Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,54

the bone.”

She nodded and Pru noticed that the woman’s eyes were moist. She crossed the room and took her hands. “What is it, Mrs. Brown? Did their arguing upset you?”

“No, it’s not that,” the older woman sniffed. “I am just so happy things are finally taking a turn. I have been so worried for Mr. Pope.”

“I do not think he would have survived this long without your care, Mrs. Brown. But now you can stop worrying. I will make sure Mr. Pope is cared for. Mrs. Blimkin will come and this Clopdon seems capable.”

Mrs. Brown nodded and dabbed at her eyes. “Yes, all of this is good. I just hope it will be enough.”

Pru frowned. “Enough?”

“Yes, Miss Howard. Enough to convince the earl. You see, he plans to send Mr. Pope to an asylum. And if he’s sent there, I fear he will never come out again.”

PRU COULD NOT GET THE word asylum out of her mind. Mr. Pope in an asylum. She couldn’t allow that. He did not belong in an asylum any more than she did. He had been through a traumatic experience. He needed comfort and understanding, not to be locked away for the rest of his life. Now she understood why Mr. Payne had moved forward with the repairs to the house, even though Mr. Pope was clearly not ready for that step. And Mr. Pope’s friend had hired a valet as well—not because Mr. Pope needed one but because the earl would see such an addition as a sign that his son was doing well.

“Why do you even bother to come if this is the work you do?” Mrs. Northgate said, startling Pru. She’d been preoccupied with the problem of the asylum all morning. Not only had her stitches been uneven, she realized just now she was sitting and staring at the dress and not even sewing.

“I apologize, Mrs. Northgate,” she said quickly. She lifted the dress and stabbed the needle into it.

“Cease!” Mrs. Northgate said.

Pru froze.

“Put the dress aside. I won’t have you ruin it because your mind is elsewhere. What is troubling you, girl?”

“It’s Mr. Pope,” Pru said, setting the dress material on the table between them. Mrs. Northgate picked the dress up and frowned down at the work Pru had not done. “Mrs. Brown told me the earl plans to send him to an asylum.”

Mrs. Northgate looked up. “Really?”

“Yes. How could he do that to his own son?”

Mrs. Northgate picked up the threaded needle and began to work, almost as though it was second nature. “I am sure the earl would never send his son to a place like Bedlam. He will choose a highly regarded institution.”

“But Mrs. Northgate! It’s an institution nonetheless, and you know once he is taken away, he will never be free again. He will be alone, among strangers. We cannot allow it to happen.”

Mrs. Northgate looked up at her, brows raised in surprise. “How can we prevent it? Mr. Pope’s family surely knows better than either you or I.”

Pru stood. Her indignation was too strong to allow her to remain seated. “If he wants to send Mr. Pope to an asylum, he knows nothing.”

“Is that so?” Mrs. Northgate went back to her work, her mouth curved up in a slight smile. “I must say I am surprised that the earl would send his son away. It seems to me that Mr. Nash Pope was always the earl’s favorite. Or perhaps his second favorite, after his heir.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Haven’t you asked about the peacocks yet? I thought you would inquire about those right away.”

The peacocks? Pru stopped her pacing and studied Mrs. Northgate. “I did ask about the peacocks, but Mr. Pope said he would tell me at another time. All I know is they were unveiled at the garden party and Mr. Pope won the shooting contest at the same party.”

“Is that all?” Mrs. Northgate continued to sew.

Pru took her seat again. “What else is there to know?”

“You are asking the wrong person. But I suspect once you find out the story of those peacocks, you will understand the earl far better. He is a man of vanity, a man who cares a great deal for appearances.”

“I don’t want to understand him,” Pru said. “I want to throttle him.”

Mrs. Northgate sighed. “The passions of youth,” she murmured. “I am too old for this. Be off. Come back when you can think straight and sew straighter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Pru jumped up and started for the door. “I’ll