Page 64 of The Scoundrel and the Debutante
Don’t be alarmed?She was panic-stricken! She felt flush, could feel a bead of perspiration trickle down her neck.Good God, Prudence, don’t faint.What did he want? Money? Would he extort money from her now to keep his silence?
Stanhope clucked his tongue at her. “Judging by the way you are gaping at me, I take it you are surprised I’ve not been fooled by your ruse.”
“You are mistaken—”
“Come now, Miss Cabot. Has no one ever commented on the remarkable resemblance you bear to your sister Grace? I had always heard the younger Cabot sisters were the true beauties, and now I see that is true.”
Prudence swallowed down another swell of nausea. “You are acquainted with Grace?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve also had the great pleasure of making Mrs. Easton’s acquaintance, as well,” he said, referring to Honor.
That was it, then—there was no denying it. Whatever happened now would be nothing compared to the joy she’d known with Roan. She’d been destined to be a spinster anyway, hadn’t she?
Stanhope took her hand, twirled her around and let her go, sending her back to her line. They took another step toward the front of the line.
Prudence pressed a hand against her abdomen to soothe her roiling nerves. Rage was building in her, with Stanhope, with the world.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t faint, darling. That will make it far worse, won’t it? You mustn’t fret. You’ve managed a great deceit and I don’t intend to reveal it.”
Prudence didn’t accept his reassurances. She hadn’t grown up in the upper echelons of London society without learning how treacherous it was. “I don’t intend to faint,my lord,” she said coolly. “What do you want? Money? Because I will tell you now I have none.”
“That accusation pains me,” he said with a wince as they reached the top of the line. He held out his palm to her. She put her hand in his and he swept his arm around her back to lead her down the line. “I want nothing at all, Miss Cabot. I would never take cruel advantage of a woman.”
Prudence didn’t believe him. She knew nothing about him, but she didn’t believe him, not for a moment.
Her heart was pounding, her body perspiring. She danced by rote, the steps as familiar to her as walking. How many times had she and her sisters practiced them? How many dances had she attended? She dipped and leaped and smiled when she should without thought, without anyone seeing the distress that was filling her to almost bursting. Her steps were light and carefree, but when they reached the end of the line, Prudence jerked her hand free of his. “Thank you, but I don’t care to dance any longer.”
He shrugged. “Enjoy your evening,Mrs. Matheson,” he said, and with his hands clasped behind his back, he strolled away as if he was touring a garden and smelling roses.
Prudence looked around her, uncertain where to go, where to hide. Everywhere she turned she saw treacherous, knowing faces. It felt as if all the people gathered in this salon knew what she’d done.
When she felt a hand on her arm she jerked away, certain it was Stanhope again.
“Pru!”
She whirled around; Roan’s expression was one of concern. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?
Calm yourself.Poise. She had to be poised. Unruffled. Serene. “I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “I’m just...I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”
“Penfors won’t—”
“Give them my regrets, will you?” she asked quickly, before Roan could argue against it, and slipped away from him, walking briskly to the door of the salon. She didn’t look back, but kept walking, smiling at the footman who held the door open. But once she stepped in the hall, Prudence ran, down the carpeted hall and up the grand staircase of Howston Hall like a thief. She ran to the suite, shut the door behind her and locked it. No, no, she couldn’t lock it—Roan would come, he would think she’d locked him out. She unlocked it, then backed away from the door, staring at it, her chest rising and falling with anxiety, half expecting Stanhope to burst in.
No one came.
Prudence could see her future spreading before her. She didn’t know where or when it would happen, the day Stanhope revealed her scandal. In a museum? At the opera? Would he do it with a whisper, or would he announce it at a ball? She could see it, could see the whispers begin, his smug smile as he watched heads turn, one by one, each person whispering in another’s ear. She could hear the laughter, could see Merryton’s dismay, Easton’s anger.Have you heard of Prudence Cabot? Yes, the quiet one! As it happens, she is the vilest of them all...
“You brought this on yourself,” she whispered. For so long she had resented Honor and Grace for what they’d done. It was because of them, she’d reasoned, that she had done what she had in Ashton Down only a few days ago, seeking any bit of adventure she could find.
But this had nothing to do with Honor and Grace. This was allherdoing—the deceptions, the choices, her indifference to propriety, the desires that had propelled her. Her sisters hadn’t created a bit of this for her—Prudence had done it all on her own. She knew when she forced the boy to turn the wagon about what it would mean for her. It went beyond the pale to travel with a man when she was not his wife, to dine at a lord’s home pretending to be his wife, to share a room with him.
Prudence had believed herself superior to her sisters, but she was as human as they were, as propelled by desire as they had been.
She dropped to her knees on the carpet, her hands braced against her legs, dragging the air into her lungs that she could not seem to catch. With a moan of anguish, she fell onto her side and stared up at the papier-mâché medallions on the ceiling, the ropes and berries that had been fashioned in the corners. She was theworst.
She stretched her arm along the carpet and closed her eyes, thinking back on her life. She thought of the idyllic childhood at Longmeadow. The years spent in London, four girls, enthralled with society and the soirees and the supper parties. She saw herself at Blackwood Hall, wandering about the corridors for hours, looking for something to occupy her, feeling so empty. That terrible feeling that she was standing still.
The past few days with Roan had been the most exhilarating, the most exciting days of her life. She’d been buoyed by hope and promise. She’d been excited and engaged and she’d laughed and she wasbreathing—
