Vexed by a Viscount Read Online Free

the standards laid out for her by both her parents and society.
    So why did she suddenly want to push him away, escape from the house, and run off to somewhere she could simply be left alone? Such a notion was completely ridiculous.
    And this was why she had her list.
    She was just nervous about all the changes coming her way. The list kept her mind occupied on silly, inconsequential things. It made her feel as though she were in control of something.
    Like her life, perhaps?
    She almost laughed aloud at that thought. She never had been, nor would she be in the foreseeable future, in control of her life. But she could have her private little rebellion. Prudence inwardly cringed. Not as private as she wished, actually. Her list may very well come back to haunt her, should Lord Ashby decide to be indiscrete during his visit. Unsettled by the possibility, she quickly stepped back and offered the squire an abbreviated nod.
    “I’m glad that you are pleased,” she said diplomatically before lifting a hand toward the sofa again. “Why don’t you have a seat while I pour you a brandy?”
    He smiled, bearing his over-large, yellowed teeth. “Good gel,” he said, and she imagined him patting her on the head as though she were a clever child. He sauntered off toward the seating area and she suppressed a sigh of relief. The farther he was from her, the happier she was. Dutifully maintaining a pleasant countenance, she went about the task of selecting and pouring his drink, taking as much time as she possibly could.
    Where had her mother disappeared to, anyhow? It felt like ages since Mama had slipped away and firmly closed the door behind her. Prudence would even welcome her father’s presence at this point. Unable to delay any longer, she straightened her shoulders and brought the squire his drink.
    He accepted the snifter with a nod, then settled back and regarded her as he took a sip. “Have you begun assembling your trousseau?”
    She tilted her head, surprised by the inquiry. What an odd question. “Indeed I have. Mama and I spent quite a bit of time with Mrs. Hedgepeth this week.”
    She would have liked to go to London, or even Bath, for a more thrilling experience, but Mama saw no reason to go outside of the village when the Hedgepeths had clothed their entire family for nearly twenty years. In fact, Papa was already fretting about where he would find a decent tailor once Mr. Hedgepeth finally put down his needle.
    “Bah, the Hedgepeths,” Jeffries said dismissively. He glanced to the still-shut door before leaning forward. “There is a modiste in London who knows exactly what I like. We’ll take a trip there once we are married. The things she specializes in would send Winifred Hedgepeth into a fit of vapors.”
    What on earth was one to say to such a brazen statement? The thought of him being involved in her clothes and . . . and unmentionables made her face flush hot. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she said quickly. As much as she was dying to see London, this was a trip she would avoid at all costs.
    The door opened then, slowly and with a surprising amount of noise, given its well-oiled hinges. Clearing her throat as though she had a lump of dry toast stuck there, Mama made her way into the room.
    “Well then,” she said briskly, smiling to them both as the squire came to his feet, “everything is settled for dinner. I should mention that Mr. Landon invited Viscount Ashby to join us this evening. He was unaware of our plans at the time, but the viscount is a pleasant enough young man and I’m certain a good time will be had by all.”
    The squire smiled almost indulgently. “Yes, of course. The boy is probably at sixes and sevens with his parents away. It will be good to see him, as it always is.”
    Prudence almost pointed out the fact that “the boy” was two years her senior, but decided to keep her tongue behind her teeth. It would serve no purpose other than to turn her betrothed’s