All I Want (3 page)

“Do you not think we would move faster on our feet?” she asked breathlessly, dodging between a couple of flailing legs to catch up with the woman, whose path was blocked by a pair of men rolling on the floor, fists flying.

“Sure, if you don’t mind a fist to the face,” the servant answered over her shoulder as she changed direction to crawl around the battling pair. The words sounded practical enough to Prudence, but she couldn’t help thinking that she might prefer a fist in the face to a boot in it.

Pru had barely had that thought when she got a boot to the stomach as someone tripped over her. It was more a knock than a kick, but was enough to startle an “oomph” out of her and make her decide she would risk the fists. Pausing, she started to draw her knees up to rise, only to find herself assisted to her feet by someone grasping the back of her collar and jerking her upward.

Closing her eyes instinctively, Prudence clutched at her drooping drawers and winced against the blow she felt sure was coming. She was spun on her feet to face her assailant.

“You!”

Opening one eye cautiously, Pru nearly groaned aloud—Lord Stockton. She silently cursed her luck. Then, deciding that bravado was her best option in the situation, she beamed at the man as if he were a dear friend she had run into unexpectedly in the middle of a crushingly overcrowded ballroom.

“Oh! Good evening, my lord! What a pleasant surprise. And how are you this evening?”

Watching the red suffuse his face, darken, then turn to purple as his mouth worked silently, Prudence considered that bravado might have been the wrong choice.

“You!” This time the word was not shocked so much as a long, drawn-out, frustrated and furious sound. Yes, she had definitely made the wrong choice with bravado. Perhaps throwing herself into his arms with relief and pretending to desire his protection from the mad horde around them would have been a better approach. She almost carried that thought through to action, but was denied the opportunity when a pair of struggling combatants suddenly rammed into her captor, sending him reeling. Prudence actually almost rushed forward to catch him and help him regain his balance,
then realized that she would hardly be doing herself any favors and decided that fleeing was the better option.

She whirled away and started to try to fight her way through the crowd, only to quickly understand what the serving girl had meant. Not only were fists flying, but elbows were thrusting, and bodies were banging. It was almost impossible to get through the men on foot. Glancing over her shoulder in a purely panicky action to see that Stockton had regained his balance and was now fighting toward her, Prudence returned to her hands and knees and began to scramble past, around, and even sometimes through the pairs of legs shifting and stumbling around her, sometimes hopping along like a three-limbed dog as she was forced to yank at her damned breeches. Still, she was able to move much more swiftly like this, and she was just congratulating herself on the maneuver when she was collared again, dragged to her feet, then hustled through the crowd.

Stockton had pushed his way through the fighting men much more effectively than she had managed, she admitted unhappily as she was half pushed and half dragged through a door. Finding herself in the kitchens amidst the culinary staff and few servers who had managed to reach the relative safety there, she forced another smile to her face and tried to turn it on Lord Stockton. It was no easy task, with the way he still grasped her by the neck of her cape. She ended up smiling into her collar as she offered a cheerful, “My goodness! I am forever in your debt, my lord. I was finding it nearly impossible to make my way through that mob.”

She did not think it was a good sign when he merely ground his teeth a little harder than they had already been grinding and jerked her along, ushering her through the kitchens to another door. It turned out to lead to an office. His, she supposed as he pushed her inside and slammed the door.

She glanced briefly over the small, neat room with its sparse furnishings of a standing cupboard and a desk with one chair behind it and one in front, then turned to eye the man standing statue-still before the door. “I—”

“Do not say it!” he interrupted harshly, beginning to pace.

“But you do not even know what I was going to say!” Prudence protested.

“I do not care. Do not say anything. Anything at all,” he snapped.

“Oh, now surely—” Her words ended on a startled gasp when he suddenly whirled and strode forward with an expression that did not bode well.

Alarm coursing through her, Prudence lurched back, only to come up against the chair before his desk. She opened her mouth desperately, ready to babble that she was sorry and would remain silent, only to have his mouth close down over hers as he paused before her. Eyes wide open, she stood completely still as his mouth moved over hers, her heart seemingly dead from shock in her chest. Then she felt the first smoky tendrils of passion stir to life within her and she softened under the kiss, only to be left gasping when he suddenly tore his lips away.

She started to lift one hand to her lips, but he had grabbed her by the upper arms and still held her.

“You kissed me,” she said in a gasp. His mouth twitched at her startled announcement, then twisted when she added, “Why?”

“To silence you,” he answered abruptly.

