Dangerous

Chapter Sixteen

Be reasonable, Sebastian," Prudence panted as she braced herself in front of the door. "What would you do to her if you went after her? She's a woman and she's at least twenty years your senior. You cannot touch her and you know it"

"I am not going to put a hand on her." Sebastian was seething with anger. "I am merely going to inform the old bitch that I intend to cut off most of her income from the Angelstone fortune. I may also cut off the allowances of the rest of the family while I'm at it, for good measure."

"Because of her comments on my clothes?" Prudence looked at him in disbelief.

"She insulted you."

"She did not insult me. She was kind enough to offer her expert advice."

"Advice?"

"She is considered highly fashionable. Hester told me so. She knows what she's talking about," Prudence said.

"She insulted you to your face. In front of me, no less."

"Yes, well, as it happens, I agree with her about this particular gown." Prudence shook out the skirts of her dress. "I have never particularly cared for lavender. I only ordered this shade because I was told it was all the rage. And I did wonder about all these flounces. Your aunt is quite right. I shall have to change my modiste."

"Bloody hell." Sebastian heard the sound of Drucilla's carriage wheels in the street outside the front door. It was too late to go after her, even if he managed to peel Prudence out of the doorway. He turned on his heel and stalked back to his desk. "The woman is a bitch."

"I will not allow you to use a few petty remarks about my attire as an excuse to take your revenge, Sebastian."

"No?" He dropped into his chair and put his feet back on the desk.

"No." Prudence moved slowly away from the door. She pushed her spectacles higher on her nose, blinked several times, and swallowed hard. She focused intently on the fireplace. "I told you that I do not want to be used in that fashion. It is unworthy of you, my lord."

Sebastian eyed her with a sense of savage frustration. Then he frowned as she took a hankie out of her pocket and dabbed at the corner of her eye.

"Devil take it, Prue, are you crying again?"

"No, of course not." She shoved the hankie back into her pocket. "I just had something in my eye. I believe it's gone now."

Sebastian knew she was lying. "You don't understand," he said roughly. He did not look at her. He was afraid he would see more tears.

Prudence sniffed. "What don't I understand?"

Sebastian struggled to find a way to explain what he was only now just beginning to comprehend himself. "It was not revenge for the past that was on my mind a few minutes ago when I tried to go after my aunt."

"If you were not looking for an excuse to punish her because of what happened in the past, why were you so upset by her comments on my gowns?" Prudence's voice sounded steadier now.

Sebastian decided it was safe to look at her again. He did so cau­tiously, hoping against hope that he would find her dry-eyed.

She was. She stood watching him solemnly, her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes were clear and intent behind the lenses of her spectacles.

Sebastian was vastly relieved. "I was angry simply because of the insult to you."

"To me?" She looked surprised. "That's all there was to it?"

"She had no right to talk to you the way she did." Sebastian looked down as Lucifer vaulted lightly onto his lap. He started to stroke the cat.

Prudence smiled, looking vastly relieved herself. "It was nothing,

Sebastian. Her small offense was certainly not worth the sort of retali­ation you had in mind."

"I'm not so certain of that." Sebastian paused. "What was all that nonsense about her being in love with my father?"

"My intuition together with some of the things she said before you arrived lead me to believe that to be the case." Prudence sat down across from him. "It is very sad, is it not?"

"I cannot imagine my aunt being in love with anyone."

"I can." Prudence leaned back in her chair. "Now, then, let us resolve this issue of what to do about Jeremy once and for all. I don't want you keeping everyone, including me, on tenterhooks just because it amuses you to do so."

Sebastian toyed with the silver-plated wax jack that he used to melt sealing wax. "I'm still making inquiries."

"I rather suspected you were. You are going to help Jeremy, aren't you?"

"I suppose so."

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Does it matter?" Sebastian was thoroughly irritated by the ques­tion.

