“I, for one, am beyond pleased that the past is in the past.” Blake kissed the back of Maude’s hand and looked at her with unmistakable desire. “Because I could not imagine having anyone by my side other than my beautiful English wife.”
The color that had drained from Prudence’s face rushed back. Her gaze flashed with embarrassment before she buried what was no doubt going to be a tart remark in a dainty sip of tea. Had no one ever kissed her hand like that? Gazed at her that way?
Ah, yes,hehad evidently gazed at her like that at one time.
Or so she had claimed.
He credited Blake for handling things so smoothly when he had to be as put off by her offensive words as Jacob. Then again, he well understood the world in which his friend lived right now and how all could be forgiven as long as the lass you loved was by your side. Everything had a way of looking brighter.
“Yes, the past should remain in the past.” Maude smiled prettily at Blake before her attention returned to Jacob and Prudence. “Especially considering how wonderful the here and now is bound to be with St. Cecilia’s Day nearly here.” She clasped her hands in delight. Her eyes grew merry. “As you both know, we will have a variety of musicians visiting MacLauchlin Castle to celebrate, and of course, there will be a festival in town that wemustattend, for it will be great fun.”
While tempted to remind them that the same happened in Argyll and that as laird, he might have remained at his own castle, he was grateful for Blake’s deceit. Whilst not directly discussed, his friend knew him well enough to understand he would have wanted to be here for at least a portion of Prudence’s stay. Knew he would want to have his moment of reckoning with her, even if it did not go as harshly as some might think she deserved.
“I am sure everything will be very enjoyable.” Prudence’s features tightened. The color in her cheeks dulled as though the thought of fun, in general, exhausted her. “I fear I grow weary, sister.” She set her tea down so precisely on the tray he suspected she would lash out if it sat any other way. “If it would not be a bother, I wish to retire for the evening.”
“For the whole evening?” Maude pouted. “But I have such a lovely dinner planned and then games and perhaps a bit of dancing and—”
“And I am sure Lady Barrington appreciates and looks forward to such once she’s well rested, my love,” Blake interrupted gently. He squeezed Maude’s hand in reassurance and looked at Prudence kindly. “Take all the time you need to rest, then we will welcome you properly, Lady Barrington. Until then, there is a chamber awaiting you as well as whatever else you might need to make your stay comfortable.”
“You are right, husband.” Clearly determined to please her sister no matter what, Maude stood, smiled broadly as only Maude could, and held out her hand to Prudence. “Come, sister. Let me show you to your chambers and see a bath drawn for you.”
Truth be told, despite a long day of travel, Prudence smelled nice. Hers was a common perfume used by upper crust ladies nowadays, a scent that, while not unflattering, did not suit her somehow. It seemed too tame and uppity despite, for all intents and purposes, her being exactly that.
“Rest would be most welcome.” Prudence remained stiff as she stood without taking her sister’s hand and nodded farewell to Blake and Jacob. “Thank you for a pleasant visit, my lord. Your Grace.”
Before they had a chance to reply, she marched off with Maude in tow.
The moment she was out of earshot, Blake released an audible sigh of relief and thanked his servant for removing the tea and replacing it with whisky.
“But for the love of my wife,” his friend muttered under his breath after dismissing his servants. He poured a glass of whisky for them both. “Beyond her poor opinion of Scots and her tainting your good name, I can see why you so disliked Lady Barrington years ago.” He handed Jacob a glass. “To that end, I apologize for inviting you here in the first place.”
“You need not apologize.” Jacob took a much-needed sip. “We both know I wanted to make her acquaintance again someday.” He shook his head. “And I, at least, knew that day would not be easy. Not after so many years of being with that lout to whom she was married.”
“So you remain on a crusade to save all those like you once were?” Blake deduced.
“Did you not assume such when you invited me here?” He arched his eyebrows. “And do not claim otherwise.”
“I did,” Blake admitted. “But perhaps, this was not one of my better decisions.”
“Normally, I would tend to agree, but….”
“But what?” Blake said when he trailed off.
“But, however disagreeable Lady Barrington might be, and how destructive she was to my past, I am glad you and your lovely new wife invited me.” He was unsure why he felt that so strongly, only that he did. Prudence was every bit as wounded, if not more so, than he had once been. So he tipped his glass to Blake. “I look forward to getting to know both Lady MacLauchlin and Lady Barrington better.”
Blake tipped his drink in return. “And I look forward to having you here during the festivities.” The corner of his mouth shot up. “More now than ever.”
They drank and commenced chatting and catching up before Jacob circled back to what he was curious about. What might help him thaw out the prim and proper Lady Barrington? A task, if he were lucky, that could very well be accomplished by the time he left this castle in a week’s time. Then he would move on to his next conquest like he always did.
“I have not been to London in some time,” he finally said. “What are they saying about Lady Barrington nowadays? How has her mourning period gone? Did she receive visitors? Visit others?”
“From what I gathered and what Maude knows, she only accepted invitations from a scant few,” Blake replied. “The most elite.” He shrugged his shoulder. “It is rumored she made very few appearances given how deeply she mourned her late husband.”
Jacob snorted and looked skyward. “I doubt even his closest chap mourned his passing.” He eyed the way the firelight glittered off the whisky in his glass and frowned. “I think we both can agree few men were as foul as Lord Barrington.”
After Prudence had smeared Jacob’s good name, he made a point of learning more about both her and her husband.
“Lady Barrington cannot be blamed, husband,” Elizabeth had said when he told her what he had discovered. She had crouched in front of him, rested her hand on his knee, and gave him the sort of caring look that made her such a beautiful person. “No more than you could be at one time.”
