Candice Hern (23 page)

They lay together, damp and panting, Nick’s face buried in the soft curls at her neck. He lifted his head, and even in the dark could see the look of pure wonder on her face. She had never looked more beautiful.

And in the darkness, a flash of blinding clarity exploded in his brain.

He loved her.

Nicholas rolled to his side, taking Pru with him, their arms still wrapped around each other. He looked into her eyes and smiled. She had never loved him more than she did at that moment. She was so filled with joy, she almost felt like crying. For this was quite literally her dream come true. But she did not dare cry. He might misunderstand and apologize again, and she could not have borne it.

He reached down and pulled the covers over them. He kissed her softly and lingeringly, then rolled to his back and tucked her up against him. Her head fit quite nicely in the curve of his shoulder. She wrapped a leg over his and rested a hand on his chest. In a matter of a moment, she could tell he’d fallen asleep.

How did he
do
that? How anyone could fall asleep after such a momentous experience was beyond her understanding. Especially now that she
knew why she had instinctively wanted more last time.

There had been more. And it had been spectacular, and so totally unexpected, it had been almost terrifying. She had been in the grip of such a powerful tension it had felt as if she were going to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. And so she had. She had come all undone, then had floated back to earth to reassemble again in his arms.

Pru lay there beside him, wide awake, and thought that she felt truly married now. Curled up with Nicholas like a single entity, a partnership of bodies and souls. It was surely the happiest moment of her life.

He had called her “my love.”

Two days later, she was feeling a bit aggravated with herself for orchestrating his financial windfall. Nicholas had been so busy arranging for the empty warehouse in Derbyshire to be refitted as a factory that she hardly saw him. Except at night, when he made glorious love to her. And now, even that was to be sacrificed.

“I have to go, Pru,” he said when he’d come to fetch her at the
Cabinet
that evening. “I have to be there to make sure the plans are drawn up properly to accommodate the equipment. And I need to visit the manufacturer in Manchester to examine the machinery and arrange for its purchase. I am sorry, but I really do have to go.”

“How long will you be gone?” she asked.

“No more than a fortnight, this time. But I fear it will be only the first of many such trips, my love.”

Two weeks? How was she to bear it? After only a few nights of sharing a bed with him, she was already accustomed to falling asleep while curled up against his warmth. As much as she adored his lovemaking, Pru sometimes foolishly thought it was the aftermath of loving that was the best part of all, when she felt the closest bond to Nicholas. She loved it when he pulled her against him, her back to his front, and nestled their bodies together like spoons. With his arm wrapped around her and his breath against her neck, Pru was as contented as a kitten. She always thought she would not be able to fall asleep, she was so acutely conscious of his presence. But she did sleep, and often woke to the soft touch of his lips on hers.

To sleep alone again would be painful to endure.

“Perhaps when Edwina returns,” she said, “I can take some time away from the
Cabinet
and join you on one of your trips.”

“I would like that, Pru.”

He left the next day, giving her a farewell kiss that was soul-searing in its intensity. She waited until he was gone before she cried.

She kept herself busy at the
Cabinet
so that she would not have to think so much about missing Nicholas. It was easy enough to keep distracted during the day. The nights, though, were miserably lonely. She did not even have Bartholomew to keep her company anymore. He had moved to
the little house on Conduit Street and seemed perfectly happy there.

Nicholas had been gone a little over a week when something happened to take away a bit of her loneliness. Edwina returned.

Pru was never more surprised in her life to look up from her desk one morning to find her friend standing in the doorway. She shrieked with delight and practically leaped from her chair to grab Edwina, her new sister, in a warm embrace.

Edwina was the most beautiful woman Pru had ever known, and she looked prettier than ever in a very stylish, very French-looking robe with full sleeves

“Pru! When did all
this
happen?” She made a sweeping gesture to indicate the offices. “I went straight to Golden Square this morning, hoping to catch up on what the
Cabinet
team has accomplished in my absence. Imagine my surprise to learn you had moved to real offices! Pru, this is fantastic! Show me everything. Do the Crimson Ladies work here, too?”

Pru spent most of an hour showing Edwina about and explaining her reasoning behind certain of the arrangements. Edwina had a few minor suggestions to improve efficiency, but on the whole was thrilled and excited to have so much space.

“And this was all Father’s doing?” she asked.

“It was his doing but Flora’s idea. She apparently talked him into it.”

“Flora?”

Pru grinned. “There is great deal of news to catch up on.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Indeed. Then we had better get started. I want to know everything.”

