Page 12 of Indecent
“Why not?”
“I never had the time. Or the inclination,” she added hastily.
He wondered about her life before she’d become a companion. Her father had been a teacher.Had been—was he dead? What of her mother? Did she have siblings? He thought about what she’d said,it’s not as if anyone is worrying about me.Did she mean she had no one? The notion made him feel as though someone had carved a large hole in his chest.
“What do you like to do with your free time?” he asked.
“I suppose I read. Usually. I also like to take walks, though that seems unlikely given the rain and sodden nature of the ground.”
He cracked a small smile. “It does indeed. I could read to you. I often read to my great-aunts. They like me to make silly and dramatic voices.”
She stared at him. “I can hardly imagine. They live with you?”
He nodded. “Great-Aunt Flora has always taken her name quite seriously. She likes to press flowers. Indeed, she’s never seen one she hasn’t wanted to pick and press between one of her beloved newspapers. She’s also an avid reader of the news, gossip in particular, I’m afraid. Her sister, Great-Aunt Minerva, is a painter, though she only paints a small number of subjects. She also rescues animals. Or more aptly, they probably rescue her.” He left out the other things—how they might stay up all night with their obsessions and even become frantic over them. Their quirks were different from his father’s and yet similar. They were all birds of a feather. Well, most of them.
“They sound fascinating.”
He chuckled softly. “That is one word to describe them, yes. I’ve other relatives as well, but I shan’t bore you with them. I’ve already blathered enough. Now, as to reading?”
She took a drink of port and lowered her gaze. “That might be amenable. If we’ve time.”
“I daresay we’ll have plenty tomorrow.” He’d seen a flash of curiosity in her eyes before she’d looked away. If she wanted to ask him something, she was preventing herself from doing so. It was likely she didn’t want to form any kind of attachment with him, even if it was only temporary. “I’m not a bad person,” he said quietly. “I’ve treated you badly—not on purpose, but it is still my fault. If there is a way I can make it up to you, I will.”
She studied him a moment, a light crease running just above her brows. “I believe that. Which is why I am torn as to how to characterize my disappearance when I return. If I tell them the truth, you’ll be utterly ruined. I doubt you’d be able to find an heiress at all, even with your title. Or if you do, she may be someone you’ll regret marrying.”
“Because any intelligent young lady would stay completely clear of me,” he said.
Her brows and shoulders briefly darted up in response.
He shook his head. “You mustn’t let any of that determine your actions. You must do as you think necessary.”
“That’s terribly gallant of you, especially considering the utter scandal you stirred.”
“I deserve the consequences of that.” He finished his port once more, gripping the stem perhaps a trifle too tightly.
She emptied her glass as well, setting it on the table before her. “While that is true, I find myself wondering if it’s necessary.”
Every fiber of his being froze for a moment. Had he heard her right? “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m still pondering, and it seems I have an extra day to continue doing so. I’m not sure I can go through with pretending to have eloped with someone, but I won’t rule it out. However, that would require a story as to who he was, how I knew him, and why I kept it from Cassandra. I’m just not sure it will be possible.” She rose, and he did the same. “Do let me know if you think of something else. Good night.”
A quick but beguiling smile passed over her lips, and Bennet found himself staring at her mouth until she turned from him. “Good night,” he said as she started up the stairs.
The companion was proving to be a remarkable woman. He sat back down and poured himself another glass of port. And tried very hard not to think of her lips. Or the fact that she was shortly to be bathing in their chamber.
Instead, he endeavored to dream up a reason for Prudence’s absence and for why she’d leave a note saying she’d eloped. Honestly, if he wasn’t so bloody hard up, he’d just marry her himself.
Chapter3
Prudence awoke in the dark—far past midnight, but not yet morning—as wind and rain battered the inn. If the weather didn’t improve soon, she feared how long they’d be stranded here. Together in this room.
Opening her eyes, she looked toward the other end of the small room, where Bennet was asleep on his pallet near the hearth. His bed might be less comfortable than hers, but he had the warmth of the fire nearby at least.
This was a nice bed actually. As comfortable as the one she slept in at Evesham House in Grosvenor Square. That she inhabited such a prestigious address was still strange to her, but then so was acting as companion to the daughter of a duke. For someone who’d grown up in much less elegant surroundings, who knew how to cook and clean, and had always dressed herself, this world she’d entered a few months ago was foreign. It was becoming less so, and she was adept at acclimating—or so her friend Ada told her. Ada had also had to acclimate to a new position when she’d become the bookkeeper at the Phoenix Club, so she understood.
The Phoenix Club, London’s newest exclusive social gathering place, brought Lord Lucien Westbrook to mind. Not only was he Cassandra’s older brother, he’d been the one to help Prudence become a paid companion. But that was what he did—help people. He’d done it repeatedly for people of all social classes with a variety of problems. Lucien was a singular gentleman, and Prudence would be lying if she didn’t admit he’d rather enthralled her with his charm and kindness. He was also breathtakingly handsome and perhaps the most likeable person she’d ever met.Everyoneadored Lucien.
As owner of the Phoenix Club, he’d created a place that, while exclusive in its membership, invited people who were perhaps not widely welcome or at least not terribly popular. In fact, those sorts of people were often ignored with regard to membership. Prudence didn’t know Lucien well, but she suspected he’d started the club because in some way he felt excluded. But that was just her supposition and one she would never present to him.
