Page 71 of The Scoundrel and the Debutante

“The Villeroys?” Mrs. Easton said, and looked at her husband. “On Upper George Street? What weretheydoing with Penfors? The Villeroys keep to themselves. I rarely hear of them in society.”

“They have a son,” Roan said. “It is imperative that I find my sister. She is engaged to be married and must come home.”

“And you?” Easton asked. “What do you intend to do after dragging our Prudence across the English countryside?”

“George, please,” Prudence said wearily. “You’re angry, I understand, but we won’t apologize for it. I won’t apologize any more than you and Honor did, or Grace and Merryton.”

“I beg your pardon!” Mrs. Easton said, clearly appalled.

“Not once did I hear a word of apology for what you did.” Prudence said.

“What has that to do with you?” Mrs. Easton demanded angrily.

“Everything, Honor. You made everything more difficult for me and Mercy. You know you did.”

“Say no more, Prudence!” Mrs. Easton said, her voice shaking with fury.

Roan put his hand to Prudence’s shoulder, but she shrugged him off. “But I don’t blame you, Honor. I understand you now. Iunderstandyou,” she said again. “Our heart leads us where it leads us and we can’t resist it. I didn’t understand that before.”

“My situation was vastly different from yours,” Mrs. Easton said angrily. “I had three younger sisters to think of.”

“Your situation was no different than mine. You fell in love and you married him.”

Mrs. Easton gasped at the implication of Prudence’s words. She looked wildly at the three of them, her gaze settling on Prudence, “You cannotmarry him,” she said, pointing at Roan.

“I can if that’s what I choose,” Prudence said firmly.

“What exactly are you implying?” Mrs. Easton said quickly. “Don’t even think of it, Prudence! You are staying here, of course you are.”

“I don’t know what I intend to do, Honor,” Prudence said hotly. “But I will not be shut away from life because of what you or Merryton or anyone else thinks! It ismylife to live as I see fit.”

Mrs. Easton gasped and whirled around to Roan. “How dare you put such ideas into her head!”

The force of Mrs. Easton’s disdain and horror clenched like a vise around Roan’s gut. He looked at Prudence. “She doesn’t need me to tell her what to think,” he said. “She has a fine mind of her own.”

Prudence smiled gratefully, buoying him.

“What rubbish! You’ve preyed on an innocent woman—”

“Honor,” Prudence said simply.

Mrs. Easton looked at her sister for a long moment, then whirled away, her fingertips pressed to her cheeks.

“Well, then, now we have quite a mess,” Easton said angrily. “What are we to do?”

“My priority is to find my sister,” Roan said.

“Yes, just go,” Mrs. Easton said angrily.

“Darling,” said Mr. Easton, his hand tangling with his wife’s. “It’s too late to call on the Villeroys tonight. We’ll go on the morrow.”

“We?” Roan asked, eyeing him warily. He didn’t trust this man—he wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Easton tried to have him thrown into a jail.

But Easton snorted. “I don’t know how you do things in New York, but in London, you need an introduction before you go rapping on doors.”

“Are you suggesting you will make that introduction for me?” Roan asked suspiciously.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make it, of course I shall,” Easton said impatiently. “That’s the only way to send you on your way.”