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Authors: T. J. Brown

Summerset Abbey (28 page)

BOOK: Summerset Abbey
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The girls fell silent as they put finishing touches on Prudence’s hair.

“Oh, please don’t let me ruin your fun. Prudence looks positively beautiful.” Elaine, stunning herself in plush pink lace, circled Prudence, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Thank you, miss,” Prudence said rather stiffly.

“I’m serious! You’re almost as pretty as Ro. You know what would be a deevie idea? If we snuck her into our ball with the rest of us, right under Mother’s nose. She’d never be able to tell.” Elaine held up her hand as the protests rained down on her. “Fine, I won’t, but it would be funny, you have to admit. The servants’ balls are usually great fun. They start out formal, with Father dancing with Mrs. Harper, and Mother dancing with Cairns, and then the rest of us join in if we choose to. Most of the houseguests dance once or twice before retiring to the drawing room to wait for our supper. They do this to show how modern they are.” Elaine snorted, then shrugged. “I don’t know what happens after that, because we go to dinner to be served by the town servants and then the servants’ ball ends about the time ours begins.”

Victoria nodded. “I hear the Welbecks’ servants’ ball is so grand they have to hire fifty waiters from London just to fill in.”

Elaine nodded. “That’s why Mother has hers on the same day we have a ball for our guests. The orchestra will play for the servants in the Great Hall and then move to the ballroom for us.” She shook her head, still looking at Prudence. Prudence
was beginning to feel less like a young woman than a goose in a butcher’s window. “I still can’t get over how posh you look. I know I sound the snob, but you look more like Rowena’s sister than Victoria does, really.”

Prudence watched Victoria startle at this and then grow quiet, but Rowena laughed, a sad little laugh that made Prudence hurt. “We’ve heard that more than once. Father said it was because we spent so much time together.”

“Are we ready? Is it time?” Victoria asked suddenly.

Impulsively, Prudence held out her arms to both Rowena and Victoria. She desperately wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. Victoria came to her, her blue eyes shining, but Rowena hesitated and her eyes avoided Prudence’s. It was Elaine, unaware of the undercurrents in the room, who gaily linked arms with Prudence.

Rowena made a motion with her arm to the door and the girls left the room.

They were almost down the staircase when Rowena put her hand to her throat. “My locket. I forgot the locket Father gave me.” She looked behind her at the girls, who still had their arms linked.

Irritated, Prudence pulled her arms from the other girls and took a step back. “You go on down, I’ll just grab it and meet you there.”

“Oh, I can get it,” Rowena protested. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t be silly. I put it away last. I know right where it is.” She hurried back to Rowena’s room, feeling very much the maid, no matter how luxurious her gown.

After snatching up the locket, she headed downstairs, thoughtful.

“I was hoping I’d run into you.”

Prudence startled as Lord Billingsly’s deep voice sounded from behind her. The dark dinner jacket he wore sat in tailored perfection across his shoulders. His hair had been slicked back, but several unruly curls had sprung forward onto his forehead. His dark eyes smiled at her and then widened as they gave a surprised sweeping look over her dress and hair.

She felt her skin heat and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“And why would that be, Lord Billingsly? You wish me to fetch you something, perhaps?” She kept her tone pert, trying not to show how his presence affected her pulse, now skittering in her throat.

His eyes flickered for a surprised moment, before a smile curved his mouth. “No. I have my own valet for that, as you well know. Why are you being difficult? Perhaps I was looking forward to chatting with you.”

“Rule number one,” Prudence answered.

His brows raised. “Pardon?”

“Rule number one is the reason I’m being difficult. Instead of being welcomed as a dear family friend or even as a respected stranger, I was handed a list of rules and shown to my room in the servants’ quarters. Rule number one is never let your voice be heard by the ladies and gentlemen of the house. And rule number two: Answer politely when spoken to.”

The moment the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. He was being light and teasing as the occasion warranted—after all, it was a festive dance during which the classes mingled in an extraordinary way—and instead of taking advantage of it, she was being as prickly as a hedgehog.

For a moment it looked as if he wasn’t going to speak, but then he nodded. “While I’m sorry for your treatment, I must say, I rather like that rule,” he said.

