Page 6 of Indecent
Bennet had taken that advice to heart when it came to finding a way out of his financial mess. He winced inwardly as he realized that had led him to make some very poor decisions. Such as kidnapping an heiress on a whim.
Sitting at the table in front of the cozy fire, Bennet vowed to indeed redouble his efforts. He had to. Too many people depended on him. His retainers, the tenants at Aberforth Place, and most of all, his family. He thought of his many aunts and cousin, especially Aunt Agatha, who relied on him the most. If he didn’t settle the payments owed for her care, he didn’t know what he would do. She’d have to come home, he supposed. And who would care for her there?
Hell, it was all so bloody complicated.
Frowning, he silently cursed his father. Though, Bennet supposed it wasn’t even really his fault. The man had tried to fulfill his duties and had even occasionally been successful. He hadn’t chosen to be afflicted in the way he was, nor had any of Bennet’s other relatives. Still, his father hadn’t made the best choices. A lack of self-awareness had been one of his greatest flaws. Along with his inability to manage his emotions, especially his terrifying rage and heartrending anguish. At least Bennet was aware that he carried the family curse and could very well end up like his father…
“Here you are, my lord.” Mrs. Logan brought him a steaming mug of coffee. “Just the way you like it.” She’d added a dollop of cream on his first visit, and he’d quite fancied the taste.
He smiled at her as she set the mug on the table. “You are too kind.”
“Mr. Logan says your bride arrived. I’m so looking forward to meeting her.” Mrs. Logan’s blue eyes moved to the corner where the stairs were located. “Good morning, my lady!”
Bennet leapt to his feet and turned to see the companion at the base of the staircase. Her blonde braid was coiled and pinned atop her head, and she was dressed in a plain blue traveling costume.
He hated to have to be the one to tell her that they wouldn’t be going anywhere.
Chapter2
Prudence surveyed the common room, a cozy space with two small tables and a comfortable seating area, but her gaze was drawn to the tall, blond scoundrel staring in her direction. Yes, he was a scoundrel, even if he was devilishly attractive. Devilish, she decided, was the perfect word to describe him.
As was attractive. He looked handsome despite his somewhat rumpled state. She’d noticed the blanket on the chair in their chamber and deduced that was where he’d slept. While he wore a waistcoat, he hadn’t donned a cravat, leaving a bare triangle of skin from his upper chest to the hollow of his throat. She’d never imagined that view could be alluring, especially on a man she considered a villain. And yet it was. Disturbingly. Prudence averted her gaze.
A middle-aged woman with light hair and a welcoming smile stood near him. “Good morning, my lady,” she said.
“This is Mrs. Logan,” Glastonbury blurted as he took a step forward. “Allow me to present my betrothed, Lady Prudence.”
He knew her Christian name too? And apparently expected her to masquerade as his future wife. Well, she supposed she could do that for the short time they were here. She was anxious to leave.
Mrs. Logan dipped into a brief curtsey. “Can I fetch you some coffee, my lady? Breakfast will be ready soon.”
“I’d prefer tea, if you have it? With a bit of cream and sugar, please.”
“Certainly!” Mrs. Logan took herself off, and Prudence eyed the small round table that Glastonbury stood next to.
He gestured to a chair. “Care to join me?”
“I suppose I must if I’m your betrothed.” She slid into the chair.
He sat opposite her with a weak smile. “I hope you don’t mind pretending. It seemed easiest.”
“For you,” Prudence noted. “I’m eager to be on our way. Cassandra is going to be worried sick about me.”
“Ah, perhaps not,” he said, wincing in discomfort, his cheeks flushing.
Prudence pursed her lips in irritation, wondering what else he hadn’t told her. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
“Because you wrote her a note.” He glanced toward the fire. “Rather, Cassandra left a note explaining that she was eloping. That way, no one would come after her.”
She blinked at him. “Except Cassandra isn’t gone.”
“She was supposed to be, and the note was from her so others wouldn’t worry. I didn’t sign it since I have no idea how she writes her name.”
“How scheming of you,” she murmured. “I might think you planned this well, if not for the way your hirelings handled me.”
“It was a ridiculous plan from the start.” He sounded bitter. And even disgusted.
She had better descriptions for his stratagem. “Nefarious and ill-conceived.” She appreciated that he didn’t look affronted. In fact, he seemed to silently agree with her. “You were foolish to think no one would come after Cassandra. Of course they would—Wexford, her brothers, her father. You really didn’t think this through.”
