“Miss Prudence Atwater,” Mungo announced.
When Alfred turned to greet her, he was unprepared for the vision before him.
God help him….
She was absolutely stunning.
Miss Atwater wore a satin gown of soft pale green. A thin braid of gold trimmed the bodice and drew the eye to the creamy curves of her breasts, which, though more demurely covered than they’d been the night at Drury Lane, were just as impressive.
Her wavy auburn hair was piled on top of her head in the latest Grecian style, and had been woven with the matching gold braid that trimmed her dress. Tear-drop ear bobs dangled on each side of her exquisite neck, and matched the fine jade necklace that adorned her.
Her face was all soft lines and curves, her skin smooth and pale as alabaster, her eyes vibrant as turquoise, her full lips red as garnet.
And she smelled as sweet and bewitching as a fresh rose.
Damnation, she was attractive.
“Lord Weston,” she greeted him, formally.
“Miss Atwater,” he said, making a bow. He bent to kiss her hand, feeling the softness of the skin against his lips.
He couldn’t help but smile at her as he stood, for tonight, this beautiful creature was his. Oh, he would have to try very hard not to demand his payment tonight. He wanted to draw this out as long as he possibly could.
Besides, he hadn’t yet decided on his price.
However, one thing was certain—he now had Miss Prudence Atwater right where he wanted her.
“Shall we, Miss Atwater?” he said, offering his arm.
She curled her arm through his, and he immediately felt the warmth of her hand through his coat-sleeve. Her hand was small, and her touch light, but it was maddeningly feminine. The sensation was very distracting.
For a fleeting moment, he had the image of her hand reaching to touch him in other places….
They proceeded to the door in silence, and Mungo closed it behind them.
Soon they were in the carriage with Great-Aunt Withypoll, rolling along to Lord and Lady Townsend’s grand house back in Mayfair. In fact, they lived only a few streets away from Alfred. They were old friends of the Weston family.
Great-Aunt Withypoll and Miss Atwater immediately engaged in a conversation about poetry, so Alfred sat back and watched the red-headed beauty as she talked. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm over the latest offerings of Lord Byron, though for himself, he didn’t hold much with Byron. The man himself was a bore.
As the ladies talked, Alfred thought about the price he would demand.
He could have anything he wanted from Miss Atwater.
Anything at all.
What would it be? A few kisses would not suffice. She had caused him injury, not to mention humiliating him in the Times.
No, the price would have to be quite steep to make up for all of that.
She glanced at him suddenly, and when he gave her a wicked smile, she quickly looked away. That made him smile all the more.
Whatever price he demanded of her, he would enjoy receiving payment very much indeed.
Chapter 6
Prudence accepted the crystal glass from Lord Weston and raised it to her lips. The raspberry punch was cool and sweet and very refreshing after their turn about the room. They had yet to dance, and in truth, Prudence had been hoping Lord Weston would refrain from asking her. But of course, he had asked her. And it would be impossibly rude to refuse him.
How she loathed the man!
His gaze seemed always to be on her, and that devilish twinkle in his eye told her exactly what he was thinking about….
The power he held over her.
The fact that she was practically his slave.
The fact that she would have to obey his commands, whatever they might be.
Oh, it was simply too much!
“They are beginning the next dance, Miss Atwater,” Lord Weston said, offering his arm. “And I believe I have asked you to do me the honor of being my partner. But instead of dancing, perhaps we might go out onto the balcony. It is a lovely night.”
Prudence forced herself to smile back at him, though she knew his despicable game. He wanted to get her alone so that he could torment her further. Or worse.
She set her glass on the table and took his arm, replying, “Of course, my lord.”
As the lines of dancers formed in the middle of the room, they walked to the expansive French windows that opened onto the balcony. As they walked, Prudence tried to look as if it were her dearest wish to be forced into the private company of London’s most exasperating lord.
