All I Want (4 page)

There would be no negative thinking now, she remonstrated herself. So far everything had gone without a hitch. Lizzy had met her as promised, entered Eleanore’s borrowed carriage, switched clothes with Prudence, and told her,
Just walk in like ye belong. Grab an ale, so it looks like ye’re working, find your lover, give him the message, and get back out here so I can get back to work. And don’t get caught. I could lose me job if aught find out about this
.

So Pru had walked in, doing her best to look as if she belonged there, grabbed an empty mug, then slipped back outside, where she had carefully administered a couple of drops of Bessy’s tonic to the empty mug from the bottle presently strapped to her thigh. She had worried over that part. The bottle Eleanore had given her had been rather large to cart around unnoticed, so she had had to find a smaller one to place the liquid in. Then she had suffered a quandary about where to keep it. It had to be somewhere within easy access. Tied tightly to her thigh, upside down with two pieces of cloth, had seemed the safest place, which appeared to be working. She had doctored the empty mug, replaced the bottle, and slipped back inside, walking boldly up to the open ale barrel to fill the mug with yeasty brew.

“Well, now, what have we here?”

Prudence had just spotted her father at one of the tables when her view was blocked by a rather large, leering man. Forcing a smile, she tried to step around him, only to find her path blocked and herself maneuvered up against a wall.

“You must be new. I do not recognize you.”

Prudence nearly groaned aloud, but caught herself. She truly did not need a half-drunk lout to pester her. “Excuse me, my lord, but I must deliver this drink.”

“Ah, now, don’t be so unfriendly.” The man gave her a smile that Prudence forced herself to return, but then he moved in and reached around to grope her behind in far too familiar a fashion. A squeak of alarm slipping from her lips, Prudence immediately grabbed at his hand.

“I just happen to be in need of a drink myself.”

She glanced at him, her mouth open to demand he unhand her, when she realized he had taken the mug from her tray and was lifting it to his lips. “Oh, no! Do not—”

Prudence paused, her mouth agape. The irritating patron had poured the drink down his throat with one gulp.

“Mmmm.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled at her. “That was refreshing. Thank you, luv.”

Pru snapped her teeth closed with vexation, then snatched the empty mug from him. “You are not welcome. Now I shall have to fetch another.” She tried to step around him, but found him immediately in her path again.

“Now, now, none of that, Lord Setterington,” a deep voice said quietly nearby. “You know patrons are not allowed to bother the girls.”

Recognizing the voice, Prudence stiffened. Lord Stockton. Panic rising within her, she stiffly kept her face forward and moved around the man Stockton had addressed. This time the odious man did not try to prevent her, and Pru was able to rush back to the safety of the kitchens. Once there, she frowned at the sight of how busy the ale barrel was. There were three women awaiting their turns at it.

Unwilling to risk one of the other servants recognizing that she didn’t belong, Prudence turned back and cracked the door open to peer out to where Lord Stockton and Lord
Setterington were still conversing. The two men seemed rather chummy, which didn’t bother Prudence as much as the fact that Setterington didn’t appear the least bit affected by the tincture she had put in the ale. She watched for several minutes, turning her head away and moving to the side occasionally as servants entered and left the room. Members of nobility might not deign to notice servants, but servants surely noticed each other. After several minutes she gave up waiting on her unintentional victim to show signs of taking ill, and glanced back to the barrel. There was no one by it. Even the cooking staff was gone. But, then, they had finished their shift and left before she had arrived. Prudence had planned it that way, finding out what time the kitchen staff finished, and arranging to meet Lizzy after that.

Reaching down, she felt along her upper leg for the bottle holding the emetic, then glanced out the door again. Setterington and Stockton were still talking, and no one appeared headed in the direction of the kitchens. It seemed safe to fill the mug again. Letting the door slide closed, she turned and hurried to the ale barrel. She started with the drops first, for fear that someone might interrupt if she did it the other way around.

