Her Master and Commander (15 page)

Her dark eyes twinkled with a reluctant flare of mirth. “That is a very good point.”

Tristan wiped his mouth with his napkin, then leaned back in his chair. “Now you know why I find this entire situation lamentable. But it matters not; I must have that fortune. So go ahead, ruin me with rules. Keelhaul me on your idea of etiquette. Confine me to perdition with politeness. Do your worst. I am yours to do with as you will.”

Prudence’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tempt me with words like ‘keelhaul.’”

He pretended amazement. “My lovely Prudence, I am astounded to hear such uncharitable words fall from your lips.”

“Yes, well, if you were privy to my thoughts at times, you’d be far less astounded by my words.”

That made him laugh. “You
look
like a soft wind in an easy port, but I fear you’re more of a typhoon on a very rocky and inhospitable shore.”

“What I am is determined to earn the money Mr. Reeves has promised me. Now, if you don’t mind, the trustees will be here in a few short weeks, and one of the most important lessons of all will be how you comport yourself over the table.”

“Desultory dinner talk is one of the most important lessons? Surely you jest.”

“I’m afraid not. You will be expected to know how to converse intelligently and without hesitation or rudeness, plus address all manner of persons.”

“I already know how to speak like a member of the nobility. Here. I’ll show you. Talk to me.”

She raised her brows. “I beg your pardon?”

“Talk to me. I’ll show you that I know how to speak like a member born.”

Prudence had to stifle a sigh. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but it couldn’t be anywhere good. Still, the quicker she played along and proved him wrong, the faster they could get to their lesson. She finished her tea and stood. “Shall we move closer to the fireplace? We can take up this conversation there.”

Tristan stood as well, leaning on his cane. “Of course.” He watched as she walked to the red chair that was now positioned next to the settee. Her gown was full, tied beneath her breasts with a wide pink ribbon, the skirts scarcely touching where they swept down to her feet. Tristan found that he could just make out the curve of her hips as she walked, a fact he found quite absorbing.

She sat in the chair. “Pray have a seat, my lord.”

He took the settee, legs stretched before him, cane leaning against his knee. Prudence noted that his hair fell over his brow, shadowing his eyes until they appeared a more muted color. He really did have the most gorgeous eyes, surrounded by thick lashes and—

Good heavens.
Do your job and nothing more.
“The best way to show you how to have a genteel conversation is to have one.”

“Very well,” he said, his eyes gently mocking her. “What do you want me to do?”

“Pretend I am the duchess of Devonshire—”

He almost choked.

“What?” said Prudence.

“Have you met the duchess?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Prudence confessed. “The woman is a sad flirt and talks in a very affected manner.”

“Then why do you want to be her?”

Prudence made an impatient sound. “I don’t want to be her! I just wish to give you some opportunity to practice using titles and the proper forms of address. So I said I was the duchess.”

He smiled at her, a glint in his eyes. To her chagrin, he slid down the end of the settee until his knee was almost touching hers. Prudence gathered her skirts. They were brushing against Tristan’s legs and for some reason, that drew her attention to such an extent that it made speaking sensibly very difficult.

Bother it all, but she’d thought she’d come prepared to deal with the earl’s flirting manner. She’d spent the better part of yesterday evening telling herself over and over that she
had
to maintain a nice, safe distance and keep the topic on the issue at hand. That was all she had to do.

She’d even carefully planned on sitting in the chair and not the settee, as that would make certain the earl would not traverse too closely. She glanced down to where his foot was now pressed against hers. Apparently not.

She moved her foot and plastered a determined smile on her lips. “Please stop that. Let us pretend I am the duchess and we’re sitting together at a soiree and—”

“A soiree?”

“Yes. It is a party held in the evening hours.”

He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. Now his hand was only an inch from where hers rested on the arm of her chair. “If you wish to be at a soiree, then we will be at one. But before we go any further, I have one question.”

“What?”

“What are you wearing to this soiree?”

She blinked. “Wearing?”

