The Devil Earl (28 page)

Prudence smiled at the man’s honesty. The housekeeper’s husband was short and squat, with a pleasant face that invited conversation. “Oh!” he added, as if suddenly remem bering something important. “Mrs. Worth said that
Miss Lancaster is to come to the state drawing room at once.”

“Whatever for?” Prudence asked.

“As to that I cannot say, miss, only she was in quite a taking, to be sure, what with trying to put together a supper for you and wanting some help from the village,” he admitted.

“Yes, well, I am certain now that you are here she will be less aggrieved,” Sebastian said dryly.

Prudence watched Mr. Worth shoot the earl a wary glance and then nod, as if he were not quite sure how to respond. She felt a stab of sympathy, for she had seen how capricious the ton could be in their demands. She could hardly blame the Worths for wondering about their infamous employer, when they knew him only by ugly rumor.

“Thank you, Mr. Worth. You have been most helpful,” Prudence said firmly, but the housekeeper’s husband was already hurrying toward the great fireplace that took up one wall, and Sebastian was reaching for her arm. They left the kitchens as the sound of Mr. Worth’s sharp oath and a clatter of crockery echoed behind them.

“Really, Sebastian, you cannot expect two people to care for us, and this huge place besides,” Prudence said. “Now, which way am I to go?” She looked about, dazed by the number of rooms that led this way and that, one into another.

“Come, I will escort you, although I cannot imagine why we are waiting upon a housekeeper,” Sebastian grumbled.

“It is your punishment for not employing a full staff!” Prudence said. “But I am sure it will not take long, and then we shall see about a bath and some supper.” Although Prudence rarely noticed such things, she realized that she was exceedingly hungry. When had they last eaten? Without Phoebe to drag her to table, she might never be fed.

“Do not mention food to me, when you have kept me from my meals all the day long,” Sebastian groused as they
stepped through the open doors of yet another elegant chamber.

“Ha! If you had not kept me abed all afternoon—” Prudence’s complaint was cut off by the sight of a familiar figure standing at the marble mantelpiece. “Hugh!” she gasped.

“Prudence! Thank heaven I have found you!” Prudence’s cousin rushed forward to take her hands. She greeted him warmly enough, though his effusive manner struck her as odd, since they had parted on less than amicable terms. And what could have coaxed him from his cozy London lodgings? Prudence felt unease creep up her spine over what she sensed was not a simple visit.

“What is it, Hugh?” she asked, but he rambled on, oblivious of her growing alarm.

“I went to the cottage, and your servants claimed they knew nothing of your return!” he exclaimed. “You cannot imagine the state of my agitation then. I feared the worst, I do not mind telling you. And then to find this…place—” he shivered “—so dark and grim and seemingly unoccupied…”

“Hugh!” Prudence broke in with uncharacteristic impatience. “Why have you come?”

It took a moment for her words to penetrate his train of thought, but when they did, his expression grew grim, confirming Prudence’s worst fears. He dropped her hands. “It is your sister.”

“Phoebe?” Prudence cried out in panic liberally laced with guilt. She should never have left her little sister alone in London! Reaching for Hugh’s arm, as if to force him to speak, she tugged at him with a violence that obviously startled him. “Has she been hurt?”

Shaking off her decidedly unladylike grip, Hugh drew himself up with his usual dignity. “She ran off!” He spoke with both dismay and distaste, as if he could not make up his mind which emotion was paramount.

“What do you mean?” Prudence heard Sebastian’s deep voice beside her, and she reached out blindly, until her fingers dug into his muscled arm. She felt his hand close over her own, warm and heavy and comforting, and she knew some relief from the tension that strained her.

Hugh looked at the earl with obvious dislike. “I mean just what I said. She has run away with one of her young men.” He pursed his lips in disapproval. “A Mr. Darlington, I believe.”

“Oh, no!” Prudence felt faint. She might have fallen, but for Sebastian’s strong arm snaking around her waist, holding her up and giving her strength.

“Where did they go?” Sebastian asked coolly.

“That is an interesting question,” Hugh said, pacing across the room. “He spoke quite frequently of an estate in Devon, yet when I cornered one of his closest acquaintances, I was told that Mr. Darlington possessed no property. It was all a sham!”

