Chapter One
April 1802
"I might have known I'd find you here." Prudence Armitage
looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. The warm
smile that greeted her set off the tiniest fluttering in
her breast, involuntary and inevitable. She had known
Nicholas Parrish over four years, and he could still make
her weak in the knees with that smile. Fortunately, she
was seated at the moment and in no danger of an
embarrassing collapse.
She quickly removed her spectacles and tucked them into
the pocket of her skirt.
"You've been working late almost every night," he
said. "You ought to go home, Pru, before you wear yourself
out. What are you working on?"
She cleared her throat. Shy at the best of times, she was
sometimes painfully so with Nicholas. Especially when
alone with him, and that had happened all too frequently
the last few months. "I am editing Mary Hays's latest
essay on illustrious women of history," she said. The
essay was intended for the next issue of The Ladies'
Fashionable Cabinet, a popular monthly magazine of which
Pru was temporarily in charge.
"Now, that's a job I don't envy," Nicholas said, "editing
all that flowery prose. Chopping it up, are you?"
Pru smiled. "Only a bit. Edwina warned me that Mary has
become very sensitive lately about any changes to her
work. Somehow, though, I need to shave off half a column.
If not here, then somewhere else."
Nicholas strode into the room and came to stand beside the
desk, studying the various articles, letters, and essays
strewn about the surface. "Feel free to cut whatever you
think necessary from Augusta's article. I promise not to
be the least insulted." He flashed a grin, creating little
fans of creases around his twinkling dark eyes.
Nicholas wrote historical essays and biographical sketches
under the pen name Augusta Historica. But as far as Pru
was concerned, his prose, like everything else about him,
was near perfect, and she wouldn't dream of modifying
it. "Your essay this month is brilliant. I would sooner
cut Mary's than yours." She looked away, embarrassed that
he might find her words obsequious.
"You put me to the blush, my girl. But I'm sure you'll
find a way to make it all work. You always do. That's why
Edwina put you in charge during her absence. You're the
only one who could possibly keep all this together." He
made a sweeping gesture incorporating the entire room that
served as an office for The Ladies' Fashionable
Cabinet. "But you know you can call upon me for any help
you require. I hate to see you putting in such long hours."
"Edwina did as much."
"My sister has been obsessed with the magazine since she
took over as editor five years ago. It was her life, until
recently. But I think it is a very good sign that she
allowed herself to take an extended wedding trip to
France, don't you?"
"Oh, yes." Pru had feared her stubborn friend had locked
up her heart forever. She had been thrilled when Edwina
finally admitted she was in love with Anthony Morehouse
and married him.
Nicholas hitched one hip onto the desk and half sat on the
edge. The fabric of his knee breeches pulled tight against
a long, well-muscled thigh. Pru tore her gaze away. She
would die of embarrassment if he realized how easily his
nearness could discompose her.
"I must say, I was glad she and Morehouse hared off to
Paris the moment travel restrictions were lifted," he
said. "I know she hated to be away from the Cabinet for so
long, but she needed to break away, to have something more
in her life. As do you, my girl."
He reached out and chucked her lightly on the chin. Lord,
how she wished he would not do that.
"It's too many nights now," he said, "I have seen the
candles burning late down here."
Prudence wondered if he might be concerned with the number
of candles she burned to the ends each week. The
magazine's offices, such as they were, happened to be
located on the ground floor of the town house Nicholas had
long shared with his sister. Candles were a minor expense,
but she was aware of his circumstances. She ought to have
been more considerate. Starting tomorrow, she would bring
her own candles.
"I am sorry to be staying so late again," she said, "but I
so want to do a good job while Edwina's away. I don't want
her to feel she must worry about anything when she should
be enjoying herself. Thankfully, she is well organized -- "
"To a fault."
" -- and so it is easy enough to see what must be done
each month. I will try to leave within an hour, and then
you may have the house to yourself."
Prudence had often worked late with Edwina, but never as
late as she had done since being left in charge. She
wondered if her presence in his house was awkward for
Nicholas. Though it pained her to consider it, what if he
wanted to bring someone -- a woman -- home with him at
night? As a gently bred spinster long on the shelf, she
was not supposed to be aware of such things, but she had
five brothers and was not a complete fool. As far as
Nicholas was concerned, however, she would rather not know
about that aspect of his life.
"Don't leave on my account," he said. "I am on my way out
for the evening."
She had assumed as much from his dress. He wore satin knee
breeches and stockings, and his shirt was frilled and
pleated. No matter what he wore, he was one of the
handsomest men she'd ever known -- dark, almost black hair
and eyes; even, white teeth so often on display in a
roguish smile; a tall, slender frame that moved with
feline grace ...
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