Page 40 of Seducing a Stranger
“He likely didn’t want us overheating, Mama,” Felicity defended from where she perched on a delicate couch overlooking the lovely cobbled street. Even in the dim gaslights of the late evening, her coiffure glinted like spun gold.
Mercy, never one to sit still for long, handed her mother a glass. “Drink this sherry, it’ll warm you.”
The Baroness took the drink, her shrewd dark eyes touched everything from the golden sconces to the muted sage and cream furniture of the sparsely decorated parlor. “You’ll have to engage my decorator, of course. You can’t be expected to live in such barren conditions. The house is nearly empty and old enough to be decrepit. I mean, look at the panes in the windows, they’re positively melting. And only three courses for your wedding meal? It’s as if—”
“It’s as if I were released from prison for murder only this morning to be saved by a man who would give me the protection of his position,” Prudence said sharply, her voice elevating in octaves and decibels with each word. “It’s as if he had scant hours to plot the entire affair and endless things to consider, the least of which are the courses of afarcicalcelebration.”
Her mother gave an indignant gasp. “I thought we all agreednotto mention—”
“Oh, don’t let’s antagonize her, Mama.” Mercy moved to Pru’s side at once and sank next to her. She gathered up both her hands and kissed them. “Poor Pru, it’s been an upsetting couple of days.”
Prudence attempted to summon a wan smile for her younger sister and wasn’t up to the task. Her nerves felt like they’d been stretched on the rack and were screaming for release.
Upsetting… the word couldn’t touch a description for the last forty-eight hours.
“I rather like Sir Morley,” Felicity remarked, daring a glass of sherry of her own. “He’s so…well he’s such a…” Her wide eyes narrowed as she searched for the right word, tapping her chin with a burgundy-gloved finger. “Well so many men are either elegant, or handsome, or extremely masculine, but the Chief Inspector somehow manages all three.”
Pru blinked at her sister. Leave it to ever-romantic Felicity to describe her husband perfectly.
It was what had attracted her to him that night. He’d been a savage in a bespoke suit. A beast burdened by sartorial elegance. The dichotomy never ceased to fascinate her.
Mercy patted her hand. “And your new home is lovely, Pru. Everything is so fine and well-preserved.”
“Indeed, our rooms in town look like closets in comparison,” Felicity added encouragingly.
Mercy nodded. “People are paying large sums on the market for these spacious grand old places. I’ll bet that chandelier is imported and at least a hundred years old.”
“How many times do I have to tell younotto discuss money in public, Mercy?” their mother lamented. “And our rooms in town might not be so large, but they’ve a fashionable address.”
“This is Mayfair, Mama, every address is fashionable,” Felicity said with a droll sigh.
The twins shared a wince with Pru, who returned Mercy’s fond squeeze.
She’d always admired young Mercy’s enterprising wit and busy mind. It was as though her trains of thought were numerous and confounding as those running through Trafalgar station, and branched in just as many directions.
Whereas Felicity’s notions were a bit less weighty and more idealistic, their mode of transport a hot-air balloon drifting upon the whims of a strong wind.
Either way, they were each darling girls dressed in gem-bright silks and forever the fair counterparts to Prudence and Honoria’s dark looks and darker deeds.
Before she could reply, footsteps clomped down the hall before the parlor door burst open containing the storm cloud that was her father. The dark blue eyes they’d all inherited from him glinted with displeasure from his mottled features.
“We’re going,” he stated shortly.
They all stood.
“Is everything all right?” her mother queried anxiously.
The Baron pinned Prudence with a scathing look as he announced through his teeth, “Everything is settled.”
Morley stood in the door looking both resolute and enigmatic. He watched the tableau with a vague disinterest. Removed from it all.
Remote.
Would she ever be able to reach him?
Felicity and Mercy embraced, kissed, and congratulated Pru, each wearing identical looks of pity and concern.
“We’ve left a trunk of your things for you from your wedding trousseau,” Felicity said. “Come around for the rest when you can.”
