by Lisa Kleypas
“Ah, well, that is of no consequence. The important thing here is that my father, like the rest of your patrons, will not show up here tonight. My picketing is still a success.”
Stephen glared at her in frustration, then snatched her hand and began dragging her along the sidewalk toward his carriage.
“What are you doing? Unhand me, my lord.” She started to bring her sign down on his head, but he caught it with his free hand and tugged it from her, tossing it aside with disgust.
“Must you always carry something to brain men?”
“I do not carry things about with the intention of braining men,” Prudence answered with affront.
“Oh? What about that umbrella you broke over Plunkett’s head?”
“It was raining earlier in the evening. I brought the umbrella in case it started up again.”
“Uh-huh.” He sounded doubtful. “And the cane you clobbered Mershone with when you were disguised as a man?”
“Mershone?” Prudence echoed with confusion, then asked, “Was he that hawk-faced fellow?”
“Aye.”
“What an awful man. He was mistreating one of your servants and deserved the koshing he got. But I only had that cane as part of my disguise; I thought it was most effective.”
“Most effective,” she heard him mutter. Prudence made a face at the back of his head.
“You batted me over the head with your fan at the Kindersleys’ ball.”
“I told you I was sorry about that. There was a rather large spider on your head and—”
“You were just about to beat on me with that sign you’re carrying!”
Having no defense for that accusation, Prudence merely sighed and settled on the cushioned seat, then stiffened when she realized that while distracting her with his accusations, he had managed to get her into his carriage. She lunged for the door.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Stephen grasped her about the waist and tugged her onto his lap, holding her there firmly with one arm as he banged on the carriage wall with the other. The carriage was off at once and Prudence grabbed frantically at his arm to maintain her balance.
“You can release me now,” she said once the carriage had settled into a steady trot.
“But I rather like holding you.”
Prudence felt her insides melt at that husky announcement and allowed herself the luxury of briefly enjoying his embrace. When she felt his breath on her neck, little tingles of anticipation raced through her; then she let out a breathy sigh and turned in to the caress as his lips claimed the sensitive skin there. However, when his hands closed over her breasts through her gown and the warmth inside her started turning to red-hot heat, she forced herself to struggle out of his arms to the safety of the opposite seat.
Stephen let her go. He was smiling at her when she finally glanced across at him.
“I thought you liked my kisses?”
Prudence flushed. “Aye. Well, it is not proper to—”
“And you are so proper,” he gently teased.
Prudence glanced away, trying not to squirm with embarrassment, and shrugged. “I may not always be proper, my lord, but I do have some sense. And once I was away from your… influence, I realized that I really did not wish to become involved with someone who is helping my father, and countless others, destroy their families by gambling. Especially a man who should know better. Your own father should have made you sympathetic to this plight!”
Stephen was silent for a moment, the smile gone from his face. She expected him to be angry and strike out at her verbally about her own shortcomings, but was surprised by his quiet reply. “I can understand that sentiment, my lady. I did not feel much differently about the gaming hells my father attended or their owners. I have realized since that the owners are not the ones to blame. Which I am about to prove to you.”
Prudence turned her head and peered silently out the window.
“If he were not gambling at Ballard’s, it would be somewhere else,” Stephen said quietly. “I run an honest establishment and limit how much men are allowed to lose. Should they start to dig too deep, I cut them off and send them home.”
Prudence turned back to face him. “Is that supposed to make it all right that you help ruin them—the fact that if it was not you taking their money, it would be someone else?”
Irritation flashed across his face. “That is not what I meant.”
“What did you mean then?”
He opened his mouth to answer, then paused to glance out the window as the carriage slowed. “We are here. Come. You will see what I am trying to say.”
Opening the carriage door, he stepped down and turned to help her out. Prudence ignored the hand he proffered and glanced at the building they had stopped before. As she stepped down from the carriage, she saw that he had brought her to White’s.
“After our discussion at the Kindersleys’ ball, I looked into your father’s gambling.” Stephen urged her up to the window to the side of the door. There was a table there with men seated around it. Prudence knew it was considered the best seat in the house, where one could be seen on display. Her father was not one of the men at the table, she saw with relief.
“As I told you, I do not allow my patrons to play too deep. For him to have lost the large amounts of money you are suggesting, I knew he must be gambling elsewhere. I looked into the matter. He usually comes here first. Then he goes to one or two of the other private clubs, depending on his mood. Then he goes to Ballard’s, where he plays cards until well after midnight. At that point, he heads to some of the lesser establishments. He does not appear to gamble large amounts at any of his stops, but when added together, perhaps…” He shrugged, then suddenly pointed past the table in the front window toward one further in. “There he is.”
Prudence stared at the man he was pointing to. It was her father. And he was playing cards. She felt her heart shrivel in her chest. Tonight had been a waste of time. Perhaps all of it had been. And perhaps she’d known all along and blindly done what seemed would help—no matter how ludicrous.