They settled in Pru’s office, and Madge brought them a pot of tea. As Pru might have guessed, her friend first wanted to know about her marriage to Nicholas. And so Pru told her everything. Or almost. She explained how it had come about, in much more detail than she had done in her letters. She told her how kind Nicholas had been in the way he handled Pru’s family, and how he began the pretense of a love match.

“He has shown such concern for my reputation,” she said, “and my family’s reaction to the marriage. He really has been quite wonderful. Despite finding himself aligned to a more aristocratic family than he would have liked.”

“I could shake you for that, Pru. Why did you never mention it? In all these years? I thought we were friends.”

“It had nothing to do with our friendship. It simply never mattered. And…”

“And you were afraid that such steadfast republicans would scorn you because of it.”

Pru shrugged. “I suppose that had something to do with it. But only a very small part. Mostly, I just did not think it was important. It did not matter.”

“We would never have scorned you, Pru. You must know that. Your ideals have always been
true. And you are a separate person from your heritage. You are a unique individual, not defined by your birth. If you want my opinion, Nickie is lucky to have you.”

“I am the lucky one,” Pru said, and blushed.

“You are happy together, then?”

“Oh, yes.”

Edwina heaved a great sigh. “I am so relieved. I told him I would have his head on a platter if he dared to break your heart.”

They chatted more about the magazine, and Pru told her about Flora and her father, which thoroughly delighted her. Unlike her brother, Edwina seemed to sense at once what a perfect match they were.

When Flora happened to come in, Edwina took her in a warm embrace and beamed with delight.

Before Nicholas left, he had arranged for his father to fetch Pru each evening. But when Edwina announced she was off to visit her father in his new London home, Pru decided to take advantage of the situation and save Bartholomew the trip. She had been working so hard the last week, she was more than caught up. She could afford to leave a bit earlier than usual.

Edwina dropped her at Golden Square, and told Pru to expect her back at the office in the morning. “I am itching to get back to work,” she said. “I have missed it.”

When Pru entered the house, she stopped at the hall table and checked for mail. She removed her
bonnet and climbed the stairs. When she reached the landing outside the drawing room, she was startled by a familiar voice.

“What the bloody hell have you done, Pru?”

N
ick had never been so angry in all his life. He had been within hours—mere hours—of signing the purchase contract for the first delivery of machinery when he had discovered he’d been duped.

He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled, but he kept his distance, standing across the room in front of the fireplace, while she remained in the drawing room doorway, her eyes wide with anxiety.

“Did you think I would not find out? Did you think me that stupid?”

“What d-do you mean?”

“Come on, Pru, don’t play innocent with me. I know what you’ve done. You defied me.”

She said nothing, but her silence spoke vol
umes. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

She stepped slowly into the room, her arms hanging stiffly at her sides. “Please, Nicholas, tell m-me what has happened.”

“I discovered your ruse, that’s what. Surely you must have known that I check the shipping news religiously each day. Did you think I would not notice the report that the
Benjamin
had been lost?”

“Oh, God.”

“There were no profits. No windfall. How could there have been? Everything was lost, Pru. Everything. And yet somehow I managed to make a great deal of money on that lost cargo.”

He moved to stand in front of her, making an effort not to reach out and throttle her. “Why did you do it, Pru? Why? You must have gone to a great deal of trouble to put your little deception into action. Why? After I refused over and over to take your money.”

She chewed on her lower lip, and her eyes had grown large and bright. But she kept her gaze on his, unwavering. “I wanted you to have it,” she said in a soft voice.

“Even though you
knew
I did not want it?”

“You needed it. And so I made certain you should have it. Is that so wrong?”

“Wrong?” His voice had risen almost to a shout and he flung his hands out in a gesture of frustration. “My God, Pru, you went behind my back. You made some sort of private deal with the ship
ping agent to make it look like the money came from him. You do not think that is wrong?”

“I hoped you would not find out.” Her voice was so soft, he had to strain to hear. “I am very sorry, Nicholas. I swear to you, I meant well.”

Nick snorted in disgust. “You went against my wishes, you defied me, but you meant well so that should make it all right?”

“I’m sorry, Nicholas. Truly I am.” She reached out, as though to touch him, but apparently thought better of it and lowered her hand. “But your story about Alfie moved me, you see, and made me better understand how important the Derby project is to you. I wanted to help you to help other children like Alfie. I only wanted you to have the capital you needed for the factory.”

“I will make my own capital, madam. I do not need yours.”

