Compromising Prudence by Marguerite Butler Page A

lowered the cup from his lips.
    “You travel without a valet. Most men I know would be too vain.”
    “Ah, but you forget my only interest in London was the Zoological Society. I’m no tulip.”
    “Even so…” she said.
    “Even so, the men of your acquaintance are indeed too vain.”
    “They are the men of your acquaintance as well, Mr. Hatterly, and all good ton …”
    “I am assuredly not good ton !”
    Gads, if she only knew how close she was to the truth. He’d no idea how she would react to learn Petworth was his cousin.
    “I’m invited places for the usual reasons,” He said, watching her face carefully.
    She raised an eyebrow. “Which are?”
    “Money. Pots and pots of it. That and the family name.” He sipped his tea and studied her puzzled face. He had to tell her and it would be better for her to know before they were riveted. He couldn’t feel good about marrying her under any sort of pretense. “Not Hatterly , of course.” He set down the cup. “There really isn’t a good way to do this.”

    “Of course.” Pru set down her cup as calmly as she could, but her heart was racing. He looked positively guilty and that couldn’t bode well. She should have known there would be a terrible secret.
    If Tommy Petworth was the villain of her tale, Hatterly was certainly the hero and Pru had read enough novels to know that the hero always had a terrible secret.
    She only hoped there wasn’t’ a wife locked in the attic.
    “My mother’s family is…well known. Her father was a duke — is a duke. He’s still alive.”
    “Her father was…then you are the grandson of — !” She goggled at him. That was not what she had expected him to confess.
    “ — a duke who begat three surviving sons who’ve been busy begetting heirs and spares, so don’t expect the title ‘Your Grace’ in your future.”
    “But your title? If she was the daughter of a duke — ”
    “Mr. Hatterly is the only title I aspire to!” he said ferociously.
    She sat back. His color was high and if he gripped his cup any tighter, he’d break the delicate porcelain.
    Instinctively, she reached across the desk to touch his hand. “Is your mama’s family so awful?”
    He turned his palm upward and she placed her hand in his. Earlier he had held her hand as she became overwrought. Now it was her turn to comfort him.
    “I barely know them. Her father disowned her after she married an American. He’s never spoken a word to us. We would have nothing from them, but my grandfather had already willed property and an inheritance to Mother in trust until marriage and there was nothing her father could do. That’s why we have Strayfield Manor. I have a passing acquaintance with some of my cousins but nothing more.”
    “Well.” She sighed in relief. As terrible secrets went, that wasn’t terrible at all. “How terribly romantic.”
    “Pardon?”
    “My parents had an arranged marriage. I don’t think they met more than a dozen times before taking vows. My sister, Constance, knew her husband but marriage was rather convenient for them both, hardly a grand passion. Your mama must have loved your papa to defy her family for him. It’s very romantic.”
    “I never saw my parents in those terms.”
    “One never does. I expect our children won’t either.”
    “Our children?” He made a strangled sound.
    “You do expect us to have children.”
    “Oh. Children. Of course. Someday. I…” His forehead had the most adorable wrinkles when he was flummoxed. “I thought we might know each other first. I realize I’m a virtual stranger and I did promise not to molest you.”
    “How disappointing.” Did he imagine her to be of such a delicate sensibility? How quickly he had forgotten the circumstances of their acquaintance. She must disabuse him of that notion immediately. “I understand what happens between a man and a woman. I do have two married sisters and naturally I asked my Aunt Hetty about