Candice Hern (8 page)

“Excellent. And do not tell me you already have a dress to wear. I am sure it is not at all the right thing. We must visit Madame Lanchester at once so she has time to make something up for you.”

“Is she terribly expensive?”

“She can be. But we do have some influence with her, since we so often mention her creations in the
Cabinet
. I am sure we can work something out. Besides, I thought you said you had an inheritance.”

“I do, but I hadn’t thought to fritter it away on clothes. There are…other things I had hoped to do with it.”

“Then I shall see that we don’t fritter away too much of it. But you absolutely
must
have a decent ball gown. Think of all those cousins whose noses you could put out of joint. A beautiful gown, a beautiful husband. They will be pea-green with envy.”

Pru chuckled. She had to admit, it would be rather nice. “All right. I defer to your judgment, Flora. Only please, nothing
too
revealing. I am not at all comfortable being so exposed, regardless of how fashionable it is.”

“We shall see. But let us return to your assets.”

Pru took a step backward. “I’m not taking off anything else.”

Flora laughed and hitched one hip onto the edge of the desk. “Of course not. Whatever assets are hidden beneath your skirts will be for Nicholas to discover. No, I am talking about other assets. You will need every ounce of confidence you can muster if you truly want to engage your husband’s affections. I daresay he is not the sort of man to appreciate timidity.”

“I am sure you are right,” Pru said. She crossed the fichu over her bosom once again, and began to
secure it with the lace pins. “That is one reason I have been so anxious. I fear I can never be the wife he wants. I can’t help being shy.”

“There is nothing wrong with being shy. It, too, can be an endearing asset, if used properly. But to be too self-effacing, too meek, too timid, will not endear you to him. You can retain your public shyness, which he may find charming, but I do think you must make an effort to be open and comfortable when alone with him. To do that, you must believe yourself worthy of him. And you are.”

Was she? Pru was not so sure about that.

“Yes, you are,” Flora repeated, as though reading her thoughts. “You are well-educated and well-read. Nicholas appreciates that. You are remarkably well born. He may not like that so much at first, but he will learn soon enough the advantages to having a wife with such connections. Especially if he decides on a career in politics. Do not underestimate your value to him in that arena, Pru.”

She had not considered that. He might find her connections distasteful, but they could be useful to him over time.

“So, you see,” Flora said, “your assets far outweigh any perceived liabilities. You are a valuable person, a treasure to your friends, and more than worthy of any man. Even Nicholas Parrish.”

Pru swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back tears. “Thank you, Flora.”

“It is perfectly true. Just don’t let yourself forget it.”

“I won’t forget,” Pru said. “I am not so insecure as all that. I have actually been quite content with myself for years, once I realized I would never be as glamorous as the rest of my family. It’s just that being married to Nicholas, I have become more than ever aware of my shortcomings. I thank you for reminding me that I have something to offer.”

“And I shall keep reminding you, I promise.”

“What I don’t know is how to to project that attitude you talk about. How to let him know that I am”—
ready!
—“interested. I get so shy around him. I’d like to know how to…flirt.”

Flora sputtered into a laugh. “Flirt?”

Pru’s cheeks flamed. “Yes. Don’t you think I should?”

“Oh, I most definitely think you should.”

“But I don’t know how. I’ve always been too shy around gentlemen. Can you show me what to do?”

Flora tilted her head to one side as she studied Pru. “I suspect you will be a tough case, my girl. But I suppose it is worth a try. Shall I teach you a few tricks?”

“Yes, please.”

“All right, then. Now, pay attention.”

Some time later, their lesson was interrupted by a raucous explosion of voices from the front of the house.

“Ah. The Ladies are here,” Flora said.

The Crimson Ladies were colorists for the magazine’s engravings. Flora had hired the blowsy crew of street prostitutes last year to hand-color
the fashion plates, and Edwina had christened them the Crimson Ladies, which they all thought a grand joke. Illiterate, bawdy, and coarse, they were nevertheless adept at coloring the fashion plates—in their own bold style.