Prudence smiled apologetically. "I cannot help being curious. It is my nature, you know. Are you going to continue your investigation because you feel it is your responsibility to your family?"

"Hell and damnation. No."

Disappointment dampened her smile of expectation. "I see. Then is it because your own curiosity is aroused to such a degree that you cannot resist learning the answers?"

Sebastian shrugged. "That is no doubt part of it." He scratched Lucifer's ears. "But not the whole of it."

"Are you doing it because it amuses you to continue the investiga­tion?"

"Goddamn it, Prue, I'm doing it because of you." Sebastian shoved aside the wax jack. "There. Does that satisfy you?"

She stared at him. "You're going to help Jeremy because I want you to do so?"

"Yes," he said. "I am in a mood to indulge my new bride. What is so unusual about that?"

She frowned. "I see. You're doing this because it amuses you to indulge me."

"As everyone knows, I am inclined to take pleasure in some very odd forms of amusement."

"But Sebastian—"

There was a discreet knock on the library door. Sebastian was profoundly relieved by the interruption. "Enter."

Flowers cautiously opened the door. He was carrying a small silver salver that held a folded note. His dour face relaxed somewhat when he saw that the lord and lady of the house had not come to blows.

"Your pardon, madam, m'lord. A message has arrived for Lady Angelstone."

"For me? I wonder who could have sent it." Prudence leaped to her feet and hurried across the room before Flowers could get to her.

Her impulsiveness caused Flowers to heave a long-suffering sigh. He handed over the note and backed out of the library.

Sebastian watched as Prudence tore open the seal. She charmed him, he thought. Or perhaps enthralled was the right word. Everything about her worked on him like a magic spell, driving out the cold. Her animated face, her feminine vitality, her passionate sincerity, all warmed him from the inside out.

"Good heavens, Sebastian." Prudence looked up from the note. Her face was tense with excitement. "It's from Lord Bloomfield."

"Bloomfield? What the devil does he want?" Sebastian put Lucifer aside. He got to his feet and swiftly crossed the room to snap the note out of Prudence's hand. He scanned the spidery handwriting.

My Dear Lady Angelstone,

/ desire to consult with you in your professional capacity. The matter is of an extremely urgent nature. It concerns recent occur­rences involving spectral phenomena. I would call upon you but I suffer from nervous sickness and find it difficult to travel even short distances. Would it therefore be possible for you to call on me tomorrow morning at eleven? I shall be extremely grateful.

Yrs.

C. H. Bloomfield.

"He refers to recent occurrences of spectral phenomena." Pru­dence's eyes narrowed with speculation. "Do you suppose he is refer­ring to the deaths of the other two Princes of Virtue?"

"Bloomfield is said to be extremely odd, perhaps quite mad. It's possible that after learning of the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham he might have convinced himself that Lillian's ghost has come back."

"He wouldn't be the only one who believes that," Prudence re­minded him. "That is exactly what that poor old man who called him-self Halfwit Higgins believed."

Sebastian studied the note. "Either Bloomfield is as mad as rumor claims he is, or else this is a ruse to lure you to his house."

"A ruse? Why on earth would he want to lure me to his home?"

"I don't know. One thing is for certain: You are not going to go there alone."

"Of course I won't go alone. I shall take my maid."

"No," Sebastian said. "You will take me."

"I am not at all certain I wish to take you with me, my lord. This is my area of expertise, after all."

"God knows you have meddled enough in my end of the investiga­tion." Sebastian refolded Bloomfield's note. "The least you can do is allow me to meddle a bit in your area of expertise. Now you must excuse me, my dear. I am off to my club."

"But we were in the middle of a very interesting conversation before Flowers brought in that note. I wish to continue it."

"Sorry, Prue. Told Sutton I'd meet him." Sebastian kissed her lightly on the mouth and then headed toward the door. "I also want to observe Curling to see if he appears as anxious as Whistlecroft says he is."