“Oh.” She heard the disappointment in her voice and nearly winced at the softening it caused on Stockton’s face, positive he would now feel pity for her. Prudence wasn’t left to worry over the possibility long. Despite his claim that he had kissed her to silence her, and the fact that she had finally
fallen silent, he suddenly covered her lips again, his mouth moving warm and firm over hers. Pru tried to resist the feelings the kiss stirred in her. Well, all right, perhaps she didn’t try very hard. It wasn’t more than a moment before she gave in on a soft sigh and let her hands slide up around his neck as she kissed him back.

He had opened his mouth over hers, prodding gently at her lips with his tongue to urge them apart, turning the kiss into a terribly interesting experience for Prudence, when a knock at the door interrupted them. Breaking away, Lord Stockton moved a couple of steps away and turned to call out for the person to enter.

Pru sucked her lower lip into her mouth, tasting him on it as she watched the door open to reveal Plunkett.

“I put an end to the fighting, my lord, and—” The large man’s words died as his gaze slid to Prudence. Seeing the shock on his face, Pru grimaced, knowing that the large man no doubt now recognized her and understood why she had seemed so familiar. But then Stephen frowned and followed the man’s gaze, his expression changing to one of consternation. When he quickly stepped in front of her, sheltering her from view, she had the most horrendous idea that—

Glancing down, she cried out in horror. Her father’s breeches were lying in a pool around her feet. She had given up her hold on them to put her arms around his neck, and apparently the kiss had been sufficiently distracting that she hadn’t noticed when they glided down her legs. Only her father’s overly large shirt was left to cover her where the cape was open, and that reached only partway down her thighs.

Her face burning with embarrassment, Prudence bent quickly to pull the trousers back up, not even hearing Stephen’s babbling excuse. She pushed past both men and fled as fast as her feet would carry her.

Stephen took a step forward, intending to chase after Prudence, then caught himself with a sigh. The poor girl had been thoroughly humiliated. His chasing after her would achieve nothing more than to embarrass her further. Besides, he had already proven that he couldn’t be trusted around her. He had been enraged when he had spotted her there in his gaming room, shocked that she would dare enter—dressed as a man no less—and furious that she would risk her reputation so. But all that shock and fury had quickly turned to a different sort of fire the moment he had gotten her alone. And hadn’t that been a brilliant idea? He took a moment to berate himself for treating her so cavalierly. At the time, kissing her had seemed an acceptable alternative to the throttling she deserved. Obviously he hadn’t been thinking very clearly. No lady deserved to be treated as thoughtlessly as he had just done.

Not that she had fought him off, he thought, enjoying the memory, then gave himself a shake. The girl was obviously as innocent as a babe. She had probably been overwhelmed by his attention. Hell, he had been overwhelmed himself. But his behavior had been simply unacceptable.

A quiet shuffling drew his attention. Plunkett still stood just inside the door, but his stunned expression at the sight of Prudence with her drawers on the floor had turned to grim disapproval that the man was directing straight at his employer. Stephen felt himself straighten defensively.

“I had nothing to do with her trousers falling down.” The words came blurting out without his volition. He really had no need to explain himself to his staff. Still, the words came out, and when Plunkett looked doubtful—as anyone would after seeing the red, swollen, obviously just-kissed state of
Prudence’s lips—Stephen felt compelled to explain further. “Well, I did kiss her, but…it is not as if we have not been introduced. We have met at various balls.”

That wasn’t strictly true. Stephen had attended several of the same balls as the Prescotts and always noted their daughter’s presence. Prudence was a lovely woman. Her beauty was the sort that shone through like a collection of snow white daisies in a mixed arrangement, not screaming for first attention like a red rose with its hidden thorns, but subtly drawing the eye with its soft loveliness. Of course, with his precarious situation in the
ton
, he hadn’t ever approached the woman until just recently. It was only when the rumors and gossip had begun to circulate about the state of the Prescott finances, when the rest of the
ton
had begun to draw away, that he had dared ask for a dance or two. He had not wanted to sully her with his reputation.

But with the
ton
acting as they were, it had given him the perfect opportunity. He had approached under the guise of saving her from being a wallflower, something he had done in the past with other shy young ladies. That had been the ruse under which he had made his polite request, and he had found himself drawn to the girl with her soft voice and quick wit. The only reason he hadn’t recognized her right away that first night outside his club was because of the darkness, the unexpectedness of her presence there, that silly hat she had been wearing, and the way she had been bundled against the cold.

Aware that Plunkett was still glaring at him like a father who had caught him mauling his daughter, Stephen shifted impatiently. “You say the fighting has ended?”

Plunkett spent another moment looking down his stub of a nose at Stephen, then nodded slowly. “Had to clear out the
club to do it, though. The place is empty and the doors locked. Should I open ’em up again?”

