Dangerous

Chapter Thirteen

Prudence made another attempt to reason with Sebas­tian later that night when he rendezvoused with her at the Hollington mansion. She got nowhere. In fact, she could have sworn that his stubborn, high-handed attitude actually worsened as soon as he caught sight of her in the crowd.

He had barely arrived before he took her arm and drew her force­fully toward the door.

She cast him a disgusted sidelong glance through her fashionable new glass as they stood on the steps waiting for the carriage to appear out of the fog.

"What on earth has gotten into you tonight, my lord?" she asked as she fumbled with the glass. Having to deal with a fan, a dangling glass, and a tiny reticule was really too much to ask of a woman, she thought irritably. Being fashionable was no easy task. "I vow, you are in a devilish mood."

"Am I, indeed?" Sebastian's jaw was rigid. He watched impatiently as his coachman maneuvered the Angelstone carriage out of the long line of gilded coaches that waited on the street in front of the man­sion.

"Yes, you are. Sebastian, don't you think you're carrying this surly attitude a step too far? I know I nagged you for the better part of the afternoon, but that is no reason to turn downright rude in front of my friends this evening."

"Was I rude? You wound me, my dear. I had no notion that my behavior was in any way objectionable."

"Rubbish. You know perfectly well it was most objectionable." Prudence dropped the dangling glass and clutched at her feather-light embroidered cashmere shawl. The delicate wrap was in the first stare of fashion, but unfortunately it provided very little protection against the damp, foggy night. "You were most unpleasant to Lord Selenby and Mr. Reed."

"You noticed, did you?" The carriage had arrived at the bottom of the steps. Sebastian took Prudence's arm and half dragged her toward it. "I'm astounded and, I must say, deeply flattered that you even saw your poor husband standing in the crowd of gentlemen that was gath­ered around your bare bosom."

Prudence squinted at him as one of the Hollington footmen hur­ried to open the carriage door. "My bare bosom?" she yelped. "My lord, are you implying that you do not care for my new gown?"

"What gown?" Sebastian tossed her into the darkened carriage and crowded in behind her. "I did not notice any gown on you tonight, madam. I thought perhaps you had forgotten to put it on before you left home."

Prudence was outraged at the affront to her new lavender silk ball gown. "I will have you know that this gown is in the very forefront of fashion."

"How can it be in the forefront when it has no front at all?"

Prudence gave a small, choked exclamation. She gave up trying to wield the eyeglass and fished her spectacles out of her little beaded reticule. "You are being unreasonable, my lord, as I am certain you are well aware." She pushed her spectacles onto her nose and glowered at him. "I thought you would approve of this gown."

"I prefer you in your usual style."

"I have been assured by a great many people, including Hester and my own brother, that my usual style is no style at all."

Sebastian lit the carriage lamp and lounged back against the cush­ions. He folded his arms and let his brooding eyes drift over her filmy, low-cut gown. "Why this sudden taste for fashion, madam?"

Prudence pulled the airy shawl more snugly across her chest. It was quite chilly in the carriage. She wished she had her cloak with her.

"You are the one who keeps reminding me that I have a duty to remember my new position."

Sebastian's expression turned stark. "Your new position gives you the privilege of wearing anything you like. As the Countess of Angel-stone you may set the fashion, not be a slave to it."

Prudence raised her chin. "What if I happen to like wearing gowns such as this?"

"Damnation, Prue, you're about to fall out of that thing. Every man in the room was leering at you tonight. Is that the effect you wished to create? Were you deliberately attempting to make me jeal­ous?"

Prudence was horrified. "Of course not, Sebastian. Why on earth would I wish to make you jealous?"

"A good question." His gaze was bleak and dangerous. "But if that was your goal, I assure you it worked."

She blinked at him in amazement. "You were jealous of me, my lord?"

His mouth twisted grimly. "How did you expect me to react when I walked into that room tonight and found half a dozen men hovering over you?"

"I was not trying to incite your jealousy, my lord." Prudence was appalled that he had so completely misunderstood her intentions. "To be perfectly truthful, I would not have guessed that I could do so."

"Is that so? You would not be the first to play such games." Sebas­tian leaned his head back against the seat and studied her through half-lowered lashes. "Other women more accomplished in such skills have tried those tactics."

