's Reward (19 page)

“And will stay there, because I have fallen in love with Miss Drake. What I feel for her is quite different from anything I ever felt for a woman before, including Helena, paragon though she is. I love Prudence enough to die for her, Richard. I have already asked her to marry me.”

“Oh, dear God!” Richard groaned, but his voice was full of genuine sympathy. Then he laughed. “You might have been better to nurse an undying passion for my wife for the rest of your life, my dear boy. Father thought Helena an unsuitable enough addition to the family, and you are the apple of his jaundiced eye. He wants to see you wed to one of the Salisbury girls. What the hell is the Earl of Acton going to make of the marriage of the Honorable Henry Acton to a Scottish governess?”

“Don’t worry!” Harry kept his tone remote and carefully casual. “The issue isn’t going to arise. Prudence refused me. In the meantime, none of this is going anywhere toward solving the present crisis. What the hell are we going to do about little Lord Dunraven and his wicked guardian?”

Richard sat back. “What, other than the fears of Miss Drake, leads you to believe that Belham is a villain, Harry?”

“Simple. He denied any knowledge of the man with the eye-patch. I didn’t make that up. The man was asking after Prudence and Bobby in Argyle. That’s why she fled. Then he was on our heels all the way down through England. I saw him myself in Carlisle. If you need any more proof, he tried to snatch Bobby in Oxford. If I hadn’t knocked him out, he would have escaped with the child. I don’t trust the marquess, Richard, and the risks are too great. Think how you would feel, if any harm befell that child under this roof!”

Richard stared thoughtfully at the fire. “Of course, it can’t be risked. I do see that. But Belham has been my guest for several days. Indeed, I like him. He’s a man of very real intelligence and sensibility. If he’s planning to murder a child, then he’s a damned fine actor. But Belham’s legal control of Lord Dunraven is absolute. What do you intend to do?”

Harry grinned. “I wrote to Mother from Oxford. She’s the only person I know who has the power to stand up to a marquess. My plan was to wait here for her to arrive from London to see if I could persuade her to take Lady Dunraven’s side. Surely grounds could be found to have the guardianship changed?”

“So our lovely mother is about to arrive at Acton Mead? For God’s sake, Harry! We’ll have hysterics among the staff at the presence of so many of the
beau monde
at once. Of course, Mother will be delighted to see you. She might even lend her weight to your cause with Miss Drake. You know, beneath all that sophistication and elegance I have begun to believe that the exquisite Lady Acton is a romantic at heart.”

Harry swung from the bed and strode across to the fireplace. He attacked the fire with the poker, his swordsman’s grip and deadly thrust entirely wasted on the innocent coals.

“For God’s sake! The last thing I want is to enlist Mother to help me marry Prudence.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I thought you were in love with her.”

“I am. There will never be anyone else as long as I live. But when I proposed to her, I did not know what I know now.”

Harry tossed down the poker and it crashed into the fire irons, sending metal tongs and shovels to the floor in a cacophony of noise. He strode away across the room and turned wildly to face his brother.

“Do you think—after what I told you about Madame Relet—that someone like me should marry someone like Prudence? It’s grotesque. It would be as if the gargoyle off the church roof were to come down and proposition the Madonna.”

Richard looked up, his black eyes like pools.

“Harry, my dear boy!” He dropped his golden head into his hands. His voice when he spoke again seemed filled with despair. “Will you at least stay here until Mother arrives?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “That’s rather up to Prudence.”

* * *

Prudence lay in the shadowed bedroom and listened to Bobby’s even breathing as she stared at the ceiling. A maidservant snored softy in a chair next to the child’s bed.

Harry had led her straight into disaster. They were all trapped at Acton Mead.

In spite of all the good intentions of Helena and Richard and their household, Lord Belham would need only a few minutes alone with Bobby for an accident to happen. A curious child climbing into the stall of a nervous horse, or tumbling into a ditch or pond, and Dunraven would be part of the Belham estates.

But how were they to escape, and where were they to go? Acton Mead lay in extensive grounds in a fold of small hills. To get to the nearest village would be a considerable walk—and to the nearest town with a stagecoach? It was unthinkable when the journey had to be made with a small child, and the weather had turned so treacherously cold and wet.

