Chapter Four
The ride home was accomplished in record time, given the late afternoon waning light and the snow on the ground. But Reid admitted to himself as he dismounted, he hadn’t remembered very much of it. His mind was still full of the woman who had been so terribly mis-named. There was nothingprudentabout Prudence, he mused with a private grin.
The groom took Whiskey toward the stables, and Reid noticed the carriage signifying the arrival of the Southwicks drawn up alongside. To his dismay, the horses were being brushed and tended. That meant Lady Southwick and Emmeline were already there.
He hurried inside, hoping to be able to tidy himself and stroll in for tea without comment. But luck was not on his side.
“There you are, Reid. We were wondering where you’d got to.”
It was Lady Mary Southwick, looking down her nose at him. The woman was always reminding the Chillendales that she was related to a Duke, which thus made them her inferiors.
“I was delayed, Ma’am. My apologies.”
She sniffed. “It can’t be helped, I suppose. But I’m sure your mother will be happy to delay tea while you change.”
“I…er…” He had intended to refresh himself and perhaps put on another jacket. Apparently that would not do.
“Now I know you Chillendales like informality, but do remember you have guests, young man. And Emmeline is here with me. I’m sure you will want to appear to your best in front ofher, now, won’t you?” She smiled archly.
“Lady Southwick, I…”
“Oh run along. You’ll have to keep us for dinner if you wait much longer.”
Terror at that thought spurred Reid into action. “Of course. Your pardon, Ma’am.” He bowed and fled.
He rushed through his rooms, stripping as he went, blessing his man Chilton for the warm water in the ewer and the clean clothes laying on the bed.
As he soaped a cloth, he felt he was washing away the traces of her. Of the inappropriately named Prudence. He was removing her scent, and the fragrance of spring. He was cleansing himself of the pleasure he’d experienced, and returning to the bland and ordinary place that was his world.
He realized he was in a mold, not unlike the comments she’d made to him earlier. He was one of the “establishment”, and his life was predictable. Not to mention quite dull. Yes, he loved Chillendale ales, and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else or doing anything else. But this afternoon had shown him that there was another side to life. A side where conversations were important and challenging, not routine. And where passion roared to life.
He couldn’t, for the life of him, imagine taking Emmeline to bed and finding that fire within her. He’d shock her to her slippers if he touched her breasts. She’d faint if he did anything more.
He dashed down the stairs to the small drawing room and paused at the door, hearing that girlish giggle Emmeline was so proud of. What sound would she make when he stripped her and claimed his husbandly rights?
She’d scream and then faint. Again. He just knew it. She wasthatkind of young woman.
“Dear Reid, finally.” His mother caught sight of him. “Come in, there’s still some tea left. I let Bunbury bring it in, since Mary graciously informed me that you were in the house at last.”
He gathered his composure as best he could and managed to not refer to their guest as a bacon-brained old fogey. “I was delayed, Mama. My sincerest apologies, to you and to Lady Southwick and Miss Emmeline.”
His polite bow was greeted with a nod from the older woman and a blushing giggle from the younger one.
“Were you widing, Mr. Weid?”
He blinked. “Er, yes. Yes, I was.” He recalled how much he loathed that little affectation that made girls mispronounce words in order to appear adorable. It didn’t work with most of ‘em, and failed dismally with Emmeline.
“So bwave of you. The snow can be quite wisky under a horse’s hooves.” She simpered.
“I had a sturdy mount, Miss Emmeline. There was no danger. I’m sure you must agree that a little ride now and again, even in winter, is a pleasant experience. It’s a very lovely time of year.”
She shivered. “Oh no. I don’t like to wide at all when it’s cold. Besides, my nose turns quite wed.”
“Ah.”
Having reached the end of that topic of conversation with little difficulty, Reid moved to the tea tray and accepted a cup from his mother. Who managed to give him a fierce glare along with a plate of lemon tartlets.
He correctly interpreted this as to mean he was to sit and participate, without saying any of the things she knew he was thinking.
