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“Mrs. Northgate!” Pru called as she ran after the woman. She walked remarkably quickly for a woman of advanced years. The dowager paused and looked back at her. As Pru approached, Mrs. Northgate nodded.
“That dress looks quite well on you, if I do say so myself.”
Pru looked down at her russet dress and brushed some leaves from the skirt. “Thank you. It wouldn’t look half so well if you hadn’t helped me with it.”
“I daresay it wouldn’t.”
Behind them the footmen shoved George Northgate toward the wagon he had driven to the festival. Mrs. Northgate seemed oblivious to the commotion. Pru moved to the side, partly hidden from Mr. Northgate’s view by some shrubbery. She didn’t want his gaze on her. Now that the immediate danger of Nash being taken away had passed, she’d started trembling again. She closed her eyes and tried to erase the feel of Northgate’s hand fisted in her hair and the smell of his sweat as he dragged her head closer and closer. If Nash had arrived only a few moments later...Pru did not want to think of it. She stepped back again, into the shadows, and Mrs. Northgate followed.
“I am sorry to have to depart early. I imagine my daughter-in-law and granddaughters will not be attending either. I also imagine no one will miss them.”
Pru reached out impulsively and grasped Mrs. Northgate’s hand. “You aren’t angry with me, are you? I feel as though this is all my fault.” Pru couldn’t say why she blamed herself. She just couldn’t stop thinking that if only she’d left the tent a few minutes later. If only she’d fought harder. If only she and Nash hadn’t made love in the field that day—no. She would not regret that.
“Your fault? This is not your fault. George is the one at fault, and if anyone is to blame it’s his fool of a mother who indulged him far too much and his fool of a father who took no interest at all. The boy has always had a mean streak, and he was never once punished for pulling his sisters’ hair or tripping the servants. I am only too happy to do what I have wanted to for years.”
“Send him to the Continent?”
She nodded. “It will do him good to have to stand on his own feet and make his own way for a few years. Perhaps when he returns, he will have gained some maturity.”
Pru nodded. Her own travels had certainly opened her eyes to the world beyond England’s shores. She could only imagine that a man like George Northgate, who had lived his entire life in a small village, would mature if given a chance to see more of the world and make his own way in it.
“I suppose after this I won’t see you again,” Pru said. “I can’t imagine being welcomed into your home.”
Mrs. Northgate smiled. “I would welcome you, but I agree it’s probably not wise. Perhaps I can come and visit you.”
Pru gasped and then hugged Mrs. Northgate. “Would you?”
“Of course. I have many topics of interest to discuss with that ridiculous vicar of yours. He becomes quite vexed when I point out his lack of rational thought on several points of philosophy. I will call on you in a few days.”
“Until then,” Pru said, stepping away, quite aware that all of her affection made Mrs. Northgate uncomfortable. But then the woman did something Pru wasn’t expecting. She pulled Pru into a warm embrace. Pru stood still for a moment, a little shocked, and then wrapped her arms around Mrs. Northgate. Pru had wanted a hug desperately, and now she wanted to stay like this forever.
“I will see you soon, dear girl,” Mrs. Northgate said. She pulled back and smiled down at Pru. “Thank you for knocking on my door that day. I didn’t realize how much I needed a friend.” Then she released Pru and started for the wagon, where her grandson sat staring sullenly straight ahead. Pru would have liked to watch them go—watch what she hoped was the last she’d ever see of George Northgate—but she had left Nash alone and wanted to return to him as quickly as possible. She had a thousand questions for him—chiefly, when he had given his pistol to Mr. Payne. And secondly, though much more important in her mind, when he could sneak away so she could steal a kiss.
***
“WELL, THIS GATHERING has proved more entertaining than I thought,” Rowden said after the earl had moved away. Nash folded his arms across his chest.
“I could have used less excitement.”
“Oh, this gives them something to talk about for the next few months. What is that line in Henry V? ‘And gentlemen in England now-a-bed shall think themselves accursed they were not here.’”
Nash frowned. “I didn’t think you were one for Shakespeare.”
“You don’t know everything about me.”
“I know you said you would guard my back. And you did.”
“I did, and I will. Though I daresay you don’t need me anymore. I believe I will start making plans to return to London.”
“Alone at last,” Nash said, though he felt a pang of sadness at not seeing Rowden every day. He held his hand out. “And I think it time you gave me my pistol back.”
Rowden laughed. “I’m not feeling that sentimental, my friend. I’ll just hold on to it a while longer. Ah, Miss Howard.”
Nash stilled, waiting for the sound of her voice and the warmth of her presence to wash over him.
“Mr. Payne.”
Nash reached for her as soon as he heard the sound of her voice. But there was no need as she anticipated him and was already at his side. He wouldn’t let her walk away again. He was determined to keep her safe and close for the remainder of the day. He might have liked to keep her that way forever, but she would have fought any sort of cage or restraint. She had to be free, and he had to trust she would always come back to him. “Is he gone?” Nash asked. He didn’t want to say the man’s name, and fortunately he needn’t.
“Yes. His grandmother has taken him home and will send him away as quickly as possible. I can’t say I will be sorry to see him go. But I don’t want to speak of him. Mr. Payne, exactly how long have you had that pistol? And Nash, what possessed you to give it to him?”
“That’s a story for another time,” Rowden said. “But I will tell you what Nash knows very well. I protect my friends. I think we are alike in that regard, are we not, Miss Howard?”
“We are.”
“Excuse me, then. I can see Nash is trying to work out how to get you alone. I’ll oblige him by walking away and pointing out that the house is all but empty at the moment.”