Prudence moaned. The man was just as she had suspected, a liar and a…debaucher of women.

“Surely you have some idea where he took Phoebe?” Sebastian asked, irritation creeping into his tone.

Hugh grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “As a matter of fact, I do. After some conversation with Mr. Darlington’s acquaintance, I was able to ascertain that he has an uncle in Mullion, which is, I do believe, not far from here.”

He looked as if he expected them to applaud his ingenuity, but Prudence’s heart had sunk. “That is your only lead?” she asked shakily.

Hugh stared at her, apparently confused by the question.

“What did the servants say? Does Darlington own a coach, or did they hire one for the trip? Where did they depart? And when?” Sebastian asked.

Hugh shook his head, as though dazed. “I know only that Mrs. Sampson said Phoebe was not in her bed, and that is
when they found the note.” Hugh dug in his pocket and handed a piece of paper to her.

Scribbled upon it in Phoebe’s childish scrawl were the words:

I am off to marry Mr. Darlington. Wish me well!

“It is her hand,” Prudence said softly, handing the note to Sebastian.

He glanced at it quickly. “And just exactly when did she leave?” he asked Hugh again.

Her cousin looked uncomfortable. “Sometime Monday evening, I suspect,” he mumbled.

“Monday evening?
Why, that was the very day we left! They have been gone for days!” Prudence cried, as guilt and despair racked her. She remembered the gleam in Darlington’s eye, and she knew with certainty that they were too late. Her lovely sister must have been compromised already by that lying devil! And as for the wedding plans, Prudence did not know whether to hope for them or not. She would not wish Phoebe tied to such a cad, nor did she wish to see her sister’s dreams destroyed. It was an impossible coil!

“Why didn’t you go after them, Lancaster?” Sebastian said, in a low, threatening voice.

“Why, I hardly think—”

Sebastian did not let Hugh finish. “As her closest male relative, I would think it your duty. As it was your responsibility to protect her from men like Darlington.”

Hugh blustered, stuttering in protest. “Now, now, see here, Ravenscar! I hardly think it my fault if a woman well-known for her poor judgment decides to get herself ruined!”

At his best, Hugh was not a brilliant man, and Prudence could almost see his mind working as he slowly began to realize the similarities between Phoebe’s situation and her
own. The connotations of her presence at Wolfinger, especially at this time of night and without a chaperone, were within his grasp. Perhaps he even recalled the telling words she had uttered upon entering the room. And as he came to the obvious conclusion, Hugh’s face grew flushed with outrage.

“Now, see here!” he said, glaring, first at her and then at Sebastian, with something akin to horror. “Prudence, I might ask you a few questions myself, such as where is Mrs. Broadgirdle?”

Prudence dismissed his query with a wave of her hand. “Do not worry yourself about me, Hugh. It is Phoebe we must find!”

Hugh appeared to be shocked speechless by her casual dismissal of his concern. Turning, he paced the room in agitation several times before finally coming to a stop before her. “Prudence, I had wanted…that is, when you came to visit, I had hoped…”

He lifted his head to look her directly in the eye. “Dash it all, I thought we could deal extremely well together, you and I. Before
he
came between us,” Hugh said, glancing rudely at the earl, “I had planned to ask for your hand. Naturally, your current situation is not to be taken lightly.”

Hugh paused to clear his throat. “However, I believe I can forgive your…indiscretion. That is, dash it all, I am willing to accept soiled goods, Prudence, just to get you out of the clutches of that fiend and restore you to respectable society. Come, Cousin, I am offering you a chance to redeem yourself. Quit this ghastly place, and let us be married.”

Hugh watched her expectantly, but silence reigned for a long moment, while Prudence struggled to compose a reply. Although his manner took her aback, she knew that Hugh meant well, and she felt compelled to explain her position fully to him.

“I am sorry, Hugh, but I just cannot do it,” she blurted out. “You see, I have discovered something very important recently, which is that life is what you make of it.”

Prudence was not surprised to see Hugh gaping at her blankly. “You can choose a boring mockery of existence,” she noted, looking at her cousin unflinchingly. “Or you can retreat into your work, as I did. Or you can live your life as others expect you to, being other than what you would wish,” she said, glancing at Sebastian.

