Page 43

“Your quill…” He pointed to it. “It makes rather a scratchy noise. Perhaps you would be better off with mine.” He tugged a case out of his pocket and opened it up before pushing it across the desk toward her.

Eyes wide, she stared at the case.

“It will not bite you.”

With hesitancy, she reached out and touched her fingers to the edge of the case. Carved in walnut and inlaid with pearl, it had been a gift from his brother when entering Oxford. He was not much of a letter writer, but he rather liked having the box on him.

She removed the quill and eyed it critically before dabbing it in the ink pot in front of her and taking a few experimental strokes. He’d half-expected her to thrust the thing back at him, but as she wrote a few more words, the tiniest smile came across her face.

“Thank you.” The words were barely more than a whisper and the smile was gone.

Seth took back the box, stuffed it back into his breast pocket, and nodded to the quill. “You can keep that. It looks as though you have more of a need for it than I do.”

“This is a very fine quill.”

“As I said, it is yours now.”

Her cheeks colored, two delightful splashes of pink that broke up the simplicity of her face. Seth suppressed a grin. Who would have thought it? No charming smiles or excellent manners could reach this woman. Instead, give her a quill and she blushed like a virgin on her wedding night.

How curious she was.

Chapter Three

Prudence eyed the waiting dog. He cocked his head at her observance then glanced away only to look back at her with huge eyes. She sighed. “Will you never learn, Rusty?” She wagged a finger at him. “Begging never gets you anywhere.”

Her father peered up from his paper and nodded toward the leftover sausage on her plate. “Why do you leave him a portion of your food every morning then? He will never learn unless you cease spoiling him.”

Rusty, apparently aware of the fact this conversation was about him, moved back a few paces, did a little turn, then assumed his original position. Prudence lifted a brow and eyed him again. The red-haired Cocker Spaniel’s ears twitched and he widened his eyes further, if that was possible.

“But he looks so sweet,” she said, resigned. Standing, she plucked the bit of sausage off her plate and handed it to him. It wasn’t logical to keep feeding him, but she could not help herself. Look how sweet he was when he finally chowed down on his prize.

“Are you off to the library again today, dear?” Mama asked as she fed the latest puppy delicately from a tiny fork.

Prudence noticed her father said nothing aboutthatdisplay. It was no wonder Rusty was spoiled. The many, many dogs her family owned were all spoiled.

“Yes, I have a lot more research to do. I suspect I will not be finished until September or maybe October.” Or longer if that man was there again.

Lord Seth.

Lord Seth of the Templetons. Lord Seth the brother of the Marquis of Eastbrook. Oh yes, she knew of him. Though he was two years her junior, she read enough gossip columns and had spent enough time in Society in her younger years to understand his growing reputation as a rake.

“You’re missing out on the wonderful weather,” her mother murmured. “You could take Rusty to Regent’s Park. He does so love his walks there.”

“Rusty thinks there are too many dogs there. He would far rather be running around the gardens at Okehampton,” Prudence declared.

“Are you certain you are not talking about yourself?” Her father laid down the paper and carefully folded it.

It was true, she did not think much of London, and enjoyed the peacefulness of their Hampshire country estate, but here was where all the learning was. If it were not for their family’s summers here, she would never be able to finish her book on medieval law and order.

“I’m quite content spending time at Lord Wilson’s library. And I intend to submit to Mr. Brahm’s library too. I hear he has some texts from the 16thcentury.”

Prudence saw her mother and father share a funny sort of smile. She knew what it was. It was to prevent either one of them from nagging her to spend time with people.

But people, in her experience, were greatly overrated.

“If this is where you tell me I should be spending time out of doors and trying to find a handsome man, you can stop right there.” She came around the table to give the puppy a little fuss and her mother a peck on the cheek, then she stoppedat her father’s side. “You only have yourself to blame, Father. You are the one who encouraged me to spend time with your contemporaries and talk with them as though they were my equals.”

Her father gave a resigned smile that stretched across cheeks that had grown plump and ruddy with age. “They are your equals, Pru. Why, some are even less so. That does not mean you need to dismiss all company that is not of the academic variety.”