by Prudence Fairworthy. Still in his early twenties, his face was already showing signs of debauchery and overindulgence in every vice. His lusts were easily satisfied by whores, but Prudence was different. She was the sister of a gentleman and not to be tumbled like a strumpet. Throughout the twelve months he had known her, he had oft anticipated not only the gratification of sampling the delights of her supple young body, but the time he would take over it. He had trailed after her like a besotted fool while she had kept him at arm’s length, behaving like a prim little Puritan. And now he had watched her behaving like a brazen hussy, throwing herself at the preening Cavaliers like a shameless harlot.
‘The bitch! The deceitful bitch!’ he ground out between clenched teeth, his fury turning to cold, hard resolve. Her obvious indifference to him and his lowly station in life had made him keep his distance but, after what he had just witnessed, he’d be damned if he would do so any longer. When next they met he wouldn’t show any consideration for her finer feelings—if the slut had any.
With rage burning inside him like acid, Will turned on his heel and headed away from the Strand, sickened by the spectacle of the arrogant, pompous, returning Royalists—silently damning each and every one of them to perdition, but somehow his curses proved less than satisfying.
With King Charles established in his palace at Whitehall, accompanied by Robert Armstrong, Thomas arrived at Maitland House to be reunited with his family. Having hoped that Adam would accompany them and awaiting his arrival with eager anticipation, Prudence was swamped with disappointment not to see him with her brother.
Thomas’s meeting with his sisters was warm and emotional. After embracing Arabella, who wept copious tears of happiness and relief that he was home with them at last, he then enfolded Prudence in his arms, pressing his lips to her hair and infusing into her all the affection he had yearned to bestow on her since the day he had left England after the disastrous Battle of Worcester. The moment was deeply moving for them both, and Prudence was relieved that he was no longer angry with her for making a spectacle of herself earlier.
Thomas then drew Aunt Julia aside, carefully wording the circumstances of her husband’s death, then helplessly watching while she dabbed at her tears before shoving her handkerchief into her pocket and smiling. Embracing her nephew, she then ushered him into the grand salon where a lavish banquet had been laid for an occasion never to be forgotten, glad that they were together as a family again at last.
With so much to celebrate the feasting began. With a desire to get to know Prudence, and better to keep an eye on her, Thomas insisted that she sit beside him. At the candle-lit banquet table he studied the young girl with a frown, her earlier misdemeanour not forgotten. The way she looked troubled him. All the other ladies seated at the table appeared muted and overshadowed by her vivid beauty. Though small of stature, she was miraculously lovely, her body ripe and perfectly proportioned.
Sensing the restlessness of her spirit, and letting his eyes linger on the stubborn, wilful thrust of her small chin, Thomas suspected that she had been given her own way in most things and allowed too much freedom for too long. Feeling that she was in need of firm discipline, he was determined to curb this wild young hoyden, although what Verity would make of her he shuddered to think.
When the gentleman seated across from her enquired as to the whereabouts of Lord Fox, Prudence was relieved when she heard Thomas explain that his friend was busy settling himself into his quarters at Whitehall. Having no desire to lay eyes on that particular gentleman ever again, she sent up a silent prayer of thankfulness that she was to be spared his presence. Still trying to overcome her disappointment that Adam had not accompanied Thomas, she stole a glance with a touch of envy at Arabella seated beside her betrothed on the opposite side further along the table. She noted that her sister’s spirits were uncommonly high, her face flushed and her light blue eyes as clear as crystal.
There was much revelry as everyone made merry. The air was sweetened with scented candles lighted in the chandeliers suspended above the table, casting their rosy glow on the assembled company, some invited, some not, but no one seemed to care. With free-flowing wine the atmosphere was loaded with gaiety and emotion. A couple of fiddlers were plucked from the street to perform, and endless toasts to King Charles were the order of the night.
Despite the disappointment caused by Adam’s absence, Prudence joined in with the festivities, too happy to eat very much and content to gaze at her handsome brother as she drank her wine. Laughing and relaxed, with his dark good looks, he looked so noble, she thought, with a surge of pride.
As the evening wore on her cheeks became flushed, her eyes dark with wine. When Thomas became engaged in conversation with the gentleman next to him, she turned and looked at Robert at the moment when he gently took Arabella’s hand resting on the table between them. Prudence saw him place it to his lips and look deep into her sister’s eyes—as lovers do. She watched as Arabella responded with a smile of piercing sweetness, graciously inclining her shining head.
At that moment Adam’s absence seemed all the more profound. Feeling a constriction in her throat and unable to stem her curiosity as to why he had not come a moment longer, she placed her hand on her brother’s arm to claim his attention. ‘What is it that keeps Adam away, Thomas? I expected him to accompany you.’
‘Adam is staying at Whitehall tonight. He intends leaving at first light for Marlden Green.’
‘But—why the haste?’
‘To put his house in order for when his wife arrives from The Hague.’
As if from afar Prudence stared at her brother, unable to comprehend what he was saying. ‘His wife?’ she uttered, tonelessly.
‘Yes,’ he replied, his sister’s sudden pallor escaping his notice as he carefully dissected an apple on his plate. ‘Didn’t you know? I’m surprised Arabella didn’t mention it. Still, their marriage was only recent, and so much has been happening that she obviously forgot to mention it.’
‘Who—who is she?’ Prudence asked, trying not to sound too concerned.
‘My own dear wife’s younger sister, Lucy—which makes Adam my brother-in-law. She has remained at The Hague with Verity to take care of their uncle. Hopefully, when he is well enough to travel, we will all be reunited very soon.’
All Prudence’s cherished illusions were destroyed in that instant. She stared at Thomas, unable to believe what he was telling her, that God was actually letting this happen to her. Clutching her wineglass, she looked around her in a dazed panic. The room began to spin and the world tilted crazily. Adam had married someone else! No. It couldn’t happen. But it had. Oh, how foolish she had been to hope he would notice her when so many Court beauties surrounded him.
Thomas saw her white face. ‘Why, what ails you, Prudence? Are you unwell?’
She forced a smile to her lips. ‘It’s nothing. Nothing at all, Thomas. I think I must have drunk a drop too much wine, that’s all. If you don’t mind, I’ll step outside for a moment. Perhaps a little air will help clear my head.’
She left the house and escaped to the sanctuary and solace of the courtyard without any intention just then of returning to the party. She left just as a latecomer arrived, his sharp eye catching a swirl of petticoats and hyacinth-blue skirt disappearing down a passage.
It was dark when Prudence emerged into the courtyard, the only illumination coming from the lighted windows and a couple of lanterns. Feeling disconsolate, she crossed to the elm tree, which was the furthest point away from the house. Leaning against the stout trunk, she was oblivious to the din coming from the revellers in the street and of dozens of voices dining and drinking in the
