Prudence watched them go, while Hugh settled back into one of his more comfortable chairs. “Ah, to be young again, eh, Prudence?” he called over his shoulder, in an obvious attempt at jovial conversation.
However, Prudence had not quite recovered from his earlier insult, nor did she care for this discourse. Absurdly, she found herself resenting the insinuation that she was old, even though she had thought of herself as on the shelf often enough.
Deciding it was best to ignore the comment, she turned his attention toward Phoebe’s caller. “Hugh, what do you know of that young man?” she asked, nodding toward the door Darlington had recently exited. “I cannot like his address.”
Hugh looked up at her in some surprise. “Can’t say that I saw a thing wrong with the fellow. At least he ain’t one of those high flyers you seem to prefer.”
Prudence disregarded his not-so-subtle dig. “No. I do not believe that he is either titled or wealthy, but does the lack of both necessarily make him acceptable?”
Hugh stared at her blankly for a moment, her words obviously sailing over his head, before giving her a condescending smile. “You are feeling put out, as well you might, because your pretty sister has a caller today. Say!” he exclaimed, rising to his feet. “I know just the thing to perk up your spirits! Let us take off around town, just the two of us.”
Prudence bristled at his suggestion that she might be jealous of Phoebe. She had never in her life envied her younger sister, nor was she pining away for attention. Her literary notoriety had resulted in plenty of invitations, should she decide to accept them. In fact, Phoebe had just admitted that she was the one feeling out of sorts over Prudence’s success. Unfortunately, Prudence knew that arguing with Hugh was futile, so she let the slight pass and tried to drag his wandering interest back to the subject at hand.
“No, really, Hugh, there is something about his eyes I do not like,” she said. “He looked at Phoebe in a most indelicate fashion.”
“Who, Darlington?” Hugh laughed and chucked her under the chin. “By Jove, you are revealing not only your age, but your spinsterhood, Prudence! All the young bloods gaze at Phoebe the same way, with healthy admiration. Come now, where shall we go?”
Again, Prudence felt an unnatural anger erupting in her breast at Hugh’s thoughtless teasing. True, she might not be in the first bloom of youth, but she was hardly ready for the graveyard. And one man, at least, admired her. The thought of Ravenscar made her heart leap uncontrollably. “I am going shopping,” she said.
“Shopping! Dash it all, I thought we might have an excursion today, what with Phoebe gone and all,” Hugh said, with a frown.
Prudence felt a twinge of guilt at the disappointment on his face. Phoebe’s accusation of jealousy came to mind, but Prudence dismissed it as nonsense. Hugh’s avuncular manner could in no way be construed as that of a lovelorn swain. He was simply a kindhearted soul who had taken them into his home and was doing his best to protect them from what he saw as the evils of the world. If he was a little overbearing, then she must forgive him, for he meant well.
Today, however, Prudence could not indulge him; she had an appointment of her own to keep. “I am sorry, Hugh, but I had hoped to go to Mayfair, and there are just some things a woman must buy on her own, if you know what I mean. After all, even us ancient spinsters need personal items.”
Hugh blustered a bit. Although he ignored her gibe, he was obviously put out by her defection, and looked as if he might sulk a bit. Beyond admonishing her to take her maid with her, however, he did not protest further, and, ducking her head to hide her heightened color, Prudence called to the young lady they had hired to do for them in town.
Jane came quickly, having been forewarned, and with the blood singing in her veins, Prudence forgot all about Hugh. After all, she was bound for her very first rendezvous, and although she knew the purpose of the meeting was to discuss Ravenscar’s brother, somehow she could not rid herself of a tingling sense of anticipation brought on by the very thought of an assignation with the man who was called the Devil Earl.
* * *
Sebastian saw her immediately. She was standing in front of a milliner’s shop, gazing in the window, just as they had planned. He was pleased to note that she was prompt to the minute, although he should have expected as much from her. Most of the women he knew could not be bothered with clocks, but Prudence was different.
