Page 45 of Indecent
Cassandra laughed. “Yes, that is definitely true. You’re happy, I hope?”
“Quite. I like her a great deal. We discuss books, which I find most diverting.”
“I’ve noticed. Honestly, you seem to talk more to her than you ever did to me. Fiona agrees.” Fiona, Lady Overton, had been to visit on several occasions. “Perhaps that’s what’s different. You’re less reserved than before.”
“I doubt that’s true.” Prudence certainly didn’t reveal any more of herself to Kat than she had to Fiona or Cassandra. It really was that they discussed books. Prudence liked to read and had more time for it now. They didn’t discuss anything personal. At all.
“If you’ve found a confidante and ally in Kat, I’m glad for you,” Cassandra said, and Prudence wondered if she was jealous.
“It’s not that,” Prudence said softly. “I’m still the same me—nothing happened while I was away, and I don’t like Kat any more than I like you. Or Fiona.”
Cassandra grinned. “Am I that transparent? How awful of me.”
“Not at all.”
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to poke or prod. I know you’re a private person, but I truly am your friend and would like to support you as such—as family, really. If that’s all right with you.”
Prudence was taken aback. She’d never thought to have family again. Before she could respond, her eye caught Ada’s just outside the ballroom.
Cassandra saw the direction of Prudence’s gaze and pivoted as Ada moved toward them. “Miss Treadway! Do you know my sister-in-law, Miss Shaughnessy?” Introductions were conducted before they entered the ballroom together.
“I’m so glad to see you here tonight,” Ada whispered to Prudence. “These are far less dull when you’re present.”
“We’re only staying until midnight. That’s all Kat would agree to.” Prudence had told her friend all about Kathleen Shaughnessy when they met on Saturday mornings.
“Good evening, Lady Wexford, Lord Wexford.”
That voice… Prudence pivoted from Ada and nearly pitched forward.
Standing before her, resplendent in a suit of black superfine, stood the man she’d tried so hard to forget. And failed spectacularly.
“Miss Lancaster, isn’t it?” Bennet asked with a bit of a sly edge. At least it seemed that way to Prudence.
“Yes.” She curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, my lord.”
His lip curled just slightly, and she knew he didn’t like hearing her call him that. Not when she’d cried out his name as she writhed beneath him.
Don’t think about that!
She prayed her cheeks weren’t aflame.
“The pleasure is entirely mine.” His gaze held hers, and Prudence feared she might melt into the floor.
“Glastonbury, I can’t recall if you’ve been introduced to my sister, Miss Shaughnessy,” Wexford said.
“We met at the park, Ruark,” Kat said with a hint of exasperation. “Good evening, Lord Glastonbury.”
Bennet gave her a courtly bow, provoking a searing jealousy in Prudence. Then he took her hand, and Prudence actually considered jerking the younger woman’s arm away from him.
What on earth was wrong with her?
“I hope you’ll save me a dance later, Miss Shaughnessy.”
Again, Prudence wanted to demonstrate her irritation, but she only gritted her teeth. Bennet and Kat shared the same position in Society. He would bow to her, take her hand, dance with her. Hell, he could even marry her.
A horrible feeling pitched Prudence’s stomach to the floor. Kat might not be the wealthiest young lady in the ballroom that night, but she was in possession of a good-sized dowry. And she was here avoiding a scandal in Gloucestershire in which she’d been seen kissing someone else’s betrothed. She’d explained that it was for the sake of science and research, but Society wouldn’t care. They’d stamp her as ruined goods. For that reason, Mrs. Shaughnessy had ushered her to London with haste and sought to marry her off as quickly as possible. But Kat had resisted. In the end, Mrs. Shaughnessy had agreed to let her stay with her brother in the hope that the scandal would die down back home—and hopefully never find its way to London. She would make a perfect wife for Bennet.
“I will,” Kat said to Bennet without much enthusiasm. She didn’t care for dancing.
