The Lady in Disguise

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Emilia had thought Miss Prudence would be sketching in the bedroom, and there were some scattered drawings on the bed, but otherwise no sign of her.

Weren't they supposed to meet after whatever business she had with Miss Poole?

It felt imperative now that they speak on the matter of Sir Anthony. Emilia couldn't help feeling, in addition to her discomfort at having been tasked with refusing his proposal, that this was a proposal Prudence might actually wish to accept.

Long after the Marquess of Sanderson's potential engagement to Charity was stopped before it could start, Prudence had confessed to Emilia that, if it were she in her sister's shoes, she might have made a different choice. "Charity has always been after a love match," Prudence had said then, on one afternoon's long walk to Pickering. 

"One with Ian in particular," Emilia had put in. Charity had never been very mysterious about her feelings for him.

"I have no such attachments," Prudence had sighed.

"None at all?" Emilia prodded. Though Prudence was not the romantic sort, she did sometimes go on and on about a certain neighboring earl and, though it was always in annoyance, it was quite suspicious how much she found to say about Lord Stanborough. Didn't Prudence like that one phrase, the one about the lady protesting too much?

"I might like to lose myself in a nice romantic  poem or play," Prudence said evenly, "but such things are mere fantasies."

"One might say those fantasies came true for Miss Charity," Emilia couldn't help but say.

"Dear Charity is, as always, the exception to such rules. I suspect birds and rainbows and flowers float about in her wake." Prudence laughed. "Even if they didn't, she'd imagine they did. She seems content in her life, even if there's a bit of toil and trouble, but I doubt I'd be equal to it. If anything, I doubt I'd share her enthusiasm about toiling in the kitchen. I'd rather have time for my art. To have wealth, security, the freedom of your husband having his own interests and you having yours, and with a young, kindhearted man... Really, a girl could do worse and many have."

"I suppose I must agree with you there." Emilia had read enough in the gossip sheets to know that far too many a young debutante found herself married off to a man not so young, nor as kindhearted as Lord Sanderson.

"And it wouldn't be the first marriage between a lady and a man who prefers the company of men," Prudence went on, "or one quite specific man, as I understand the case to be with Sanderson." Prudence had never been prejudiced about such matters. She'd read so many bawdy plays and poems, much to her mother's chagrin, that Emilia often wondered if anything would shock her. 

Really, Emilia had been shocked upon first discovering Sanderson and his... particular friend, but having sat with the knowledge a while, her shock gave way to sorrow -- for him and his friend and whoever he might marry.

"But for your husband to be in love with another," Emilia had argued, "whether a man or a woman, wouldn't that be difficult to live with?" The Hartleys always had little love between them, but from all Emilia had heard, Mrs. Hartley still seemed incensed at the idea of Mr. Hartley mistresses. And she doubted Mr. Hartley loved any of them. Wouldn't it be more painful if he did?

"Not if romantic notions are not part of the arrangement in question," Prudence had said after some thought. "He'd have his love for another and... Well, I'd have my art. It's a romance that takes precedent over any others for me, I assure you."

If that marriage appealed to Miss Prudence, why wouldn't this one?

Granted, Sir Anthony could not offer her the wealth and prestige of a marquess, but his proposal had been honest, respectable, even practical — something she thought Prudence might appreciate. Emilia did not feel as if she had the right to refuse it.