Page 31 of The Duke and the Spinster

Chapter Twelve

Lord Fondleton had finally arranged things to his liking. He had ensured that a suitable room was readied, that he had located the servants’ stairs to the upper floor, and identified the easiest route to gain his rooms unobserved.

He would have to untie her legs, for she would have to walk, but the rest of her restraints could stay. Wrapped in the cloak that now lay over his arm, no-one would see anything of her.

He stepped into the stables, humming quietly with satisfaction, and went to his carriage.

~~~~~

Lady Prudence was worried – by now, her mother might have noticed her absence. But she had been unable to escape the horse stall. There had been people coming and going, there had been stable hands and grooms at work, and she had stayed hidden, terrified of discovery. In her mind, as she hid, she replayed what she had seen.

She did not know what to think of it! The Duke had seemed to be intentionally hiding, slipping along behind the carriages like a thief. When he had opened a carriage door, she had wondered if such a preposterous idea could be true. But then, mere minutes later, he had reappeared – with a very tousled Lady Juliana following him. Where had she been? Why was she in a carriage, here, if she had been ill the last two days, as had been put about? And, most importantly, why did she look all tousled and disreputable – it could not be the Duke’s doing, for he had only been in that carriage for a very short time.

Regardless, perhaps it would be of use as gossip, if she could work out how to use it best. She had been shocked by the sight at first, then angry beyond bearing. The Duke was hers! She had warned Lady Juliana twice, and yet, here the woman was, sneaking about in stables with the Duke. It was more than she could bear, yet she had no choice but to stay still and silent, for, once the shock had worn off enough for her to move, it was too late – and, anyway, she did not want the Duke disgraced, or forced to marry Lady Juliana!

The grooms had taken forever to reach the point where they left the main area of the stables. But finally, all seemed quiet. She gathered her courage, and slipped from the horse stall into the central aisle, smoothing her skirts. Before she could take another step, a loud shriek resounded through the building. She froze in renewed terror. What had happened?

Moments later, someone collided with her. She grabbed at them to stop herself from falling, and they, in turn, grabbed hold of her. She was instantly aware that it was a man. A man who was, apparently, very angry.

“Where has she gone, the little minx? How could she possibly escape? I will not lose her again, I won’t!”

His rantings made no sense, and he seemed almost unaware that he held her. He shook her a little, as if she might answer his impossible questions.

“My Lord?”

Her voice came out even sharper than usual, high pitched and shaky. He looked at her, as if finally realising that he held a woman. His eyes took on a greedy, devious look.

“Perhaps you’ll do instead, for now. You’re conveniently here, and I find that I need to release my frustrations.”

“Wha…”

Her attempt to question his meaning was cut off when his lips came down over hers in a plundering kiss. She squirmed in his grasp, and he deepened the kiss in response. Oddly, Lady Prudence discovered that, perhaps, it was not entirely unpleasant.

“Lady Prudence! Lord Fondleton! What is the meaning of this?”

The sharp voice sliced through the air, and Lady Prudence found herself released from the kiss. Above them, on her horse, was Mrs Hardcastle, the woman who owned the Boarding House. The woman who was seen by many as the arbiter of propriety in the town. Her no-nonsense attitude was well respected. Lady Prudence found herself lost for words – for, to tell the truth, she had no idea what was happening.

“Ummm.”

The man – Lord Fondleton? – drew himself up, attempting to look righteous.

“What is this? It’s none of your business, Madam.”

“Oh, I think it is my business, as an upstanding resident of this town. I believe that you, Lord Fondleton, and you, Lady Prudence, have just become, by your actions, betrothed.” She slid lightly down from her horse, and handed the mare to a gaping groom who had come running at the sound of loud voices. “Come with me. We will find your mother at once, Lady Prudence.”

When Lord Fondleton went to object, Mrs Hardcastle turned to him and spoke, her voice full of threat, no matter how plain her words.

“Lord Fondleton, a gentleman does not do what you have just done, without marrying the Lady in question. If you do not voluntarily come with us now, and do the honourable thing, I will be forced to ask these young men,” she indicated the gathering crowd of grooms around them, “to bring you. Perhaps you would find it more dignified to co-operate?”

Lady Prudence watched as Lord Fondleton swallowed, visibly, and nodded. In that moment, Mrs Hardcastle’s words finally sank into her mind. Betrothed! To this man… noooo, she could not be, she was destined to marry the Duke. But… Mrs Hardcastle took her arm, and they walked out of the stables, out of the Inn yard, back towards the Tea Rooms. It was happening, and she was powerless to change it. There were so many witnesses… In front of the Tea Rooms, Lady Mortel stood, looking puzzled and concerned. As they approached, her expression first cleared, then darkened again.

“Prudence! Where have you been? I’ve been distraught.”

“Well you might be distraught, Lady Mortel.”

Mrs Hardcastle spoke first, and Lady Prudence simply stood, still dazed by how fast things had happened.

“What? Why?”

The seamstress’ face appeared around the edge of the Tea Rooms’ door, avid for gossip as always, and Lady Prudence finally realised that she was doomed, that she was going to marry the man standing beside her.

“Because I just found your daughter, with Lord Fondleton, in a rather steamy embrace in the Inn stables. I believe that you now have a betrothal to celebrate.”

Lady Mortel’s face had gone white, and was now a good match for the face of her daughter, and that of Lord Fondleton. She turned to him with an expression of amazement and doubt.

“Is this true, my Lord?” Mrs Hardcastle emitted a half snort of amusement, and glared at Lord Fondleton, who fingered his cravat as if it was suddenly too tight, and nodded. “I will, then, expect more conventional behaviour from you, between now and the wedding day – which will be as soon as it can be feasibly arranged. Come with me, my Lord, Prudence, we will immediately go home and I will have your signature on the marriage agreement, my Lord.”

Mrs Hardcastle nodded her approval and turned to Lord Fondleton.

“If I hear of you attempting, in any way, to behave dishonourably, my Lord, be assured that there will be consequences. Good day to you.”

She turned and walked back towards the Inn, leaving stunned silence behind her. Except for the whisper of gossip, which was even now running through the customers of the Tea Rooms like wildfire.