Moving behind his desk, Stephen made a face and shook his head. He dropped wearily into his chair. “No. That was enough excitement for one night. Is there much damage?”

“A couple tables broke and a couple of the serving girls got roughed up. Sally took a nasty poke to the eye. It’s swollen shut and blackening bad, and I think Belle’s got a cracked rib or two.”

Stephen scowled. For all that he had been in this business for years, it still startled him to see how a little drink and a game of cards could bring out the worst in these supposed “men of nobility.” Some nights he was ashamed to be counted a member of them, and those nights were coming more and more frequently. Stephen had always loathed the weakness that shone through as he watched desperate men gamble away what little they had left in the hopes of making a fortune. But more and more often of late, he was also bearing witness to a cruelty hidden beneath some of those men’s suave exteriors. It wearied his soul and made him think that perhaps it was time to get out of this business. He had even looked into several alternative ventures, but had not struck on anything as lucrative yet. Once he did…

Shrugging his thoughts away, he turned his attention to the matter at hand. “Take Sally and Belle to be tended; then see them home. Here.” Unlocking the drawer of his desk, he retrieved a sack and tossed it to his doorman. “Split this between them and tell them not to come back until they are recovered.”

Nodding, the large man turned and left him alone to his thoughts, which promptly returned to the woman he had
been kissing only moments before. Damn, she had looked fine in breeches. Even sagging, baggy breeches. But, he thought with a small smile, she had looked even better with them pooled around her ankles.

“O
h, dear.”

“ ‘Oh, dear’ is right!” Prudence quit her pacing and dropped glumly onto the settee beside Eleanore. The Kindersleys’ town house was where Prudence had taken her father’s clothes to change into them before attempting her infiltration of Ballard’s. After fleeing the scene of her humiliation, she had been forced to return to change back into her gown. She would have preferred to have Jamison take her straight home, where she could weep over her humiliating failure in private, but, dressed as she had been, going home had been impossible. Meg Prescott was not aware of what her daughter was up to. It was her Christmas wish, after all. Besides, she probably wouldn’t have approved.

Now that she was here and had revealed the humiliating results of her venture, Prudence found that she did actually feel a touch better. Eleanore’s sympathy was a soothing balm.

“What was it like?”

Pru turned a confused gaze to her friend. “What? Realizing that I was standing there with Father’s breeches down around my ankles like some—”

“Nay.”

The other woman started to smile, but bit it back quickly, Prudence noticed.

“Nay,” she repeated. “I meant the kiss. What was his kiss like?”

Prudence glanced away, her mouth twitching and twisting before she could control it. She wasn’t at all surprised to find her friend curious about
that
. They had often talked about the members of the
ton
, discussing the men they found attractive and such. Stephen had been one of them.

He was terribly handsome and debonair. And she and Eleanore were not the only ones who thought so. The older set among the
ton
might have resented having to admit him to society, but the younger ladies were more than happy to have him around, and they often vied for his attention. Eleanore and Prudence had never been among those who vied, but they had certainly noticed the man and would not have said nay had he asked for a dance, or the opportunity to fetch them a refreshment.

It wasn’t just that he was attractive, but he had shown his kindness on several occasions. It was well known that he had a tendency to befriend those the
ton
saw as just barely acceptable, and there was never a wallflower so long as he was in attendance. He made a point of being introduced, and of making everyone feel included. Pru and Ellie had both appreciated that. Especially Prudence, who just lately had found herself in need of being rescued from being a wallflower. She rarely attended social functions, but had on one or two occasions under pressure from Eleanore. Unable to afford a new
gown, she had been forced to wear last season’s fashions. The fact had been recognized at once by all, and the fact that it meant the family’s wealth was now failing had been understood. There was nothing the
ton
fled from faster than those whose wealth was dwindling. Prudence had found herself in the uncomfortable position of being avoided by most people as if she had the plague. And absolutely no one had asked her to dance—except for Stephen, once, at each of the events. No, he might not have recalled her upon their meeting, but she had had no problems remembering him.

If she were honest with herself, Prudence would admit that after each affair she had wasted several minutes lying abed at night fantasizing that they had shared more than a dance. She imagined that she had seen a certain something in his eyes as they had moved about the dance floor, and that he would someday sweep into her life and save her from the embarrassing situation her father was dragging them all into. But that had been before she learned that he actually owned the establishment her father favored for his destructive behavior. Oh, she had known that he owned some sort of hall, but she hadn’t realized it was one where gambling took place—or that it was the exact one her father spent most of his time at. Prudence had stopped fantasizing about the man the moment she had learned that. Well, all right. So she hadn’t stopped fantasizing about him, but she had taken to berating herself most firmly afterward for doing so.

