Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) (2 page)

Forcing her nerves to stay calm, she turned slowly.

A man leaned back against the wrought-iron fence. He seemed to be lounging there, as if in a favorite club, with his arms folded easily across his chest and his glossy boots crossed at the ankles.

He was dressed in a fashionably cut frock coat, which looked almost black in the lamplight. His neck cloth was tied in the latest fashion and his shiny beaver hat perched at the perfect angle upon his head. Dark curly hair framed a face that could only be described as devilishly handsome.

Prudence realized that he was grinning at her. And in the shadows, his eyes—which seemed to be as black as the night around them—sparkled mischievously.

“Without appearing to be bold,” the man said in a languid voice, “may

I ask what it is you are doing?”

Prudence winked at him and shifted her shoulders. Trying to emulate Dolly’s cockney accent, she said, “Just plyin’ the trade, Guvna. And not ta worry—I likes ’em bold.”

He chuckled, saying, “Do you, now? I must say I find that surprising.”

“Ye shouldn’t be surprised, sir,” she replied. “I mean, me bein’ a trollop an all.”

“And yet I am,” he said, smiling and standing away from the fence, “for you look about as much like a trollop as I do.”

“Oh, Guvna!” Prudence exclaimed, feigning injury. “Yer hurtin’ me feelin’s, now. Be assured, sir, that I am a trollop. Of the first order.”

With a sweeping bow, he said, “My apologies, madam. I am mistaken. I did not mean to insinuate that you were anything less than Drury Lane’s most experienced, most highly regarded, most sought after trollop in recent history.”

Prudence glanced over at the girl she’d been watching on the next corner. She was ambling down the street, presumably to find a better location.

Prudence would have to move fast or risk losing her.

She smiled again at the man. “So right, sir—so right. Ye’ve hit the nail on the ’ead. And now, I must go join me friend, there. Good evenin’.”

She made to turn away, but the man’s voice stopped her, though why it should, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was the velvety smoothness of it, or the complete confidence of his tone that made her freeze as if suddenly rooted to the spot.

“But you have not given me a chance to ask for the pleasure of your company this evening. And I would so enjoy the pleasure of your company, little flower.”

The man stepped ’round and stood directly in front of her, blocking her path. He reached out to touch a tendril of her hair, and for a reason Prudence couldn’t fathom, she let him.

“You see,” he continued, gently twirling the hair around his finger, “I know your secret, Lady Trollop.”

Prudence swallowed. “My secret?”

He stepped closer.
Oh, where was Mungo? And why wasn’t she calling for his help?

But all Prudence could do was stare at this dark stranger who stood so close to her and curled her hair about his finger as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

“Right away, it was obvious to me that you did not belong here,” he began. “And it took a few moments to understand why. But now that I do, I wish to help you.”

“You do?” Prudence said, confused.

“Yes, my sweet.” He touched her face lightly with the back of his knuckles. The intimate sensation of his warm skin brushing against hers was shocking, yet exquisite.

“You see, now that I know the truth,” he said softly, “I’ve decided I would like nothing more than to oblige you by being your
first paying customer
.”

Chapter 2

“My first
paying customer?
” Prudence stammered.

“Why yes, unless of course you would like to waive your fee,” he replied.

The man was as arrogant as the day was long.

She forced a smile. “Don’t believe I would, sir. Ye’ll excuse me, but I must go join me friend, there, who, as ye can see, ’as been waitin’ for me the entire time ye’ve kept me talkin’. Yoo-hoo, Sally!” She waved frantically at the girl across the street, who was not even looking her way.

He laughed out loud, saying, “Ah! I see the problem. But it is easily remedied, I assure you.”

“Appreciate the concern, Guvna, but I must be off now,” she said, trying to step round him and watching in vain as the girl walked farther and farther away.

“Not only is this your first night as a light-skirt,” he continued, “but you are a
virgin
as well.” He polished his fingernails on his sleeve, then looked back at her with a sly grin. “I would be perfect for you. Gentle as you could ever hope for, and lots of experience deflowering virgins. A skilled, considerate lover. Why, if anyone should charge a fee, it should be me.”

“Is that so?” Prudence said, amazed at the man’s blatant arrogance.

“You’d be wise to accept my offer,” he said. “And as you can see, your friend has abandoned you.”

The girl was nowhere in sight.

He braced his legs apart and folded his arms across his chest in a stance of victory. “Come, my sweet—it is a generous offer for a girl in your position.”

Prudence felt her blood boil. It was men like these—pompous, unfeeling, selfish men—who provided the market where wayward girls would sell their bodies to strangers. And to top it off, he had made her lose her quarry. She felt nothing but contempt for this man.

Pausing for a moment, Prudence smiled sweetly at him. “I do thank ye for the generous offer, sir, but alas, I must decline. Y’see, I’d rather eat broken glass than sell meself to ye this evenin’—or any other evenin’, for that matter.”

