Was it raining? He hadn’t noticed. The only thing he could think about, the only thing that mattered, was getting to Prue as soon as possible. “Yes, today. I don’t want to wait any longer, Grandfather.”
His grandfather considered him for a long moment, then nodded. “Berkeley Square, Ruddick, my good man,” he said to his driver, then sat back in his seat, rubbing his hands together with glee. “I can hardly wait to tell Basingstoke and Grantham how you punished Quincy and made him cry out for his mother.”
Jasper frowned. “I don’t think hedidcry out for his mother.”
His grandfather gave him a mischievous wink. “Maybe not, but when I tell it, lad, he will have.”
CHAPTER26
“May I fetch you more tea, Your Grace?”
Prue glanced away from the window to the doorway of the drawing room where Montford Park’s housekeeper, Mrs. Bingham, stood wringing her hands. She was a plump, grandmotherly lady with kind blue eyes, eager to please her new mistress, but she didn’t seem to know quite what to make of Prue.
It seemed duchesses did not, in Mrs. Bingham’s experience, spend long, silent hours alone in their grand drawing rooms without issuing a single command, or making a single demand. Without, in fact, saying a single word, but only staring out the window, as quiet as a mouse.
“That’s kind of you, Mrs. Bingham.” Prue had yet to touch the tea tray Mrs. Bingham had left an hour ago, but she nodded with a smile. “I’d welcome more tea, thank you.”
Mrs. Bingham beamed. “Right away, Your Grace!” She bustled off, looking relieved to have something to do, at last.
Mrs. Binghamwaskind. All the servants at Montford Park were as kind and accommodating as any servants possibly could be, from the housemaid who’d lit the fire in her bedchamber this morning, to Mr. Whitehurst, the groom who’d shown her around the stables, to Mrs. Bingham, who’d hovered just outside the drawing room door for most of the day, and offered Prue more tea than she could drink in a lifetime.
As for Montford Park itself, it was as lovely as Prue had imagined it would be. One couldn’t stir a step without stumbling upon another of its beauties, whether it was the ornate wood paneling, the elegant plasterwork ceiling medallions, or the extensive walled gardens redolent with the scents of roses and lavender.
It was the castle in the clouds she’d always dreamed of, as much as any place ever could be, but from the moment she’d set foot inside the grand entryway, she found herself sinking under a misery more profound than any she’d ever endured, as if heavy weights were attached to her limbs, dragging her downward.
Despite the dozens of servants, the place felt wretchedly empty.
It shouldn’t have, when everything she’d never even dared to dream of washere, right at her fingertips. Servants at her beck and call, a lovely home with sunlight streaming through the windows, a stable full of exquisite horses, and vast, open space in which to ride them.
Was none of this enough for her, now that she was a duchess?
It seemed not.
It didn’t make sense, really. It wasn’t as if her girlhood dreams had ever included a husband. How selfish she was, to be pining for a thing she’d never wanted! But since she’d arrived at Montford Park, a shadowy figure with lovely dark eyes, a headful of tousled hair, and a smile that was both wicked and teasing at once had followed her everywhere she went, as if she were dragging a silent ghost along in her wake with every step she took.
She couldn’t escape him.
How was she ever going to survive a month here, if she couldn’t even manage a single day without him? She’d go mad.
She leapt to her feet, unable to sit still a moment longer, and hurried to the window. The afternoon sun was still shining, filtered through a cocoon of white, puffy clouds, but darker, more foreboding clouds were massing in the distance.
It was going to rain, possibly for hours. Days, even. She’d be trapped indoors with nothing to occupy her mind, no way to escape the weight of Jasper’s shadowy presence. No, she couldn’t bear it. She must get outside now, at once, before she lost her chance.
She whirled around and raced for the drawing room door, but just as she reached it Mrs. Bingham appeared, carrying a tea tray in her hands. “Your Grace?” The housekeeper paused in the doorway, her eyebrows drawing together. “Do you require assistance?”
“No, Mrs. Bingham, I just . . . I was taken with a sudden urge for a walk, that’s all. If you’d be so good as to leave the tea, I’ll have it when I return.”
Mrs. Bingham glanced at the window, where the steel-edged clouds seemed to be advancing with astonishing speed, swallowing the weak rays of sunshine as they came. “Oh, but I think it’s going to rain, Your Grace. You wouldn’t like to get caught in a downpour.”
“You needn’t worry, Mrs. Bingham. I won’t be gone long.” Prue edged past the housekeeper and into the hallway, resisting the urge to turn and flee. “I’ll take care to dress warmly, as well.”
“Very well, Your Grace.” Mrs. Bingham nodded, but Prue could feel the housekeeper’s worried gaze on her back as she hurried down the hallway to the staircase. Sarah had given her a similarly anxious look this morning, when Prue had sent her tray back to the kitchens with her breakfast untouched.
It was becoming quite the thing, for people to follow her with worried gazes, wasn’t it?
She took the stairs two at a time, desperate to be outdoors where she might draw in draughts of the fresh, cool air. “Sarah?” She burst through the door into her apartments, but Sarah wasn’t there.
Prue glanced at the bell but decided against summoning Sarah. She couldn’t bear to wait another instant, and all she needed was a warm cloak and a hat. She could fetch those for herself easily enough.