She smoothed her lavender skirts, remembering what Hester had once said about the notorious Lady Charlesworthy's ill-fated attempt to make Sebastian jealous.

"I am certain they have," Prudence said quietly. "I am also aware of my own limitations. It never occurred to me that I could make you jealous." She searched his cold, unreadable expression. "I did not think I had that sort of power over you."

"As my wife, you have a great deal of power, madam," Sebastian said far too quietly. "We are bound together, you and I. In the past when other women have tried to inspire jealousy in me, I have been free to walk away. But I cannot walk away from a wife, can I?"

"No, I suppose not" Prudence felt oddly deflated. She should have known that any jealousy Sebastian felt would be based on pride and possessiveness, not love.

"Jealousy does not amuse me, madam."

"Sebastian, you have got it all wrong."

"Have I?"

"Yes." Prudence sighed. "I did not choose this gown in an attempt to attract the attention of other men."

He slid her a suspiciously bland look of inquiry. "Why, then, did you select it?"

"So that I would no longer invite comment," Prudence muttered, exasperated.

Sebastian did not move, but there was a sudden aura of alertness about him that made Prudence wary.

"Comment from whom?" Sebastian asked in a silky voice.

Prudence belatedly realized she was on treacherous ground. She wondered if she had been lured onto it with all that nonsense about jealousy. Sebastian was nothing if not clever. "Why, from the social world, my lord."

"You mean from my dear aunt, don't you?"

Prudence drummed her fingers on the carriage seat. There were distinct disadvantages to finding oneself married to a shrewd man. "Now, Sebastian, you must not leap to conclusions."

"Bloody hell." Sebastian uncoiled with the lethal grace of a predator pouncing on its prey. He reached out and closed the curtains on the windows over the doors in two swift movements.

"Why are you doing that?" Prudence asked sharply.

Instead of giving her an answer, he caught hold of her upper arms and hauled her up off the cushions. "I knew there was something behind this sudden interest in fashion."

"Really, my lord." Prudence's diaphanous skirts billowed out as he sat her down across his legs. Her shawl fell off her shoulders, once more exposing the upper curves of her breasts. "Just because I have taken an interest in fashion, there is no need to react quite so energet­ically."

"You're trying to forestall insults from that old witch Drucilla, aren't you?" Sebastian's eyes gleamed gold in the lamplight. All traces of icy anger as well as any emotion that might have even remotely resembled jealousy had vanished.

"Sebastian, it really is not proper to go about calling your aunt an old witch."

"Why not? That is exactly what she is. You're hoping that if you turn yourself into a diamond of the first water, she won't have cause to insult you."

Prudence stifled an oath. The familiar unholy amusement was back in Sebastian's eyes now. She was certain that he had tricked her into a confession. "I am merely trying to dress in the sort of style that the polite world considers appropriate for your wife, Angelstone."

"I will decide what is appropriate for my wife."

Prudence was very conscious of the muscled contours of his thighs beneath her soft derriere. The thin skirts of a fashionable ball gown left very little to the imagination. "Your arrogance leaves one breath­less, my lord."

His long-fingered hand tightened around her waist. His gold signet ring gleamed dully in the lamplight. "You think that if you can keep my aunt from insulting you in public, you can prevent me from punish­ing the Fleetwoods, don't you?"

"I am not going to dignify that silly conclusion with an answer."

He smiled faintly. "It was a clever notion, but I've got news for you, my dear: It will never work. Drucilla is looking for excuses to find fault with you. It is useless to try to placate her, because she will never be placated. If your dress gives her no cause for comment, she will find something else to criticize. It is the nature of the beast."

"Your aunt could hardly say anything more insulting about my gown than you have already said." Prudence tried to straighten the lavender plume in her hair.

"My status as your husband does give me some privileges, my dear."

"That is open to debate." She glanced at him uncertainly. "Tell me the truth. Do you really think this gown is cut too low?"

"It is far too low to wear in public." Sebastian studied the gentle curves of her breasts with grave consideration. "However, I can see that the cut of the bodice does have a practical use."

"Practical?"

"It affords easy access to a charming view." He slipped his finger just under the edge of the low neckline.

Prudence felt a tremor of wicked excitement go through her. "Se­bastian, stop that. You mustn't do that sort of thing here in the car­riage."

