The door opened abruptly, and Prudence found herself staring into a pair of angry green eyes. One hand reached out and yanked Prudence in. Dolly turned and shut the door behind her, folding her arms across her ample bosom and looking as cross as a mother bear.
Well, Prudence thought, it was obvious why she had hired Dolly to act as chaperone to the girls. She was clearly a force to be reckoned with.
“Where have you been?” Dolly demanded. “I’ve been worried about ye fer hours. I woke up and ye wasn’t there. Thought ye’d been abducted, I did! I ’ad to go and fetch Mungo—”
“Oh, no—you didn’t tell Mungo! Please say you didn’t,” Prudence said, closing her eyes and plopping down onto the bed.
“What else was I supposed to do?” she asked. “I thought the villain took ye—the one who came after ye in the coach.
Dolly came to sit beside her on the bed. She pulled her into a tight embrace. “I thought ye was gone, Miss. But Mungo told me ye were alright, ye were with Lord Weston, and ye’d be back to the room in the mornin’. He said ye’d explain it all to me yerself.”
Prudence looked at Dolly, dumbstruck. “How did Mungo know where I’d gone?”
“He’s like yer own shadow, Miss,” Dolly said. “He follows ye everywhere. Wants to make sure ye stay out of trouble, and I’m glad of it.”
Mungo knew that Prudence had gone to see Alfred—knew that she had spent the night with him—and he hadn’t interfered. For some reason, it touched her quite deeply.
Prudence sighed. “Well, at least this will save me from putting an advertisement in the Times, as everyone already knows where I was last night, as well as what I was doing there.”
“What were ye doing?” Dolly whispered. “Come on, tell!” Seeing the guilty look on Prudence’s face, she gasped with delight, “Oh, my! Did ye really? With Lord Weston?”
Prudence looked about the room uncomfortably.
“Ye did!” Dolly exclaimed. “Don’t shilly-shally, tell me everythin’. What did ’e do? What did you do? And ’ow many times did ye do it together?”
“Dolly!” Prudence said, giggling with embarrassment.
“With a handsome man like that,” Dolly said with a dreamy expression, “why, I’d pay him!”
Prudence laughed. “I can’t keep a secret from you, Dolly. You’ve guessed the truth of the matter.”
“Oh, my girl!” Dolly beamed. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of ye.”
Prudence laughed and said, “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, it’s a wonderful thing when a girl becomes a woman,” Dolly continued. “Of course, if ye happen to be with a man who doesn’t know ’ow to use what the good Lord gave ’im, it can be a very tedious business. But I’m willing to bet Lord Weston knows exactly ’ow to use ’is God-given talents! Or my name ain’t Dolly Simms.”
Prudence fell over on the bed, giggling.
“And let me tell ye, my girl,” Dolly continued, “once ye’ve tried it, it’s a terribly hard habit to break. Like having yer first taste of sugar. Just makes ye want more.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Dolly!” Prudence pounded the bed in frustration.
“Why not? Ye must be daft if ye don’t want that lovely man again.”
“I do. I do want him. That’s the problem.” Prudence sat up and looked pleadingly at her friend. “I don’t dare ever let it happen again, Dolly. It was so wonderful, more wonderful than I could ever have imagined. And if I let myself feel that way again with him, I’ll be lost. I know it. Last night I gave Lord Weston my body. But next time, I’ll be giving him my heart.”
“Oh, dear,” Dolly said, looking dismayed. “It’s like that, is it?”
“Yes,” Prudence said, finally. “I wish it weren’t so, but I felt it this morning when I awoke in his arms. I felt so secure, so cared for. I wanted to stay there with him forever.”
Prudence felt her heart tighten painfully in her chest, as she continued, “I must be very careful, Dolly. Lord Weston made me feel things I could never have imagined. It is dangerous, for I know how easy it would be to trade everything I hold dear for such pleasure. Perhaps I’m not as strong as I thought.”
