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‘Excellent timing, Mrs Hoskins,’ said Gregory smoothly, taking Prudence’s elbow in a vice-like grip and lifting her to her feet. ‘Miss Carstairs, as you can see, is in dire need of a change of clothes and a bath. As am I,’ he said with a grimace of distaste. ‘Miss Carstairs,’ he said, giving her a level look. ‘I will speak with you again at dinner.’
‘Dinner! You intend to leave me in this state until dinner?’
‘We keep country hours at Bramley Park,’ he said. ‘You will only have to wait until four of the clock. It will take you at least that long to bathe and change and,’ he said, in the same steely tone he’d used on Hugo, ‘to calm down.’
Calm down? Calm down! She’d give him ‘calm down’. How dared he talk to her in that insufferably arrogant way? As though she was in need of a set-down?
‘You can take your hands off me,’ she hissed, wrenching her arm out of his grip. ‘And think yourself lucky I am too well-bred to slap your face for your...impertinence!’
Lady Mixby gasped. Pressed both hands to her flushed face this time.
Prudence stuck her nose in the air and stalked from the room.
Chapter Thirteen
Prudence was well on her way up the stairs before realising she had no idea where she was going. She would have to slow down and wait for Mrs Hoskins, or she’d risk looking like an idiot.
As well as feeling like one.
For what kind of idiot proposed to a man she’d only known for two days? A man she’d met, moreover, in bed? And stark naked at that.
Her feet stumbled and slowed of their own accord, which gave Mrs Hoskins a chance to catch up with her.
‘It’s just along this way, miss,’ she panted, indicating the left branch of the upper landing. ‘I hope it’s to your liking.’
Prudence hoped she’d made an appropriate response, because it certainly wouldn’t be this woman’s fault if it wasn’t. But in the event, when she saw the room, it was almost enough to make her burst into tears. Because it was simply magnificent. The most beautifully decorated, perfectly proportioned room she’d ever had for her sole use.
To start with, everything matched. There were velvet curtains in various shades of green all over the place, chairs with spindly gilt legs upholstered in toning shades of satin, and a mostly green carpet that looked as soft as moss. Clearly each item of furniture, each square yard of velvet and satin, had been purchased specifically to enhance the beauty of this one room.
It cast her own little room in her aunt’s house in Stoketown completely in the shade. And that room had totally intimidated her when she’d first seen it. It had made all the rough-and-ready billets in which her parents had lived seem like hovels.
‘Is something amiss? Would you prefer to have a room at the back of the house? It will not have such a fine view, but it would get less sunlight,’ said Mrs Hoskins.
The housekeeper looked so concerned Prudence made a determined effort to pull herself together. She could step into this room. They wouldn’t have had the carpet put on the floor if they weren’t prepared to let people walk on it. True, they couldn’t have imagined anyone with such mucky shoes ever setting foot up here, but she could remove them. She was at least wearing stockings today, even if they were borrowed and rather too large. So her feet wouldn’t leave a trail of bloodstains behind.
‘Oh, no—no need to prepare another room. Thank you,’ she said, toeing off her shoes.
The chances were that all the rooms in this house were equally grand. Apart from perhaps the servants’ quarters. And it would look extremely odd if she asked to have a look at them.
‘This room is lovely. It is just a bit...’ Her lower lip quivered. The truth was, the way Gregory had ordered her up here had reminded her far too much of the way Aunt Charity had always sent her to her room. When she’d ‘answered back’. When she’d been supposed to ‘think about what she’d done’. When her aunt had wanted some peace and quiet. When visitors had come. He’d told her to calm down and tidy herself up, as though he didn’t think she was fit to stay in the same room as a duke’s family. Not that she was going to admit that to Mrs Hoskins.
‘I mean, after all that has happened this last few days, I...’ Her breath hitched in her throat. It was as if her self-esteem was being crushed by a velvet brocade fist. How could a girl like her have had the temerity to propose marriage to a duke? Even the curtains were sneering.
A duke!
She wrapped her arms round her middle, where a peculiar swirling sensation had started up. Not only had she proposed to him, but she’d thrown a rock at him. Knocked him right down and made him bleed.