"Whistlecroft said he was anxious?" Prudence followed Sebastian‘ out into the hall. "You never told me that."

"I have not had the opportunity. If you will recall, you were busy entertaining my aunt when I returned." Sebastian collected his hat and gloves from Flowers. "Do not wait up for me, madam. I shall be late getting home tonight."

"Angelstone, wait." Prudence cast a quick glance at Flowers, who looked as if he had gone deaf. She took a few quick steps forward and lowered her voice. "My lord, we were in the midst of a rather impor­tant conversation a few minutes ago. I should very much like to con­tinue it."

"Later, perhaps."

"Angelstone, are you trying to avoid me?"

"Of course not, madam. Why would I wish to avoid you?"

For the second time that day, Sebastian escaped through the front dooT of his home. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Flowers close it behind him.

The last thing he wanted to do was finish the conversation he and Prue had been involved in before Bloomfield's note had arrived, he reflected. He was not entirely certain why he was afraid to pursue it. He only knew that he did not want Prudence asking any more pointed questions about why he was continuing the investigation.

He had allowed her to think it amused him to indulge her in the matter, but he knew that was not the whole truth. The reality was that she had become so important to him that she had acquired an incredi­ble amount of power over him. He would do almost anything to please her. That knowledge worried him.

No one had wielded any real emotional power over him since that cold, fog-shrouded dawn in the mountains of Saragstan. He had built a barrier of ice against any possible threat. The cold place he had constructed had protected him until now, but he knew that some­where inside him the thaw had begun. The sunlight Prudence had brought into his life was having an insidious effect

Sebastian craved her warmth, yet he feared it. He knew there was a very real possibility that if the ice inside him was completely de­stroyed he might discover that there was nothing at all left to fill up the empty space.

Yet even as he feared the dark nothingness that might be waiting where the cold was now, he ached to know what Prudence was feeling for him. He needed to know if she was drawn to him by anything deeper than mutual interests and shared passion.

He wondered if she would ever be able to love him.

Shortly before midnight Sebastian walked out of the card room of his club. He had spent the past three hours playing whist with several inebriated members in hopes of learning something useful about Ringcross and Oxenham. There had been gossip aplenty about the deaths, but no one spoke the word murder. No one mentioned The Princes of Virtue, either. All in all, it had been a wasted three hours.

"Ah, there you are, Angelstone." Garrick strolled across the room to join him in front of the hearth. "I was wondering if you were still about. Any luck in there?" He nodded in the direction of the card room.

"A bit." Sebastian shrugged. "I won a thousand pounds off Evans and probably could have won a great deal more, but I was too bored to continue the play. No challenge to the sport. The man was so cup-shot he could barely hold his cards."

It occurred to Sebastian that he had not told Garrick about his latest case. He realized that there were two reasons why he had not confided in his friend. The first was that the investigation involved a Fleetwood and he knew without asking that Prudence would not want him discussing it with outsiders. In truth he had no wish to do so. Like it or not, it was a family matter.

The second reason he had not talked to Garrick about the investi­gation was that he no longer needed a confidant. He had Prudence.

"Speaking of cup-shot," Garrick said quietly, "there comes Curl­ing. He looks like he can barely stand upright."

Sebastian watched Curling walk through the door of the club with the overly careful stride of a very drunk man. "One does not often see him in that condition."

Garrick held out his hands to the fire. "The last time I saw him in such a condition was about three months ago. We both wound up at a card table together after a long night of drinking. I cannot remember much about it, but I seem to recall that he was as drunk as I."

"I believe I remember the evening in question." Sebastian watched Curling lower himself gingerly into a chair. "It was the following morning that you informed me you intended to give up drinking for a while."

Garrick's mouth tightened. "I swear to you, Angelstone, I never again want to get into the condition I was in that night. I don't like the feeling of not being able to recall what I said or did. And I definitely do not want to ever again feel as ill as I did the next day."

"You say Curling was just as deep into his cups that night?"

