All I Want (6 page)

“What the—” Releasing her at once, Lord Stockton covered the crown of his head and stepped back.

“A spider,” Prudence blurted, trailing after him as he moved warily away. “Really, my lord. It dropped out of the marble tree and landed on your head. I was just—” She gestured
with her fan, her expression brightening as she spotted the dark blob that had been the spider on the light-colored fan Ellie had given her.

“See! I got it.” She thrust the fan out toward him and Stephen stumbled and fell onto a couch to avoid it. “Really, there was a spider on your head.”

“Pru?”

Prudence let the fan drop and swung around at that concerned call. Ellie was walking along the balcony, rubbing her arms and peering uncertainly out into the darkness of the snow-covered gardens.

“Prudence, are you there? Father said he saw you come out here.”

“Damn,” she said softly and turned back to Stephen. Seeing the way the man was eyeing her as he got back to his feet, she threw her hands up in disgust. The fan, again dangling from her wrist, swung out, neatly clipping him between the legs. Prudence gasped in horror and started toward him as he bent over with a gasp. “Are you—”

“I am fine!” He held up a hand in self-defense, shuffling back away from her. “Just go. Go.”

“But—”

“Pru!”

Shaking her head in frustration, she turned and hurried outside to find Ellie.

“You’d better get a look at this, milord.”

Stephen glanced up from the books he was balancing to find Plunkett in the open door of his office. The doorman’s face looked even more bulldoggish than usual, wrinkled up in concern as it was. “What is it?”

“There’s a bunch of women out front.”

Frowning at the vague announcement, Stephen stood and followed the man through the kitchens and out into the gaming room. His expression tightened at the sight of the few patrons seated about the room. Business had dwindled more and more with each of Prudence Prescott’s antics. There had been a slight dip in the number of clients the night after the riot she’d caused, and the numbers had cut in half after her poisoning. Now there was no more than a handful of men in the place. The damned woman had cost him quite a bit of money. If she were here right now, he would probably wring her lovely neck. Or kiss her senseless. Strangely, he rather thought he might enjoy the second option more. As infuriating as her antics had been—and painful, he added as an afterthought—he spent more time imagining licentious pursuits with her than punishments. And the little episode in Kindersley’s office, before he had taken the fan to the groin, had managed only to inflame his imaginings. The young woman truly intrigued him, despite her tendency to cause havoc wherever she went.

Stephen pushed his thoughts aside when Plunkett stopped in front of him. Glancing up, he saw that they had reached the front entrance. His doorman swung the door open and stepped outside, holding it for him to follow. Stephen did and gawked at the scene before him.

“What the hell?” he asked, gaping at a horde of picketing women.

“Hmmm,” Plunkett rumbled. “They’ve been here for the last hour, and it’s affecting business. A lot of the women out there are wives or daughters of regulars. It’s scaring the men off. Carriages pull up, then pull away just as quickly when the women move toward them.”

Stephen didn’t really need an explanation. As he watched,
a carriage with the Justerly crest on it drew to a halt before the building. He saw the duke peer out the window at the picketing women; then the protesters started toward the carriage shouting, “Save your soul! No more gambling!” Justerly pulled abruptly back and let the carriage curtains drop closed; then Stephen heard his shout to his driver to get them out of there. The coach lurched away and the women cheered at their success in saving one more soul.

“Damn!” Leaving Plunkett at the door, Stephen stormed out into the mob.

“You truly
are
out to ruin me, aren’t you?”

Prudence turned slowly at those words, not at all surprised by Stephen’s appearance. She had actually expected him earlier, and thought it very forbearing of him to wait so long to kick up a fuss. “Good evening, my lord. How are you this evening?”

“How am I?” He glared. “I am suffering a financial setback in the person of one Lady Prudence Prescott. No one dares come near this place. I have a total of ten guests in the club right now—all of them patrons who were inside before you and your league of sour-faced dowagers arrived. And they are all terrified to leave lest one of their wives or mothers is out here picketing.”