"Why not? It will take the coachman nearly half an hour to work his way home through the traffic. The fog is getting thicker. That may delay him even longer." Sebastian gently eased the edge of the gown downward, freeing one of Prudence's breasts.

Heat rushed through her. She batted ineffectually at his hand. "Sebastian, this is too bad of you. I cannot allow you to make love to me in a carriage.!‘

"This is what comes of wearing the latest fashions, my sweet." Sebastian started to lower his head to the rosy tip of her breast.

Prudence sank her fingers into his hair, closed her eyes, and tried to concentrate on her main objective. "Now that we have finished discussing my gown, I want to talk to you about your plans to return to that shop in Bond Street tonight."

"I promise to give you a full report when I get home." Sebastian's breath was warm on her skin.

"It is most unfair of you to leave me behind. I'm your partner." Prudence gasped as he grazed his thumb across the firm bud that crowned her breast. Her eyes opened and she saw a scrap of paper that was lying on the seat where she had been sitting. "What is that?"

"A nipple, I believe." He touched it with the tip of his tongue. "Yes, definitely a nipple. And an extraordinarily lovely one, at that."

"No, not that." Prudence peered over his lowered head. "That piece of paper on the seat. I must have sat down on it when I got into the carriage a few minutes ago. It looks like a note."

Sebastian raised his head slightly and glanced at the folded piece of paper. "What the devil?"

He reached out and picked up the note. Then he straightened and held it so that the light from the carriage lamp fell across it. He examined it closely and then he unfolded it. There was a short mes­sage scrawled inside.

"I thought so—a note. Someone left it here in the carriage while we were at the ball." Prudence tugged her bodice back into place and straightened her spectacles. She gazed at the unfamiliar writing as Sebastian read the message aloud.

"The names of The Princes of Virtue are Ringcross, Oxenham, Bloomfield, and Curling. I have provided their addresses at the bottom of this note in hopes that you will not ask for any more information. I assure you I have no more to give. I implore you to leave me in peace."

Sebastian frowned. "There's no signature. It was most likely writ­ten by one of the shopkeepers we interviewed today."

"How can you be sure?"

"It's obviously from someone who does not want us troubling him with further inquiries. The only people we have been questioning are the shopkeepers."

"Lord Curling's name is on the list," Prudence said. "That makes sense, I suppose. We found the button in his wardrobe, after all."

"Ringcross is dead. Curling wants his death investigated. Both be­longed to The Princes of Virtue club." Sebastian tapped the note absently against his thigh, his expression intent. "I think the next step is to talk to Bloomfield and Oxenham."

"Do you know them?"

"I have met Oxenham. He's involved in shipping. Somewhere along the line he managed to marry two heiresses. I heard that both young women died soon after their weddings. One in a carriage acci­dent. One from an overdose of laudanum. That was several years ago."

Prudence shuddered. She reached for her shawl and wrapped it around herself. "That sounds rather ominous."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" Sebastian leaned back into the corner of the carriage and eyed Prudence with a thoughtful expression. "I be­lieve I will talk to him first."

"What about Bloomfield?" Prudence asked.

"I don't know much about him. Rumor has it he's a bit mad. He does not frequent the clubs and I have never encountered him in Society."

"And Curling?"

"We must take this investigation one step at a time," Sebastian said. "It is not yet obvious what Curling's role is in all this. Nor do we know the role my cousin is playing."

Prudence mulled that over for a moment. "According to that note, Oxenham lives on Rowland Street."

"Yes." Sebastian paused. "I think I would prefer to visit their homes while they are absent before I talk to them."

"It occurs to me, my lord," Prudence said softly, "that as you no longer need to pay a late-night visit to that establishment in Bond Street, you are quite free for the rest of the evening."

"If one assumes that this list of names is complete, which is a dangerous assumption." Sebastian regarded her with a hooded gaze. "What are you getting at, my dear?"

Prudence smiled expectantly. "We shall pass near Rowland Street on our way home tonight."

"No," Sebastian said immediately. "Don't think for one moment that I am going to take you on a late-night visit to Oxenham's home."

"We could at least drive past his house and see if he is out for the evening," Prudence said persuasively. "Surely there would be no risk in that, Sebastian."

"Absolutely not. I am not going to allow you anywhere near his house."