“Well?”

Pru turned her attention back to Eleanore at her friend’s impatient prompting and shrugged. “It was a kiss, Eleanore. Just a kiss.”

“Uh-huh. Just a kiss that distracted you enough that you did not even notice you were losing your trousers.”

Prudence felt her face flush with remembered embarrassment,
then shifted impatiently and got up to pace again. “Can we not concentrate on my problem? What am I to do now? Plunkett will not let women in and would not be fooled by my being disguised as a man again. I must find another way to get inside.”

“Can you not just confront your father at home, Pru? Surely that would be easier than—”

“Nay. He leaves the moment he arises.”

“Catch him on his way out then.”

“I have attempted to do so, but he continually evades me. Yesterday I waited outside his door for two hours. I left to visit the privy—for just a minute, mind—and he slipped out while I was gone. I think he must have been watching out his keyhole and waited for me to leave.”

“Hmm.” They both fell silent as Eleanore pondered this news; then she murmured, “Perhaps you should try a different approach.”

“What do you mean?” Prudence stopped her pacing and turned to eye her friend with interest.

“Well, you have said that he drinks first, then gambles?” When she nodded at that, Ellie suggested, “Well, if you could prevent his drinking, he might stop gambling.”

Prudence considered that briefly. “Think you that would really work?”

“Well, the one does seem to follow the other. Does it not?”

“Aye.”

The other girl shrugged. “So if you stop him from drinking, mayhap the gambling will seem less appealing.”

A smile slowly blossomed on Pru’s face at her friend’s logic. It seemed sound to her. “Eleanore, you are brilliant!” she pronounced at last, making the other girl flush with pleasure. “But how?”

“How?”

“How am I to prevent his drinking? He does most of his imbibing out of the house.”

“Oh.” Eleanore fretted over the problem briefly, then suddenly got to her feet and hurried from the salon. Prudence watched her go with confusion and even stood, uncertain whether to follow her friend or not. But before she could reach the door, Ellie was rushing back into the room, a book in hand.

“What is that?” Prudence asked.

“One of my mother’s books of general advice. It includes a medical dictionary. I thought to see what it advises regarding imbibing intoxicants.” Leading Prudence back to the settee, Eleanore settled there, waited until Prudence had arranged herself beside her, then held the book between them and began riffling through the pages, muttering under her breath. “Intoxicants, intoxicants, intoxi— No intoxicants, but they do have intoxication,” she said with quiet excitement, and lifted the book closer to her face to read. “ ‘Although literally meaning “poisoning of the blood by alco—” ’ ”

“Skip over that part, Ellie, and find what they suggest to rectify the problem,” Prudence urged impatiently.

“Suggestions.” Eleanore scanned the long paragraph, reading various words aloud as she went. “ ‘Imagination is excited’…‘symptoms’…‘delirium—’ ” She scowled impatiently. “Nay, all they say is that ‘in cases of poisoning, vomiting should be induced by a subcutaneous injection of apomorphine.’ ”

“Apomorphine?”

“An emetic,” she explained.

“Oh.”

“But your father hardly drinks to the point of poisoning himself.”

Prudence snorted. “Nay. Not himself, just our lives.” She was silent for a moment, misery making her slump; then her head slowly lifted, scheming obvious on her face.

Eleanore eyed her warily. “I know that look. It usually precedes trouble. Prudence, what are you thinking?”

“Think you that there are such things as oral emetics?”

Ellie slammed the book closed, alarm clear on her face. “Prudence!”

“It is perfect!” she cried excitedly. “A bout or two of drinking that leaves him hanging over the chamber pot ere he gets too sotted might cure him of any desire to drink and thereby end his gambling!”

“Pru!”

“Oh, do not look at me like that, Ellie,” she snapped with irritation. “I am desperate. I no more wish to end up in debtor’s prison than you would. He will ruin us with his drinking and gambling. He has been doing both steadily since John died. I am sure that if we could but keep him sober for a day or two, he would regain enough of his wits to realize what he is doing to our family.”

“But—”

“How would you feel if it were
your
father?”

Eleanore fell silent. Prudence watched several expressions flit across her friend’s face until resignation settled there. Placing the book on the settee between them, the girl stood and silently left the room.

Prudence promptly picked up the book she had left behind and leafed through it, looking for
gambling, betting
, and
excesses
, but none of those terms was to be found. It seemed such was an ailment of the soul, not the body. Sighing, she had just set the book aside when Eleanore hurried back into the room, a large bottle gripped tightly in her hands.

“What is it?” Prudence asked curiously as her friend handed it to her, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“Do you recall when Bessy had a sour stomach?”