“Is my father one of the men inside?” Prudence asked with a frown.

“Nay.”

She smiled in relief at his snapped response. “Then I suppose I can say that your plan is working. Thank you.”

“
My
plan?”

Prudence nodded with a smile. “The other night at Ellie’s ball you said that if I had such strong feelings about gambling,
I should picket and get the gambling establishments closed down.”

“I meant that you should picket the House of Commons and get the laws changed and—” He regained control of himself with some effort, then said very calmly, “All you have accomplished, my lady, is another step toward ruining
my
business. Which will not aid
your
cause. Your father is gambling tonight, I guarantee it. Just not in Ballard’s.”

Prudence looked startled at that suggestion. “Faugh! Of course he isn’t. He had to give up his membership to the clubs. He favors your establishment.”

“You do not have to belong to the private clubs to get in; you merely need a friend to take you with him as a guest. Your father spends the first part of most nights at White’s. He—”

“You are lying. I followed him here that first night, and both times I have been inside Ballard’s since, he was—”

“Both times you were inside Ballard’s it was late evening,” he pointed out firmly.

Prudence frowned. What Stephen was saying was true enough. She had gone late deliberately. When she had first gone disguised as a man it had taken her a good portion of the night to tuck and pin the back of her father’s breeches. Even with Ellie’s help it had been quite late when she had finally set out. Then, the night she had gone disguised as a serving wench, she had gone late to avoid the kitchen staff, thinking it might be less risky. If what he said was true, and her father did not only gamble here, then she was wasting her time. Wasn’t she?

“Ah, well, that is of no consequence. The important thing
here is that my father, like the rest of your patrons, will not show up here tonight. My picketing is still a success.”

Stephen glared at her in frustration, then snatched her hand and began dragging her along the sidewalk toward his carriage.

“What are you doing? Unhand me, my lord.” She started to bring her sign down on his head, but he caught it with his free hand and tugged it from her, tossing it aside with disgust.

“Must you always carry something to brain men?”

“I do not carry things about with the intention of braining men,” Prudence answered with affront.

“Oh? What about that umbrella you broke over Plunkett’s head?”

“It was raining earlier in the evening. I brought the umbrella in case it started up again.”

“Uh-huh.” He sounded doubtful. “And the cane you clobbered Mershone with when you were disguised as a man?”

“Mershone?” Prudence echoed with confusion, then asked, “Was he that hawk-faced fellow?”

“Aye.”

“What an awful man. He was mistreating one of your servants and deserved the koshing he got. But I only had that cane as part of my disguise; I thought it was most effective.”

“Most effective,” she heard him mutter. Prudence made a face at the back of his head.

“You batted me over the head with your fan at the Kindersleys’ ball.”

“I told you I was sorry about that. There was a rather large spider on your head and—”

“You were just about to beat on me with that sign you’re carrying!”

Having no defense for that accusation, Prudence merely
sighed and settled on the cushioned seat, then stiffened when she realized that while distracting her with his accusations, he had managed to get her into his carriage. She lunged for the door.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Stephen grasped her about the waist and tugged her onto his lap, holding her there firmly with one arm as he banged on the carriage wall with the other. The carriage was off at once and Prudence grabbed frantically at his arm to maintain her balance.

“You can release me now,” she said once the carriage had settled into a steady trot.

“But I rather like holding you.”

Prudence felt her insides melt at that husky announcement and allowed herself the luxury of briefly enjoying his embrace. When she felt his breath on her neck, little tingles of anticipation raced through her; then she let out a breathy sigh and turned in to the caress as his lips claimed the sensitive skin there. However, when his hands closed over her breasts through her gown and the warmth inside her started turning to red-hot heat, she forced herself to struggle out of his arms to the safety of the opposite seat.

Stephen let her go. He was smiling at her when she finally glanced across at him.

“I thought you liked my kisses?”