Sebastian was quite aware of that as he took a moment to admire her unobserved. Despite her spectacles and her spinsterish dresses, she looked lovely. Again, he wondered if the very fact that she hid her attributes contributed to her appeal, for appeal to him she did—inordinately.
His response to this woman continued to surprise him. Though he had thought himself dead for years, certain parts of his body were stirring to life fairly regularly—in reaction to Prudence Lancaster and her slender, overdressed body. It was astonishing, really, considering that he had known countless women since his dissipated uncle had long ago introduced him to London’s brothels. The memory of his wild youth held no joy for him, and Sebastian felt suddenly sickened, as if the very recollection might taint Prudence.
Ridiculous, he told himself. And yet, Sebastian had never pursued one so innocent as she, and somewhere in the back of his mind was the niggling doubt that he was doing her a disservice. He choked back an amazed laugh at the thought, for he had long ago abandoned any remnants of a conscience.
If she was innocent, then it was part and parcel of the package that was Prudence Lancaster, a package that had brought a glimmer of interest to his stale existence. A package that he was extremely eager to unwrap.
As Sebastian watched, she flicked a glance his way and smiled. The simple act held no trace of coquetry, but only delight, along with an underlying excitement thrumming beneath the surface.
The woman loved intrigue. And puzzles. And Gothic chills. And Sebastian was doing his level best to provide her with them. And yet, she was not alone in her enjoyment. Sebastian realized that he took an absurd amount of pleasure in playing these games with her. Trying to incite her deeply buried passions was well worth his efforts. With a leisurely smile, Sebastian stepped toward her, feeling more alive than he had in years. “Miss Lancaster! How delightful to see you again,” he said smoothly.
To her credit, she played the role of the surprised party to perfection. Only he saw the rapid rise and fall of her breasts that gave away her excitement. Only he saw the gleam in her eyes, masked by those damned spectacles.
“Have you been shopping?” he asked.
“Why, yes, I have a few small purchases,” she answered, a bit breathlessly.
Sebastian’s smile broadened. “If you are finished, can I persuade you to join me?”
“Certainly, my lord. That would be most kind of you,” she answered. She called for her maid, and they walked to where his driver waited with his personal couch and four. Prudence’s shy young attendant Jane was easily persuaded to go up with his driver, assuring them of some privacy. Then Sebastian helped Prudence inside and settled himself upon the opposite seat to study his companion.
Seemingly oblivious of his scrutiny, she leaned back against the cushions, stroking the velvet material with an awed expression on her beautiful features. Sebastian’s gaze slid down to where her gloved hand caressed the elegant furnishings, and his pulse quickened.
“It is quite luxurious,” she said in a hushed voice. “And so dark.” Indeed, Sebastian had commissioned the interior to be done entirely in black, as befitted his reputation. During the day, the windows let in some light, of course, and at night, the lamps could be lit, but still, it was of a piece, unrelieved by any other color or ornamentation.
Most women hated it, but Prudence…Sebastian could see the glitter of interest in her eyes, and he felt the strangest sense of satisfaction. “I assume it meets with your approval,” he said.
“Oh, my! Of course,” she whispered in a husky tone, drawing his attention to her full mouth. Even in t
he shadows of the coach’s interior, he could see that her lips were trembling. By God, the woman seemed to shiver at the slightest look from him.
Sebastian realized he liked that very much.
Those little shudders of hers were stimulating, for they were evidence of excitement, not dread, and she seemed to surrender to them without the slightest provocation, really. Sebastian felt an answering thrum of interest and wondered what she would be like when fully aroused. The notion grabbed hold of him like a fist, and he shifted uncomfortably.
Just when Sebastian thought he might have to act upon his urges, Prudence leaned forward and fixed him with a questioning gaze. “So, my lord, begin at the beginning. And tell me everything,” she said very seriously.
For one brief moment, Sebastian was tempted to take her up on the request and give her all the details of his sordid existence, but he knew she was talking about James’s disappearance. With an effort, he dragged his mind back to their little mystery.
