Free A Prudent Match by Laura Matthews

closed the door behind himself, Prudence seated herself at the dressing table and allowed Betsy to brush the tangles from her hair. With each stroke her hair seemed to stand out more from her head until it formed an amber nimbus. “You see,” she complained. “It is absolutely unmanageable this way.”
    “But, my lady,” Betsy protested, “it's the most beautiful hair I've ever seen!”
    Startled, Prudence regarded herself dispassionately in the mirror. All her life she'd been used to thinking her hair a trial. From the age of twelve she had rigorously tortured it into obedience in a series of braids or twists which she pinned securely to her head. What she saw now was that her hair was very much like her sister Lizzie's, which she had always admired, in a girl that age. But to allow her own hair this wild freedom and she a woman of two and twenty! Surely that must be unacceptable.
    “Well, for today,” she agreed, a frown settling on her brow. “But not to the Mannings. I will not have Sir Geoffrey and Lady Manning thinking me a heathen!”
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Ledbetter firmly put his wife from his mind after he left her room. He had a great deal to take care of on his first day back at Salston. Already his estate manager had sent a list of items which he felt must be personally addressed by the baron. Then there were the two very specific matters that Ledbetter alone knew of. Now that he had sufficient funds, the sooner he put those demands behind him, the better.
    His horse was already saddled when he arrived at the stables. They knew his ways there, and understood that every day after he breakfasted, he would appear for a gallop on Thor, unless some emergency held him back. Apparently the stable lads did not consider his marriage anything out of the ordinary, as Thor stomped impatiently when Ledbetter came into the stable yard.
    The horse was magnificent. He had cost Ledbetter a great deal more than he should have paid, but once having set eyes on the black stallion, Ledbetter would not be satisfied until he owned him. It was his one regret when he was in London, that the stallion remained at Salston.
    But Thor was a high-strung beast and the one time Ledbetter had brought him to the metropolis, Thor had proved impossibly skittish in the hustle and bustle of the city. He had taken objection to every loud noise, had attempted to challenge half a dozen other stallions, and had proved nigh impossible to control in the park.
    Thor was built to run and holding him in seemed almost a cruelty. As Ledbetter mounted now, he could feel the muscles tense in the powerful beast. With only a modest urging, Thor surged forward, his stride lengthening with almost impossible speed. Ledbetter gloried in the unfettered freedom of that gallop—across fields, over fences, around the lake. After two days in a carriage, and a night spent cursing himself for a fool, the baron fully appreciated the release of galloping madly across half of his estate before at length guiding Thor toward the village.
    The stone church lay at the end of the main street of the village of Forstairs. There were only four streets, and three of them were better described as paths. But the main street was cobbled and well maintained, with shops lining both sides. From boy to man, Ledbetter had come to Forstairs with a certain anticipation, for despite its country aspect, there was one shop which invariably claimed his attention.
    The bakery stood next door to the modest inn, and supplied the inn with all manner of baked goods. But the Rules family who had owned the bakery for generations were a truly remarkable group. Not even in London had Ledbetter found their match for scones and pastries and whimsical delicacies. He remembered being allowed as a boy to choose something from the wooden shelves, and how it had been almost an agony to have to pick one from the many wonderful treats.
    As he passed on Thor, he waved to Mrs. Rule, who was standing in the