"Yes. His coachman is responsible for getting us both home," Gar­rick said in a tone of self-disgust.

"If you will excuse me, I believe I will have a word with him."

"As you wish. I will see you later."

Sebastian walked to where Curling was sitting by himself. There was a fresh bottle of port on the table beside him. Curling had already poured himself a glass. He glanced up at Sebastian with bleary eyes.

"Oh, it's you, Angelstone. Join me?"

"Thank you." Sebastian sat down and poured a small measure of port into a glass. He stretched out his legs and made a pretense of settling in for a long session of companionable drinking. He took only a small swallow of the rich, sweet port.

"Here's to wedded bliss," Curling said in a slurred voice. He raised his glass and downed half the contents. "I trust your lady is still man­aging to amuse you?"

"Very much." Sebastian turned the glass between his hands.

"Tell me, is she still pursuing her little hobby?" Curling held his own glass so tightly his knuckles were white. He stared down into the contents as if peering into bottomless depths.

"She is still interested in spectral phenomena. The hobby amuses her and I have no objection to it."

"Do you remember our conversation about ghosts at the castle?"

"Vaguely," Sebastian said.

"I believe I told you that I thought it might be rather entertaining to actually encounter one."

"I seem to recall you felt the experience would be an excellent tonic for the ennui you say plagues you."

"I was a fool." Curling rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You might be interested in knowing that I have since changed my mind."

"Why?" Sebastian smiled without any humor. "Have you actually encountered one?"

Curling slumped farther into his chair and gazed into the middle distance. "What would you say if I told you that I am beginning to wonder if ghosts truly do exist?"

"I would say you have consumed too many bottles of port tonight."

Curling nodded. "And you would no doubt be correct." He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the armchair. "I cannot recall how many bottles I have had this evening."

"I'm sure they will all be accounted for on your bill."

Curling's mouth twisted. "No doubt."

There was silence for a moment. Sebastian made no attempt to end it. His instincts told him that Culling would do so soon enough. Unless the baron fell asleep first.

"Did you hear of Oxenham's death, by any chance, Angelstone?" Curling asked after a moment. He did not open his eyes.

"Yes."

"I knew him rather well," Curling said.

"Did you?"

"He and I were friends." Curling opened his eyes.

"I understand."

"Never thought he'd be the type to put a pistol to his head."

Sebastian examined his wine. "Perhaps he had suffered recent fi­nancial reverses. It is a common enough reason for suicide."

"No. I would have known if he had lost a great deal of money."

"Was he a gamester?"

"Only in a small way. He did not lose his fortune in a card game, if that's what you're implying." Curling took another large swallow of port. "Nor was he prone to fits of melancholia. I don't understand it."

"Is it important to you that you find a reason for his suicide?" Sebastian asked carefully.

"I think so." Curling's hand bunched into a fist. "Bloody hell, yes. I have to know what really happened."

"Why?" Sebastian asked gently.

"Because if it can happen to him and Ringcross, it can happen to all of us." Curling finished his port and tried to put the glass down on the table. He missed. Abandoning the effort, he kept the glass in his hand.

"I don't quite take your meaning, Curling. Perhaps you could ex­plain."

But Curling was beyond making coherent explanations, even if he had been so inclined. His head sagged into the corner of the wing chair. "Hard to credit that after all this time…" The words trailed off. He closed his eyes once more. "God help us. Perhaps we deserve it."

Sebastian sat quietly for a few minutes, watching as Curling slid deep into a drunken slumber. He caught the glass just before it fell from the baron's hand.

Sebastian did not get back to his town house until after one o'clock in the morning. There was plenty of time for reflection as his coachman made his way home through the streets. The cold fog had once again slowed the normally brisk late-night traffic to a crawl.

Through the window Sebastian watched the lamps of other vehi­cles appear and disappear in the gray mist like so many lost ghosts trying to find their way to a final resting place.