Somehow, he managed to get out the story with a minimum of difficulty, though he had spoken at length of that night to no one else, not even the Bow Street Runner. In fact, he felt an odd sort of relief after having unburdened himself. Guilt, Sebastian. Guilt for driving your little brother to some precipitate action.
Yet, Prudence made no such judgment. She listened calmly, without comment, and when he was done, he had the pleasure of watching her ruminate over the details while she chewed on the tip of one finger. Sebastian wondered idly if she always needed new gloves to support this endearing little habit. Perhaps he should buy her a pair. Hell, maybe he would buy her a dozen pairs, and have her rub the soft surface against his skin!
As intriguing as the idea was, Sebastian really wanted to see her hands without covering, naked and ink-stained, as they had been the first time he noticed them. Although he knew it was ridiculous, just the thought excited him, and he had to force himself to look at something else.
She was done up in a nice day dress, simple but pretty, that covered every inch of her from throat to wrists. There was not a bit of bare flesh on Miss Prudence Lancaster, except that of her face. Although that knowledge ought to amuse him, Sebastian found himself aroused by the prospect of undoing all that clothing.
If he were dressing her, Sebastian decided, he would reveal those smooth, golden shoulders of hers and use bold colors to bring out the inner passion that burned brightly inside of her. Few would look beneath the surface for that lode of hunger, but Sebastian had seen it in her work. And he alone would be the one to mine it, as he had in Lady Buckingham’s library.
The memory of that simple kiss flared hot enough to surprise him, and Sebastian reached for her, taking hold of her glasses before she even noticed. Prudence could drift very far away at times, he realized, but he did not mind. He knew how to claim her undivided attention. “Have you a receptacle for these?” he asked.
She stared blankly at the glasses for a moment before slipping them into her reticule. “But, I—” she began, before Sebastian cut off her protest by closing the curtains and plunging them into total darkness. He heard her low gasp in the blackness, and then he dragged her onto his lap.
Another woman might have protested or gleefully rubbed against him, but Prudence simply clung to him, her heart hammering so fiercely that he could feel it against his own. It was almost as if they beat as one…Pushing that odd, unsettling thought aside, Sebastian cupped his hand to her throat, closing his fingers around her nape, and pulled her to him. Although hearts and souls had ever been foolishness to him, bodies were a different story. This he understood.
Sebastian laid claim to her with his mouth. Not gently, for the time for that was past. He wanted to make her his, more than he could ever recall wanting anything, and it was difficult to hold himself in check.
Her mouth opened under his, taking his heat and possession without demur, and Sebastian felt his pulse race as it never had before. He drank in her passion, her joy, and the fevered longing she had never known existed. He mined it with his lips and with his tongue, driving into her recesses, mating with her own in a primitive ballet that was old as time, but as fresh and new as a spring bud.
And as unique as Prudence herself. Unskilled in the arts of love, she somehow managed to send his jaded senses skittering. Her arms were caught between them, and she clutched his lapels, unknowingly pressing herself against him, and when Sebastian felt the first, tentative brush of her tongue, he went wild, gripping her to him, just as if he had not had a woman in years. Then he felt her whole body trembling, and he eased his hold upon her, not wanting to hurt her.
“Forgive me,” he whispered in her ear. He was going to say more, but her scent beckoned, and he kissed her ear, lightly running his tongue along its folds. She shivered again, and he hardened like a rock beneath her bottom. He lifted his hips, grinding against her, and heard her indrawn breath.
“Forgive me,” he mumbled again, knowing he was acting like an impatient bridegroom, but unable to help himself. And she only encouraged him with her shuddering responses. Taking her earlobe into his mouth, Sebastian sucked on it, reveling in her soft sigh of surprise. He wanted more, needed her, his blood requiring her like some sort of infusion, and although a part of his brain knew it was absurd, the rest of his body cried out for her. His teeth grazed her lobe, gently biting, and she gasped.
“Oh, my lord!”
