Page 83 of The Scoundrel and the Debutante
Prudence looked at Roan. He touched her hand, his fingers twining in hers for a moment before he lifted her hand to his arm to escort her up.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly.
“I’m fine. It’s been a taxing day. You?”
“It’s been a taxing day,” she agreed.
“I want to talk to you,” he said. “But I dare not leave Aurora alone with your family for as much as a minute.” He smiled wearily and led her up.
He was right to be cautious. In the first quarter hour after their arrival, after the Mathesons were introduced to Easton and Merryton, Prudence scarcely said a word. Aurora was bent on apologizing for her appearance at their home without proper invitation, but seemed blithely unaware or uncaring of the trouble, of the situation she and her brother had caused in this foreign land. She somehow seamlessly turned the conversation around to acquaintances that she and Honor might have in common. It was remarkable, really, how easily this girl entered their home and was welcomed. She was strangely forthright, but bubbly, and quite easy to like. She had a zest about her that made one forget she had almost eloped with a Frenchman this morning.
Prudence wished she had a bit of that zest. “The roads were bad, were they?” she asked Roan quietly as Aurora continued to speak with great enthusiasm about a ball she had attended in the spring.
“They seemed much worse to me without my companion to natter on about them,” he said, and smiled at her fondly.
Prudence blushed a little. “I would have liked to have gone, if only to see your face when you found her.”
“Red with fury, I’m sure,” he said. “It was all I could do not to throttle her then and there.” He glanced across the room to his sister. Prudence could see the affection for her in his expression. “I pity the poor man who marries that girl.”
When supper was served, Prudence marveled that Aurora could be so gay and relaxed. It was as if the Eastons had invited them for supper. It was as if they’d all long been friends, instead of the troubled truth between them all. Aurora even laughed when George made a remark about their chase to Oxford.
“It was more of a crawl, wasn’t it? Quite tedious! I apologize for any inconvenience, Mr. Easton. I didn’t mean to cause such a stir.”
“You didn’t mean...” Roan started, and sighed heavenward. “Astiris the least you have caused.”
“Oh all right,” Aurora said cheerfully. “I can see that you haven’t forgiven me yet.” She fixed her sparkling gaze on Prudence. “Miss Cabot, I understand you have seen the Howston Hall! Isn’t it magnificent?”
“Yes,” Prudence said uncertainly.
“I was quite enchanted by the swans and peacocks. What do you think, Roan, shouldn’t we have swans and peacocks at home?”
Aurora continued on in that vein. She was excited and chatty and didn’t seem the least bit upset that her elopement had been foiled. Prudence was devastated by what had happened to her. She was worried about who she’d hurt and inconvenienced by it. How could Aurora be so indifferent? She looked at her family, all of them staring at Aurora as if they were watching a rare creature. Merryton kept his hand in a fist, lightly tapping it against the table. George leaned back, in his chair, transfixed. And Mercy kept giggling as if she found Aurora quite entertaining.
Prudence kept stealing looks at Roan, and every time she turned her attention to him, she found him looking at her. His gaze was contemplative in a way Prudence had not seen from him before. She wondered if he was feeling the same uneasiness, if he felt the slight shift in the air. She wondered if he would be as easy as his sister when it was over and done. If, in a few days’ time, he too would be laughing about his great adventure in England.
She turned her attention to Mercy, so carefree, so diverted by the unusual American creature, and thought of her box of brushes. It was all too much. Prudence forced herself to eat something so as not to draw attention to her despair, and then struggled to keep it down. She was grateful that Aurora was taking the center of attention, pulling it away from the darkness that was creeping in around her.
After dinner, Roan suggested that he and his sister retire. It was the proper thing to do, given the circumstance, but Aurora looked disappointed.
“Matheson, might I have a word before you retire?” George asked, and to Merryton, “My lord?”
“Certainly,” Roan said, and strode out of the room with them, unafraid.
Prudence felt almost panic-stricken as she watched them go. She wondered what George meant to say. If there was anything to be said to Roan, she wanted to be the one to say it.
Finnegan came in to the dining room and said, “I’ve taken the liberty of putting Miss Matheson’s things in the blue room.”
“I’ll bring her up,” Prudence said.
“Thank you,” Aurora said. She smiled at Prudence, her gaze locking on her. “That would be lovely.”
The bedroom at the end of the hall had china-blue walls and a snowy-white counterpane on the bed. Aurora flounced onto that counterpane and sighed up at the embroidered canopy. “It feels divine.The bed I had at the Villeroys’ was so lumpy!”
Prudence leaned up against the vanity, watching her, wondering what Roan had told her about the two of them. “You must be exhausted.”
“A bit,” Aurora agreed. “I’mdreadingthe drive to Liverpool. The roads are so wretched, and I was bounced about all day today and I ache all over.”
Prudence pretended to straighten things on the vanity and looked at Aurora in the reflection of the mirror. “May I ask...are you sad?”