It would do no good for Prudence to show him just how much he irritated her. This was no doubt part of her earthly trial. And every time she felt her courage wane, she would think of her girls. She would picture their faces bright with enthusiasm and hope as they learned in her classroom. And it would give her strength.
The music began behind them, and they went out into the night. The balcony was deserted. The warm glow of candlelight spilled through the French windows and gently lit the night.
Lord Weston led Prudence down to the end of the balcony, which had a bench and several tall, potted shrubs. In fact, it was like a little garden.
Very quiet.
Very isolated.
Prudence felt a thread of fear weaving its way through her stomach. But no, surely he couldn’t, he wouldn’t—not here!
Would he?
She soon had her answer, for in a moment she was in his powerful arms, only inches away from his broad, masculine chest. Forced to look up into eyes as dark as midnight, and a face as hard and handsome as the statue of Apollo, she struggled to keep her composure.
“Once again, you are in my arms, Miss Atwater,” he said, his voice softly dangerous. “Once again, you are standing quite close to me. Close enough so that I may feel the heat from your body. Close enough so that I could kiss you, if I chose. Shall I kiss you, Miss Atwater?”
“Is that your price, my lord? A kiss?” she asked, pushing back against his chest.
“No,” he answered. “That is not my price.”
“Then you shall not kiss me,” Prudence countered.
“Yet you were not averse to kissing me the night we met.”
“That was a different circumstance,” she pointed out, weakly.
“Yes, quite.” He regarded her for a moment, though he made no move to release her. “Your choice of attire was completely different that night, as was your cockney accent.”
“I was playing a part,” she replied.
“And are you playing a part now?” Lord Weston demanded.
“Yes…and no.”
“Ah, a decisive reply.”
She ignored his sarcasm and continued. “Yes, I am playing the part of your happy companion, and no, I am not the girl from Drury Lane. Tonight I am myself. Prudence Atwater.”
“And Prudence Atwater usually allows a virtual stranger to take her in his arms, like this?” he asked, pulling her close once again.
Prudence glared at him. “Only if the virtual stranger holds something over her head, my lord. Which you do.”
He slowly released her, saying, “So you think me unfair? I am merely demanding that you pay a price for all the woes you’ve caused me—injury to both my person and my family name. Surely that is not unfair, Miss Atwater.”
She stepped away from him, needing to put distance between herself and his alarmingly masculine body. “I think it unfair of you to take advantage of the situation, which you have just done by forcing me into an intimate embrace. Will you not decide on a price tonight, so that I may begin to satisfy my debt to you, my lord? Or do you plan to drag this out for as long as you can?”
To her surprise, he laughed.
“You make me sound so dreadful,” he admonished. “And the embrace was not so intimate. At least, not in my experience.”
Prudence watched his eyes glitter as Lord Weston stepped toward her again. She wanted to back away, to run
away. But she would not lose any more ground to this man. She would not let him see how afraid she really was.
As he studied her, she saw that he understood. He knew how difficult this was for her. And yet…he would still hold her to this scandalous agreement.
Black-hearted scoundrel that he was.
“Come,” he said, motioning toward the marble bench. “Let us sit for awhile. I promise to be a perfect gentleman…for the time being.”
“Alas, that is something I fear you will never be, my lord,” she retorted.
“How you wound me, Miss Atwater!”
“If only that were true,” she grumbled, sitting as far away from him as possible.
“Pardon me?” he asked.
“I said, ‘what a lovely shade of blue!’” She pointed to his jacket.
He laughed, and his amused expression showed that he had heard her the first time. Would the man never tire of playing games with her?
What sort of other games would he want her to play?
Another couple wandered out onto the balcony, and Prudence breathed a sigh of relief.
“Come now, Miss Atwater,” Lord Weston said with annoyance, “stop being so theatrical. I shan’t ravish you right here on the balcony, I promise.”