“Oh, Miss,” Dolly said, pulling her close in a motherly embrace. “Don’t fret, now. Many a girl has felt the same way after their first time in a man’s arms. It can be a wondrous thing, that’s for certain.”
A knock sounded on the door and a jolly-faced maid poked her head inside.
“Mornin’, Misses,” she said, bustling in and carrying fresh towels and a large pitcher. “I’ve brought fresh water fer ye both. Cook is making a hearty breakfast—Lord Weston’s orders. I expect he’ll be down after yer finished eatin’. A late riser, is the master.”
Prudence and Dolly exchanged a look, trying not to giggle.
“Well, good to see yer in fine spirits this mornin’.” The maid poured the water and set out their towels. “What with the fire and all.”
The maid’s words sent a sobering chill through Prudence’s heart. After spending the night in Alfred’s bed, she had almost forgotten about the fire for a few sweet hours.
“Thank you for your concern… Glynnis, is it?” Prudence asked, rising and smoothing her robe.
“It is, Miss.” The woman nodded, smiling and looking quite honored that Prudence had remembered her name. “Glynnis Brodie.”
“Thank ye for the water and towels, Glynnis, my dear,” Dolly said, patting the woman on the arm as if they were old friends. “We’ll be down quicker than ye can spit.”
Glynnis’s eyes widened for a moment at such plain talk, then she gave a nod and took her leave.
“It’s a new day, Miss,” Dolly said, pointing at the mantle clock. “We’ve only an hour or so before school should start. A full day of classes will keep yer mind off yer troubles, I’ll wager. But first we’ve the girls to see to and breakfast to eat. Don’t just stand there like a sheep, get movin’!”
Prudence couldn’t help but smile as her friend bustled her toward the washstand and placed the screen around it.
“I’ll give ye some privacy to wash up,” Dolly said. “Just save me a little of that water before it gets cold.”
Prudence chuckled. “Don’t I always, Dolly?”
Her friend responded with an unconvinced grunt.
But as Prudence pulled the satin ribbon of her robe, she thought of Alfred’s hands as they had done the same to her last night. The distracting images and sensations swirled in her mind, and she tried vainly to block them out.
Perhaps Dolly was right, a full day of classes would be just what she needed to keep her mind off her troubles.
To keep her mind off Alfred.
As her blood warmed with memories of the night’s passion, Prudence wished the water she bathed with was ice cold.
* * *
Alfred looked at the clock again and felt his mood darken as it struck seven-thirty.
It seemed he’d been staring at the bloody clock all day, and not once had it helped him to see Prudence.
First he’d been told that she was conducting classes and shouldn’t be disturbed. Then he had his own business to attend to, squiring Lady Weston to luncheon at Almack’s. His mother did not accompany them, as she had gone to visit friends and would be away for a few days.
As Great-Aunt Withypoll shared her concerns about the fire, the future of the Atwater School, and the poor, poor girls, Alfred’s thoughts were consumed with Prudence.
Flame-haired, passionate little Prudence.
The woman who had quaked and trembled in his arms, and taken him to new heights of desire without even trying.
Alfred had bedded his share of women, but until now, not one of them had haunted his thoughts like an apparition.
What matter if he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d touched him with such boldness, such innocence? What matter if he could still imagine her little hands feathering his body, then growing more passionate, more wicked as she gave herself free reign over h
im, touching him as a queen would stroke a slave.
Then she had become the slave, helpless and panting in his arms, yet all the while casting her spell over him like a knowing witch.
He shook his head, as if that would help cleanse his mind, but it was useless.
She was still there, tormenting him.
Like a drunk yearning for his next drink, he was counting the moments until he could see her again, and take her into his arms where she belonged.
It was now thirty-five minutes past seven.
Supper was to be served precisely at eight o’clock, as it always was. He’d be sure to see her then. And it would be a new kind of torture for him to have to sit across from her, being forced to watch as she raised her fork, put her mouth around a delicious morsel of food, and closed her lips around it.
