Page 20 of The Scoundrel and the Debutante
She’d come to New York just before Roan’s aunt and uncle had returned from England. She was nothing as Mr. Pratt had described, and worse, Roan could not find anything the least bit attractive about her. It was impossible for him to accept thatshewas the one he was to acquaint himself with and then propose marriage. Privately, he’d chided himself for that—a woman’s value was not in her face, for God’s sake, it was in her soul. So he’d valiantly tried to see beyond her appearance. Unfortunately, she was not the least bit engaging. He could find no common ground, and even if he had, the woman was painfully shy and afraid to look him in the eye.
Just before his aunt and uncle had come home, he had decided he would speak to Susannah about her true desires. Perhaps she found him as odious as he found her. Perhaps she was desperate for escape from this loose arrangement.
But the news his aunt and uncle had brought home trumped everything else. They were all desperate to find Aurora before she was lost to them, and Roan had put aside his own troubles to chase after her. What could he do?
He could curse Aurora for the weeks it had taken him to cross the Atlantic, that’s what. The longer Susannah Pratt thought he would be her husband, the harder it would be to disengage from her. Roan was even angrier with Aurora for not being in West Lee, or whatever the hamlet he’d been directed to, but in the other West Lee, north. That alone was enough to concern him. Did he really need to fret aboutanotherincorrigible, intractable, disobedient young woman?
No. No, he did not. He didn’t care that Miss Cabot’s eyes were the color of the vines that grew on his family’s house. Or that she had boarded this coach because she’d been attracted to him. Or that he’d teased her and embarrassed her and thereby was probably the cause of her running off.
She wasnothis concern, damn it. And yet, she was.
For the second time that day, Roan swept his hat off his head and threw it down onto the ground in an uncharacteristic fit of frustration. Damn England! Damn women!
He kicked the hat for good measure and watched it scud across the road.
And then, with a sigh of concession, he walked across the road to fetch it. But he discovered he’d kicked his hat into a ditch filled with muddy water. Roan muttered some fiery expletives under his breath. He’d find another hat in the next village. He picked up his bag and hoisted it onto his shoulder and walked on.
Now, to figure out where that foolish little hellion had gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
PRUDENCEHADN’TACTUALLYintended to flee. She’d been as anxious as anyone to board the coach and be on her way. But as the repair work had dragged on, she began to imagine any number of scenarios awaiting her at the next village. Dr. Linford and his wife, first and foremost, their displeasure and disgust evident. Worse, Dr. Linford and his wife in the company of someone in a position of authority, who would escort Prudence back to Blackwood Hall in shame. She could just see it—made to ride on the back of a wagon like a convicted criminal. As they moved slowly through villages, children and old women would come out to taunt her and hurl rotten vegetables at her.Shameless woman!
That public humiliation would be followed by Lord Merryton’s look of abject disappointment. Merryton was a strange man. He was intensely private, which Grace insisted was merely his nature but, nevertheless, everyone in London thought him aloof and unfeeling. Now that Prudence had lived at his house and dined at his table these past two years, she knew him to be extraordinarily kind and even quite fond of her. But he did seem almost unnaturally concerned with propriety and if there was one thing he could not abide, would not tolerate, it was scandal and talk of his family.
As he had been her unwavering benefactor and her friend, Prudence could not bear to disappoint him so. She held him in very high regard and, shamefully, she’d not thought of him in those few moments in Ashton Down when she’d impetuously decided to seek her adventure.
She’d begun to wonder, as she sat on the rock, watching the men repair the wheel, if she ought not to find her own way back to Blackwood Hall and throw herself on Merryton’s mercy. To be ferried back to him by Dr. Linford, who would be made to alter his plans to accommodate her foolishness, would only make Merryton that much more cross. She decided it was far better if she arrived on her own, admitted her mistake and begged his forgiveness.
That’s why, with one last look and longing sigh at Mr. Matheson’s strong back and hips, Prudence had picked up her valise and had begun to walk. She wanted to thank Mr. Matheson for his help, but thought it was probably not a very good idea to draw attention to the fact she was leaving.
She had in mind to find a cottage. She would offer to pay someone to take her back to Ashton Down. And, if she reached the next village before finding a cottage, she could keep herself out of sight until Dr. Linford had gone on. He’d be looking for her coach.
She walked along smartly, trying to be confident in her new plan. All wasnotlost, she told herself. She was at least as clever as Honor and Grace. Shewouldsee her way out of this debacle.
She hadn’t walked very far when she heard the approaching coach, and her confidence swiftly flagged. It was surely the stagecoach, and the driver would stop, insist she board the coach. She hadn’t thought of that wrinkle. But Prudence was determined not to be delivered into the hands of Linford. “You willnotfalter,” she murmured under her breath. “You have as much right to walk along this road as anyone.”
Prudence lifted her chin as the coach rapidly approached. It wasn’t until the last possible moment that she understood the coach did not intend to stop and inquire about her at all, and with a cry of alarm, Prudence leaped off the road just as the team thundered by, cloaking her in a cloud of dust.
When the coach had passed, Prudence coughed and picked herself up with a pounding heart, dusting off her day gown as best she could. “He might at least have slowed to see if I’d been harmed,” she muttered, and climbed back on the road, squared her shoulders, and began to walk again.
She had no sooner taken a few steps than she heard the sound of the second coach. Now an old hand at navigating passing coaches, Prudence hopped off the road and stood a few feet back.
Butthiscoach slowed. The team was reined down to a walk, then rolled to a stop alongside where she stood.
The driver,herdriver, peered down at her a moment, then turned his head and spit into the dirt. “Aye, miss, wheel’s fixed. Climb aboard.”
“Thank you, but I prefer to walk,” she said lightly.
“Walk! To where? There’s naught a village or a person for miles.”
“Miles?” she repeated, trying to sound unimpressed. “How many miles would you say?”
“Five.”
“Well! Then it’s a good thing that I wore my sturdy shoes,” she lied. “A fine day for walking, too. Thank you, but I shall walk, sir.” She wondered if Matheson was sitting in the interior of the coach overhearing her, laughing at her foolishness. Was that why he hadn’t shown himself? Perhaps he didn’t want anyone to think he was in any way familiar with a featherheaded debutante who was walking down the road in slippers more fitting for a dance?
“Suit yourself,” the driver said, and lifted the reins, prepared to send the team on.