"We would not need to stop," Prudence argued. "We could simply determine whether or not he is at home this evening. Then, if you wished to return later we would know if it was safe to do so."

Sebastian hesitated, obviously torn. "I suppose it would do no harm to drive past his house."

Prudence hid her smile of satisfaction. "None at all. We would be merely one more carriage traveling home from a ball. No one would take any notice."

"Very well." Sebastian stood up and raised the trapdoor in the top of the carriage.

"Aye, m'lord?" the coachman called down.

"I wish to go home by way of Rowland Street," Sebastian in­structed.

"It's a bit of a side trip, m'lord."

"Yes, I know, but I think it will be faster. Less traffic."

"Aye, m'lord. Whatever you say, sir."

Sebastian lowered the trapdoor and sat down slowly across from Prudence. "Why do I have the feeling that I am going to regret letting you talk me into this little excursion?"

"I have no notion," Prudence said lightly. "There is certainly no risk involved."

"Hmm."

Prudence chuckled. "You may as well face the truth, Sebastian. You want to do this as much as I do. In some ways we are very much alike, as you keep pointing out to me."

"A prospect which I find increasingly alarming." Sebastian extin­guished the interior lamps. Then he tugged aside the curtains that concealed the windows and lowered the glass.

Prudence watched curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Making certain of our anonymity while in the neighborhood. The fog is quite heavy now, so there is probably no need to worry that someone will recognize the carriage. Nevertheless, one cannot be too careful."

Sebastian reached under the seat and pulled out a flat piece of wood that had been painted black. He attached it to two small hooks on the inside of the door and suspended it over the side.

Prudence realized the painted board would cover up the distinctive Angelstone crest. "Very clever, Sebastian."

"A reasonable precaution." He sat back in the seat.

Prudence smiled. "And one you have taken before, I collect."

"Yes."

She could not see his expression in the deep shadows, but she could hear the current of anticipation in his voice. He was caught up in the excitement of the adventure now, just as she was.

Rowland Street proved to be a remarkably quiet neighborhood. As Sebastian had predicted, there was very little traffic. Prudence gazed out the open window. Through the drifting tendrils of fog she saw that most of the houses were dark.

Sebastian leaned forward. "If the direction given on that note is correct, that will be Oxenham's house."

"There are no lights on at all." Prudence glanced at Sebastian. "I'll wager no one is home. This would be a perfect opportunity to take a quick look around."

"The servants are probably at home." Sebastian was staring at the darkened house with keen interest.

"If so, they are asleep below stairs. They might even have gone out for the evening," Prudence suggested. "It is not unknown for house staff to take the night off if they are certain their master will not be home until quite late."

"True."

"We could instruct the coachman to wait at the corner while we take a short walk down the alley behind Oxenham's house."

"Damnation, Prue, I told you I was not going to take you with me when I paid my visit to Oxenham."

"But who knows when you'll get another opportunity like this? By the time you take me home and return, Oxenham might very well have come back. You would have to wait until another night."

Sebastian hesitated. "I suppose I could leave you here in the car­riage while I take a quick look at the back of the house."

"I want to come with you."

"No. I forbid it." Sebastian raised the trapdoor and spoke softly to the coachman. "Drive to the end of the street and turn the corner. I shall get out briefly. If anything unusual occurs while I am gone, you are to drive Lady Angelstone home at once. I shall find my own way home."

"Aye, yer lordship." The man spoke with the resigned voice of a servant who was accustomed to odd late-night forays and even odder instructions from a very odd master.

Prudence made one last attempt to change Sebastian's mind. "This is most unfair of you, my lord."

"It was your idea," he reminded her. He removed his greatcoat. "Here, you had better take this. I might be gone for some time and I don't want you taking a chill."

"But I fully intended to accompany you," Prudence said as she struggled into the greatcoat.

"I told you at the start that I would not allow it," he said.

"You wouldn't even be here now if I hadn't thought of driving down Rowland Street."

"You are quite right," he said as the carriage came to a halt. "Nev­ertheless, this is as far as you go on this investigation." He caught her face between his gloved hands and kissed her fiercely.

When he raised his head Prudence straightened her spectacles. She could hardly make out his face in the darkness, but she could definitely feel the controlled excitement in him.

"Sebastian, listen to me."