Furthermore, Prudence had no money.

Yet she knew that she could not stay here, waiting and watching until the axe should fall.

She slipped from her bed and crossed the room to gaze down at Bobby. He slept with one hand curled against his chubby cheek. The fine hair shone like silver on the pillow. There was no way to save him, was there, except to beg Harry’s help once again?

Prudence closed her eyes for a moment. Her Prince Hal had asked her to marry him. Whatever had made him do it, when it was beautiful Helena who appeared in his dreams?

The maid jerked awake and stared up at her. Prudence signaled the girl to silence, then whispered in her ear. The maid nodded and glanced protectively at the sleeping child.

Prudence crept back to the bed to pull on her thick dressing gown. The fire had burned down and the room was cooling.

What an appalling treachery to fall in love with your own brother’s wife! Yet who was she to say that Cupid should choose only appropriate targets? For plain Miss Prudence Drake was in love with the Honorable Henry Acton, and it was the greatest folly of her life.

Yet for Bobby’s sake, she must go to Harry to ask his help. And for Bobby’s sake, she must crush her own feelings as ruthlessly as she was able.

Before she should lose her nerve, Prudence gave the maid a quick smile and walked to the door. She knew Harry’s room, because she had asked Helena about it. Lady Lenwood had not even raised an eyebrow at this improper request.

No doubt Helena thought that Harry and Prudence were already lovers. After all, they had traveled together unchaperoned, and Prudence had stayed with Harry in Lord Jervin’s bachelor apartments in Oxford with no other lady in the house.

In the eyes of the world, she was already a ruined woman.

Prudence hurried down the silent hallway and sent up a small prayer as she knocked softly, turned the knob, and stepped into Harry’s bedroom.

“Is this a visitation from heaven, angel, or am I about to receive an angry denunciation of my folly in bringing you and Bobby to Acton Mead? I admit it was foolhardy, as things turned out. So berate away if you wish.”

Harry lay dressed in his shirtsleeves and pantaloons on the bed, a candle burning on the table beside him. His hands were crossed behind his dark head, and he seemed to be admiring the intricate plasterwork of the ceiling.

Beside the candlestick stood a bottle and a half-filled glass. The brandy glowed softly in the flickering light of the little flame.

Prudence took a deep breath. “I’m not angry. There’s no use at all in regrets.”

He turned and propped his head on one elbow. Something shone in his eyes that Prudence had never seen before—something so wild it almost frightened her. Oh, dear God! Was this the result of seeing Helena again?

“Speak for yourself, angel! Allow me all the damned regrets that I want.”

“Oh, Hal! Please, don’t! Are you foxed?”

Harry rolled back and flung out his arms in a wide gesture, then he closed his eyes and lay in silence for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was gentle.

“A little, maybe. I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter. What can I do for you, Miss Drake?”

“Bobby must get away from here, and I cannot take him without your help.”

“Ah! So you think we should once again take to the road in the dark of night? Shall we tiptoe to the stables and harness Richard’s curricle? The grooms will know we are doing it, but I’ll buy their silence until morning, and Richard has probably already given them a quiet word not to interfere with anything I do. Shall we sneak away from my brother and from Helena, and from the warm welcome of Acton Mead—like villains?”

“We only need hide somewhere safe while I send word to the dowager. Lady Dunraven must have some plan for her grandson.”

“Very well, angel. We’ll go straight to London to meet my mother there.”

Prudence sat down as if her legs were candles wilting in the heat of a fire.

“Your mother?”

Harry sat up. “Lady Acton is a formidable force in society. I have every faith that her influence and connections will be enough to discover a solution to our problem. She’s a duke’s daughter and hasn’t forgotten it. What do you think?”

“Lord Belham will come after us, as soon as he knows we have gone.”

“We’ll have eight hours lead on him. And now that he’s here and thinks we are trapped, he’ll be less on his guard.”

“Thank you,” Prudence said. “I can be packed and have Bobby ready in half an hour. But how shall we get out of the house without being seen? Suppose Lord Belham has bribed one of the footmen?”

“I shall go down the ivy, as Richard and I did as children, and open the back door for you. If anyone sees you, say you are taking Bobby to the kitchen for some milk. Of course, there are two drawbacks to this splendid plan.”