“Yes. I want the full experience. What would you, the sensual duchess of Devonshire, be wearing to this event?”

“I never said she was sensual.”

“Oh, but she is.”

“That is a matter of opinion,” Prudence said stiffly. For some reason, it irked her to hear the captain call the duchess a “sensual” woman. Just what did he mean by that?

He put his hand on hers where it rested on the arm of her chair.

Prudence pulled free. “No, thank you.”

Chuckling, he dipped his head so that his eyes were level with hers. “If the duchess is anything like you, then she’s
very
sensual.”

Her irritation fled before an onslaught of heat and…something else. Good God, but the man was a master at making her skin heat, her heart gallop, her mind flutter like the edge of a curtain in a hot summer breeze. She tried to swallow and failed. “Lord Rochester, pray do not make this so…”

“Amusing? Interesting?” He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “Enjoyable?”

She jerked her head away. “My lord, please!”

“Now
that
is a word I love hearing from a woman’s lips: ‘please.’” He leaned on the arm of the settee, his fingers hanging over the edge and near her hand. “So…what are you wearing, my dear Lady Devonshire?”

She sighed. “You are impossible.”

He looked hurt. “I just asked what you were wearing so I could picture it more accurately. If that is a problem, then—”

“No,” she muttered. “If that’s what it takes to win your cooperation, so be it.” She thought a quick moment. “I am wearing a white and blue silk gown covered with pink and blue rosettes.”

He leaned back a little, his gaze traveling slowly up and down her as if he could actually see the gown. After a moment, he leaned a little closer. “Lady Devonshire, may I say you look lovely this evening?”

Prudence nodded approvingly. “That is quite an unexceptional comment.”

“Thank you,” he said gravely. “But ah…is that you speaking? Or the duchess?”

“Oh. That was me. The duchess would probably say something like, ‘What a compliment, my lord. Thank you.’”

“It is naught but the truth.” He captured her hand and pulled it to his lips. He kissed her fingers, his mouth warm on her bare skin. “You are the most beautiful duchess in the room. And the way your gown is so low cut…” He leaned forward, his gaze staring at her bosom.

Prudence yanked her hand from his.

He gave her an innocent stare. “What?”

“That is
not
a proper statement and you know it.”

“It’s what I’d say to the duchess, if she were here. In fact, it’s almost exactly what I
did
say to her when she supped with me aboard my ship. And she enjoyed it very much.”

Prudence’s brow snapped low. “I don’t want to hear about the time you met the duchess. Let us return to our playacting and ascertain what is correct behavior and what isn’t. Commenting on the cut of a woman’s gown is
not
correct.”

He sighed. “So many rules.”

“My Lord Rochester,” she said, once again the duchess, “what brings you here to this delightful rout?”

He took her hand, turned it over, and pressed a warm kiss on her palm. “You, my love.”

She sprang up from the settee. “Oh for the love of—Will you please stop that!”

He sighed. “How am I to pretend you are the duchess of Devonshire if you will not stay in character?”

“How am I to play the duchess if you keep saying such things?”

“It’s what the duchess would expect.”

She glowered at him, then sat down and arranged her skirts. “Let us forget about the duchess of Devonshire for the moment. Let’s pretend instead that I’m the duchess of Richmond.”

“Richmond? I don’t know her.”

“She’s all of eighty years old and a termagant. She is also something of a prude, so you’d best watch what you say. I once saw her slap a man across the cheek with her fan for merely looking at his watch while she was speaking.”

Tristan eyed Prudence morosely. “You are determined to take all of the fun out of this, aren’t you?”

“I want you to be successful in your bid to win the fortune. Now, let us begin once again. Lord Rochester, don’t you think it is rather warm today?”

His brows rose. He looked past her to the terrace window. Prudence’s gaze followed his. A frigid blustery wind blew, ruffling the thin trees and round shrubs in waves.

Prudence forced herself to meet Tristan’s gaze. “It’s quite,
quite
hot here in
London.
”

Tristan grinned, his teeth flashing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I suppose if you can pretend you’re a duchess, I can pretend the sun is shining in London. So yes, it is a warm day.”