"Be reasonable, Prue, you cannot possibly go running about in this fog dressed like that."

"Do not dare use my gown as an excuse. The truth is, you don't want me to have any fun. Admit it."

His teeth flashed briefly in the shadows. "I shall return presently, my dear. Don't leave the carriage."

He opened the door, jumped down onto the pavement, and van­ished almost instantly into the fog-shrouded night.

"Bloody hell," Prudence muttered.

A moment later she opened the carriage door.

"Beggin‘ yer pardon, ma'am, but where are ye goin'?" the coach­man hissed in alarm. "I was instructed to keep an eye on ye. His lordship will have me head if ye don't stay in the coach."

"Do not concern yourself," Prudence whispered reassuringly. "I shall speak to his lordship. He won't blame you for this."

"The hell he won't. Please, ma'am, I beg ye on bended knee. Get back in the coach."

"Try not to worry. I shall return soon."

"I'm a dead man," the coachman said sadly. "Always knew that when he married, his lordship would pick a female as bloody-minded as himself. Serves him right, suppose. But what's goin‘ to happen to me, I ask ye?"

"I shall see to it that your post is secure," Prudence said softly. "Now I must be off."

Prudence was grateful for Sebastian's heavily caped coat as she made her way down the lane behind the row of town houses. She counted garden gates until she found the one that belonged to the house Sebastian had pointed out earlier.

She was not surprised to find the gate unlatched. Sebastian was only a few minutes ahead of her, after all. He had already come this way. What sent a chill of alarm through her was the realization that there was a light in one of the windows on the ground floor at the back of Oxenham's house.

Someone was home.

Prudence hesitated, wondering why Sebastian had gone on into the garden knowing that the house was occupied. Then she reminded herself that he was perfectly capable of investigating a lady's bed­chamber while the lady herself was downstairs playing hostess to half the ton. Nor had he hesitated to explore the upper floor of Curling Castle while Curling's guests traipsed about from bedchamber to bed­chamber one floor below.

She ought not to be surprised that Sebastian had decided to take a closer look at Oxenham's house in spite of the light in one window.

Emboldened by the realization that he had already gone ahead, Prudence opened the gate and stepped into the garden. She winced when she found the graveled path. She could feel every tiny pebble through the soles of her soft satin evening slippers.

Midway through the garden Prudence was forced to alter her course slightly due to a high hedge. She stepped around the corner of the prickly foliage and collided with a large, solid masculine chest. Strong arms tightened around her, crushing her face against a familiar shirt.

"Umph."

"Damn it to hell." Sebastian's voice was very soft and very an­noyed. "I had a hunch you wouldn't follow orders. Don't make a sound, do you understand?"

Prudence nodded her head frantically.

He released her cautiously. Prudence raised her face. She could just barely make out Sebastian's irritated expression. "What are we going to do?" she asked in a voice that was even softer than his had been.

"You are going to stand right here while I take a closer look. Then we're going to leave as quickly as possible."

Sebastian moved away from her. Prudence watched anxiously as he made his way past the darkened windows of the ground floor. She saw his hand move once or twice and realized he was testing the windows to see if any were open.

She held her breath when he approached the one window through which light could be seen. Sebastian flattened himself against the wall and looked into the room from an angle.

He did not move for a long moment. Then he edged closer and studied the room from a slightly different angle.

Something was wrong, Prudence realized. She could sense it in the way Sebastian was standing. He was staring through the glass now, studying the scene inside very closely. Prudence took a cautious step forward. Sebastian did not notice. He was concentrating on whatever was inside the room.

Prudence watched in amazement as he reached out and opened the window. She darted toward him.

"Stay back," Sebastian ordered softly as she approached him. "I mean it, Prue. Don't follow me."

"What are you doing? You can't go inside. Someone is obviously home."

"I know," Sebastian said quietly. "Oxenham. But I do not believe he will notice that he has a visitor."

Sebastian swung his leg over the windowsill and dropped lightly into the room.

Shocked in spite of herself at this fresh evidence of Sebastian's outrageous boldness, Prudence hastened over to the window. She peered inside.

For an instant she could not comprehend what she was seeing. Then the sight registered. Prudence took an instinctive step back in horror.

A man lay sprawled facedown on the carpet. There was blood all over his head and more blood on the carpet beside him.