Sally James (8 page)

'He has to pretend he was. I hate him!' was all Prudence, at that moment incapable of reasoning logically, would say.

Lady Frome left her alone, knowing that in this intractable mood, which occasionally attacked her normally sensible and equable niece, explanations must wait until Prudence had recovered her composure.

The next day, pale, heavy-eyed and listless, Prudence came downstairs, although she refused to drive out with her aunt or to discuss Lord Mottesford's offer, saying it was all at an end and she had no wish ever to hear his name or his offer mentioned again.

When Charlotte came to see how she was, however, exclaiming at her wan looks, she did her utmost to hide her lack of spirits from her friend, explaining she had suffered from a cold.

'But you will be well enough to come to our masquerade, won't you? Charlotte asked urgently. 'I wouldn't dare to wear the toga if you were not there, to give me support by wearing your own.'

'Of course I will come,' Prudence said, although with a heavy heart. Lord Mottesford was bound to be there, and she dreaded meeting him again. If he spoke to her she could not snub him as she would like to do, for that would cause comment and odious speculation. But she determined that neither would she dance with him, nor permit him to speak privately with her.

'Not that he is likely to wish to,' she said under her breath.

'I beg your pardon?' Charlotte asked.

'I'm sorry, I was not attending. Your toga, you asked? I have finished mine.'

'Good. So have I. I finished the hem after I smuggled it into my room. Emma is practising all day in her hoops,' she confided with a giggle. 'She prances about in her room in front of a mirror, and rehearses going sideways through the dining room door, because it isn't wide enough for her to pass otherwise.'

'Is your mama going to wear a gown like that?' Prudence asked suddenly, unable to visualise the sight the plump and short Lady Mottesford would present if she donned the wide skirts of her youth.

'No, she has ordered a costume as a shepherdess,' Charlotte revealed. 'It is so short her ankles show! And she intends to carry a crook, but the problem is that the only one she could find is over six feet high, and it is rather difficult to manage, especially going through doorways.'

Confronted with the image of Lady Mottesford practising carrying her crook through doors where Emma was edging through sideways, Prudence suddenly dissolved into helpless giggles. She must attend the masquerade if only to see this. And she had promised Charlotte, so there was no going back.

She would have to meet Lord Mottesford again some day, unless she wished to spend all her life hidden behind doors, she told herself firmly. It was, after all, his fault in the first place they were at odds, so if anyone were to be ashamed of the affair it ought to be he.

When the day of the masquerade arrived, however, not even the spectacle afforded by Lady Mottesford, arrayed in sprigged muslin, and coyly displaying her thickening ankles, while clinging as if for support to her crook, and Emma in full sail across the ballroom in a striped pink and yellow damask gown as wide as it was long, could distract Prudence from her nervous anticipation of how Lord Mottesford would behave.

'I do like your toga,' a rather pale Charlotte said, looking at the straight white garment edged with gold braid which Prudence wore so splendidly. 'Mama was furious when she saw mine,' she confided to Prudence as soon as she could detach her friend from the rest of the Frome party. 'She almost sent me back to my room, forbidding me to attend the masquerade, until it occurred to her it would look decidedly odd if I were not at my own ball.'

'Was she horrid?' Prudence asked sympathetically. 'Did you tell her it was my fault, as I suggested.'

'Of course not. I do not intend to blame you for my actions. I just hate it when she shouts,' Charlotte said with a shudder. 'She used to shout at Papa after they were married. I think it started when Emily – Emma came to live at Trelawn Manor, for I know Papa was angry he had not been told anything about her. But at least I am not wearing that ghastly dress. I don't care what she does to me afterwards!'

'What can she do?' Prudence said bracingly. 'She will no doubt have forgotten all about it by tomorrow.'

'She threatened to send me away to stay with her brother-in-law, Mr Clutterbuck, so that I would miss the rest of the Season,' Charlotte said, swallowing a sob. 'He is a tailor and has a business in Harrow.'

'She cannot do that."

'She would if she were in a pelter. She doesn't need me so much now she knows more of the
ton
. It was only because of my father and his old friends that people were kind to me, and so also had to be friendly to her and Emma, you see,' Charlotte explained simply.