“Bessy?” Prudence shook her head with confusion. “Your horse?”

Eleanore nodded. “At the time the stablemaster was sure she had eaten something she shouldn’t have. He procured this to help her remove it.” When Prudence stared at her blankly, she sighed and elucidated. “This concoction encouraged her to bring it back up. It is an emetic.”

Prudence’s eyes widened incredulously. “You think I should give my father a horse emetic?”

The other girl hesitated, looking uncertain. “Perhaps it is a bad idea.”

“Nay!” Prudence stood and moved swiftly out of reach when Ellie tried to grab the bottle back. Crossing the room, she peered at it with fascination. “A horse emetic.”

“Prudence, I do not think…” Eleanore trailed her across the room anxiously.

“But it is perfect. It should have the same results with Papa, do you not think? How much did your stablemaster give Bessy? And how long before it took effect?”

Ellie grimaced. “A couple of spoonfuls. It took effect immediately, but a man is much smaller than Bessy. I do not think more than a drop or so should be used. I— Oh, Prudence, I do not think it should be used at all. This was a terrible idea. Please just give it to me and let us forget this.”

“And shall you visit me in debtor’s prison?” Prudence asked quietly, turning to face her friend. Eleanore paused, a struggle taking place on her face, until she gave in with a sigh.

“How will you administer it? For your plan to work, if it is going to work at all,” she added dryly, “he must receive it
while he is drinking. He does that at the club, for the most part. You just finished regaling me with your last foray into Ballard’s. After tonight Plunkett will be on the lookout for you. Disguising yourself as a man will not work.”

“Aye,” Prudence murmured thoughtfully, then slowly smiled. “Plunkett will never again let me through Ballard’s
front
door.”

Turning away from the ale barrel, Prudence took a few steps, then paused to scowl down at her chest. Muttering under her breath, she balanced the tray with the single mug of ale in one hand, using the other to tug uselessly at the neckline of the white top she wore. Honestly, it was as indecent as could be, she thought impatiently, and wasted a moment wishing she had worn one of her own gowns. Of course, that was impossible. She had seen for herself that all the girls wore the same costume: the red skirt and rather blousy white top with a scoop neck. But this one seemed extremely scooped to Prudence. Her nipples were nearly showing!

Realizing it was a wasted effort, Prudence gave up tugging at the top. She had had to work hard for the use of the indecent outfit for the night. Well, not the whole night. Pru had assured the girl she would need to take her place for only a matter of moments, just long enough to get a message to the man she loved. That was what she had told the girl. Of course, the truth was that she wanted a way to deliver the emetic to her father, but she could hardly have told Lizzy that. The servant’s gratitude for Pru’s intervention with the hawk-faced man had stretched far enough for Lizzy to agree to loan her gown to Prudence and let her briefly take her place as a servant inside Ballard’s, but she suspected it would not have done so had the girl known Pru’s true intentions.

Prudence had salved her conscience about the lie by telling herself that it wasn’t a complete falsehood. She
did
love her father, and the emetic
was
a message…of sorts.

Deciding it was a sad day indeed when a woman began lying to herself, Prudence moved out of the kitchen, then paused to peer around the club proper. She had waited outside the back entrance of the establishment the night before, doing her best to ignore the fact that she was standing in a dark, stinking alley as she had waited for the place to close and the workers to leave. Most of the women had left in pairs or groups. At last Lizzy had straggled out, all alone and one of the last to leave. When Prudence had recognized her as the serving woman that the hawk-faced man had been manhandling, she had pulled her cloak closer about herself and proceeded to follow. Trying to move silently, and staying in the shadows as much as possible, she had trailed the girl up the alley leading from the back of the building around to the front. She had followed Lizzy along several roads, grateful to know that Eleanore’s driver was following her for protection—even more grateful that her friend had insisted she use the coach and the family’s discreet driver for the excursion.

Once far enough away from the club that she thought no one from it would witness the exchange, she had approached the girl with a story of true love hampered by disapproving parents and her need to get a message to her lover. Lizzy had been sympathetic, but the girl was also the pragmatic sort and hadn’t been willing to risk her job to aid in the escapade. Prudence had been forced to resort to bribery, doing her best not to wince as she had bartered away a necklace of some sentimental as well as monetary value. It had been a gift from her grandmother when she was still alive. But if the plan worked, it would be well worth the sacrifice, she assured herself. And she was determined that it would work. Of
course, Ellie was positive that it would not. She felt sure that Prudence would be recognized and escorted from the property. But Prudence was of the opinion that no one paid any attention to servants. Neither Stockton nor her father would give her a second glance—she hoped.