Nash could hear the smile in Rowden’s voice and then his footsteps retreated.
Nash clasped Pru’s hand and pulled her into the house behind them before anyone else could delay or interrupt them. He moved so quickly that she was laughing and breathless by the time he reached their favorite destination—the butler’s pantry. Nash could hear a few pots and pans being moved about in the kitchen below, but there was no need for anyone to come up this way as any food being prepared would be taken outside.
Which meant he had Pru all to himself for the moment. He didn’t hesitate to pull her into his arms, and then he was shocked when she began to sob. “He hurt you,” Nash said, his arms tightening around her. “I’ll kill him.”
“He pulled my hair,” she said. “Nothing more. I’m fine, just...oh, I don’t know why I’m weeping. Just hold me.”
Nash obliged, holding her tightly and patting her back. He had never heard her cry before, and he did not ever want to hear it again. The sound tore at his heart, and he felt helpless to stop her pain. Gradually, she sniffed, and he handed her a handkerchief. She blew her nose loudly and tried to hand it back to him.
“Keep it,” he said. “In case you start watering again.”
“I won’t,” she said. “I feel better now. I needed to get all of that out.”
“And I have something I need to get out.” He stepped back and went down on one knee. He heard Pru gasp.
“What are you doing?”
“Asking you to marry me,” he said.
“But I wanted to ask you to marry me. I had a speech planned and everything. I wanted to convince you it would be safe to marry me. I know you’d never hurt me.”
“Pru,” Nash said, “we can ask each other. Come here.” He pulled her to her knees before him. “But I don’t need convincing. When I’m with you, my world quiets. I feel—more myself. I still don’t trust myself completely. There are times when I might sink back into melancholy.”
“And I will be there to pull you right back out.”
“It might not be so easy.”
“I’m not one to shrink from a challenge.”
He laughed. “That’s true enough. I should speak to the vicar then. I’ve already secured my father’s blessing.”
She grasped his hands tightly. “Your father agreed?”
“Yes. You thought we would have to run away together?”
“It would have been more romantic.”
“There’s nothing romantic about a long journey on a rough road, and Scotland is cold and miserable this time of year. I’d rather marry here than like a fugitive in Gretna Green.” He tugged her close and kissed her. “I’d marry you today if I could. I don’t want to wait another minute to have the privilege of doing this whenever you’ll allow it.” He kissed her, marveling that her lips were so sweet. Though he had kissed her many times now, the press of her mouth against his was still something of a surprise.
“Nash,” she said, pulling away.
He sighed. “Can we not discuss details later?” He tried to kiss her again, but she put a hand on his chest. “What is it?”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
Nash froze. That was true. She hadn’t said yes yet. He’d assumed she wanted to marry him, but what if he was wrong? What if she objected to marriage?
He’d convince her. Or he’d live in sin with her like one of those debauched poets all of Society loved to whisper about. But—no. She had said she wanted to ask him to marry her. So perhaps the problem was that he was a complete idiot. “I forgot to ask you,” he said. “I never said the question.”
“That’s—” She broke off. “No, go ahead and ask.”
Nash cleared his throat. “Prudence Howard, will you consent to be my wife?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Nash roared. “Explain.”
“I will.” She was laughing. He could hear it, and it took the edge off his temper. He stood, running a hand through his hair, knowing to do so would reveal his damaged eye, but he was alone with Pru. He trusted her—as frustrating as she was some days.
“Nash, I don’t need you to ask me to marry me. I need you to tell me you love me.”
Nash froze, hand on top of his head. He hadn’t considered he’d need to say anything like that. He did love her, of course, but to say the words seemed...well, he wasn’t certain how to even begin. He’d never said anything like that before. “I don’t know how to begin,” he said, thinking voicing his problem might fill the silence.
“Start by telling me when you first fell in love with me. Was it the first time we kissed? Perhaps when we sat on the front lawn and laughed together.”
Nash frowned at her. “You seem quite confident I do love you. Are you certain you need to hear this?”
“Quite.”
“Very well.” He thought for a moment as he hadn’t tried to pinpoint exactly when he had fallen in love with her. It seemed he was in love with her before he knew he felt anything at all. “I believe it was when I heard you singing that bawdy tune on your way through the informal gardens,” he said.
“No! You didn’t even know me then.”
Nash held out his hand, and she took it.
“I knew I had to love any woman singing a song like that so confidently and loudly.”
“Be serious.”
“Pru, I am serious. I loved you from the first moment I met you.” He hadn’t thought words like those would be so easy to say. He didn’t even feel like an idiot saying them. He wanted to say it all over again. “I love you. Prudence Howard, I love you.”
She went into his arms, resting her head on his chest. “And I love you, Nash Pope.” She kissed him and after a while, quite a long while, he drew back.
“You didn’t tell me when you fell in love with me.”
“I think it was a gradual thing,” she said. “I can’t pinpoint a day.”
Nash blew out a breath. “If I’d known I could give that as an answer—”
“But I think it began,” she interrupted, “the day we first saw the peacock.”
“You and the peacock. I half think you’re marrying me for that bird.”
“I am marrying you for that bird. He’s magnificent.”
“I might have known.”
She hit him lightly. “It wasn’t the bird that started it, though. It was the feeling I had when I was with you. I wanted to feel it again, to be in your presence again. I think I came up with the idea to teach you night writing just to have an excuse to be with you.”
“I’m shocked.”
“You should be,” she said, running a hand through his hair and kissing him. “You have no idea the feminine wiles I might use on you.”
Nash pulled her close. “I am eager to find out.”