Her chin lifted a notch. “Yes, you do. I knew if you were to continue investing in these risky ventures, you would never reach your goal. You are more likely to lose everything.”

“How
dare
you, Pru!” His voice rose in anger, and it was all he could do not to shake her silly. “How dare you try to manipulate me like that. I tell you, I won’t stand for it. I won’t stand for it.”

A powerful emotion he could not identify gathered in her eyes, and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. Even so, she did not drop her gaze. She did not look away. “Nicholas,” she said softly, “I did it so you could have your dream. I did it because I care for you.”

He gave a sputtering little grunt of derision. “How can you say you care for me when you defy my express wishes? It is not caring. It is outright deception and manipulation. And it makes me so angry I could wring your interfering little neck.”

Pru suddenly felt something inside her snap. She’d done it for him and he did not care at all. He did not care.

Four years of loving him blindly seemed to crumble into dust. All those annoying little things about him that she had ignored or explained away or made excuses for were suddenly standing out there big and bright as the aggravations they really were.

She was tired of making excuses, tired of ignoring every fault and weakness. She was tired of his temper and his impatience and his stubbornness. As much as she loved him, she really did not know if she wanted to live with all that anymore.

Her hands balled up into fists, and all at once the frustration and disappointment could no longer be contained. The words spilled out from somewhere deep inside her, and she could not stop them.

“I have lived with your stubborn male pride for some time now,” she said in a soft voice, enunciating each word slowly and deliberately. “And I have never complained. I allowed my deep affection for you—my love for you—to blind me to your weaknesses. I had always thought you so wonderful, so perfect, and I wanted so much for
you to feel something of that for me, too. But I am tired of trying to make you care. I am tired of doing everything your way. I am tired of having my own feelings ignored. I am just…tired.”

She paused to let the lump in her throat settle. She did not care about the tears in her eyes. She would not be embarrassed for them. But she wanted her words to be absolutely clear.

“I am tired of trying so hard to make you want me, to make you love me, by capitulating to your every wish. I have learned, to my regret, that you are a very selfish man, Nicholas, with no consideration for what others may want. I wanted us to have a home of our own, but you would not allow me to buy one because you were so worried someone would think you a fortune hunter. It is only through your father’s generosity that we now have our own home.”

“I never—”

She held up her hand. “Please. Let me finish. I know I am supposed to be the quiet one, but I would like to be allowed to speak.”

“Go on, then.” His mouth was set in a tight line.

“You have never cared for my feelings, Nicholas. I know you did not want to marry me, but it has pleased you to play the gentleman, the martyr, to have done the honorable thing. But you have not been a true gentleman, because you have never cared for my feelings at all.”

“Pru, that is not—”

“I wanted to buy us a house because I felt so terribly awkward here with your father. Not because
of anything he has done, of course. He is a kind and thoughtful man. But to have him in our house—which was not really our house—so soon after being married was horribly awkward for me. You never cared about how uncomfortable it has been, with his bedroom on the other side of the wall from my own. To see his questioning look each day as he wondered how our marriage was progressing. To know he was well aware that we did not share a bed. To worry that he was listening each night to see if we finally did. But you never cared about how I felt. You would rather hold on to your foolish pride than to allow me to buy us a bit of privacy.”

“It is no longer an issue,” he said, and glared at her through narrowed eyes. “The house is ours. You should have no complaints, madam. You got what you wanted, did you not?”

“No, I did not. I wanted a true partnership with you, Nicholas, but you barred me from the most important part of your life. You always talk about your fine republican principles, but if you truly believed them, you would have welcomed my offer to share resources. Had you been a true republican, you would have been happy to use the money I offered so that you could finance your grand utopian dream. Money I had planned to use for a dream of my own, but was more than willing to give to you. But no. You are too self-absorbed to be a true republican. Too full of pride.”

“Dammit, Pru, that is a lie.”

“Is it? You are more concerned with your own heroic role in social reform than for the people who will be helped by that reform. If you cared about them, you would have taken my money. Or if you had cared about me.”

Her face was wet with tears and she reached up to wipe them away. “I am tired of your stubborn pride, Nicholas. I don’t think I can live with it anymore. I do not think I want to live any longer with someone who is incapable of accepting a gift given in love.”

She spun on her heels and left the room. She blindly dashed up the stairs to her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and threw herself on her bed. She sobbed and sobbed. For her lost dream of love, the dream she had thought, by some miracle of miracles, was so close to coming true. For being foolish enough ever to have believed that. For realizing at last that he would never love her enough to share his dreams with her. For the heartache that threatened to overwhelm her with despair.