“And why should I trust you, my lord?” she asked, incredulous. “You hold the entire future of the Atwater School in your hands. You have threatened me with the loss of your great-aunt’s patronage if I do not willingly become your slave. You have used my unfortunate situation to your advantage, which you have undoubtedly done many times before with other women, most likely the very girls I have sworn to help.”
Prudence stood, as haughtily as she dared. “You, sir, are the most dangerous man I have ever met.”
Lord Weston quickly rose to his feet, staring down at her with eyes blazing. “Me—dangerous? You mean, more dangerous than the men who ask for your favors when you walk the streets of London dressed as a trollop?”
“Yes,” Prudence replied, anger swirling in her veins, “more dangerous than that. Because those men are not trying to close down my school as you are. Those men are not trying to ruin the chances of my students making a better life. They are not trying to put an end to my father’s dream of helping those less fortunate than ourselves. Those men could never hurt me the way you could.”
“You are not only naive, but reckless, Miss Atwater,” Lord Weston said, darkly. “And far too independent for your own good.”
“Naive? Reckless?” Lord, but she wanted to slap him.
“Yes, and—”
“Far too independent for my own good?” she demanded, hotly.
“At least we have established that your hearing is as sharp as a pin,” he muttered.
Prudence glared at him with all the fury she could muster. “How dare you, sir! How dare you even think to assume that you know what is best for me? That I do not know what is best for myself?”
Lord Weston folded his arms across his broad chest, saying, “Traipsing about London at night dressed as a trollop is reckless, Miss Atwater! With or without your bodyguard, you are putting yourself in grave danger. Mungo Church is a formidable opponent, I assure you, but make no mistake—he could be subdued. He is but one man. Against three or four, he might very well lose. Have you considered that possibility?”
“I carry a dagger with me when I go out,” Prudence countered. “Mungo showed me how to use it.”
“Well, then—I stand corrected,” he said sarcastically. “It is no guarantee of your safety.”
“And what do you care about my safety?” she demanded. “You, who wanted to buy my favors that night in Drury Lane. You, who now hold me prisoner to your whims in this devil’s pact. You do not care about anyone but yourself, my lord.”
“How little you know me, Miss Atwater.”
“Pardon me if I consider it a blessing,” she replied.
“Don’t consider it one for too long.” He took a step toward her and pulled her against his chest in a steely grip. “You will get to know me much better when you pay the debt that is owed me. You will learn much, I think…about me, as well as yourself.”
Prudence met his stare and gave a bitter smile. “As you wish, my lord. After all, I have no choice but to obey you, do I?”
“No,” he answered. “And you would do well to remember that. Perhaps it is time for the teacher to learn a much-needed lesson of her own.”
Prudence shook him off.
Unable to bear his presence a moment longer, she turned on her heel and stalked off down the long balcony. She didn’t care if it was scandalous for her to return to the ballroom without her escort. She didn’t care about anything except getting as far away as possible from the fiend.
Prudence heard the sound of his boots hitting the stone floor behind her, and she quickened her step. Then she heard a man say Lord Weston’s name. It was the couple who had ventured outside earlier.
She stepped through the doorway, and looked back through the panes of the French windows. Lord Weston’s dark gaze pierced her right through the glass. But his acquaintances were talking animatedly, and it seemed he had no choice but to let her go.
Prudence pushed through the crush, and made her way across the ballroom. She had no idea where she was going. She just knew she had get away from Lord Weston.
As Prudence neared the far side of the ballroom, she felt someone tugging at her sleeve. She turned to see Lady Weston sitting in her chair by the wall, looking up at her with concerned eyes.
“Is something amiss, my dear?” she asked. “Where is Alfred?”
Prudence forced a smile and replied, “He is talking to some old acquaintances outside on the balcony, Lady Weston. I was cold, so I came inside.”
“And he did not escort you in, my child?” Lady Weston said, frowning. “I must say, I am displeased with his lack of manners. I shall speak to him about it.”