She remained silent and docile as he turned her away from the window and led her back to his carriage, getting inside automatically when the driver opened the door. She remained silent as Stephen gave his driver her address and instructions to take them there. Some part of her thought she should return to the picketing. She had organized it, after all, but now there seemed little use, and she did not have the heart for it. They had all been so excited and buoyed by the fact that they were driving Ballard’s customers away that she didn’t want to be the one to tell them it was for naught. No doubt all their husbands and fathers were merely gambling elsewhere.
“You should give it up, Prudence. Your father simply does not wish to listen. Nothing you say will sway him. It is some sort of illness. Believe me, I know.”
“Aye, I know you do,” she said quietly. “Which is precisely why it is so hard for me to comprehend how you can now do to others what was done to your family.”
“I am not doing anything. I run an honest establishment. I do not cheat—”
“You say that it is some sort of illness. A compulsion. Are you not then taking advantage of this illness?” When he stared at her blankly, she turned her head away with a sigh. “I am not foolish enough to think that I can make him change his ways. Our talk at Ellie’s ball convinced me that I could not do that. Tonight’s efforts were an attempt to at least slow his losses down. Perhaps I would have been able to keep my family intact just a little bit longer. I thought— hoped—to keep us out of the poorhouse until at least the new year. I see now that even that is not possible.”
Stephen pulled back sharply at her words, concern on his face. “Surely it is not so bad?”
Pru’s answer was a painful silence, and Stephen frowned, taking in her broken expression.
“Prudence, please,” he began, reaching out to caress her cheek, but the carriage stopped. They had reached her home. Pulling free of his touch as the drive
r opened the door, Prudence stepped out of the carriage and walked through the gate to her home.
Chapter Five
Stephen leaned back in his chair, the accounts open before him all but forgotten. His mind was not on what he should be doing, but instead taken up with thoughts of Prudence. He could not seem to get his last vision of her out of his mind. Her shoulders slumped, she had looked so defeated as she had walked away. That vision haunted him. She haunted him. Stephen hadn’t known her long, but she had certainly made an impact on his life in a hurry. She had also livened it up. With her around, almost every day had been an adventure. It had gotten to the point where he had wondered what would come next. The answer now was, Nothing. She hadn’t tried anything for a week, not since he had taken her to White’s.
Pushing impatiently to his feet, he wandered through the kitchens of his establishment and into the gaming room. Servants were rushing about, cleaning up from last night’s business and preparing for tonight’s. It had picked up again now that Ballard’s was no longer plagued with Pru’s own particular brand of havoc.
He would trade it all to enjoy that havoc and her presence again.
Shaking his head at that thought, he walked to the front door and opened it. Plunkett turned questioningly as Stephen glanced around the street’s inhabitants. No one would be coming for hours, but Plunkett started work each day as soon as Stephen unlocked the doors. He was there to prevent anyone from sneaking in to steal things while the servants were busy.
“Any trouble?” he asked almost hopefully.
“Nay, my lord. Quiet as the dead.”
“Hmm.” Stephen couldn’t deny his disappointment. He missed her. He missed her presence, her smell, her smile, her apologetic looks as she created chaos and left destruction in her wake.
“Maybe ye should call on her, milord.”
Startled by the unsolicited advice, Stephen glanced to his doorman and found the beefy man looking flustered by his own temerity in making the suggestion. But, as uncomfortable as he appeared, it didn’t stop him from offering more.
“I only say that because I’ve noticed how you’ve been hankering after her, sort of low since she ain’t come back. Everyone’s noticed.” Seeing Stephen’s alarm, he added, “Not that anyone would be blaming ye. She’s one of them wormy sorts.”
“Wormy sorts?” Stephen echoed with amazement.
“Aye. One of them ones who worms under the skin by your heart and sticks there. Kind of charming and naughty and good all at the same time so’s you don’t know whether to spank her or kiss her.”
Stephen considered the analogy solemnly, then nodded. It was somewhat scandalous for this doorman to speak so of a woman of Prudence’s rank, but the man had the right of it. “Aye. She is definitely one of the wormy ones.” Stepping out onto the stoop, he let the door close behind him. “Perhaps I will go call on the Prescotts.”
—
“Are you not going to skate?”
Prudence smiled at Ellie’s rosy-cheeked face and shook her head. “You know I cannot.”
“Aye, but you have your skates on. I thought mayhap you were going to give it a go. You will improve with practice, Pru.”
“That is what you said when we were ten. You do recall, do you not, the time I fell and nearly bit my tongue off?”
“Ah, yes.” The other girl grimaced. “Well, why do you have your skates on then?”
“In case Charlotte falls down and hurts herself or needs me. I wanted to be prepared.”
“Oh. How sensible.”
“There is no need to sound so surprised that I am being sensible, Ellie. I am not a complete nodcock, you know.”
“Nay, of course you aren’t. I did not mean to make it sound as if you— Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh what?” Prudence asked with a frown.
“Well, fancy meeting you ladies here.”
Pru stiffened at that cheerful voice, then turned to glance over her shoulder at Stephen as he joined them at the edge of the ice rink. She hadn’t seen him since he had taken her to White’s. And had missed him horribly, she admitted to herself, then berated herself for being an idiot. She shouldn’t miss him. He was helping to ruin her family, whether deliberately or not. She should loathe the man. But he was so damned handsome, and he had such a nice smile and sweet eyes and— Damn!