When his carriage eventually drew to a halt in front of his door, Sebastian got out and went up the steps with an odd sense of forebod­ing. Flowers opened the door promptly.

"A bitter night, m'lord." Flowers held out his hand for Sebastian's hat, coat, and gloves.

"An interesting night. Is her ladyship home yet?"

"Lady Angelstone arrived home over an hour ago."

Prudence would be in bed by now, Sebastian thought. He did not know whether to be relieved or not. At least this way he would be able to avoid having to continue the uncomfortable conversation she had wanted to conclude earlier. On the other hand, if she was sound asleep he would not be able to tell her about Curling's unusual behav­ior.

"Put out the lamps and go to bed, Flowers." Sebastian untied his cravat as he started toward the stairs.

"I beg your pardon, sir." Flowers cleared his throat portentously. "Madam has not yet retired for the evening."

Sebastian paused, one foot on the bottom step. "I thought you said she was home."

"She is, sir. I believe she is waiting up for you in the library."

Sebastian smiled faintly. "I should have known."

Prudence was not the sort of female who would be easily deflected from her course. She had been attempting to lecture him all day. There was no reason to think she would give up simply because it was after one o'clock in the morning.

Sebastian took his boot off the bottom step and walked back across the hall. Flowers opened the library door without a word.

For a moment Sebastian did not see Prudence. The library was dimly lit by a small blaze on the hearth. Much of the room was in shadow.

A soft, welcoming meow greeted him. Sebastian glanced first at his desk and then at the sofa that faced the hearth. Lucifer was curled on the back. Beneath his august perch a pool of lavender silk spilled over the edge of the sofa and fell to the carpet.

Sebastian went forward until he could look down over the back of the sofa. Prudence had kicked off her lavender satin slippers. She lay curled up, sound asleep in front of the fire. Her spectacles were on the end table next to a book she had evidently been reading.

For a long while Sebastian simply stood there gazing down at her. The warm light of the flames turned her honey-colored hair to dark gold and created a tantalizing shadow between her graceful breasts.

She was wearing another of her new ridiculously low-cut gowns. He decided that lavender was no better a shade on her than violet had been. But he could not deny that the deep neckline was an erotic frame for her gently curved breasts.

Sebastian felt himself growing hard as he contemplated the woman he had married. Everything about her was just right, he thought. Her intelligence, her passion, her amusing taste in clothes, even her annoy­ing tendency to lecture him on his responsibilities. All those factors went together to make up Prudence. He would not change a single thing.

He had lived with her such a short time, yet he could not imagine being married to anyone else. He wondered if Prudence ever imag­ined herself being married to another man. Underbrink, for example.

Sebastian's gut twisted at the thought. He knew he need not fear that Prudence would be unfaithful. He was certain she would never betray him. Her bone-deep integrity would make it impossible for her to dishonor him in that way.

But he could not help wondering how deeply she cared for him.

Mutual interests and mutual passion were all very well as far as they went, he thought, but they were no longer enough. He needed more from Prudence. He wanted her to love him.

The extent of his need for her love made him uneasy, but he could no longer deny it.

As he watched, she stirred on the sofa, snuggling into a more comfortable position. The ornately ruffled skirts of her new gown rode higher on her legs, revealing her silk stockings.

Sebastian peeled off his coat and tossed it onto a chair. He re­moved his dangling cravat and threw it aside. As he walked around the sofa he started to unfasten his shirt.

He was unable to take his eyes off Prudence. His body was already taut with desire. When he had finished undoing his shirt, he went down on one knee and slid his hand beneath the skirts of her gown. He closed his fingers around her soft thigh. He leaned forward and kissed her slightly parted lips.

"Sebastian?" Prudence's lashes fluttered and then opened partway. She looked up at him with drowsy welcome. "Good evening, my lord. It's about time you got home."

"I'm glad you waited up for me."

