She arched her brows. “Is it not counterproductive to give a weapon of war to make peace?”
“Not to medieval Scots,” he said. “Especially in these parts. Weapons were every bit if not more valued than currency.” When he saw her lingering interest in the blade, he gestured at the hilt. “Would you like to hold it?”
“Certainly not,” she said, even though he suspected she did. “What interest would I have in holding such a thing?”
“One never knows.” He returned the sword to its mount. “Perhaps you simply wanted to hold something that intrigued you?”
“A sword, intrigue me?” She offered a dainty little shiver and continued on but not before glancing at the sword one last time. “What would I want with a blade that belongs in our past?”
“Again, one never knows.” They continued strolling from room to room. “Perhaps you enjoy history. And whilst it might have served more purpose in the past, I, for one, enjoy jousting sparring with a sword nowadays.”
“Do you?” She perked an eyebrow. “Why?”
While he would typically say for the sport of it, something about the genuine curiosity in her eyes made him want to give her an equally genuine answer. “I suppose if I were to be honest, to release pent-up emotions.”
She seemed surprised by that. As though he should not have admitted such. Yet minutes later, as they continued strolling from room to room, she replied. “Did I anger you that much, then?”
“Not anger at you, Lady Barrington.” He supposed if there were ever a time to give her some of his history, it would be now. “When I first began sparring, it was anger at everyone in general. Dislike of what I had experienced thus far in life. As time went on, that anger vanished until it returned upon losing my wife.”
Prudence was about to reply when a small group of people entered the room and gathered by the hearth to chat. Understanding by the flicker of discomfort on her face that she would rather not have this conversation around others, they started back toward the great hall.
While he would have preferred to remain in her company because he sensed they were making headway, he was forced to leave her in Maude’s miraculously available hands upon their return. This might not be his estate, but there were still plenty who wished to speak to him about other matters. Ways in which he might help them. How they might assist him if he were ever in need. So he bid Prudence farewell in hopes they would reunite later that evening.
“She has not gone all that far,” Blake said when they crossed paths a short while later. “We shall rejoin them soon enough.”
When he looked at his friend curiously, Blake chuckled. “Most might not see it, but it is obvious enough by the way your eye wanders to where Lady Barrington vanished with my Maude that you are eager to run into her again.”
“I suppose I am.” They headed for the study. “I fully expected one thing upon spending time with her and discovered quite another.”
“And what did you discover?”
“That she is—” he did not search long for the right word—“interesting. Worth getting to know better.”
He could tell by the dubious look on his friend’s face he found that hard to believe, and he did not blame him. Prudence was a difficult woman. But, again, he stood by the premise she was not always that way.
As it happened, Blake relented and proved that theory correct.
“Maude said she was once very different.” He shook his head as though he found it hard to believe. “That she was vivacious and happy. She had never been uppity or looked down on others.”
“I believe it.” And he was not sure why other than he had caught glimpses of a different woman today. It had not been much, but she was there. “I look forward to seeing if that lass still exists.” He slid a knowing look MacLauchlin’s way. “But I suspect you hoped I might say that despite how disagreeable you might find her.”
“Honestly?” Blake shook his head. “Maude did, but yet again, I wondered at it. If such a thing were truly a good idea.”
“So the timing of Elizabeth’s pianoforte was not planned?”
“It was not.” Blake stopped and frowned at him. His brows furrowed. “Surely, you do not think I would be so insensitive?”
“I do not.” He clasped Blake’s shoulder. “But I had to ask as the timing was most unusual.”
When Blake asked him why he told him what had happened.
“So it gave you two an opportunity to connect in a way you did not anticipate, I take it?” Blake narrowed his eyes. “And that made all the difference?”
“Surprisingly, it did.” He squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “I am convinced your wife is right about what lies beneath her sister’s difficult exterior.”
“Then perhaps…”
When Blake trailed off, he understood what he did not say. His concern yet again that Jacob might cause more harm than good going forward. That it may, indeed, be best to let Prudence find her own way, no matter how isolated and lonely he sensed it would be.
