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Her mother spoke without looking at her child. “Your husband has visited thrice now, pleading with you to come home. He does not approve of this supposed visit, Cecelia.”
“Hang what he approves of,” she cried. “I married in good faith. Julia says I am a silly watering pot because I am with child, but it is more than that. I…I…” Another bout of tears poured forth.
Oscar went over to her and rested a hand on her shoulders. “You are with child, Cecelia?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations,” he said with a small smile. “It is even more imperative that you put a stop to this nonsense.”
“It is not nonsense,” Prue and Cecelia said in unison.
She tossed Prue a grateful smile, clearly relieved to have her support.
Oscar’s expression shuttered. “I am not certain you know what is happening, countess.”
“From what I overheard; I perceive that Cecelia does not believe her husband to have genuine tender affections for her. Redburn treats her with cordiality, but there is little outward show of…love,” Prue said, her chest aching.
The dowager countess made a small, disapproving noise behind pursed lips. How similar their plights were. However, Prue was certain her husband now held considerable affection for her. They spent each night entangled in each other’s arms, they indulged in long fascinating conversations that always ended in mutual and carnal pleasure. At last night’s ball, he had danced only with Prue, and he had complimented her on her looks, her gown and how neatly she had danced. She was proud that he had finally made some time in his busy schedule to be able to attend the opera with her and to escort her to the museum. She had made great progress in turning around the vacuum of her marriage.
What or who did Cecelia have to support her if she was feeling so utterly wretched?
“You were eavesdropping?” he asked coolly.
She lifted her chin. “Shamelessly. I confess it, husband.”
A small hiccupping laugh came from Cecelia as her gaze volleyed between Prue and Oscar. “Prudence is a part of the family. It does not matter if she eavesdrops. I will not return home to that beast, and I will not—”
“Cecelia!” Oscar’s voice cracked like a whip, and his sister instantly quieted and struggled to gain a modicum of self-control.
“Your husband has no obligation to return any sentiments merely because you wrote him a poem. That you have acted in this manner over such rigmarole shows your total lack of maturity, and the reason he has had to call on mother on three occasions is due to his humiliated embarrassment at your lack of proper decorum. Surely you see, Cecelia, Redburn cares for you, but he is a sensible man, not given to dealing with lachrymose effusions of emotion. Do you expect him to wear his heart on his sleeve and change his very nature?”
His sister’s cheeks reddened, and she stared at him in wordless mortification.
“This is a private matter between you and your viscount. Discuss it with him in a rational manner. If he does not express any tendre, it does not make him a damn beast.”
The dowager gasped in shock that he had dared to curse in her presence. Oscar continued as if he was unaware of her displeasure, “Redburn respects and cares for you. I will go as far as to say he admires you. I have seen it in the way he looks at you and how he speaks of you. Those are the foundations of an excellent marriage. You are risking destroying that. Do not act the fool to be expecting more or for the viscount to act like a lovesick swain.”
“And that is what you feel for Prudence? Admiration?” Cecelia snapped.
Prue froze, her heart suddenly pounding. She hoped, he would explain that she meant more to him than that.
“My wife and I understand each other. That is all that matters,” he said with cool authority. “Now stiffen your spine and prepare to return home. Mother will travel with you, so you do not make a cake of yourself.”
Cecelia’s lips wobbled, and she pressed a hand over her mouth, closing her eyes. Still, the tears spilled over her cheeks.
Hurt bubbled inside Prue’s throat. Her husband did not believe in love. Worse, he thought that such sentiments were for fools. What did that mean for their marriage? Pushing away thoughts of herself, Prue went over to Cecelia and offered a comforting smile. “Perhaps we could take a turn in the gardens, Cecelia. The fresh air will be wonderful for you.”
Her husband nodded his approval, and Prue escorted Cecelia outside. She was still sobbing in soft mewling, and the wretched sound broke Prue’s heart.
“I am sorry, Cecelia. I know how difficult it can be when it comes to matters of the heart. It is easy to be bruised when someone we love—”
Cecelia rounded on her. “What do you know about it? Spare me your condescension. As my brother said, you and he have an understanding. You needed to marry up, and he needed your money. Some people marry for more than an arrangement! It is not always about money or political connections!”
Prue’s heart shattered. The very idea sounded absurd. “Oscar did not marry me for…for my wealth,” she said softly, hating the doubts suddenly crashing over her in unrelenting waves. “He…I…he was being honorable in rescuing me from scandal because we were found in a compromising position through no fault of his own.”
Cecelia’s lips shaped an O of surprise. “Prudence…I…please forgive my wayward tongue. When he said you and he had an understanding, I assumed you knew the full truth of the matter. It is not as if it were a secret. Everyone knew that is why he choose you.”
Prue stumbled back as if she had been violently shoved. Her chest hurt as if someone had stuck a hot poker inside, and for a precious moment, it felt as if she could not breathe. Struggling for equanimity, she said, “I did not know about it.”