Prudence flushed. “Aye. Well, it is not proper to—”

“And you are so proper,” he gently teased.

Prudence glanced away, trying not to squirm with embarrassment, and shrugged. “I may not always be proper, my lord, but I do have some sense. And once I was away from your…influence, I realized that I really did not wish to become involved with someone who is helping my father, and countless others, destroy their families by gambling. Especially a man who should know better. Your own
father should have made you sympathetic to this plight!”

Stephen was silent for a moment, the smile gone from his face. She expected him to be angry and strike out at her verbally about her own shortcomings, but was surprised by his quiet reply. “I can understand that sentiment, my lady. I did not feel much differently about the gaming hells my father attended or their owners. I have realized since that the owners are not the ones to blame. Which I am about to prove to you.”

Prudence turned her head and peered silently out the window.

“If he were not gambling at Ballard’s, it would be somewhere else,” Stephen said quietly. “I run an honest establishment and limit how much men are allowed to lose. Should they start to dig too deep, I cut them off and send them home.”

Prudence turned back to face him. “Is that supposed to make it all right that you help ruin them—the fact that if it was not you taking their money, it would be someone else?”

Irritation flashed across his face. “That is not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then paused to glance out the window as the carriage slowed. “We are here. Come. You will see what I am trying to say.”

Opening the carriage door, he stepped down and turned to help her out. Prudence ignored the hand he proffered and glanced at the building they had stopped before. As she stepped down from the carriage, she saw that he had brought her to White’s.

“After our discussion at the Kindersleys’ ball, I looked into your father’s gambling.” Stephen urged her up to the window to the side of the door. There was a table there with
men seated around it. Prudence knew it was considered the best seat in the house, where one could be seen on display. Her father was not one of the men at the table, she saw with relief.

“As I told you, I do not allow my patrons to play too deep. For him to have lost the large amounts of money you are suggesting, I knew he must be gambling elsewhere. I looked into the matter. He usually comes here first. Then he goes to one or two of the other private clubs, depending on his mood. Then he goes to Ballard’s, where he plays cards until well after midnight. At that point, he heads to some of the lesser establishments. He does not appear to gamble large amounts at any of his stops, but when added together, perhaps…” He shrugged, then suddenly pointed past the table in the front window toward one further in. “There he is.”

Prudence stared at the man he was pointing to. It
was
her father. And he was playing cards. She felt her heart shrivel in her chest. Tonight had been a waste of time. Perhaps all of it had been. And perhaps she’d known all along and blindly done what seemed would help—no matter how ludicrous.

She remained silent and docile as he turned her away from the window and led her back to his carriage, getting inside automatically when the driver opened the door. She remained silent as Stephen gave his driver her address and instructions to take them there. Some part of her thought she should return to the picketing. She had organized it, after all, but now there seemed little use, and she did not have the heart for it. They had all been so excited and buoyed by the fact that they were driving Ballard’s customers away that she didn’t want to be the one to tell them it was for naught. No doubt
all
their husbands and fathers were merely gambling elsewhere.

“You should give it up, Prudence. Your father simply does
not wish to listen. Nothing you say will sway him. It is some sort of illness. Believe me, I know.”

“Aye, I know you do,” she said quietly. “Which is precisely why it is so hard for me to comprehend how you can now do to others what was done to your family.”

“I am not doing anything. I run an honest establishment. I do not cheat—”

“You say that it is some sort of illness. A compulsion. Are you not then taking advantage of this illness?” When he stared at her blankly, she turned her head away with a sigh. “I am not foolish enough to think that I can make him change his ways. Our talk at Ellie’s ball convinced me that I could not do that. Tonight’s efforts were an attempt to at least slow his losses down. Perhaps I would have been able to keep my family intact just a little bit longer. I thought—
hoped
—to keep us out of the poorhouse until at least the new year. I see now that even that is not possible.”

Stephen pulled back sharply at her words, concern on his face. “Surely it is not so bad?”