Without really considering what she was doing, Prudence propelled herself out onto the ice.
—
Stephen gaped after Prudence in amazement. He had arrived at the Prescott home only to learn that Pru had taken her younger sister skating. Not one to give up easily, he had left the Prescotts’, headed straight to the shops to purchase himself a pair of skates, then had come to find her. And find her he had, though he had to wonder at the state of his mind, for it was obvious the woman he was pursuing was quite mad.
“What the devil is she doing?” he asked, watching her perform some sort of dance on the ice. At least he thought it was a dance, though it was one he had never seen before. It consisted of repetitive jerking, then skidding motions of her feet and a wild swinging and flapping of her arms. She careened across the ice.
“Hmmm,” Eleanore Kindersley murmured consideringly beside him. “I believe she is attempting to skate, my lord.”
“She is?” He let his gaze drift over the other people gliding around the rink. “No one else appears to be skating like that.”
“Well, I did say attempting to skate.”
Stephen raised his eyebrows at Pru’s friend, but she didn’t notice. She was wincing at something out on the ice. Following her gaze, Stephen winced as well. Prudence had taken a tumble and was now trying to pick herself up. She managed to get halfway back up before her feet slid out from beneath her and she ended back on her behind.
“She doesn’t appear to be very good at it.”
“Nay,” Ellie agreed quietly. “But then she doesn’t care to skate. In fact, she did not originally intend to skate today. She only wore her skates in case Charlotte needed her.”
“I see,” Stephen said softly, watching Prudence gain her feet only to do something like a pirouette and again land on her bottom. Shaking his head, he turned abruptly and moved to the nearest log. Settling on it, he began to undo his boots.
“What are you doing?”
Stephen glanced up at Eleanore Kindersley, then went back to what he was doing. “Putting on my skates.”
“Ah. You have never tied skate laces before, have you?”
“Nay.” He glanced up with surprise. “How did you know?”
“You are doing it wrong,” she explained. Kneeling before him, she took the strings. “Here, let me assist you.” Swatting his hands out of the way, she made quick work of the task.
“I hesitate to ask this, my lord,” she said, stepping back as he got to his feet. “But have you ever been skating before?”
He paused, looking uncertain, then nodded. “Yes. I am sure I did as a child. At least, I recall drinking hot cider in the cold.”
“Oh, dear. Well, perhaps you should remain here. I am sure Prudence—” She turned and fixed on something on the ice. Following her gaze again, Stephen saw that a rather dashing-looking fellow had stopped to help Pru.
“There. You see. There is no need for you to—”
Cursing under his breath, Stephen did not stick around to hear more. He sailed out onto the rink in a manner rather similar to the way Prudence had done moments before, and no doubt looking just as mad as he wheeled his arms and pedaled his feet. Not that he cared. He was more concerned with staying upright on the ridiculously slippery surface and rescuing Prudence from the randy bastard presently using the excuse of helping her as a chance to maul her.
The man was holding her far too close to his chest, in Stephen’s opinion. And Prudence, grateful for his assistance, was probably wholly unaware of his no doubt salacious intent.
“Lecher,” Stephen muttered under his breath as Prudence started to slip again and the man hugged her closer until t
hey were chest-to-chest. When he got there, he would—
His thoughts ended abruptly as a young boy swished past, bumping him. Stephen promptly lost his precarious balance and landed flat on his back. Grimacing at the pain in his tail-bone, he sat up, then glanced irritably around at a raucous laugh. The young beast who had knocked him off his feet was now skating in circles about him, laughing uproariously. The little demon only reached the top of Stephen’s head where he sat on the ice, but he skated like the wind.
Deciding that if the little guttersnipe could skate like that, he himself could, Stephen ignored the brat and started to his feet. He was halfway back up when his feet slid out from beneath him again. The second time he ended doing half a split. Deciding that he needed something to keep his first skate steady while he regained his feet, Stephen hesitated, slid his glove off and set it on the ice before his right skate, then tried again.
Much to his satisfaction, that worked nicely. The glove held the skate in place, allowing him to regain his feet. But then he teetered there, peering down at the glove still lying on the ice. He knew without a doubt that if he tried to retrieve it, he would end up back on his butt. After all the trouble he had gone to getting here, he wasn’t risking falling again for one stupid glove.
He would just leave it, he decided as he glanced over to snarl at the way the libertine was holding Prudence. It was indecent. If anyone was going to hold her that way, it was him and him alone!
Stepping over his glove, he launched himself forward. Careening across the ice at a rather satisfying, if terrifying speed, he reached Prudence and her would-be rescuer in a trice. Unfortunately, once he was sailing along, he had no idea how to slow or stop himself. He was going to crash into the pair. Just moments before impact, he managed to adjust the angle of his skates, thereby sending himself hurtling into only the fellow.
“Stephen!”
It did his heart good to hear that concerned cry from Prudence as he crashed down on top of her would-be rescuer. He gave her a reassuring smile over his shoulder, then glanced back at the fellow who had thoughtfully, if unintentionally, cushioned his fall.