All the while he would want nothing more than to feel those lips on his body, wreaking havoc and reducing him to a panting beast.
He hoped Crawford had put out his favorite burgundy. To get through this dinner, Alfred would need all the help he could get.
Alfred escorted Great-Aunt Withypoll into the parlor, as he did most evenings. The students of the Atwater Academy—looking as polished as they could in borrowed clothes—stood or sat in small groups, waiting for their hosts to join them.
Prudence walked in on Mungo’s arm, and Alfred felt an unwelcome stab of jealousy.
Damn, but she looked beautiful. And yet, that word alone could not do the distracting Miss Prudence Atwater justice.
Her hair was piled up into a Grecian style, and her gown of sapphire blue seemed to make her sparkle like the jewel itself.
Even though she was with Mungo—a man who Alfred himself would trust with his own life—he couldn’t help but feel envious of him at that moment.
Lord help him. He should have joined the clergy.
Soon they were seated—Alfred at the head of the table and Great-Aunt Withypoll to his immediate left. The aged lady gave a hint of a smile, as if she knew exactly what her great-nephew was thinking, and about whom.
Prudence herself was seated opposite him.
Who had arranged that, he wondered? Most likely, it was Lady Weston. Though this time, he couldn’t object to her matchmaking endeavors.
He wanted to be near Prudence Atwater.
Preferably when they were both naked.
Damnation, he was no fresh young buck, acting balmy after his first kiss! Yet, the headstrong beauty made him feel so. Prudence had turned his world upside down, and damned if Alfred could turn it right again.
She glanced at him then, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He had a vision of her in bed as their bodies entwined, her eyes glazed with passion, her mouth wet and open as she moaned in pleasure.
A footman began pouring the wine, and Alfred was glad of it. He needed a drink right about now.
“It has been unseasonably hot of late,” Great-Aunt Withypoll said at last. “Has it not?”
“Yes it has, Lady Weston,” Prudence replied. “I have noticed the heat myself.”
“As have I,” Alfred said, unable to stop himself from stirring the pot. “Last night in particular was quite warm. There was quite a lot of heat—at least in my chambers.”
Prudence almost spit out her wine, but recovered quickly.
She stared at him quietly, an expression of bemused surprise in those sparkling eyes.
“Did you feel the heat as well, Miss Atwater?” he asked.
“Now that you mention it, my lord,” she replied, “I did feel something of the sort. I thought perhaps I was coming down with a fever, but happily, the feeling has passed. I feel much more myself today.”
“I have been acquainted with similar symptoms, Miss Atwater,” Alfred said. “Make no mistake, these fevers of which you speak can strike out of the blue, with almost no warning. And when they do, there is nothing for it but to lie back and accept that you have no control over its power.”
“The human body is a miraculous thing, to be certain,” Prudence said, unfazed. “In fact, some of my students are about to start a detailed section on human physiognomy, including a study of the body’s organs…all the organs.”
Alfred quirked a brow. “How impressive. Do you know a lot about the organs of the human body?”
“I do now,” Prudence replied, sweetly.
It was Alfred’s turn to choke on his wine. He waved the butler over, saying, “Water, Crawford. And more wine, while you’re at it. Dear God, bring it quickly.”
“I admire your ambition, Miss Atwater,” Lady Weston said. “The study of the human body is not a subject for men alone—nor is the study or application of medicine. I applaud your commitment to your students, my dear. You dare to give these girls a well-rounded education, no matter if it flies in the face of convention. It is my prediction that one day—perhaps not in my lifetime or even yours—our society will have both male and female doctors, and more. Education is the cornerstone of progress. And you, Miss Atwater, are essential to both.”
She gave an appreciative smile to her benefactress, and Alfred couldn’t help but agree. The only problem was that Prudence was becoming more and more essential to his happiness as well…and it would be a challenge to convince her of that.
Chapter 16
Alfred had risen early the next morning, choosing to pass on breakfast with his great-aunt and their guests and instead went to his favorite coffee house on Hardwicke Square.
