Interestingly, she found either option to be acceptable but could admit she hoped it might be friendship at first. That he might simply enjoy talking with her. Spending time together. While that could be in part her own insecurity that a man would ever be interested in more, the idea of companionship with him was most appealing. Perhaps because it would be just that. As it were, the Duke of Argyll was not in need of money, or the esteem being married to a former earl’s wife could bring.
She rested her head back against the tub and closed her eyes. Tried to envision what a friendship with Jacob might look like. Yet her thoughts inevitably drifted to how it would feel if it were more. What it might be like if, years from now, they visited this castle, and he opened her chamber door instead of Agnus. If he crouched beside her bath and slid his hand into the water. If he trailed it from her chest, down between her breasts, over her stomach, then lower. Slow. So slowly, breathing became impossible.
Would he touch her where she began to throb, or would he tease her more? Trail his fingers further down her quivering thigh, or assuage the growing ache inside her?
Her eyes flew open when a light rap came at the door. Startled, she gripped the side of the tub when she realized her own hand had traveled in the wake of her fantasy. For a split second, she imagined Jacob might actually be standing on the other side of her door but set aside the silly notion when Agnus entered.
“Will you be attending dinner below stairs?” Her maid wrapped a towel around her when she stepped out of the bath. “Or dining in this evening?”
While she had been set to dine alone, the sound of music drifting up when Agnus opened the door had been enticing. The thought of seeing Jacob, even across the room, was even more alluring.
“I think I will dine below stairs, after all.”
“Very good.” Her maid opened the armoire only to stop short.
“What is it, Miss Agnus?”
“Something most unexpected, my lady.” Agnus frowned and stepped aside so she could see. “Everything but one of the dresses Lady MacLauchlin provided is missing.” She pulled out a small scroll tucked into its cleavage and handed it to Prudence. “It appears this might be for you.”
“Without doubt.” She unrolled it, read the brief note from her sister, and outright scowled at her sister’s nerve. “It seems Lady MacLauchlin was kind enough to have all my gowns properly seen to for my travels tomorrow.”
“Is that not strange, my lady?”
“Very, but this is Maude we are talking about.” She highly doubted her clothing was anywhere but tucked away in this castle somewhere, forcing Prudence to dress differently for the first time in ages.
Well, two could play at that game.
“My sister thinks to force my hand.” She narrowed her eyes. “What she forgets is I have the option not to attend at all. Fetch my night rail.”
“Of course, my lady.” Agnus opened a bureau drawer only to pause again. “If I could, that is.”
“Surelynot.” She joined her maid and stared down into the nearly empty drawer. There was nothing left but undergarments appropriate for the gown. “Oh, blast her!”
When Agnus looked at her in astonishment, Prudence apologized for her language, but good Lord, she meant it.
“I will go below stairs straight away and seek a night rail, my lady.” Agnus’s brow furrowed. “For shame, I willdemandit.”
“Demand though you might, I suspect you will not find a suitable night rail in all of MacLauchlin Castle,” she said dryly. “Likely not the whole of Scotland if my sister has her way.”
She sighed and considered the short-sleeved gown. Was it appropriate to wear such a garment? What might people think? Many women embraced color the moment they were out of mourning. Far brighter colors than the muted gold of the gown. Styles that were even more daring.
“And with good reason,” Grace would say, “as they are out of mourning. Moreover, might you not be going against decorum if you continued dressing so darkly? Going against what would be expected of you at this point? Which would, in its own way, be in defiance of good sense, yes?”
“You make a good point,” she murmured.
“What is that?” Agnus said.
Surprised she had spoken aloud, she blinked, waved it off, and came to a swift decision. “I will wear it.” She gathered her courage and nodded at her maid. “I will wear the gown provided and attend the festivities below.”
Agnus’ eyebrows edged up slowly. “Are you quite sure, my lady?”
“I am.”
Or better put, whether she was or not, she intended to be. Would she have a word or two to say to her sister? Undoubtedly. But she could admit being forced into this was not the worst thing. Or so she thought until she slid into the dress and realized it was every bit as revealing as she had feared. Her cleavage appeared far too full. Plumper than she realized her breasts could be.
“This is highly indecent.” She sat, pulled on matching elbow-length silk gloves, and let Agnus fashion her hair into a high bun with loose curls framing her face. “I will be most looked down upon wearing something like this at my age.”
When Agnus remained unnaturally silent, she caught her gaze in the mirror. “What is it?” Prudence prompted her again when she hesitated. “Just tell me. Should I undress at once? Retire until you can find me a night rail in this God-forsaken castle?”
