Authors: Anne Gracie
They were hanging out of the windows, exclaiming over the sights, when suddenly Hope exclaimed, “Good gracious! It can’t be! No, it is, I’m sure of it. Prudence look! It’s Phillip!”
“Phillip?”
“Phillip Otterbury, you goose! What other Phillips do we know?”
“It can’t be. He’s in India.”
“Well, obviously he’s returned,” retorted Hope impatiently. “He’s there, in the street—walking away from us now, do you see? In the brown coat and a curly-brimmed hat!”
Prudence peered out of the coach, as did all her sisters. “I can’t see anyone in a brown coat.”
“There’s a young man in a bottle-green coat who looks a bit like Phillip, only much shorter,” offered Faith.
“Not the one in bottle-green, hen-wit! The brown coat—oh, he’s turned the corner and gone now. Didn’t
any
of you see him?” Hope demanded in exasperation. But none of the others had seen anyone who even slightly resembled Phillip Otterbury.
“You must have made a mistake, Hope.” Prudence sat back on her seat and smoothed her skirt. She was feeling quite shaky.
“I didn’t. It was Phillip, I’m sure of it!” insisted Hope.
“How would you know after all this time?” asked Faith. “It is so long since we saw him, I certainly don’t have any clear recollection of how he looked.”
“Don’t you?” Hope frowned. “I’m sure I remember him. He was very good-looking—surely you remember that?”
Lord Carradice frowned.
Hope continued, “And this man looked just like him…extremely handsome, only a little bit older. And thinner. And browner,” she added with clearly diminishing confidence.
“Hope, dearest, even I have trouble recalling exactly how Phillip looks,” Prudence said gently.
“Indeed?” Lord Carradice murmured. “How very interesting.”
Prudence ignored him. “I’m sure this man in the brown coat did look a little like Phillip, but you know, we have only been gone from the Court six weeks and if Phillip had been expected home, Mrs. Otterbury would have informed the world as soon as she’d heard. You know what she’s like. The whole district would have known of his planned return within hours of her receiving the letter. Even if a letter came the day we left, Phillip would still be weeks or more behind it, I’m sure, and we would have heard.”
Hope sighed. “That’s true. I suppose it wasn’t him, after all. For what would he be doing in Bath, anyway?”
Faith put an arm around her sister. “No doubt Phillip being so much in our minds of late, you wanted him to be here and were caught by a passing resemblance.”
Hope nodded. “If Phillip were here, he’d be able to save us.”
“Well, Lord Carradice is saving us instead!” declared Grace fiercely. “And I’d much rather be saved by him than Phillip, any day!”
“Thank you, Miss Grace. One does hope one’s poor efforts are appreciated,” murmured Lord Carradice. He sighed lugubriously, and somehow everyone’s eyes were drawn to the injury he had received while saving them. Only he and Prudence knew who had actually shot him.
Hope exclaimed, “Oh, sir, I hope you did not think me ungrateful!”
“No, no, Miss Hope, not at all.” Lord Carradice waved her apologies away. “Now, up there on our left is Milson Street, where all the fashionable shops are to be found.” The girls peered out in the direction he’d pointed, while he lounged back against the seats and gave Prudence a quizzing look.
Prudence found herself blushing. Grace had uncannily given voice to Prudence’s own thoughts. She would indeed much rather be rescued by Lord Carradice than by her betrothed! She stared out the window and tried to put the thought from her mind.
“Here we are,” said Lord Carradice. The carriage drew up in front of a long row of terraced mansions, built of creamy gold stone and laid in a magnificent arc around a circular park enclosed with iron rails.
“Which house is it, sir?” asked Grace eagerly.
Which
house?
Prudence felt a sudden twinge of anxiety. She had been utterly remiss in agreeing to this! They could not stay in a house owned by Lord Carradice or the duke. Not under the same roof as an unmarried man. An unmarried man who was in no way related to them. An unmarried man who had a reputation as a rake! Not even with four sisters to play chaperone. It simply could not be done.
Traveling with Lord Carradice and the Duke of Dinstable had been almost unexceptional—even the highest sticklers would not have had much to cavil at five unmarried girls traveling with their maid and footman and escorted by two unmarried gentlemen, even if the gentlemen were unrelated to them. She squashed the thought about traveling in the phaeton at night with an unmarried man and his groom—after all, it
was
an open carriage. And there was no room for anyone else. And it had been an emergency. And besides, nobody knew…
But to reside, even for a short time, under the same roof as those gentlemen, no! It could not be done. Even if Charity were to marry the duke, Prudence would not wish it whispered about that the duke had been forced to do so, having compromised the lady.