Setting the mug on the half lid that had been left on the barrel, she quickly rucked up her skirt and slid the bottle out. Letting her skirt fall back into place, she undid the bottle, held the lid between thumb and finger, and slid the other three fingers of that hand through the handle of the mug, lifting it to put in a couple of drops of the potion. She hesitated a moment, then dumped a good splash of the liquid in. The two drops she had put in the other drink were taking too long to work—if they were working at all. Obviously more than that was needed to affect a body properly.

Prudence started to try to put the lid back on the emetic
then, but with the mug, lid, and bottle all in hand, it was awkward, and she ended up dropping the lid. Clucking her tongue in disgust, she set both the mug and the small bottle on the barrel and knelt to look for her missing lid. It, of course, was nowhere in sight. Thinking that it must have rolled into the shadows against the wall behind the barrel, Prudence shifted to her hands and knees and crawled around, then swept her hand over the dark floor between barrel and wall.

She heard a deep male voice say something, but didn’t really catch what it was, so was wholly unprepared for the sudden slap on her backside. Squealing, she jerked to the side, crashing into the barrel, then straightened on her knees and peered around in time to see one of the male servants swaggering out of the room through the door that led to the alley behind the building.

“Men!” she muttered with agitation, then grasped the lip of the barrel to get back to her feet. Once there, she saw that while the mug was still in place, the bottle of emetic was gone. She glanced around briefly, but it was nowhere on the floor. Either it had rolled into the shadows as the lid had done, or the male servant had absconded with it.

Her gaze slid to the door leading to the alley, and she took a step toward it, then changed her mind. The fellow was probably on a break and thought he had stolen her private stock. He was doubtlessly gulping the sweet-smelling liquid down at that very moment. She hoped it was a big swallow, for one was all he would probably take, and Prudence rather hoped he downed enough of it to end up retching for hours. It served him right for touching her behind!

Smiling to herself at that thought, she dipped the already-doctored mug into the ale barrel, then turned back to the door to the gaming room. Cracking it open, she saw that
Stockton and Setterington had moved away. In fact, neither man was in sight.

A sudden excited outburst at the center table drew her attention. One man was laughing happily as he scooped up a rather large pile of money. Everyone else at the table looked decidedly unhappy, though they were doing their best to hide it as they slapped the man on the back in congratulations.

“Here!” the winner suddenly called out to a nearby servant. “A round of ale for everyone in the club to celebrate. On me!”

Pru’s eyes widened as every single servant in the club made a sudden exodus toward the kitchen doors. Deciding that it was time to move now or risk being discovered as an impostor, Prudence scampered determinedly out of the kitchens and straight to the table where earlier she had spotted her father playing cards.

Her eyes darted nervously about the room with every step she took, watching warily for Stockton, or for anyone who might intercept her and steal her precious drink as Setterington had done. She was nearly at the table where her father was playing cards when she spotted him. The gray-haired fellow who had been seated at the card table next to her father had apparently left, and Stockton sat there now.

Prudence nearly turned on her heel and fled for the kitchens again, but then she caught herself and forced her feet to continue. Stockton would not notice her, she assured herself firmly. She would keep her face averted, approaching with her front to her father and her back to Stockton. She would slide in, set the drink down, and leave. The man would see only the back of her head, and her father wouldn’t even glance at her. Members of nobility
never
looked at servants, or if they did, they rarely saw
them. And her father was no exception.
Dear God, please don’t let Father be the exception
, she prayed as she turned to slide between the two men, her back to Stockton as she set the drink at her father’s elbow. He did not glance up from his cards, at least no further than to notice the drink and cluck his tongue in annoyance.

“I didn’t order that,” she heard him grumble as she quickly started to slide out from between the two chairs, but she kept on going, hoping that if she left it there, he would drink it anyway.

“Girl!”

“ ’Tis all right, Prescott,” she heard Stockton say. “I shall drink it.”