As he sipped Mr. Teagle’s famous brew, he tried to turn his head to the problem at hand—that of finding the person behind the threats to Prudence and the Atwater School. Yet, his mind focused on the lady in question in a most distracting way.
He thought of Prudence possibly carrying his child right now, and felt a swell of male pride. Of course, it would be better for them both if she were not with child. Prudence had made her thoughts on the matter clear to him. She didn’t want to marry him, or have children by him.
Not now, not ever.
Of course, she didn’t seem to care what Alfred wanted. Only time would tell if she was with child. And if so, he would see them married, even if he had to hog-tie her and carry her down to the church in such a fashion.
He finished his cup of coffee and rose from the table, placing his beaver hat precisely at the perfect angle upon his head, and gave a nod to the owner.
“See you tomorrow, my lord?” the portly man asked.
“Of course, Mr. Teagle,” Alfred replied. “I cannot face the day without a taste of your exceptional brew.”
“I’ll have a cup waiting for you, sir.”
Alfred headed out into the busy street. He sent his waiting coach to the Theater District to wait for him there, for he’d chosen to walk.
The sights and smells of London were a myriad of fascinations. Nearby, a father and his little daughter stopped to buy candied apples. Alfred watched with a pang of something, envy perhaps, as the flaxen-haired little girl held tight to her father’s hand and gazed up at him with blatant adoration.
Would he ever have a daughter to buy candied apples for? And if he did, would she look like Prudence, all curling russet hair and sparkling eyes, with a mischievous little grin?
As he passed by, the smell of sweet candied apples filled the air, and he knew he’d forever think of the father and his little girl when he smelled such a thing.
There, an older couple walked arm in arm, but despite their age were obviously still besotted with each other. Would he and Prudence walk arm-in-arm together at that age, and gift each other with the same knowing smiles as these two silver-haired lovers?
A twinge deep in his heart told him that he hoped so, more than he wanted to admit.
He turned the corner onto a tree-lined street, a handy shortcut to the Theater District where he was heading to continue his investigation. As he walked down the street, his thoughts turned to the investigation at hand. He had decided to handle this part of it himself, for now.
Due to his obvious physical superi
ority, Mungo was on duty back at the house. His role would best be served by keeping a close watch on Prudence and the girls, in case the villain made an appearance at the townhouse.
The danger to Prudence and her students was still very real. And whoever was behind such villainy would strike again, Alfred was certain.
Prudence was a threat to someone. But who? Was it some fanatic who thought all prostitutes were consigned to Hell, and shouldn’t be allowed a chance to start again? Was it someone else with a connection to the prostitutes themselves? Or could the villain hold an old grudge against her late father, and be taking his revenge against the daughter? Whoever he was, the villain was dangerous, and couldn’t be underestimated.
Alfred had made some discreet inquiries through his Bow Street Runner, a man named Devlin, asking around about brothels and who exactly owned them. Mr. Devlin had obtained a few leads, names and addresses of some of the most exclusive and closely-guarded underground brothels in London. Finding out who owned them, however, was going to be much more difficult.
But somehow, Alfred would find the link between the attacks against Prudence and the prostitutes she was trying to help. He had to, before the villain succeeded in stopping Prudence’s crusade once and for all.
Alfred crossed onto another street, this one running one street over from the theater. Though it was early, some of the streetwalkers would be out. Their business never seemed to stop, no matter what time of day.
A few strolled near the corner. Their faces looked hard and worn. He thought of chipped and dirty porcelain dolls that had once been beautiful. But, like discarded dolls, carelessness and overuse had destroyed their beauty. These were the girls that Prudence was willing to trade her own future for—possibly her child’s future as well.
Did these jaded streetwalkers know about the woman who fought for them so gallantly? Did they care what it might cost her to help them?
Looking at these poor creatures, he could understand why Prudence felt compelled to help them. Their eyes held the wariness of a beaten animal, the hopelessness of one beyond hope.
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