“There is a lovely spotted muslin petticoat and jacket in one of this month’s plates,” Flora said. “I had better go make sure they understand it is not leopard skin.”

She walked to the door and opened it, but turned again toward Pru. “Remember to save tomorrow afternoon. We are going to Madame Lanchester’s showrooms. And mind what I’ve said, my girl. You
are
worthy of him. Repeat it to yourself like a litany, until it becomes second nature.” She left the office and closed the door behind her.

I am worthy of him
. It still didn’t sound all that convincing to Pru. But Flora was right. If she continued to be intimidated by his perfection, she would never be a proper wife to Nicholas.

I am worthy of him. I am worthy of him.

Perhaps if she repeated it enough she would come to believe it.

Pru turned back to the desk, intending to resume her work on the advertising copy. But on her way to the desk, she tried the seductive walk Flora had taught her, with an exaggerated swing of hips that still did not feel quite right. Perhaps she should practice.

She walked back and forth across the room, again and again, hitching her hips from side to side with each step. But it felt silly, not at all right.
Why should it be so difficult to glide seductively across a room? She could dance well enough. In fact, she loved to dance. Maybe she ought to think of music, of walking and swaying in time to music.

So she hummed a tune and walked in time to it, swinging her hips with each step. This was easier. But it wasn’t a normal way of walking, surely, all that bumping and swaying. Flora had not looked as ridiculous when she had demonstrated the walk. Perhaps Pru’s legs were simply too short to do justice to it. But she continued to practice, humming an old song as she bumped and swished her way across the floor.

“Pru?”

She froze.
Oh, no
. Please God, let him not have been standing there long. She turned around very, very slowly. Nicholas stood in the doorway, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She cast him a quizzical look.

“Have you hurt yourself? You were walking so strangely I thought you might have injured yourself in some way. Have you wrenched a muscle?”

Her cheeks flamed. The first full day of her marriage was turning out to be one humiliation after another. “I am quite all right, I assure you. I was just…” She could not admit that she was attempting a seductive walk. He would be certain to burst out laughing. She gave a vague gesture and said nothing more, then walked to the desk and sat down.

“Well, then,” he said, and stepped into the room.
“I have just come from Simon’s, and he asked me to deliver his Busybody column for the next issue.” He took the pages from inside his waistcoat and placed them on the desk. “He said he will have the next installment of his latest romantic tale—I’ve forgotten the title—by tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

He sank into the chair opposite the desk. “Have you had a chance to speak with Lucy and Mrs. Gibb?”

She told him of the arrangements she’d made, and he seemed pleased. He even approved the salary increases she had settled on the two servants, and Pru gave a sigh of relief. He was trying hard, she knew, to make everything as comfortable for her as possible. He was such a dear man.

“I have a meeting with Thurgood late this afternoon about the proposed factory bill,” he said. “But I shall return home for supper. We are not promised somewhere tonight, are we?”

“No, not tonight.”

“Good. Then I shall join you for supper later.”

When he’d gone, Pru found it impossible to concentrate on her work. She could not stop thinking of how ridiculous she must have looked earlier when practicing Flora’s walk. Nicholas must have thought she was limping. She giggled at the memory. It was probably best to stick to her normal way of walking.

Pru was prepared to heed Flora’s advice on fashion and attitude, but she needed a few more lessons on flirtation before putting any of it into
practice. She might end up scaring him off rather then enticing him.

Perhaps flirtation had been a foolish idea. How could she even think of flirting when she could barely look at the man without blushing? Especially after that mortifying discussion about waiting until she was ready. Every time he looked at her, he would be wondering, “Is she ready?” And she would know he wondered, and would blush and stammer and tremble so that he would never know how ready she was.

What a provoking situation.

It was amazing what a difference one quiet little woman could make. Nick had thought, had hoped, that Pru’s presence in his house would not be too unsettling. She had always been so reserved and unassuming. She still was. But she nonetheless managed to keep Nick unsettled.

