Page 1 of Never Second Guess a Lord
Chapter One
Mayfair, England
16 November 1815
Lady Prudence Barringtonyet again peered out of her longtime prison bars overlooking Hyde Park and wondered what the future held. How many times had she done this over the years? How often had she stood at this window, seeing less and less? Seeing nothing but darkness ahead with a cruel, careless husband?
“Lady Barrington?”
She closed her eyes to the crisp octave of her maid Agnus’ voice before she opened them and nodded once that she would be right down. Selected for both her stern ways and an inability to attract former Lord Barrington, Agnus curtsied and left with the precision of a well-trained soldier.
“Quite right,” she whispered to a man no longer here. “You areformerLord Barrington now, and my mourning period is officially over.”
Rather than spend another blasted moment looking out this window, she yanked on dark gray gloves instead of black and headed downstairs, ignoring the arrogant faces of her late husband’s ancestors. Visages she had once revered but now saw as jail keepers. Haughty overseers who judged her at every turn.
As usual, the pinch-faced butler helped her with her coat and opened the front door without a word. At one time, in her doe-eyed naïve youth, she had hoped he might manage a smile or even a friendly word or two, but those days were gone. Honestly, she would have no idea how to respond if he surprised her with one now. Did she even remember how to smile in return?
Rather than opt for a hat for the long ride north, she pulled her fur-lined hood up against the biting wind of late autumn and made her way into the waiting coach. Expressionless as always, Agnus sat across from her, and they were on their way. Not surprisingly, her maid’s features were especially tight today. While typically Prudence would not bother, something about knowing she was leaving this place prompted her to be more cordial than usual.
“It is good of you to stay on with me, Agnus.” She tried for a thankful expression, but it felt forced at best. “I hear Scotland is….”Frigid? Ghastly during the winter? Possessed by questionable people?“Is hospitable enough.”
She had never been to Scotland and, up until recently, was of the mind she never would. Despite having met a few Scotsmen along the way, two of whom behaved well enough, the third one’s actions were quite too familiar for her taste. Worse still, he was married, so he should have been above such horrid behavior. A Lord of Rothesay turned Duke of Argyll if she recalled correctly, who was a flirtatious beast much like her late husband.
If possible, Agnus’ back stiffened even further. “Scotland is anything but hospitable, and well you know it, my lady.”
In addition to her maid’s other lackluster qualities, Prudence had chosen Agnus for her blunt ways, so she was not put off by her forthright response. She preferred it to the simpering behavior of her former maids. “I know no such thing.” She reminded Agnus of the letter her sister had sent. “According to Maude, MacLauchlin Castle is quite lovely. We should enjoy a pleasant stay.”
“If it were but a stay, we may or may not get through it.” Agnus’ brow jerked up. “But it is not merely a stay, is it?”
“Time will tell.” She turned her attention to Mayfair passing by rather than continuing the conversation. Not that she expected it to be a lively debate anyway. Neither had much use for Scotland, but at least it was not here. Not part of a place that had once possessed so much appeal but now held the opposite.
“You must come and stay with me,”Maude had insisted in her letter.“You will adore Blake and his people.”Prudence could almost see her sister grinning as she wrote,“We will find you a proper husband to replace the lout you decided to marry the first time.”
Prudence was unsure what put her off more: the fact her sister did not use her husband’s proper title or her boorish familiarity with the late Lord Barrington. Either way, she had sighed and continued reading the remaining ten pages, somewhat shocked by their brevity. Maude was notoriously long-winded and could have just as easily written twenty.
She had promptly written back, thanking her sister for the invitation from her and Lord MacLauchlin to come to visit. She had put emphasis on the wordvisitfor good measure, as she could not imagine staying there.
But then, she could not fathom returning to Mayfair either.
“While I appreciate your offer to find me a husband,”Prudence had replied, scowling all the while,“I have been left well enough off that I have no need of one.”
She had been, too. Well enough that she could settle somewhere quiet where disagreeable faces no longer looked down from paintings. Where she could navigate her home without an overbearing husband watching her every move.
Oh, such freedom it would be.
No more sitting by quietly as he decided what invitations she could or could not accept. No more being counseled by him at every turn on how she should present herself. The people to whom she should speak. Those she should tilt her nose up at. Best of all, though, no more dreading the rare times he visited her bed chambers only to watch her closely afterward.
Would she, at last, bear him a son? Or had she failed yet again?
Prudence rested her head back and closed her eyes against old heartache. Against the pain she had once felt when she realized bearing children did not come easily to her. Sadness that had dulled over the years until she felt nothing. Until his harsh words about it no longer mattered.
“My lady,” came Agnus’ monotone voice. “We have just crossed into Scotland and have stopped to take some air.”
She jolted awake, startled. Had she drifted off?Clearly.So said the late day sun when she took the footman’s hand and stepped out of the carriage into even brisker air than before. So this was where Rothesay the Scoundrel was from, as she had taken to calling him over the years. A land not nearly as cultured as England, in her opinion.
“I was hoping we might have a bite to eat, but the driver insists we press on.” Somehow Agnus’ tight bun seemed to grow stiffer in the whipping wind instead of flying loose. “Probably best in this God-awful weather.”
“Indeed.” Not that she would admit it, but she rather liked the gusty fresh air. It smelled of pine and sea salt rather than horse manure and perfume. “It is good we brought warm clothing.”
