The Earl Who Sees Her Beauty by Marguerite Kaye

Author:Marguerite Kaye
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-06-29T14:06:41+00:00

Chapter Eleven

It was two weeks since Prudence had last seen Dominic or been to Hawthorn Manor. She had spent a great deal of time in the kitchen helping Lizzie make strawberry jam, rhubarb compote and bottled raspberries for the village fête, and received a polite note from Mrs Botheroyd in return, informing her that the produce would be most welcome. She had written a long letter to Mercy excluding almost all of her actual news and declining to ask her sister any of her anxious questions. She had reorganised Clement’s filing and dealt with a mound of his outstanding correspondence. And, in desperation, she had worked her way through every back copy of The Builder, clipping articles she wished to keep in a new scrapbook.

Today was the village fête, and Clement had reluctantly attended to show his face, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The weather was muggy and overcast, headache weather. Her high-necked blouse irked her. She was bored and irritable, and though the last thing she wished was to be stared at and muttered about if she made an appearance in her veil at the fête, the fact that she had not even been invited riled her. ‘Especially since I spent a whole day writing the blasted invitations,’ she muttered to herself, heading to the empty kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.

She was the only person in the village who wouldn’t be there. Save for Dominic. What was he doing? She didn’t even know if he was still at the Manor. Had he been joined by one of Doncaster’s clerks, or had he gone to London? She set the kettle onto the range and took out the tea caddy, telling herself for the umpteenth time that his whereabouts were none of her business. They had said their farewells. But she couldn’t bring herself to believe that she’d never see him again.

‘Oh, excellent, just what I need,’ Clement said, coming in through the kitchen door and making her jump. ‘I bought strawberry jam and bottled raspberries. Where shall I put them?’

Prudence opened the larder. ‘With the others that Lizzie and I made?’

He surveyed the shelf containing identical jars with comical dismay. ‘I did the same last year, didn’t I?’

‘Never mind. Shall I bring your tea up to the study?’

‘Will you join me? I think we ought to have a chat.’

‘That sounds ominous.’

‘Not at all,’ he replied entirely unconvincingly, setting down the jars. ‘Shall I take the tea tray up while you wait for the kettle to boil?’

She followed him up the stairs a few moments later and found him behind his desk, frowning over a letter. ‘From Mercy,’ he said. ‘She’s off to Baden-Baden next month again and won’t have time to fit in a visit here.’

‘Harry won’t spare her,’ Prudence said, pouring the tea and sitting down on the chair across from him. ‘It’s not that she doesn’t want to see us.’

‘Does she confide in you, Prue? I’m not asking you to tell me what she says, but I worry that she’s not happy.

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