“Sebastian,” he murmured. Suddenly, it was very important to hear her call him by name. He kissed her cheek, her temple, her eyelids, without disturbing the tidy chip hat perched on her hair. “Sebastian,” he repeated.
“Sebastian,” she echoed. Glorying in the swell of feeling that burst through him at the sound of him on her lips, he took her mouth in celebration. They clung together, Prudence trembling and whimpering in his arms, while Sebastian tested the very limits of his endurance—until a knock sounded against the door.
Like a drowning man, Sebastian had to make his way up for air as desire, hot and overwhelming, threatened to drag him down to depths he had never heretofore explored. With supreme effort, he broke off the kiss and pressed Prudence’s head against his chest while he took in sustaining breaths in dazed astonishment.
The couch rattled again with a hesitant pounding. Summoning up some semblance of his wits, Sebastian put Prudence from him, settling her gently on the opposite seat before he pushed open the door.
His driver, Morley, stood there, looking a bit shamefaced. “We have arrived, my lord,” the fellow said. “Been sitting here for some time, so I thought I best…”
Morley’s words trailed off into an apologetic glance toward Jane, who was standing some feet away. Having been with the earl for a long time, the driver was well acquainted with his habits, and would not have disturbed him, but for her presence.
Sebastian gave him an approving nod before turning back to his guest. Another woman might have protested his behavior, fussed over her clothes or preened, greedy for his attentions, but Prudence simply stared at him, her hazel eyes wide without her glasses. He was struck with the realization that she, alone among womankind, was neither silly and chatty nor cold and silent. She was…Prudence.
He held out a hand to her. “Are you hungry? I brought along a picnic.” He asked, although he knew she would not refuse, and she did she disappoint him. She seemed restless and eager and a bit disoriented—ripe for the plucking.
Sebastian found a soft, shady spot and shook out a linen cloth large enough for the both of them to sit on—or lie upon. The maid giggled and sighed, obviously impressed by his devotion to details, before Morley swept her off.
Prudence did not seem quite as awed by his feast, although she made it plain she had never picnicked off gilt-edged bone china, nor sipped champagne from the finest crystal goblets while outdoors. Deliberately, he had kept the courses to a minimum and included several dishes designed to enhance one’s other appetites, such as plump, fresh oysters. He was, after all, an old hand at such things.
But, somehow, the scene he had set so many times before played out differently with Prudence. The stultifying conversation and blithe compliments he would normally have offered did not belong. Instead, they spoke of their shared interests, of writing and books and Wolfinger.
Prudence, he realized, was quite taken with his ancestral home, and he wondered if perhaps the abbey was not a better setting for seduction than a grassy slope in the spring countryside. It was certainly one he had never used before, and its very uniqueness held appeal. The old place appealed to him, too, and the two of them together, exploring the abbey and each other, presented a tempting picture to his mind.
Watching her bite daintily into a tiny pastry, Sebastian felt his body clench and thoughts of Wolfinger flee. Why wait? If she were any other woman, he would take her right here, right now. His driver, well versed in his tactics, had already led the maid away, entertaining her, keeping her from them. They were alone. He could lift her skirts and be inside her in a flash, pumping between her long golden thighs until he reached satisfaction.
But would he really be satisfied? Was that all he wanted from Prudence Lancaster? Sebastian’s jaded self told him to take what he could, but somewhere deep inside him was the thought—the hope—that there was something else, and that this spinsterish provincial might be able to give it to him.
“I have a confession to make,” she said. Her words, breaking into his musings, startled him. He was even more stunned when she slowly stripped off both of her gloves. By God, perhaps she was no innocent, after all!
One look at her face told him he was wrong, for her smile was one of amusement, not seduction. Then she held out her hands for his inspection, and Sebastian felt something odd in the very pit of his being.
Ink stained her fingers.
Sebastian stared, while the strange sensation swept over him, taunting him with its power. He wanted to kiss them. He wanted to take each clever digit and lick it until this woman who was more interesting, more intelligent, more alluring, than anyone he had ever known whimpered her surrender to him.
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