She had taken care of the new arrangements with Lucy and Mrs. Gibb. She had even suggested that Mrs. Gibb could use some help in the scullery, and he had capitulated. Until a few days ago there had been no full-time servants employed in the house. Now there were three. What next? A boot boy?

Nick was a bit irritated at the additional cost. It was not that he couldn’t afford it, but he had hoped to buy more cargo shares in the shipments of sugar to Amsterdam on the
Ulysses
. He needed to recoup some of the losses of February, when storms had swallowed up two shiploads of profit.
One of the most aggravating aspects of this marriage was the fact that he could not simply do as he wished with his money and economize at home as necessary. He had a wife to consider now. He could not in good conscience ask Pru to cut back so he could buy cargo shares that might be lost in the end. He was perfectly willing to take the risk when there was no one to please but himself. He could no longer do that, now that he had a wife. Besides, he had promised Lord Henry he would not pauper his daughter.

So Nick had gritted his teeth and let the investment opportunity pass. In return he got hot meals and a well-ordered house. Sometimes, it did not seem such a bad bargain.

There was something even more unsettling, though, than Pru’s competent housewifery. In the few short days she’d been ensconced in the house on Golden Square, Nick was constantly aware of her presence. If he’d been even half as conscious of her before, he would never have got himself into this mess. Now he was acutely aware of her every movement in the house, especially in the bedchamber next to his. He kept thinking of their conversation that first morning, and her skittishness when he hinted at consummating their marriage. He would stay true to his word. He would not rush her.

He could not, though, stop thinking about it, about what sort of bed partner she would be. He began to notice things about her. The graceful way she moved. The length of her neck. The line of her
jaw. The clear blue of her eyes. The intriguing way her hair was never quite tamed, with soft, wayward curls bouncing out in all directions. He wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through that hair, to bury his nose in it.

Such thoughts always stopped him in his tracks. Pru was not remotely the type of woman he desired. Was it a sort of perverse contrariness—because he had promised to leave her alone, he suddenly found her attractive?

What rubbish. She was Pru. Sweet, gentle, shy little Pru. His friend and colleague. It was difficult to think of her as anything else.

But she was his wife now, and at some point he was going to have to take her to bed. He could hardly be blamed for taking more notice of her in a physical way.

Nick often wondered if she could read his thoughts. It seemed she blushed every time she looked at him. And she was still so self-conscious with him, he wondered if she would ever truly be prepared to let him in her bed. It had become deuced awkward to be alone with her. Their comfortable friendship had descended into a cautious, fragile alliance. When they met at breakfast, she poured his coffee, always with just the perfect amount of cream, and quietly tended to some magazine business or read a book. They spoke little, and each seemed to rush the meal. They had shared dinner only on the first night after the marriage. It had been too painfully awkward to want
to repeat. Nick had spent all subsequent evenings with his friends at the Scottish Martyrs Club.

They had been married almost a week when he was summoned one morning to the office. He could hear the Ladies chattering away in the dining room. He avoided that group as much as possible, as they tended to make an embarrassing fuss over him. The office door was open and he saw Pru at Edwina’s desk. She was speaking to Robbie, the printer’s apprentice.

“I know it’s a last-minute request,” she was saying, “but I really need that inside back cover printed. We have more advertisements than we can use in the standard pages. We must use that extra bit of space.”

“It will mean an additional run,” Robbie said.

“Yes, I know. Tell Imber I am aware of the added expense. But mind you, it’s only half a sheet, so he’d better not try to charge double.”

“Yes, miss. I’ll tell him.” He turned to leave and almost ran into Nick. “Oh, beg your pardon, sir.”

“It’s all right, Robbie. Be on your way.”

Nick settled into the chair opposite the desk and studied Pru. It was odd how her shyness seemed to disappear when she worked on the
Cabinet
. She was always perfectly at ease dealing with distributors and printers and such.