They would have to stay at a hotel. Or take rooms with a respectable landlady.
“I don’t think we—” Prudence began.
“The three houses with the yellow doors are ours,” interrupted Lord Carradice, in answer to Grace’s question. “The one on the left is mine, the one on the right is my cousin’s, and the one in the middle is where our Aunt Augusta lives. She’s expecting us—I sent a message ahead when I was laid up on my sickbed. You’ll love Aunt Gussie, I know. She’s the very best of our mothers’ family.” He glanced at Prudence and added wryly, “Had Aunt Gussie not been living in Argentina at the time, I doubt our parents would have made such a mull of it all. But she’s only recently arrived in Bath and is finding it dull after being abroad for so many years. She is, no doubt, in transports of delight at the prospect of guests.”
“You mean we are to stay with your aunt?” gasped Prudence in relief. “And not with you and the duke?”
He gave her a reproachful look but said nothing as the twins began to alight. Then, as Grace stepped down the carriage steps, he shook his head and added in a voice of injured innocence, “Stay with me and the duke? I am shocked at the suggestion, Miss Imp, shocked! I may be a rake, but I do have a passing acquaintance with the rudiments of propriety, you know. And you would not wish to stay in Edward’s house, for his mother’s decorating genius reached here also, and the inside is distressingly Egyptian. Roman outside, Egyptian within.” He shuddered. “I fear any resident other than Edward would be obliged to resort, like Cleopatra, to an asp! He, of course, is inured to it.”
He leaped lightly from the carriage and held out an imperious hand to assist her to alight. As she stepped down he bent low toward her and murmured in her ear, “In fact, I did plan for you to stay at my house—purely for protection, you understand—but Edward would not have it, you see. The stuffy fellow is such a stickler for the proprieties! Can’t imagine how we can be related.” He stepped back, winked, and offered her his uninjured arm.
Prudence didn’t respond. She couldn’t. A lump in her throat prevented her. He’d planned for them to stay with his aunt all along. She was beginning to perceive the pattern of it; whenever she was worried or fretting about something, he produced some piece of nonsensical impropriety to shock her and thus tease her anxieties away…kindness and thoughtfulness buried beneath a disguise of bold and flippant rakishness.
She mounted the steps in silence.
The middle yellow door was flung open, and a short, immensely round lady dressed in purple and gold silk bustled down the steps.
“Ladies, I would like to present my aunt, Lady Augusta Montigua del Fuego. Aunt Gussie, may I present the Misses Merridew. This is Miss—” began Gideon, but the lady cut across him.
“Not now dear, it’s far too chilly to be standing about doing the pretty. My dears, come in, come in—you must be starving!” She gathered the girls together like a small, friendly whirlwind and whisked them inside, talking nineteen to the dozen.
“In here, my dears. My how lovely you all are…Yes, yes, give Shoebridge your pelisses and hats—and tea and cakes at once, Shoebridge. Gideon, what on earth have you done to your arm? In the back parlor, Shoebridge—so much more cozy, my dears. And Shoebridge, I am not at home to anyone…Does anyone wish to visit the necessary? No? Oh, the joy of young bladders!”
She took a deep breath and before anyone could respond, continued without a pause, “Now, my dears, which of you is Prudence—-oh, you must be she, of course—such beautiful eyes. Gideon, dear boy, you are a rascal, and I’m utterly delighted!” She gathered the astonished Prudence in a soft, perfumed embrace, adding, “And I am still waiting for you to explain to me this sinister-looking bandage!”
Prudence gave a guilty start. Did this amazing little woman know Prudence was responsible for his injury? She opened her mouth to admit all, but the lady was still speaking.
“And why am I also still waiting for a kiss from the wickedest of my neph—! Oof! Put me down, you wretched boy! You cannot possib—!”
Gideon swept his aunt up into an exuberant one-armed hug, lifting her completely off her feet and swinging around in a circle.
“Aunt Gussie, Aunt Gussie, you are an eternal delight to me! Never, never change!” he said, planting a hearty kiss on each delicately rouged plump cheek.
“Put me down, you dreadful creature!” Dainty slippered feet kicked fruitlessly, six inches above the floor.
