be!
Prudence shook her head at her unruly thoughts. Her imagination was running away with her, importuning itself in a most disconcerting fashion into her daily life. It gained impetus from Ravenscar, who seemed to be providing her with a little too much inspiration. She frowned.
The sharp sound of Nevvy’s voice snared her attention just as the earl leaned close. “I believe that Lady Buckingham is quite famous for her extensive book collection,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “I would be happy to show you the library. After supper?”
Prudence barely had time to nod before she was forced to turn and greet Nevvy. As she went through the motions and mumbled a standard response, she was aware of her own heightened perceptions. The room glowed brighter, the brilliantly colored clothes and her own cheeks flushed radiant, and her heart beat in rhythm to the efforts of the small group of musicians stationed in the gallery.
Drawing a deep breath, Prudence tried to steady herself, but her sense of unreality lingered, along with the surreptitious thrill that had shot through her at the earl’s words. Whether by his intention or no, Ravenscar’s suggestion resembled nothing so much as a furtive assignation from one of her own novels.
* * *
Despite her better judgment, Prudence’s odd sense of anticipation grew throughout the many courses of the meal. Although she discussed her writing at length with several curious and attentive supper companions, her thoughts were ever upon the earl.
Ravenscar continued to affect her as no one ever had before; it was as though he were the embodiment of her dreams. Her very practical mind told her she was being ridiculous, but some heretofore-hidden part of her was confirmning something else entirely.
With an eagerness that she knew ought to embarrass her, Prudence hurried to Lady Buckingham’s famous library. Although as beautifully decorated as the other rooms, it was rather dim. The light of several candelabra glowed faintly upon the red silk of the walls and the bookcases lining them in an atmosphere hardly conducive to reading.
It reminded Prudence eerily of something out of one of her novels: a large vaulted room with shadowed corners and dark, musty volumes. She half expected a wraith to float through the mantelpiece and drag her down to a long-forgotten dungeon, but she put the enticing image aside, certain that Lady Buckingham was the most ghastly thing in this ornately appointed home.
The woman’s words still rankled, and as Prudence’s gaze traveled over the editions so nicely displayed, she wondered, rather uncharitably, if Lady Buckingham had ever opened any of them. She reached up for a volume, and was about to remove it from its place when a deep voice sounded behind her.
“Prudence.” She started so dreadfully that her spectacles slipped down upon her nose, and for a moment, she could almost have believed that a specter had materialized amid the deserted furnishings to haunt her. Enthralled by the prospect, she whirled around, only to find that the speaker was no ghost, but a flesh-and-blood man.
Prudence was not disappointed, however, for it was, of course, Ravenscar standing at her elbow, his lips twisted in a wry greeting. How had the man managed to enter the room without her taking notice? Prudence’s heart pounded with the residual effects of his sudden arrival, along with his use of her first name, while she grappled for her usual selfpossession.
“My lord! You startled me! I did not hear you come in,” she managed. Was that amusement sparking in those gray depths? Prudence wondered suddenly whether Ravenscar had deliberately unnerved her, not for his pleasure, but for
her own…With a sigh, she ruthlessly reseated her glasses,
disgusted with herself for imputing to the earl such absurd motives. A man such as he did not have the time, nor the inclination, to cater to a spinster’s silly wishes.
And yet…Prudence could not stop
Prudence shook her head at her unruly thoughts. Her imagination was running away with her, importuning itself in a most disconcerting fashion into her daily life. It gained impetus from Ravenscar, who seemed to be providing her with a little too much inspiration. She frowned.
The sharp sound of Nevvy’s voice snared her attention just as the earl leaned close. “I believe that Lady Buckingham is quite famous for her extensive book collection,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “I would be happy to show you the library. After supper?”
Prudence barely had time to nod before she was forced to turn and greet Nevvy. As she went through the motions and mumbled a standard response, she was aware of her own heightened perceptions. The room glowed brighter, the brilliantly colored clothes and her own cheeks flushed radiant, and her heart beat in rhythm to the efforts of the small group of musicians stationed in the gallery.
Drawing a deep breath, Prudence tried to steady herself, but her sense of unreality lingered, along with the surreptitious thrill that had shot through her at the earl’s words. Whether by his intention or no, Ravenscar’s suggestion resembled nothing so much as a furtive assignation from one of her own novels.
* * *
Despite her better judgment, Prudence’s odd sense of anticipation grew throughout the many courses of the meal. Although she discussed her writing at length with several curious and attentive supper companions, her thoughts were ever upon the earl.
Ravenscar continued to affect her as no one ever had before; it was as though he were the embodiment of her dreams. Her very practical mind told her she was being ridiculous, but some heretofore-hidden part of her was confirmning something else entirely.
With an eagerness that she knew ought to embarrass her, Prudence hurried to Lady Buckingham’s famous library. Although as beautifully decorated as the other rooms, it was rather dim. The light of several candelabra glowed faintly upon the red silk of the walls and the bookcases lining them in an atmosphere hardly conducive to reading.
It reminded Prudence eerily of something out of one of her novels: a large vaulted room with shadowed corners and dark, musty volumes. She half expected a wraith to float through the mantelpiece and drag her down to a long-forgotten dungeon, but she put the enticing image aside, certain that Lady Buckingham was the most ghastly thing in this ornately appointed home.
The woman’s words still rankled, and as Prudence’s gaze traveled over the editions so nicely displayed, she wondered, rather uncharitably, if Lady Buckingham had ever opened any of them. She reached up for a volume, and was about to remove it from its place when a deep voice sounded behind her.
“Prudence.” She started so dreadfully that her spectacles slipped down upon her nose, and for a moment, she could almost have believed that a specter had materialized amid the deserted furnishings to haunt her. Enthralled by the prospect, she whirled around, only to find that the speaker was no ghost, but a flesh-and-blood man.
Prudence was not disappointed, however, for it was, of course, Ravenscar standing at her elbow, his lips twisted in a wry greeting. How had the man managed to enter the room without her taking notice? Prudence’s heart pounded with the residual effects of his sudden arrival, along with his use of her first name, while she grappled for her usual selfpossession.
“My lord! You startled me! I did not hear you come in,” she managed. Was that amusement sparking in those gray depths? Prudence wondered suddenly whether Ravenscar had deliberately unnerved her, not for his pleasure, but for
her own…With a sigh, she ruthlessly reseated her glasses,
disgusted with herself for imputing to the earl such absurd motives. A man such as he did not have the time, nor the inclination, to cater to a spinster’s silly wishes.
And yet…Prudence could not stop
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