They continued on for several more moments, bantering back and forth in a most unexceptional way. Finally, Prudence sat back, smiling widely. “You do very well once you are not talking to someone with whom you might flirt.”

“As the trustees are all men, we’ll hope it doesn’t become an issue.”

She chuckled. “That is a very good point.” Tristan would not have to learn so many of the ton’s useless posturing and manners if some of the trustees had been women. A woman would forgive much in a man who was so disturbingly attractive.

A sudden thought occurred to Prudence. What had Tristan said about the duchess of Devonshire? Something about the duchess being such a sensual woman.

A jumble of heated thoughts rushed through Prudence’s head, an unfamiliar pang tightening her heart. She’d met the duchess once and the woman’s overt sensuality had made Prudence quite uncomfortable. Was it possible that the duchess and Tristan had met and—

Prudence bit back the thought. It didn’t matter though it would not surprise her one little bit. Tristan was the sort of man to enjoy such dalliances; he’d probably had hundreds. Prudence shifted in her chair, wondering why the thought was so unpalatable. She didn’t care what the earl liked or didn’t like. She was here to assist him in gaining a little polish and nothing more.

He must have noticed Prudence’s reticence, for he asked, “What is it?”

“When did you meet the duchess of Devonshire?”

“She and her retinue traveled on my ship to France.”

“And?” Prudence’s heart pounded in her throat. She didn’t want to know any more. And yet…she couldn’t seem to stop asking. “You spoke to her?”

He leaned back against the settee. “Yes.”

“I see.” She clamped a hand about the arm of the chair. “And what did you think of her?”

He took longer to answer this time, his brow lowering. “A lowly sea captain is an acceptable companion when a lady of fashion is traversing the seas, away from her usual friends and family. Such a captain might, if he was willing, even be a candidate for a discreet dalliance. But for anything else…”

He shrugged, though there was a tension across his face that hadn’t been there before.

Every word hurt. Prudence hated that she’d asked. Now she was left feeling oddly empty. “Society can be cruel.” And harsh. And lonely.

“You don’t know,” he returned, his voice sharp.

“Perhaps I do, though that is not important. My lord, we should practice your dinner conversation a bit more. The trustees will expect to be invited for that, as well.”

The earl crossed his arms. “Not until you explain what you meant.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake! I just—” She sighed. “You are no longer a lowly sea captain, as you put it, but an earl. A handsome, wealthy earl. Any duchess in London or elsewhere would be thrilled to be seen with you.” The words did little to make Prudence feel better for she suddenly realized they were true. Quite true. With or without polish, the earl’s startling good looks, piercing green gaze and seductive charm would have the female half of the ton falling right into his lap—literally.

Tristan saw the flash of a thousand thoughts flicker over Prudence’s face. Her face was so quick to respond to her thoughts, yet he did not know her well enough to understand all of her expressions. “If I am so highly placed, then I suppose that means you are beneath me, then.” He grinned. “I rather like you there.”

She did not smile.

Tristan’s own humor faded. “Prudence, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of you. I just…I am not fond of the way society lines people up, worthy to unworthy, all at the whim of a few.”

“Why are you so bitter toward society? Several times now, I’ve seen a look in your eyes.”

A little of the tension seemed to leave her shoulders, though her hands were pressed into fists. “You do not want to hear my story.”

“Try me.”

Her gaze met his, questioning, seeking. Whatever she saw must have reassured her, for she said, “Very well. I will tell you why I do not trust society.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, which were clasped in her lap. “My late husband was very good at investing. He made our fortune and established us well. Phillip had a gift for making money. He gained notice for both that and his generosity. I don’t remember him ever refusing to help anyone.”

“That could be a gift, or a curse.”

“So I have learned. He began to manage the money of others, as well. Eventually, his services were in demand by various members of the ton. He made thousands of pounds for some very important people.”

“He must have been very talented.”