Her head went back in surprise. “Excuse me?”

His lips twitched. “Rule number two, answer politely when spoken to, indicates a polite conversation, which is exactly what I had in mind. Are you looking forward to tonight’s festivities, Miss Tate?”

He was giving her a way out of her surliness, and gratefully, she took it. “Indeed, I am, Lord Billingsly. Even the servants should have a good time now and then.” There, she’d done it again. Her situation and position rankled and there was just no way to get around it.

He held out his arm for her to take. “I can see that polite conversation is going to be difficult this evening. Perhaps we would be better off just dancing.”

Prudence drew in a deep breath and took his arm. “I would like that very much, Lord Billingsly.”

His eyes, dark as coal, twinkled down at her and she tried to match his gaze, if only to show that he hadn’t rattled her at all, even though his presence both thrilled and dismayed her.

His eyes softened. “If we were to speak, instead of just dance, my number one concern is to find out how you’re getting along, really. Are you being mistreated?”

She turned from him and began walking down the stairs, forcing him along with her. “And if I were, Lord Billingsly? Exactly what would you do about it? Call out Lord Summerset? Circumstances and birth have brought me to this situation, and I am dealing with it the best I can. I will stay with Rowena and Victoria until Easter, and then after that . . .” She faltered. Her mind blanked as they reached the last step of the staircase.

“And then after that? What are you going to do after that, Prudence?” His voice was low under the sound of merrymaking and she could hear a note of disquiet.

His use of her first name further confused her. They stared at each other, the moment spinning out between them for an eternity. She resisted the pull she felt toward him. In Sir Philip’s house she might have been deluded into believing that all would be well. She might have teased him in return. She might have told him about the books she was reading, or her journals. She might have done a million things, but she wasn’t in Sir Philip’s house, she was at Summerset and it was a whole different world. An entire class system stood between them.

“Rowena! Don’t let my dear boy make you late for the festivities. Whatever would your dear aunt say?”

Prudence twirled around toward the voice and lost her footing on the stair. Lord Billingsly caught her before she could fall, his arm going around her waist. She felt the heat linger for a moment as she steadied herself.

“Oh. You’re not Rowena.”

A small, older woman stood several steps above her, her hand holding a pair of pince-nez glasses to her face. Her elaborately dressed hair framed a pointed, inquisitive face, but the dark eyes that regarded Prudence were sharp and so much like Lord Billingsly’s that she knew immediately who the woman was. Prudence dropped her eyes and studied the richly detailed carpeting between them. “No, my lady.”

“Then who are you?” The woman’s voice was a bit querulous.

This was a woman who didn’t like to be taken by surprise. “My name is Prudence Tate, my lady.” Prudence sank into a curtsy.

She spotted Victoria on the other side of the hall, waving as the orchestra swept into the first tune. She turned back to Lord
Billingsly and his mother. “If you will excuse me. Victoria and Rowena are waiting.”

She gave another curtsy. She knew she was being rude, but she absolutely didn’t want to engage in small talk with Lady Billingsly, who was almost as frightening as Lady Summerset.

As Prudence made her way through the crowded room, she noticed that she raised a small commotion as she passed. Not among the wellborn, who had no idea who she was, but among the army of servants, most of whom were waiting for the traditional dances between the Lord and Lady and the housekeeper and butler to be finished so they could begin their own fun. They didn’t even bother to whisper as she passed, speaking so that she could hear them: “Look at her putting on airs, acting like she’s one of them.” “Wait till Mrs. Harper sees her. She’ll be out on her cheeky arse, mark my words!”

Mortified, she looked around and found herself surrounded by the people she worked with every day, dressed in their Sunday best outfits, a pretty collar or a new shirt the only indication that this evening was different than their half days off. Their eyes were filled with rancor, envy, and outright malice. Victoria and Rowena had dressed her up to make her happy, and instead she only felt like a traitor, a fool, and, more than ever, an outsider.

She reddened, then tilted her chin upward, refusing to be cowed. They were judging her just as the gentry had, and she was jolly well tired of being judged. She focused instead on Vic and Ro’s welcoming faces across the room. But the gauntlet continued with each step.

