Page 22 of Her Cursed Duke
“All right,” she murmured, pulling her hand out of his grasp, feeling oddly shy. “We should probably return to our seats.”
Aiden started to nod, and then his face went blank as though he had suddenly recalled a piece of information.
“Wait, about this celebration… Forgive me, my godmother’s excitement seems to be running away with her. She has orchestrated today’s events to serve as tests on whether or not you are worthy of me. And I deeply apologize for that. You do not have to deal with any of it, and I can tell her right away to call it all off.”
“That is not necessary, Your Grace. I do not mind going through these challenges, even if our relationship might be… unorthodox.” She dropped her voice to a whisper at the end. “Your godmother means well. All she wishes is for you to be cared for properly and thoroughly. And I understand and respect her wishes. Do not worry about me, I can handle myself in these sorts of situations.”
Aiden looked reluctant to let her do what she wished. “Are you certain?”
Prudence raised her head and smiled softly. “I am absolutely certain.”
Just as she said that, Agnes came up to them with an apologetic smile of her own, glancing between the Duke and her sister. “They are calling for you both. It is about to begin, whatever this sudden celebration might be.”
She sounded exasperated, and Prudence felt dismayed again that her ruse with Aiden was once more affecting others in ways she had not expected. Still, he needed her, and for better or worse, she was all he had in this game of deceit.
“We are ready,” Prudence said, glancing at Aiden.
He caught her eye and nodded, bowing slightly and holding his arm out in the direction of the settees.“After you.”
As it turned out, Agnes had every reason to be suspicious because, honestly, it seemed as though a strange event had been organized and dubbed as a celebration. When they returned to their seats, Prudence noticed that some servants had brought out and arranged needlework tools on a table before them.
“Do you know what makes for a wonderful, relaxing task? Embroidery. Do you embroider, Prudence?” the Dowager Marchioness questioned sweetly.
Agnes glanced at her grandmother with thinly veiled disbelief, and Prudence cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. “Yes, my lady, I do. And I agree, nothing is quite as soothing asembroidery. My sisters and I used to sit together and embroider for hours—or at least Agnes and I did. Imogen had… difficulty sitting still in one place for too long, so she often abandoned us after the first hour to do something else. But she was actually quite good at it.”
Beatrice beamed and clapped her hands. “Wonderful. Would you mind making something for me? It would be lovely to witness your beautiful hands put together a piece from such a great skill.”
Prudence nodded gracefully and reached for the tools. “I would love to, but it is no fun doing it alone. Would you like to join me, my lady? Perhaps I could learn a thing or two from you.”
Beatrice seemed surprised by her request but indulged her, picking a few tools for herself. Agnes, too, decided to join in, stating that she had not embroidered in a little while and her skills might not be what they used to be.
The Dowager Countess watched them get to work, sighing into her teacup. “These sorts of activities make me feel as though my mind is about to melt and leak through my nose and ears,” she commented with thinly veiled disinterest.
“Come now, Martha,” Beatrice said, slyly watching Prudence as she worked. “It is necessary for every young woman to be skilled at needlework. It teaches them patience, and it is also a wonderful way to pass the time while also beautifying one’s person and home.”
The Dowager Countess snorted as she picked up a muffin. “Those sorts of traditions are quite outdated, Beatrice. In my opinion, marriage is already a lesson in patience. Nothing makes a woman dependent on God for strength like when she is suppressing the urge to strangle her dear husband. What my granddaughter chooses to do with her free time is entirely up to her. Skills and capabilities are not what defines a person.”
“But they are important,” Beatrice insisted.
“If you say so,” Martha returned diplomatically.
Meanwhile, Prudence and her sister had been listening to the women, only dedicating a fraction of their attention to the handkerchiefs they were embroidering. Prudence was not surprised to hear her grandmother’s view on such tasks, as it was common knowledge that she was not one who held Society’s rules in high esteem. The Dowager Countess believed that women were more than just beings born to become wives, and she thought they should be able to choose how to live their lives.
A while ago, long before they received word of Agnes’s wedding, Prudence had sighed in thought and muttered how much she missed her sisters and hoped that Agnes’s husband-to-be would not be a complex man to dwell with.
Her grandmother had scoffed and said, “I am disappointed that there was no other option to aid in your reunion other than your sister’s hand being given to a stranger. But I do hope that you will have options and the grace of choiceif or when your turn comes.”
After that, her words stayed with Prudence for a long time, like a guiding light in a sea of uncertainty. Prudence knew then that she would be looked after no matter what her future held. Even now, Martha was sticking up for her—albeit in her unorthodox way, but the thought was what counted—and Prudence could not be more grateful.
“I am afraid your grandmother has succeeded in distracting me entirely. I fear I might never finish this piece.” The Dowager Marchioness sighed in exhaustion. “Can I see what you have made, ladies?”
Agnes huffed in mild disappointment, turning her frame around to display the white silk fabric and the half-finished patterns.
Prudence could spot familiar clusters of pink and a few streaks of green, enough for her to ask,“Chrysanthemums?”
Agnes nodded with a smile. “I did not get to make a lot of progress because I have not done this in a while, but I wanted to depict a flower that means strength.”
“That is lovely, dear. You did much better than you think, believe me.” Beatrice smiled at her, turning to Prudence with an expectant expression. “And yours, darling?”