Prudence had to take a deep breath in order to continue. “Or you can make your own reality. That is what I have decided to do,” she concluded. “If I wish for excitement, I have only to concoct it!” she declared. “For, in the end, it is all in my hands.”

Hugh scowled at her, uncomprehending. “Reality! Fiction! What prattle!” he muttered. “Just what I would expect from a writer of gothic novels. Well, let me tell you something, Miss Prudence Lancaster, do not come crying to me when you find yourself a social pariah! As of this moment, I refuse to acknowledge either you or your sister. Do you understand me?” he sputtered, his face red. “You are no longer welcome in my home!”

Although Prudence was unhurt by his angry words, Sebastian stepped forward, menace emanating from his tall form. He pinned her cousin with a steely gaze that made the shorter man gulp and back away.

“I would watch what you say, Lancaster,” Sebastian warned, in a low, threatening voice.

“Oh?” Hugh asked. Although he continued a slow progression toward the door, he managed to lift his chin in one last effort to assert himself. “Are you standing up for your mistress, Ravenscar?” he jeered.

“No,” Sebastian said in a deadly serious tone. “I am standing up for my future wife, and I would not have you, or anyone else, insult her.”

*   *   *

Phoebe stood huddled in the corner, eyeing the denizens of the taproom warily and wishing she was back in London. No! She wanted to be home—in her lovely little cottage, where she was petted and pampered and…safe. Instead, she was stranded here in this frightful tavern, subject to the whims of a man who was not at all what she had believed him to be. She had only the vaguest notion of her location, and not a shilling to her name. Too late, Phoebe had realized just how carefully Prudence had planned their excursions. She had always pooh-poohed her sister’s preoccupation with money and budgeting, but now she longed very much for Prudence’s practicality—for everything about the dear sister she had treated so poorly. Swallowing back a sob, Phoebe knew that the mess in which she found herself was, sadly, entirely of her own doing.

She had arrived in London, expecting to make a splendid debut, only to find that she was just one of many pretty girls and that Prudence, with her silly scribbling, was the popular one. The reversal of their roles had so incensed her that she had behaved badly, throwing tantrums and ignoring her sister’s efforts to please.

When Prudence went so far as to leave her for that fiendish earl, Phoebe had wanted to strike out, to show her sister that she neither needed her nor wanted her attention. She had been deep in the dismals, not thinking clearly, and the perfect prey for Mr. Darlington.

Since their first meeting, he had lavished her with praise and small gifts that she was not supposed to accept.
He
had appreciated her. Why, he had sworn that he could not live without her! When she complained to him of Prudence’s defection, he had presented a solution.
Run away with me,
he had urged, promising to procure a special license and marry her in but a few days.

Phoebe had been easily swayed by the thought of a lifetime of Mr. Darlington’s love and indulgence. Of course,
she had not felt quite the same as when James paid her court, but James was gone, and a girl had to take advantage of her opportunities. Otherwise, she might end up an old maid like Prudence, throwing herself at the first man to evince any interest in her.

Phoebe cringed at her naïveté. Oh, Mr. Darlington had spoiled her, all right—for the span of a day. They had managed to leave a small rout together, because Emma and her mother, though fun and amusing, were hardly vigilant chaperones. Oh, what a mad dash it had been through the night, along moonlit roads, and so romantic! She had even allowed her betrothed certain liberties in the coach that she had not allowed any other man, but he had become rough and insistent, and they had quarreled.

The next day, he had seemed to be in a better mood, stopping to eat when she wanted and flattering her shamelessly, yet in a gentlemanly manner that chased away her misgivings. But that night there had been some difficulty about the room. He had not, at first, secured her a separate chamber, and he had become angry when she demanded one. Finally, with a glance at two handsome soldiers lounging nearby, he had agreed, most ungraciously, counting out the extra money, just as if he were impoverished.

Her suspicions aroused, Phoebe had been less sanguine the next day. She had asked to see the special license, and, as if Mr. Darlington had exchanged places with some demon, gone had been the sweet admirer who begged piteously for her hand. In his place had been a cold and furious creature who ranted at her in a most unseemly fashion before finally refusing to speak to her at all.