But she would, and the sooner, the better.
CHAPTER20
The Duke of Montford wasn’t pleased.
Not with Bryce, the footman who’d accompanied Prue inside Angelo’s, or Norris, the coachman who’d driven her there. Not with Mr. Henry Angelo, who’d welcomed her into his fencing academy with a bow and the offer of a practice foil, and not with Lord Quincy, who’d so graciously agreed to partner her in a bout.
But of all the people the Duke of Montford was displeased with this afternoon, he was the most displeased withher.
He hadn’t said a single word since he’d barked at poor Norris to take them back to Berkeley Square, and aside from the grip of his fingers around her wrist as he’d bundled her into the carriage, he hadn’t touched her. He hadn’t even deigned to look at her, but kept his gaze focused steadfastly out the window, his jaw so tight it looked as if it would shatter if he dared exhale a breath.
Prue sneaked another sidelong glance at him from the corner of her eye, waiting with her hands clenched in her lap for him to say something—anything—but the silence between them stretched on, the only sound the rattle of the carriage wheels as they made the brief trip down Bruton Street to Berkeley Square.
By the time Norris brought the carriage to a stop at the townhouse, she’d grown so exasperated with him she ignored him when he attempted to hand her down from the carriage. What did he mean by tracking her to Angelo’s after leaving her on her own on the first day of their marriage, and dragging her out the door as if she’d done something unspeakable? It wasn’t as if she’d been caught in some sort of shocking scandal.
It was a fencing lesson, for pity’s sake! Surely, it didn’t warrant such a fuss as this?
As soon as they entered the house she went toward the stairs, intending to sweep up them in a dignified silence, but Jasper stopped her with a hand on her arm. “A word in my study, if you would, Your Grace.” He didn’t wait for her to answer, but turned on his heel and strode down the corridor, leaving her to trail after him as if she were one of his hunting dogs.
Very well, then. If His Grace wanted to talk, then he had quite an earful awaiting him.
He was at the sideboard when she entered the study, pouring a measure of brandy into a tumbler. “Sherry?” he asked, holding up an empty glass, his other hand hovering over one of the bottles.
“Brandy, if you please.” It looked as if she was going to need it.
He didn’t argue, but poured her a glass of brandy and handed it to her, then nodded at a chair. “Please do have a seat, Your Grace.”
She did as he bid her, flouncing over to a settee in an injured silence. He didn’t join her, choosing instead to pace silently in front of the fireplace. Just as she was ready to scream with frustration, he turned to her at last and said, “It’s not wise, Prue, for you to be seen in the company of a gentleman like Lord Quincy.”
“Lord Quincy?” Wasthatwhat this was about? “You mean to say you caused that dreadful scene at Angelo’s because of Lord Quincy?”
“No, Your Grace. Iinterruptedthe sceneyouwere making at Angelo’s by accepting the attentions of a scoundrel like Quincy.”
For pity’s sake, who cared about Lord Quincy? “I went to Angelo’s tofence, Your Grace, not to court the attentions of some random gentleman.” Still, it hardly seemed fair to attack the poor man, whose only sin seemed to be partnering her in a bout when all the other gentlemen refused. “Besides, Lord Quincy appears to me to be a perfect gentleman—”
“But heisn’ta perfect gentleman, Prue!” The words exploded from him like a pistol shot, shattering the quiet between them. “He’s as wicked a rake as London has ever seen.”
My, that was rather the pot accusing the kettle, wasn’t it? “Perhaps he’s heard I have a weakness for rakes,” she muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Er, nothing. You were saying?”
“He’d like to make you think he’s a proper gentleman,” Jasper went on, his dark brows drawn into a scowl. “It’s easier for him to insinuate himself into your good graces that way.”
Hergood graces? Why, what nonsense! What use could she possibly be to the Earl of Quincy? She didn’t have anything to offer the man. “That seems unlikely, Your Grace. Why should Lord Quincy care about insinuating himself with me?”
Jasper had begun pacing again, but at that he turned to face her, his expression incredulous. “You can’t be serious. You’re theDuchess of Montford, Prue—”
“Yes, I’m aware of that. If you recall, we were married only yesterday. You needn’t speak to me as if I’m a child, Jasper.”
He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t think you’re a child, Prue, but neither do I think you understand what it means to be the Duchess of Montford. The entiretonwill be watching you now. Some of them are harmless enough, but others . . . well, at the very least they’ll gossip about you, but there will be those who bear you ill will and will actively try to hurt you.”
“I see.” As absurd as it seemed, she’d seen too much of thetonto doubt him entirely. The worst among them didn’t even need a reason to hurt someone, but wreaked havoc for the mere sport of it. “And you believe Lord Quincy is one of these?”
“Iknowhe is. If you doubt me, then ask the Duchess of Basingstoke for her opinion of him. She’ll say the same.”
“But why should Lord Quincy wish to hurt me?” It all seemed a bit far-fetched. “I never laid eyes on the man before today.”