“Oh, no, my lady,” Prudence protested, “you see, it was my idea. I did not want to keep him from his friends. In fact, I insisted on returning alone. It is not so scandalous, is it?”
“No, I suppose not,” Lady Weston said, not looking quite convinced. “Perhaps it is my age, my dear. I am from a different era. And you are such a young, modern girl. Will you sit with me and tell me all the news of your lovely school?”
Prudence smiled. She could not refuse this great old lady anything. And she would be safe with Lady Weston. If Lord Weston came by, he would surely behave himself in his great-aunt’s company.
So Prudence sat, and related all the new lessons she was planning, as well as each student’s individual progress. Lady Weston seemed enthralled with even the smallest detail. She was truly the most wonderful patroness the Atwater School could have hoped for.
Prudence knew that she must do whatever it took to keep Lady Weston’s patronage—even if it meant willingly submitting herself to blackmail.
Lady Weston patted Prudence’s hand and smiled, saying, “I must say, I especially enjoyed your girl’s singing at Lady Braxton’s assembly a week past. Miss Linton has a lovely soprano. I should like to hear her in a duet with Alfred. He is an accomplished baritone, you know.”
“I confess, I did not,” Prudence answered, reluctantly intrigued.
“Oh yes, my child,” Lady Weston replied. “Why the richness of his voice is enough to make your knees go weak.”
“Make your knees go where, Auntie?” Lord Weston asked, suddenly towering above them.
“Never you mind, m’boy,” she said, winking at Prudence. “How are you young people enjoying yourselves? Is my great-nephew providing a satisfactory escort, Miss Atwater? Hasn’t made you dizzy with dancing, has he?”
Prudence felt herself flush under Lord Weston’s stare.
“No, my lady,” she said brightly. “Your great-nephew has been an attentive escort. He has taken great pains to ensure my comfort, and not to overtax my health by dancing. Along with that, I have found Lord Weston to be a most stimulating partner
in conversation.”
He bowed gallantly and pressed her hand to his lips, then said, “I am honored that you find me a stimulating partner, Miss Atwater. It would be my greatest desire to explore more diverse areas of stimulation with you.”
Prudence almost choked on her tongue.
Lord Weston, the rogue, didn’t even bat an eyelash.
“What?” Lady Weston said, putting her hand to her ear. “Tribulation? Of what sort, m’boy? Oh, I fear my hearing is not what it once was,” she commented to Prudence.
“Your hearing is quite correct, my lady,” Prudence replied. “Lord Weston was indeed referring to what I would consider a tribulation indeed.”
He put his hands on his hips, stared directly at Prudence, and chuckled—as if she were nothing more than an amusement to him.
She fought vainly to control her fury. Oh, how she wanted nothing more than to take the sugar spoon from the nearby table and plunge it straight through his wicked black heart!
“Whatever are you laughing about, Alfred?” Lady Weston asked. “I see nothing in our present circumstance that would inspire such a degree of mirth.”
“My apologies, Auntie,” he said. “You are quite correct. There is nothing in our present circumstance, but there certainly will be in the future. Now, I’ve promised to meet Lord Kendall in the card room. I shall return after I have fleeced him of a good portion of his wealth.”
He kissed his great-aunt’s hand, and bowed to Prudence, saying pointedly, “Miss Atwater.”
She watched him stride confidently across the room and saw most of the ladies’ heads turn as he passed by. As he walked away, Prudence made a silent and furtive prayer that someone would trip him.
Chapter 7
Prudence was happy to keep Lady Weston company for the remainder of the evening, sitting attentively beside her while the patroness told stories about her great-nephew’s escapades.
She learned that Lord Weston had also distinguished himself fighting in the Peninsula. He and his friend, Beckett, Lord Ravenwood, were two of Wellington’s finest Exploring Officers. They executed daring missions behind enemy lines, gathering intelligence on enemy troop movements, fortifications, and battle plans.
Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) Page 5