“Which are?”

“Firstly, that I’m going to feel like damned fool if Lord Belham turns out not to be a villain, after all.”

Prudence shrugged, eloquently dismissing this. “And what’s the second problem?”

The candlelight shadowed Harry’s features, exaggerating the beauty of brow, cheekbone, and chin, and the sardonic lift to the corner of his mouth.

“That you are sitting on my bed in your nightgown, a vision of innocence and allure. I’m trying to decide what the devil to do about it.”

Prudence leapt up and pulled her dressing gown about her body with both hands.

“I did not mean any invitation by coming here like this and you know it.”

Harry spun from the bed and caught her by the wrist, then forced her back until she was trapped with her back against one of the posts.

“Did you not, Prudence? But what if I am more than a little foxed? Can you trust me if I am befuddled and sodden? What if I am three sheets to the wind? What if I have remembered what I truly am? And supposing it is not noble or virtuous or gentlemanly? Perhaps I am the kind of rogue to take advantage of a lady, after all?”

She gazed up at him, willing her pulse to slow down. The faint scent of fine brandy brushed over her cheek. His grip burned into her skin.

“What do you mean?”

Harry released her wrist, but only to take her dressing gown in both hands and peel it back from her shoulders, until her arms were pinned to her sides.

“You told me once that if I had murdered someone I would know it in my bones. You said I would feel the enormity of it every day weighing down my soul. Don’t you remember?”

She looked up into his troubled gaze—the deep blue of harebells, or cornflowers, or a Highland sky in the mysterious never-night of midsummer.

“I don’t understand. What have you remembered?”

Harry’s fingers slowly moved up her arms in a luxurious, lazy caress. He began to untie the strings at the neck of her nightgown. She felt his fingertips brush tenderly against the sensitive skin of her throat.

Prudence closed her eyes. His exquisite touch was dissolving all of her defenses. She loved him. Did it matter that he didn’t love her? If it would somehow help him in this unknown anguish to use her, she would let it happen, wouldn’t she?

Harry peeled opened the white muslin to reveal the soft skin of her neck and throat. With both hands he began to push the fabric aside until her shoulders lay naked under his cupped palms, leaving her nightgown bunched over the swell of her breasts.

To her shame Prudence longed for him to touch them. His fingers ran over her bare skin to trace her collarbone and the curve of her neck. With a long, sure stroke he ran his hands up under her hair, over and over again, trailing delicate, exquisite fire from the tips of his fingers into the depths of her soul.

She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to kiss him back—to kiss away all of his strangeness and sorrow, to rediscover the lighthearted Hal of
The White Lady
. But with both hands buried in her hair, Harry dropped his head against her shoulder, so that his hair brushed her chin, and stood there, silent.

Prudence shrugged out of her dressing gown so that she could move her arms. Without hesitation she took his head in both hands and held him against her breast, stroking the dark waves. The pounding of her heart must surely deafen him?

“I have killed a man,” he said. There was undiluted agony in the words.

“Oh, dear heavens! Hal, please!”

She was lost, bereft of all compass and direction, and only knew that she was crying when she felt her own tears scalding the backs of her hands.

Harry lifted his head and looked down at her. His eyes were filled with pain and hunger, but he smiled with some deep and desperate mockery.

“His name was Harry Acton. I have killed my own soul, angel. And who will forgive me the enormity of
that
?”

Prudence said nothing. A torrent of pain had stolen her tongue and left her mute and helpless in his arms. But Harry laughed. He caught the neck of her night rail to bring it together and tie it at the neck. His fingers trembled a little against her throat.

“By God, I think I am devilish drunk, after all! Leave my bedroom, Miss Drake, before it’s too late—and pray forgive this maudlin scene. Do I frighten you?”

Prudence shook her head.

Harry caught her to him for a moment and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

“Brave Miss Drake! Give me half an hour to swill some coffee. By then, I trust, I shall not be too damned foxed to drive. Once I deliver you safely to my mother, I’ll leave this cursed country, so you won’t be subjected to any more of my odd starts. Will that do? Take Bobby out through the kitchen door. I’ll meet you there.”