Compromising Prudence by Marguerite Butler

afraid. The last time Petworth fought a duel he fainted at the moment his opponent fired the pistol and was damn lucky the man had deloped. I probably wouldn’t have shot him either. Pitiful to shoot a man blubbering on the ground.” He tucked her hand in his arm. “You all right, love?”
    She nodded. “That was the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”
    “Oh, wouldn’t go that far, darling.”
    “I would.”
    No one had ever stood up for her before. She was the foolish sister, the awkward niece, an embarrassment to her own father. No one had ever said boo on her behalf, much less started a mill in Regent’s Park.
    “You were wonderful,” she said simply.
    “There’s something I need to tell you.” His face had turned serious.
    “He called you cousin.”
    “I meant to tell you, but each time I tried, I became sidetracked.”
    “The ducal family your mother was born to…”
    “…the surname is Petworth. I should have told you before.”
    “Yes, you should have,” she agreed. “You should have mentioned your relations immediately when I unburdened my tale of woe.”
    He looked miserable.
    “You can’t imagine I would hate you for your relations.” She took his hand in hers. “I promise not to hold Petworth against you if you don’t resent me for my father’s actions.”
    “I never would.”
    “You were my hero today, vanquishing the villain.”
    He brightened. “I was good.”
    “You were. But you must resolve to be honest with me.”
    “In all things,” he promised.
    In spite of the excitement, or perhaps because of her exhaustion, the rhythm of the carriage made her eyes grow heavy. Resting her head against her husband’s shoulder felt the most natural thing in the world. She shivered. Rubbing her hands together did little to warm them. Charles noticed and removed her gloves. He placed both her hands between his and warmth seeped back into them.
    “You’ll want to dress for dinner,” he said against her hair. “I’m afraid Mrs. Forbes has gone wild with delight. She hasn’t had much to do until you arrived. The prospect of a wedding meal, even just for two, has sent her over the moon.”
    “Sounds lovely,” she murmured.

    Charles settled an arm around his wife’s shoulders. This moment was so much like the night he had brought her home and yet completely different. The rush he’d felt as she nuzzled him in her sleep was not just desire but an odd tenderness.
    How had he come to this so easily? Their bargain to live separate lives was far less appealing than it had been two days before. How long had it been since he had enjoyed anyone’s company so?
    Perhaps he had been too much alone, spent too much time tramping the countryside in pursuit of nests and flocks. He hadn’t felt lonely at the time.
    And now…
    And now he was looking forward to spending the evening in her company. He woke his sleeping wife and handed her down from the carriage.
    “Do I need to carry you upstairs again?”
    She yawned and shook her head, but held his hand up the stairs. At the door to her room, he stopped and turned her to face him. She laid her head against his chest, content to stand there in his embrace. He cupped her face, tilting her chin up. Her eyes were still dreamy and her cheek was flushed where it had rested on his shoulder.
    He kissed her very softly. With a sigh, her lips parted and she breathed a kiss back to him. He wound both arms around her, fitting her to him. She didn’t resist but leaned into the kiss a little harder.
    Sweet, but passionate. Impulsive, yet sensible. What a miracle of a woman he had found! She slipped a hand inside his coat and he broke the kiss. If he didn’t, they would never make it downstairs for their wedding breakfast and Mrs. Forbes would make his life hell.
    Neither of them spoke, but he took both her hands in his, kissing first one palm and then the other. She reached, pulling him down for one last brush of lips, before she turned and