“I wasn’t,” he assured her, casting an unfriendly look at the Baron—after all, who was he to come into Desford and start telling the Duchess how to behave? “You did the right thing. Not to worry.”
The Baron had already turned his focus to the table and was taking his seat. “Prudence, do come and sit down and tell us how you’ve been passing your time since coming to Desford,” he said. “We’d have imagined more letters from you, but we’ve hardly heard a word.”
“They have been in their honeymoon, Uncle Stephen,” Bridget murmured. “I’m sure that’s taken up a great deal of their time and attention—I’m not surprised they haven’t found time for letter writing.”
“And yet your sisters tell me that they have both seen you since the wedding,” the Baron went on. “Now, in this matter, I must say your cousin has the right of it, Prudence. You ought to have been giving your husband your full attention. You can’t expect him to remain interested in you if you turn away from him all the time. What man would?”
“Oh, really, that’s enough,” Leonard snapped.
“Excuse me, Your Grace?” The Baron looked surprised to be interrupted, almost as if it hadn’t occurred to him that anyone present might object to the things he was saying.
“You can’t come into my home and speak to my wife like that,” Leonard said. “And for that matter, you have no right to speak to the Duchess of Desford in such a cavalier way. Don’t forget yourself.”
“I—my apologies, Your Grace. I meant to instruct my daughter, nothing more.”
“I don’t believe she needs instruction from you. And you should be apologizing to her, not to me. You didn’t do anything tome, other than offend my wife in front of me.”
“He hasn’t offended me,” Prudence told Leonard.
“He was unthinkably rude. Correcting your behavior at the table as if you were nothing more than an errant child. And as if that wasn’t enough, he contradicts himself in the things he’s telling you. He expected you to write more often, but you were also wrong for not giving me your full attention during our honeymoon? Is there anything you could have done to meet with this man’s approval?”
“That isn’t likely,” Prudence said with a faint smile. “But really, Leonard, it’s all right. I have never required my father’s approval, and I don’t need it now. If he wants to criticize me, he may. I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do,” Leonard said firmly. “I don’t permit people to come into my home and criticize those under my care. I wouldn’t allow your father to speak to a member of my staff in that way sndcertainly not to my wife. Really, Lord Highgate, I can’t imagine what’s going through your mind to do such a thing.”
“Your Grace, I tell you I meant no offense,” the Baron said again. “I only meant to give my daughter guidance. As a father. You must understand. It’s what I’ve done all my life. I understand that she belongs to you now and is yours to reprimand, but…”
“Belongs to me?” Leonard repeated. “She belongs to no one, Lord Highgate. If this is what you think of me—that I am the sort of man to treat my wife like a child in need of correction—then perhaps this dinner party is destined for failure, and you had better leave now!” It was unthinkably rude of him, and yet suddenly he found that he wanted nothing more than to have this disrespectful man out of his home.
To his credit, Lord Highgate seemed to realize that he had overstepped. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” he murmured, hanging his head. “It won’t happen again.”
“I should hope not.” Leonard cleared his throat. “We’ll say no more about it, then. Should we sit down? We don’t want our dinner to get cold while we put it off.”
“You know my husband didn’t mean to offend you,” Constance Wetherby said.
The dinner was over. The Baroness and Leonard had retired to the sitting room while Prudence had taken her father and Bridget up to show them the library. Leonard suspected that Prudence’s true motive had been to separate him from the Baron, if only for a short time, and he was grateful for that. He was looking forward to the moment when the Wetherbys would leave. He had not enjoyed their visit at all and was appalled by the things the baron had seen fit to say to Prudence.
“It would be better if hehadmeant to offend me,” he told the Baroness. “As it is, the only conclusion I can draw is that he thinks it’s all right to speak to Prudence that way and would do so whether I was present or not. How can he feel that way?”
“It will be easier to understand, I think, once you have a child of your own,” the Baroness suggested. “When you feel you are responsible for another person’s well-being, you will do what it takes to keep them on the path that leads to their happiness. And sometimes that can make it look as if you doubt or disrespect them.”
“Yes, but sometimes itisdoubt and disrespect,” Leonard countered. “I truly don’t feel there was anything she could have said or done to win his approval, and that angers me. I don’t know how you allow it, Lady Highgate.”
“I’m hardly responsible for him,” she protested. “You know perfectly well that a lady does not command her husband.”
“True, but I know she influences him. You’ve raised a very headstrong daughter, you know,” he added. “Prudence knows how to stand for the things she wants.”
“Oh, don’t tell me she’s been misbehaving.”
“I didn’t say anything of the kind. I only think that with a mind as strong as hers, she must have been raised by a mother who knows her own mind very well. I think that if you disapproved of something your husband was doing, it would be no great trouble at all for you to make that known. That makes me wonder if you agree with the way he speaks to your daughter under her own roof. Maybe you think she’s in need of those kinds of corrections. Or maybe it’s just that you’re not capable of seeing her as the Duchess she is. Maybe you still think of her as a child.”
He waited. The Baroness gaped, but she seemed unable to find the words to express whatever she was thinking.
“All I can tell you is this,” Leonard went on. “If anyone ever speaks ill of my wife’s behavior in front of me again, that person will no longer be welcome in our home. I know you feel the need to defend your husband on this, Lady Highgate, but then you must surely understand my need to defend my wife. I won’t permit any such treatment of her, and if it occurs again, it will be the last time the guilty party is in a position to say anything to her at all.”
He rose from his seat and walked away on the pretense of looking out the window, but really, he meant to separate himselffrom the conversation for a few minutes and give himself time to think.
He would never have expected to be so outraged—so personally offended—by the way Prudence had been treated today. But he had been. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone speaking to her like that ever again. If nothing else, he thought, he could take comfort in the fact that at least now they knew it.
