“I’ll escort you to London in a few days, if you like. I had already planned to go there to see Prudence Mercer.”

Audrey frowned. “Oh.”

Christopher gave her a questioning glance. “I gather your opinion of her has not changed.”

“Oh, it has. It’s worsened.”

He couldn’t help but feel defensive on Prudence’s behalf. “Why?”

“For the past two years, Prudence has earned a reputation as a shameless flirt. Her ambition to marry a wealthy man, preferably a peer, is known to everyone. I hope you have no illusions that she pined for you in your absence.”

“I would hardly expect her to don sackcloth while I was gone.”

“Good, because she didn’t. In fact, from all appearances you slipped from her mind completely.” Audrey paused before adding bitterly, “However, soon after John passed away and you became the new heir to Riverton, Prudence evinced a great deal of renewed interest in you.”

Christopher showed no expression as he puzzled over this unwelcome information. It sounded nothing like the woman who had corresponded with him. Clearly Prudence was the victim of vicious rumors—and in light of her beauty and charm, that was entirely expected.

However, he had no desire to start an argument with his sister-in-law. Hoping to distract her from the volatile subject of Prudence Mercer, he said, “I happened to meet one of your friends today, when I chanced upon her during a walk.”

“Who?”

“Miss Hathaway.”

“Beatrix?” Audrey looked at him attentively. “I hope you were polite to her.”

“Not especially,” he admitted.

“What did you say to her?”

He scowled into his teacup. “I insulted her hedgehog,” he muttered.

Audrey looked exasperated. “Oh, good God.” She began to stir her tea so vigorously that the spoon threatened to crack the porcelain cup. “And to think you were once renowned for your silver tongue. What perverse instinct drives you to repeatedly offend one of the nicest women I’ve ever known?”

“I haven’t repeatedly offended her, I just did it today.”

Her mouth twisted in derision. “How conveniently short your memory is. All of Stony Cross knows that you once said she belonged in the stables.”

“I would never have said that to a woman, no matter how damned eccentric she was. Is.”

“Beatrix overheard you telling it to one of your friends, at the harvest dance held at Stony Cross Manor.”

“And she told everyone?”

“No, she made the mistake of confiding in Prudence, who told everyone. Prudence is an incurable gossip.”

“Obviously you have no liking for Prudence,” he began, “but if you—”

“I’ve tried my best to like her. I thought if one peeled away the layers of artifice, one would find the real Prudence beneath. But there’s nothing beneath. And I doubt there ever will be.”

“And you find Beatrix Hathaway superior to her?”

“In every regard, except perhaps beauty.”

“There you have it wrong,” he informed her. “Miss Hathaway is a beauty.”

Audrey’s brows lifted. “Do you think so?” she asked idly, lifting the teacup to her lips.

“It’s obvious. Regardless of what I think of her character, Miss Hathaway is an exceptionally attractive woman.”

“Oh, I don’t know . . .” Audrey devoted careful attention to her tea, adding a tiny lump of sugar. “She’s rather tall.”

“She has the ideal height and form.”

“And brown hair is so common . . .”

“It’s not the usual shade of brown, it’s as dark as sable. And those eyes . . .”

“Blue,” Audrey said with a dismissive wave.

“The deepest, purest blue I’ve ever seen. No artist could capture—” Christopher broke off abruptly. “Never mind. I’m straying from the point.”

“What is your point?” Audrey asked sweetly.

“That it is of no significance to me whether Miss Hathaway is a beauty or not. She’s peculiar, and so is her family, and I have no interest in any of them. By the same token, I don’t give a damn if Prudence Mercer is beautiful—I’m interested in the workings of her mind. Her lovely, original, absolutely compelling mind.”

“I see. Beatrix’s mind is peculiar, and Prudence’s is original and compelling.”

“Just so.”

Audrey shook her head slowly. “There is something I want to tell you. But it’s going to become more obvious over time. And you wouldn’t believe it if I told you, or at least you wouldn’t want to believe it. This is one of those things that must be discovered for oneself.”

“Audrey, what the devil are you talking about?”

Folding her narrow arms across her chest, his sister-in-law contemplated him sternly. And yet a strange little smile kept tugging at the corners of her lips. “If you are at all a gentleman,” she finally said, “you will call on Beatrix tomorrow and apologize for hurting her feelings. Go during one of your walks with Albert—she’ll be glad to see him, if not you.”

Chapter Eight

Christopher walked to Ramsay House the next afternoon. Not because he actually wanted to. However, he had no plans for the day, and unless he wanted to contend with his mother’s unforgiving stares, or worse, Audrey’s quiet stoicism, he had to go somewhere. The stillness of the rooms, the memories tucked in every nook and shadow, were more than he could face.