It made Prudence pause. Swinging back in alarm, she saw the establishment’s owner pick up the mug and swallow a good quantity of its contents. She didn’t say anything—at least nothing comprehensible. Instead there came more of a squawking sound that slid from her lips as he lowered the drink and she saw that more than half of it was gone. It was enough to draw Stockton’s gaze to her over the rim of the mug he was again lifting to his lips. Prudence nearly stopped him, but realized that there was really no use. He had already downed enough of it that there was no way he could avoid reacting. Especially since she had put in such a large amount.

Oh, he was not going to be happy about this at all, Prudence thought faintly, and took an unconscious step backward. She was paling and knew it. She could feel the blood drain from her face as the man’s eyes narrowed on her. She started to back away faster, wincing when his eyes suddenly widened in recognition. She gave a gulp as he excused himself from the game and started to his feet, and she whirled away, heading for the kitchens at a dead run.

She had reached the kitchens when he caught up to her. In
fact, she had pushed her way past the half dozen servants around the ale barrel and nearly made it out the back door into the alley, but he caught her hand and drew her to a halt. Prudence whirled, mouth open to demand he release her, but he was already starting for his office, pulling her behind him. Catching sight of the curious servants, she decided not to cause a scene and allowed him to drag her where he would.

Tugging her inside the small, cramped office he had taken her to the last time, he released her abruptly, slammed the door, and leaned his back on it to glare at her. “Why are you back? To work? Surely your family’s situation has not deteriorated to the point that you have actually been forced to seek a paid position?”

It was the way he said the word
work
that suddenly calmed Prudence. It sounded sarcastic and bitter on his lips, reminding her of the snubs and insults he had suffered for having to make a living in the world—a torment she would not wish on anyone. Her annoyance at his drinking the potion meant for her father was briefly forgotten and she said gently, “There is nothing wrong with earning your living.”

He gave a disbelieving laugh. “Certainly there is. Just ask anyone and they will inform you of it. Every one of them thinks I am beneath them because—”

“I am not everyone,” Prudence interrupted, bringing what she was sure would have been a long rant to an end.

He eyed her speculatively for a moment, then said, “I personally choose my workers. You are not employed here. You also made no attempt to talk to your father, which was the reason you gave for wishing to get inside Ballard’s. You did not say a word to him when you had the chance. So, my lady, why are you here?”

“I did not come here this evening to talk to my father,” Prudence answered evasively.

He stared at her for another moment, then said, “Perhaps you came here to see me?”

Startled by that suggestion, Prudence was slow to notice that he was moving forward. Backing nervously away, she shook her head. “Nay, I—”

Her words died as he slid his palm gently against her cheek. His voice was husky when he spoke. “Nay?”

Prudence started to shake her head, but paused and swallowed when his other hand trailed lightly down her arm. It was as if one of her fantasies had come to life. Not that she had ever fantasized quite this situation, but the look in his eyes was quite the same. A little more heated than adoring, perhaps, but…

“I am sorry for that unfortunate incident the other night. I would never have allowed Plunkett to enter had I realized—” He cut himself off and grimaced when Prudence suddenly flushed bright pink at the reminder of her humiliation.

“I
am
sorry,” he repeated. Then she watched wide-eyed as his lips lowered toward hers. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes slipped closed as she waited for the soft caress of his mouth on hers…and waited. And waited.

He had never taken this long finding her lips in her fantasies. Frowning, she popped her eyes open. His face was a mere few inches away, but it was no longer moving closer. He appeared to be almost frozen, and he had the oddest expression on his face.

“Is there something amiss?” she asked with concern.

Lord Stockton heaved. Recalling that he had downed her father’s dosed ale, Prudence watched in horror as Stephen clapped his mouth closed. His cheeks bulged and his eyes
were huge in his face as he whirled away. After a brief but frantic glance around, he rushed for the window.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured as he threw it open. The next moment he was hanging over the ledge, being ill.

Biting her lip, Prudence shifted on her feet, unsure what to do; then she moved forward and patted his back rather limply. He straightened.

“Feeling better?” she asked hopefully.