When she was drained, when there were no more tears left in her, she got up, packed a small bandbox, and left the house.

Nick was still sitting in the drawing room when he heard her come down the stairs. She did not stop on the landing but continued to the ground floor, and when he heard the front door open and close, he got up and looked out the window.

Pru was walking across the square carrying a
bandbox. He watched as she flagged down a hackney and stepped inside.

She had left him.

He was almost glad for it, because he had no idea how he was ever to face her again, or even if he wanted to. How dare she say such things to him? First she had defied him and deceived him, and then she had railed at him like some harpy. She was like a stranger to him. What had become of his quiet, shy, sweet little wife? The one he’d fallen in love with?

He still loved her, despite his anger. God knew he still wanted her. But he had come charging home to make sure she understood that he wanted her on his own terms. Not her reinterpretation of those terms. He had been ready to shake her silly for defying him, but once she understood she had done wrong, he would have taken her to bed and demonstrated who was in charge. She would admit she was wrong, and things would eventually go back to the way they’d been before he left for Derbyshire.

But she had not cowered in the face of his anger. She had stood as straight and tall as was possible for such a small woman, and accused
him
of being the one at fault. Then she had thrown lies in his face and stormed out of his life. She’d ruined everything.

Damn her!

He slammed his fist down hard on the tea table, jarring the top loose from its lock so that it tilted upward so fast it nearly knocked him flat. The tea
service slid to the floor with a resounding crash, sending a thousand porcelain shards skittering across the floor, and the broken tea table tottered and finally fell over, its top slapping the parquet floor with a sharp crack.

Damn her!

The sound of footsteps charging up the stairs was followed by the entrance of Lucy, who stood openmouthed and pale in the doorway, her wide-eyed gaze taking in the wreck of the drawing room.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. Do your best to clean this mess up, will you?”

Nick trudged up the stairs, taking two at a time in his fury. He quickly changed his coat and boots, grabbed a hat, and made his way from the house. He was going to find a good bottle of brandy and make his way to the bottom, then start on another.

Damn her.

Pru dragged herself to the
Cabinet
early the next morning, arriving well before anyone else. She hadn’t slept, even though her comfortable old bed in her father’s house was very soft and welcoming and familiar. No one had been home when she’d arrived the afternoon before, and the housekeeper had been very happy to make up Pru’s bedchamber for her and send up a pot of tea and a piece of cold meat pie. But Pru had not been hungry, and besides, she was so dried up inside, she could not have choked down a single bite. She
had simply curled up in the old window seat where she had spent a lifetime spinning girlish fantasies and dreaming dreams of love.

But her dreams were lost, and instead she pondered how she was to go on, how she was to bear life without Nicholas.

Her brothers had sense enough to leave her alone when they arrived home that evening. Only her father had come by to see how she was. He said very little, but surprised her by taking her in his arms and letting her cry. He had not held her like that since she’d been a little girl.

“Shall I kill him, Prudie?” he asked, using the old nickname only William ever used anymore. “Shall I at least break both his legs? His arms? His thick skull, perhaps?”

“No,” she had said, smiling as he had meant for her to do. “I love him, Papa.”

“Ah. Then what will you do?”

“I don’t know. Hope and pray, I suppose.”

“For what? That will he come to get you?”

“That he will come to his senses. That he will realize all that stubborn male pride is just…stupid. That he will realize how much I love him and not hate me for what I did and what I said. And that maybe, someday, he will want me back.”

“And in the meantime?”

“I’ll wait.”

Pru did not know how long she would have to wait. She knew Nicholas was angry, and so was she, though most of her anger had dissipated with her tears. More than anything, she was astounded
that she had said such hateful things to him, even if they were true. She did not know where she had found the courage, or the stupidity, to reproach him like that. In all her life, she’d never spoken so harshly to anyone.

She supposed that’s what happened when one’s heart was involved. Love and hurt overcame reason and logic. She had loved him so much and for so long that when he’d raged at her and had not for even an instant appreciated the motive behind her deception, disappointment had cut deep. And from that wound, her words had poured forth, unchecked.

If she ever saw him again, she did not know how she was to face him. She supposed she ought to apologize, but only for having spoken aloud what she felt, not for feeling it. She still believed everything she had said to him was true. He was all those things she’d accused him of, and, God help her, she still loved him. She no longer cared that he wasn’t perfect. She just wanted him to think about her now and then instead of only himself. She wanted to share everything with him, including his dreams. She wanted to be allowed to be a partner to him. Was that so much to ask?