'I don't suppose she will send you away, it would look so foolish if the real reason were to become known, and you can be sure I would make certain it was,' Prudence declared, a martial light in her eye.

Charlotte sighed. 'I do wish I were as brave as you are,' she said wistfully.

Prudence felt anything but valorous at that precise moment, for she had just seen Lord Mottesford enter the room. Despite his domino and mask, his only concession to costume, he was unmistakable, tall, slim, and with an arrogant air of breeding and command which no disguise could hide.

Swiftly she turned her back, hoping to avoid him for yet a while until she had composed her nerves. It was utterly ridiculous, she chided herself. What, after all, could he do? If he were angry with her he would doubtless not approach her, since there could be little point in quarrelling. Then she could be comfortable.

When the musicians struck up for the first dance she was thankful her partner was eager to talk, so she could abandon her unprofitable thoughts. She smiled and flirted, determined to give Lord Mottesford no inkling of how she felt, and was unreasonably piqued when, instead of laying siege to her, he appeared to be enjoying himself enormously, even when dancing with Emma, made ungainly and more than usually maladroit by her lamentable costume.

She was laughingly refusing to reveal her identity to a rather young gallant when, causing her to jump nervously, Lord Mottesford took her arm in a hard, unyielding hand, and spoke softly to her.

'There you are! My dance, I believe. Pray excuse us,' he added to the young man, who blushed and backed hurriedly away as if caught in some social misdemeanour.

'I am not dancing with you!' Prudence hissed angrily, struggling to drag her arm away from his grasp.

'Good, it suits me very well to sit this dance out. Come,' he said calmly, and before she could protest Prudence found herself whisked across the room and through the doors leading to the conservatory.

This was attached to one side of the ballroom, a long, narrow room dimly-illuminated with a few hanging lamps which were virtually lost amidst the profuse foliage, where Lady Mottesford had caused chairs to be placed suggestively in discreetly secluded pairs.

Lord Mottesford led her inexorably past numerous potted palms to the far corner, where they were totally hidden by a bank of exotic flowers and broad-leaved shrubs.

'Sir! Let me go at once!' Prudence demanded, struggling to shake off his hand, but instead of obeying her, Lord Mottesford seized her other hand and drew her towards him.

'You will listen to me!' he said abruptly. 'When I last saw you I was too astounded by what you said to detain you, and you had vanished before I had recovered my wits. How did you know about that ridiculous wager?'

 'It is ridiculous, is it, my lord? Can you expect anyone to be pleased at being made the object of such? Especially if the desire to win leads you to such lengths. I could scarce believe Netta when she told me, but she's a truthful child, and you have not denied it.'

'Netta? Your young cousin was there that day? I had not realised. So that explains it, she overheard Edward Gregory making the wager with me, and that is your reason for rejecting my offer. Would it interest you to know I called off the wager within a week? Soon after I had met you, in fact? When I realised that instead of my first intention of a brief flirtation I knew that you had captivated me, and I wanted you above all else?'

'I don't believe you!' Prudence retorted angrily, unwilling to admit the hope that he loved her, despite his words. 'Gentlemen do not call off wagers, however stupid and humiliating they are!'

'You really think I would offer marriage in order to win it?' he asked incredulously. 'Or did you imagine I would collect my winnings and then find some way of escaping from our engagement? Do you think so badly of me?'

'You need say no more,' Prudence replied, still unwilling to be convinced. 'I neither know nor care what you intended, and there is no need to discuss it any further. Now pray release me and permit me to return to the ballroom.'

'Don't be such a little idiot!' he retorted, exasperated. 'I thought no more about the wretched wager and my offer, instead of being a desperate bid to win a paltry hundred pounds, was genuine!'

'Your protestations will do nothing to convince me, my lord!' Prudence said angrily, struggling to free her hands from the firm clasp he had on them.

'Then perhaps this might!' he snapped, and before she could evade him, she found his arms clasped tightly about her, and his lips clamped hard to hers.

Unable to breathe, Prudence felt she was about to swoon, for she lost all sense of balance and did not know whether she was standing on firm ground or floating in a misty void. His lips were warm, masterful and searching, enticing her own into weak submission, and then the beginnings of a trembling response. Her limbs, after the first outraged stiffening, lost all power of movement as she was moulded to his muscular frame.

