Free Prudence Pursued by Shirley Raye Redmond

colorful avian specimen. She marveled how one small bird could boast feathers in such a rainbow of colors.
    “This is a kingfisher,” James told her. “I will have to consult my notes to be sure which one. The island boasts several, all startlingly beautiful like this one. Are you interested in birds, Miss Pentyre?”
    She nodded, feeling slightly awkward that he had sought her out. Ever since their brief but private conversation when he’d accused her of having no sense of humor, Prudence had felt sensitive about his criticism. She felt it was undeserved. Wasn’t it? Regardless, she did not wish to speak of herself. Fixing him with a challenging stare, she said, “You did not tell me about your title—Rajah of Sarawak.”
    “Why, I did not think you would be interested in such a trifle as a mere title,” he replied. His tone was one of tolerant amusement. “Besides, had I told you, I fear you would not have believed me.” In a quiet, confidential tone, he added, “Should your cousin Margaret marry me, she would be the Rani of Sarawak.”
    “You will then certainly have your work cut out for you, Sir James,” Prudence replied crisply. “I cannot see my cousin leaving the familiar comforts of her home in Bath to rule beside you in your island kingdom across the seas.”
    “It is such a small kingdom,” he said, the blue eye twinkling.
    When Prudence bridled and did not reply immediately, James said in low voice, “I always seem to get your bristles up, Miss Pentyre. I cannot think why. I must have said or done something to upset you and for that, I am sorry.”
    “It is because you are so… flippant,” she told him.
    When he sobered suddenly, Prudence wondered if she’d hurt his feelings with her brashness. But surely not! He was brash and not at all sensitive.
    “I can be flippant, it is true,” he agreed. “But I am not flippant where your cousin is concerned. Is this what concerns you?”
    Prudence glanced around the room, making sure she would not be overheard. “Why Margaret? She is no beauty, and she has no fortune.”
    “My dear mama has gone to considerable trouble to convince me it is high time I was leg shackled,” he replied with a half smile.
    Prudence frowned. “Flippant — again!” she reproved.
    James returned the frown. “Did we not discuss this previously? I thought I made my reasons clear. Margaret does not flirt, she is not recovering from a broken heart, and she does not squander her meager means on clothing and gaming. Nor is she as empty-headed as many other young women of my acquaintance. I might as well marry her as any another young lady in similar circumstances,” he said, shrugging. “I realize you do not favor my suit. You think I am unworthy of your young cousin, and it is true.”
    “Not exactly unworthy,” Prudence contradicted, struggling to find a more appropriate word.
    “It doesn’t matter,” James said with a careless shrug. “I daresay her mother will convince Margaret to take me in the end. You, however, will find fault with me, no matter what.”
    When Prudence did not reply, but stood searching his face, he went on. “I do not want a frivolous bride with lax morals or one dedicated to a life limited to the pursuit of pleasure. As you are a vicar’s daughter, I had assumed you would approve of my choice.”
    “Even were I not a vicar’s daughter, I would not approve of any life dedicated simply to frivolous pursuits,” Prudence agreed with firm resolve. When their eyes met, she caught a hint of a smile lurking there.
    “You and Margaret are made of strong moral fiber. I admire that. Neither of you have fickle temperaments either. Your hearts would, I daresay, stay true. Too many young females fall in love with a different fribble or coxcomb every other week.” When Prudence acknowledged this with a slight nod, he continued. “Miss Pentyre, might I ask you a question?”
    Prudence did not answer, but merely tilted her head to one