All four Merridew sisters stared, openmouthed. Grace giggled first; then the twins joined in. Prudence was too befuddled to do anything except stare. She could see Lord Carradice twirling a short, plump lady, laughing with her and holding her in strong, protective arms, but in her mind’s eye, in her heart’s secret chamber, the lady Prudence saw Lord Carradice twirling was not his aunt…
“Never fear, Aunt Gussie.” Gideon whirled her around again. “You’re as light as a feather. My injury is not so bad that I can’t embrace my favorite aunt in all the world!”
“Pah!” snorted Aunt Gussie, as she emerged from his embrace, looking like a ruffled, thoroughly delighted hen. She added with an assumption of severity, “It’s not your arm I was worried about, it was my dignity!”
Gideon let out a shout of laughter and hugged her again.
“Dreadful boy—he never did have any manners, you know,” she confided to Prudence as she slapped her nephew away. “Oh stop it, Gideon, do! Make yourself useful and find your young lady a seat! Over there.” She indicated a crimson velvet sofa.
Gideon bowed and escorted Prudence across the room with exaggerated solicitude.
Prudence, feeling slightly dazed by the whirlwind of words, not to mention her rogue vision, allowed herself to be led.
Your young lady.
She felt like an impostor. She sat down on the sofa. Lord Carradice sat close beside her. Very close. She could feel the warmth of his limbs burning right through her dress. She shifted away.
“I see,” he murmured softly. “It is only on carriages you are prepared to snuggle up to me.”
Prudence gave him a look of reproof. She said nothing, but his words had conjured up—as he no doubt knew they would—those long hours of extreme intimacy on their journey. He was quite unprincipled in some matters. His leg shifted, and she felt its warmth again. She moved and placed her reticule between them. He sighed ostentatiously.
Aunt Gussie wrapped a plump arm around Grace’s waist, beaming. “And you must be little Grace, the baby of the family—oh my, my, what a heartbreaker you’re going to be in a few years! And so like your sister, Charity, except for the coloring. She and Edward arrived some hours ago, by the way, and have gone into town on some errand or other. Gideon, you didn’t tell me the sisters were beautiful, too! No wonder you and Edward stood no chance. Sisters! Oh, how the ton will talk! But we shall not regard—”
Prudence stared at her, puzzled. Gideon leaned forward and frowned, and his aunt caught herself up hastily, saying, “No, no—I am saying nothing. Grace, child, take this charming little chair here—it’s quite my favorite, don’t you agree?” Grace nodded, smiled, and impulsively, tentatively gave the little lady’s arm a small squeeze. “Oh, you dear, sweet child.” Lady Augusta enveloped Grace in a soft hug. “I am so very pleased you’ve come to stay with me. My scapegrace nephews have done something right, for a change. Several things right, in fact. We are going to have such a delightful time!” She patted Grace’s cheek and smoothed a fiery curl back in a motherly gesture. “Such beautiful, beautiful hair you and your sister have. I always wanted Titian hair, you know.”
Four pairs of eyes were drawn inexorably to the cluster of brilliant Titian curls perched atop Lady Augusta’s head.
Unperturbed, she laughed, patting her own hair. “Oh my dears, this isn’t natural! But I always say, if nature won’t oblige, a good coiffeur will. My own color is the dreariest mouse-brown, so naturally I couldn’t put up with that, for a mousy person I am not nor ever was.”
Suddenly Lady Augusta’s words echoed in Prudence’s mind.
You didn’t tell me the sisters were beautiful, too!
Too
? Prudence turned the words over in her mind, carefully. No matter how she looked at it, the words seemed to indicate that Lord Carradice had told Lady Augusta…things…about Prudence. What had he told her? And more to the point, why?
Notorious rakes surely wouldn’t discuss a little flirting and teasing with their aunts…would they? And what had she meant when she’d said,
No wonder you and Edward stood no chance. Sisters! Oh, how the ton will talk!
She could only think of one thing: it was a reference to his and Edward’s fathers marrying sisters.
Lady Augusta gathered a twin with each arm and marched them across the room. “As for you two pretty peas in a pod—which one is which? No, let me guess—you must be Faith, for you haven’t taken your eyes off my piano since you walked in. Your sister told me you loved music and of course you must play it as often as you wish, my dear.” She turned to Hope. “And so you must be Hope! The chaise longue is for you two so I may study you at leisure and learn to tell you apart—what a dazzling double debut you will make!” The twins, bemused and vastly entertained, allowed themselves to be seated by the imperious little lady.