He heard the approaching footsteps first and Prudence, shattered by her unexpected reaction to his embrace, found herself suddenly released and thrust into a chair partly concealed by the flourishing greenery. Before she could recover her breath sufficiently to tell him just what she thought of his outrageous behaviour Lady Mottesford's voice penetrated her awareness.

'Dicky? Are you there? Oh, there you are, my dear boy. I thought I saw you coming this way. You have promised the next dance to dear Emma here, have you not?'

'My dear Aunt,' he said suavely, stepping forward so that they did not come far enough to see Prudence. 'I was admiring the plants. Are they the work of the Frintons, or did you bring them in for the evening?'

'A jungle, is it not?' Lady Mottesford trilled. 'Well, dear boy, it is far more enjoyable to admire the plants in company, so I will leave you with Emma.'

'Let us sit this dance out, Dicky, my dress is so heavy?' Prudence heard Emma say, and before Lord Mottesford could answer she subsided in a frantic rustling of heavy damask draperies on to a seat just behind the plants hiding Prudence. 'Are you enjoying the party?'

'It is unusual,' he replied drily. 'But, Cousin Emma, you look hot. I think we would be sensible to go in search of lemonade.'

Emma giggled. 'Oh Dicky, you are a naughty man. Are you afraid of what people might say if they found us together here? Do you like my costume?'

'It is original,' he replied smoothly, and despite her anger Prudence was almost betrayed into a giggle at the tone of his voice.

'Yes, isn't it?' Emma said complacently, oblivious of his irony. 'There are no more like it. Charlotte was going to wear one just the same, but she would not. The sly little thing made herself a silly Roman toga. Mama was very angry with her, and almost forbade her to attend the masquerade. I think after all I'm glad she refused to wear it, for it makes me more unusual, doesn't it?'

'Very. But I really do think we need that lemonade. Or would you prefer champagne?'

'Oh, very well, if you insist,' Emma agreed rather petulantly, 'although it will have to be lemonade, for Mama said the waiters were not to open all the champagne bottles if they could persuade people to drink the fruit cup.'

'Let us go and see what there is,' Lord Mottesford replied, and Prudence heard Emma, her draperies rustling, struggle out of her chair.

'Oh, confound these hoops, they do so get in the way!' Emma exclaimed in annoyance, and Prudence, having by now recovered some equanimity after that shattering embrace, had to stifle a rather hysterical giggle as she cautiously parted the leaves of her screen and peeped through to see Emma bent almost double, her skirts dipping at the front and waving rather frantically at the back, a foot or so off the ground, as she tried to release the hoops which had caught under the arm of another chair.

With Lord Mottesford's bored assistance she freed the gown, but as she straightened, looking up at him and laughing in what, Prudence thought sourly, she no doubt considered a roguish fashion, the heavy skirts of her gown caught the leaves of a plant which was perched on a ledge behind her. Lord Mottesford stretched out an arm to save it, but hampered by Emma's bulky form from reaching it in time, the pot crashed to the floor just as Emma gave a loud moan, put her hand to her head, and swayed sideways.

Lord Mottesford found himself clasping Emma, who had fallen against him and draped her arms about his neck. As he was attempting to disengage himself and lower her to a chair, Prudence heard voices approaching, and looked past them to see Lady Mottesford, accompanied by Sir Tarquin Maltravers, the busiest gossip in London, standing a few feet away.

'Emma? Oh, my dear child!' Lady Mottesford gushed. 'Dicky, how delighted I am! It has been the dearest wish of my heart you and Emma should fall in love. Come and kiss Mama, child. You too, Dicky! Oh, this is the happiest day of my life! Come, let us announce it at once. Sir Tarquin, go at once and call for silence. My children, come!'

Chapter 8

Prudence slipped warily out of the conservatory in the wake of the others. Sir Tarquin had hurried out, gleeful at the thought of being able to announce such astonishing news, and Lady Mottesford, perhaps anxious his lordship should not have time to reflect, seized one of his arms while Emma hung possessively on to the other. Together they guided him into the ballroom and Prudence, peering, bemused, after them, saw that they were approaching the dais at one end on which the musicians sat.