The Colonel's Spinster - Audrey Harrison Page 0,23

never could,” Anne said candidly.

Fitzwilliam looked at his cousin in astonishment, but Prudence let out a crack of laughter.

“What is it, Fitzwilliam?” she asked, still chuckling. “Seeing the real Anne for the first time?”

“Why, I do believe I am,” Fitzwilliam answered with a rueful smile.

“I’m usually very quiet,” Anne explained. “Most people forget that I’m there.”

“I shan’t be doing that in future!” Fitzwilliam said. “In fact, I cannot wait to tell Darcy of this more spirited Anne. He will be astounded.”

“Oh, do not!” Anne appealed. “I should be mortified.”

“Don’t take on so, dearest Anne,” Prudence soothed. “He is funning with you, and we should punish him for it.”

“How could we do that?”

“We could spread the rumour that he’s considering a career in the clergy now that the dastardly Napoleon has been defeated. I am sure Mr. Collins would be happy to give him more than a little advice in his choice of career,” Prudence said.

“You wouldn’t,” Fitzwilliam said, choking.

“Is that a dare, sir?”

“Good God, no! I’m not that bumbleheaded! I shall beg forgiveness and promise not to write to Darcy,” he assured Anne.

Anne smiled around Fitzwilliam to glance at Prudence. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, and you’ll always be safe in the knowledge that you now know our cousin’s Achilles’ heel.”

“Termagant.”

“Oh, most certainly,” Prudence replied.

Chapter 8

Lady Catherine suddenly required a list of supplies so long that Fitzwilliam half regretted offering to accompany his cousin. Such thoughts were banished the moment Prudence came down the stairs, resplendent in a green riding habit with gold braiding.

Pulling on her gold gloves, she smiled at him. “Are you ready to take the reins, Cousin?”

“If it means I get to spend most of the day with the fine creature before me, I am ready, indeed!” Fitzwilliam said with a bow and an offer of his arm.

Prudence flushed at the compliment but laughed it off. “You are ridiculous. Come, we shall be lucky to return before nightfall with all the commissions Aunt Catherine has set you.”

They rode at a brisk pace, Fitzwilliam as capable in a gig as he was on horseback. Prudence could admire her protector whilst they were barrelling along, chatting amiably.

He was so easy to like, she cursed inwardly. Charming, and although not as handsome as some men she’d met, he certainly had an air about him that was very appealing. When he smiled and his eyes twinkled at her as they often did, she felt the gesture to the tips of her fingers. More than once, she had to restrain herself from her fingers reaching out to him. Such forward behaviour would never do. He might be easy-going, but he belonged to a society that condemned anything that went against the strict rules of etiquette.

Arriving in Westerham, Fitzwilliam decided they would get the music sheets first. “I would not wish you to be in a panic if it should look as if we might run out of time.”

Prudence gave him a sideways glance. “Can you honestly see me becoming distracted over such an inconsequential thing? You must think women feeble creatures if you can.”

Fitzwilliam smiled. “No. I actually think you very capable, but there are many who would develop a fit of the vapours over such a trifle.”

“Goodness me, there are many things I’m thankful for, one being I wasn’t introduced to society.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I doubt I would be well received for slapping the face of anyone so insipid as to react in such a way,” Prudence responded. “What milksops do you surround yourself with?”

“Oh, there are many, believe me,” Fitzwilliam said with meaning in his tone.

“What a sorry state of affairs. You are more likely to get into a quake if you don’t finish Aunt Catherine’s shopping, than I will.”

“You will not get any argument from me about that!” Fitzwilliam responded.

They spent the next few hours in easy companionship as they walked the length and breadth of the main shopping street, which surrounded a pretty green. It was a busy small town, supplying many of the villages surrounding it, which made it a vibrant place.

When they finished shopping, Fitzwilliam insisted they stop at one of the Black Eagle Brewery Inns and secure a private room in which to refresh themselves.

“They brew a fine ale. Darcy and myself have been coming here for years,” Fitzwilliam assured her, taking off his hat and gloves. Laying his greatcoat over a chair, he walked to the fire. “It is mild for the time of year, but the cold eventually seeps in. Come near