“You have to wonder what sort of duties one has to perform to get a dress such as that,” someone said as she passed.

“I’ve heard she thinks she’s so far above the other servants, she won’t even use the servants’ privy,” one bawdy voice sniggered.

Prudence’s fists clenched together and she felt the bite of her fingernails as they cut into her own flesh.

Then Susie, braver than Prudence ever knew she could be, shoved her way through the crowd and gave her a huge hug. “You look so fine! And look at me, thanks to you!”

She twirled, completely ignoring the people surrounding Prudence. As often happens with bullies who are being ignored, the crowd lost its momentum and dissipated. Prudence almost cried with relief.

“Well?” Susie asked, posing. She still wore her ill-fitted dark brown wincey skirt, but the blouse, made of fine linen, was perfectly tailored for her with deep ruffles at the neck and cuffs.

“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do for Christmas, as you’ve been so nice to me.” Prudence hugged the girl in return.

Susie was swept off to dance by a gardener, but before Prudence could reach her destination she was stopped by Andrew, whose grayish green eyes twinkled at her. “I was going to ask you to dance but you look so fine, I’m half afraid you’d break in my arms!”

Prudence pushed the words she’d heard from her mind. “I keep trying to reach Victoria and Rowena, but in this crowd I can’t seem to get to them.” When she looked over to where she’d last seen them, she noticed that Victoria was dancing with Kip, and Rowena was dancing with her cousin, Colin. Prudence threw up her hands in surrender. “I would love to dance with you, Mr. Wilkes, and I promise I won’t break!”

He took her hand and Prudence noticed he was wearing the suit that was too small for him again.

“Rowena!” she called, as Rowena and Colin danced by. Rowena held out her hand and Prudence slipped her the locket.

“What was that?” Andrew asked, but Prudence just shook her head and indicated they should join the dancers. His arms slipped around her waist and she relaxed, feeling safer and more comfortable than she had all evening. She soon noticed how absorbed he seemed to be in counting and she smiled to herself. “It’s more fun when you don’t overthink it.”

He grinned. “But perhaps more dangerous for you?”

“I told you before I wouldn’t break.”

The music stopped. “We were cheated on that dance, would you like to try another?” Andrew smiled and squeezed her hand a bit. “I promise not to break you.”

Before she could open her mouth, someone came skidding to a stop next to them and Lord Billingsly broke in. “I’m afraid Miss Tate promised the second dance of the evening on her dance card to me.” He nodded at Andrew, whose brows drew together in confusion. Taking advantage of his opponent’s slow reaction, Lord Billingsly appropriated Prudence’s hand from Andrew’s and whirled her away.

“I certainly did not promise you the second dance, Lord Billingsly,” she huffed, searching for Andrew over his shoulder. But then his hand cupped her waist, sending a shiver up her spine, and she forgot about Andrew, forgot about everything except trying to breathe.

“I knew if I didn’t do something quickly, he was going to keep you for the rest of the evening and we couldn’t have that. And please, call me Sebastian. I think we’ve known each other long enough that we could consider ourselves friends.”

She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes, which for
once weren’t teasing her. They looked serious, as if they were asking her a question. She wished she could look into his eyes and give him the answer he wanted, but knew it was impossible. They would both be hurt by such a friendship. How could he understand? Until she had come to Summerset, she hadn’t understood either. “I’m not sure what the point of that would be. A friendship between a lord and a lady’s maid is frowned upon, even in these
enlightened
times.”

“The point is that I like you and would like us to be friends. And you know that you aren’t really a lady’s maid, Prudence.”

Prudence’s cheeks flamed. He didn’t know anything about her. Didn’t know, for instance, that she was the illegitimate daughter of a servant girl. Maybe her father had been a groom, or perhaps a hall boy. She couldn’t be sure. What did this young, handsome lord with his perfectly fitting suit and impeccable bloodline want with her? What would he say if he knew the truth?

“No, but I
am
the daughter of a servant.” Prudence stopped dancing, her throat constricting. “A friendship between us would lead to no good at all, Lord Billingsly, and I am not interested in any trouble. If you will excuse me.”

BOOK: Summerset Abbey
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