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Later." He covered her mouth again with his own, deliberately deepening the kiss to cut off her sleepy protest. After a second or two, she did not try to argue. Instead she sighed softly and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sebastian slid his hand up higher under the lavender skirts and found the lush, firm curves of her derriere. With his finger he lightly traced the cleft that separated the two soft mounds.

Prudence trembled at the unexpected caress, but she did not pull away. Sebastian drew his questing finger lower, down between her thighs. When he found her snug feminine passage he gently pene­trated it and discovered that she was already becoming moist for him.

"Sebastian."

There was a sleepy passion in her voice that sent another surge of pulsating desire through Sebastian. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and reached down to unfasten his breeches.

God, how he wanted her, he thought. All he had to do was look at her and his blood began to heat. The craving deep within him seemed insatiable. He had to have her. Tonight and forever.

The embers of the questions that had been burning within him all afternoon flared into fresh flames. Do you love me, Prue? Can you love me in spite of the cold?

He would not ask the questions, he promised himself. The answers did not matter. After all, she wanted him. There was no question of that. He could feel it. She did not even attempt to hide her physical reaction to him.

It was enough. It had to be enough.

Sebastian scooped Prudence lightly off the sofa. He lowered him­self back onto the carpet and tumbled her down on top of him.

Her gossamer gown had not been designed to withstand such ac­tivity. Her graceful breasts sprang free. Sebastian caught them in his palms.

He looked up at Prudence, who was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. He could feel his manhood throbbing beneath the tanta­lizing weight of her body.

Without a word, he reached down and opened his breeches. Lav­ender silk cascaded over his rigid shaft. He grabbed a fistful of Pru­dence's ruffled skirts and dragged them up to her waist.

"Sebastian?"

"Take me inside you," he said urgently. "Hurry, sweet. I cannot wait."

She fumbled briefly, then her fingers closed tightly around him. Sebastian sucked in his breath. She began to guide him into her, grow­ing bolder as she gained confidence.

"That's it. Open for me," he whispered. "Let me inside. All the way inside."

Sebastian groaned when he felt the slick, damp heat of her. When her tight body slowly began to accommodate him, he sighed. She was so warm and he had been cold for so long.

He was just barely inside her now and he could not stand the torment any longer.

"Now, love. I have to have you now." Sebastian tightened his hands on her thighs and pulled her legs more securely around his hips.

Then he clasped her waist and pushed her downward as he thrust upward.

Prudence cried out softly as he forged into her tight, moist pas­sage. She closed around him. Sebastian felt his whole body start to clench in response. He found the small, swollen bud between her legs and began to tease it with his fingers.

He felt Prudence hold herself still for a moment as she adjusted to the deep penetration. He closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of her body seeping into him.

Then she began to move slowly. She lifted herself again and again, gliding up and down his heavy shaft. Sebastian lifted his lashes and was enchanted by the sight of her in the firelight. Her head was tipped back. Her hair was heated gold by the flames of the fire. The line formed by her throat and breasts was the most elegantly sensual sight Sebastian had ever seen.

When she gently convulsed in her release Sebastian shuddered heavily and surrendered to the raging torrent that roared through him.

A long while later he finally stirred. Prudence was still lying on top of him. He opened his eyes and saw that she was drifting off to sleep.

The questions came back with such force that he could no longer push them aside.

"Prue?"

"Ummm?" Her voice was husky. She did not open her eyes.

"Why did you marry me?"

"Because I love you."

Sebastian went utterly still. His clever mind was, for once, in a complete muddle. He could not even think for a moment.

"Prue?"

There was no response. He realized that she had fallen sound asleep.

After a while, Sebastian eased himself out from under her, lifted her up off the carpet, and carried her upstairs.

He tucked her carefully under the covers and then he got in beside her. He lay against the pillows, his arm around Prudence, until the fog outside the window had turned a paler shade of gray.

The cold dawn had arrived. It was barely visible through the dark mist, but it was there.

Sebastian went to sleep.