“What’s this?” he asked. “You’re refusing me?”

“Ah! Ye ’ave a mind as sharp as a rapier,” Prudence replied sarcastically. “Good of ye to catch on.”

Instead of being offended by her words, the man seemed amused by them—by
her.
He smiled and said, “You might want to reconsider, my dear. I can assure you that you’ll find me a more congenial partner than most men who will proposition you this evening.”

Prudence huffed. “I must not ’ave explained meself clearly just a moment ago, so I’ll try again. Y’see, sir, I’d rather slit me own throat with a wee butter knife than spend one more minute in the presence of a windy, rattle-trap rake such as ye’self. Now, ’ave I made meself perfectly clear?”

He gave a sympathetic grin and replied, “My poor little flower. I see now how frightened you are. Otherwise you would not try so hard to get rid of me. Afraid that you might melt in my arms, are you? Afraid that you’ll enjoy my attentions all too much?”

“’Course not!” she protested.

“Prove it, then.”

Prudence put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t ’ave ta prove anythin’ to the likes o’ you.”

“Ah, you see? You
are
afraid to test yourself,” he pronounced. “And I must say, I can’t blame you. There isn’t a woman alive who can resist my embrace, or my kiss. I wouldn’t trust myself either, if I were you.”

Oh, the absolute cheek!

Prudence stared silently at him for some moments.

How she would like to humiliate this man! But that was not why she had come out to Drury Lane this evening. She was wasting time. Even though she had lost the first girl, there were others she could help tonight, if she could just get rid of this pest of a man.

Still, if she could embarrass him—obviously a regular customer, perhaps she would be doing some good after all. Perhaps she could eliminate one more patron from buying the favors of the poor girls she was trying to help.

“Oh, I trust meself completely, sir,” Prudence replied haughtily. “I’ll prove it to ye, then.”

“Shall you, now?” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes, I shall, sir. Ye’ll see that yer embrace’ll not affect me in the least.”

“And my kiss?” he whispered, as he pulled her back around a tree and into strong, well-muscled arms.

“N-nor that, neither,” she said, gulping as he brought her full against him.

Gads, was she really going to let this stranger kiss her?

As his wicked mouth descended toward hers, it seemed that she was.

The stranger’s intoxicating kiss created the most alarming sensations all over her body—in parts that were nowhere near where she was being kissed! Tingles danced up her spine, heat flooded slowly through her limbs, and her knees seemed to forget their purpose in helping her to stand.

But strangest of all was that she didn’t seem to care one whit about any of that.

All at once she felt the stranger being torn away from her, grunting in pain.

Opening her eyes, she saw a frightening figure looming in the shadows. Mungo—looking every inch the blood-thirsty pirate—had one hand around the man’s throat and was lifting him practically off the ground.

“Ye wants I should squeeze ’is neck so ’is eyes pops out of ’is ’ead, miss?” Mungo said, grinning like a madman.

The dark stranger looked down at her and rasped something incomprehensible.

“That won’t be necessary, Mungo,” Prudence said, trying to regain her composure.

“Oh, but it’s been so long!” Mungo pleaded. “’Ow ’bout I slits ’is throat, then? I brought me nice sharp dagger, so I did.” The shiny blade flashed in the lamplight as he raised it to the man’s throat.

“If you had a dull knife, I might consider it,” Prudence replied, crossly. “You shouldn’t have come over, Mungo. I didn’t call for you, did I?”

“But ’e was kissin’ ye, miss, and gropin’ ye like there was no tomorrow. Ye didn’t want ’im t’ keep maulin’ ye, now, did ye?”

She glared up at the stranger who had just made a fool of her and watched him squirm in Mungo’s grasp. “Of course not. But this creates a problem. This man might very well call for the constable—considering that you’re strangling him—and I haven’t even begun my work for the night. We must get rid of him, quickly.”

“Well, I made me suggestions,” Mungo shrugged. “Ye didn’t seem t’ like any o’ those.”

Prudence regarded the struggling stranger and tapped her chin as a plan formed in her mind. Reluctantly, she said, “I’m afraid there is only one thing to do.”

* * *

Gadzooks, but he was cold.

Alfred struggled to open his eyes. He blinked several times to try to focus his vision, but saw only the dimness of the lamp-lit night.

After a few moments, he realized the reason the world looked so strange was because his head was lying on the cold, wet grass, and everything that normally stood vertically now seemed to be horizontal. He must have been royally in his cups tonight to end up like this.

He tried to get up, but a sharp pain in his head made him groan and stay where he was.

Which was a good question.
Where the devil was he?

As he lay immobile, he realized that he was shivering, and his teeth were chattering. All in all, he felt quite decidedly terrible.

He opened his eyes again and willed himself to get up.

Ughh.

With all the strength he could muster, he pushed himself up and leaned on one arm. It was then that Alfred realized why he was so bloody cold.

He was naked.

Damnation, he was naked!

Then, it all came back to him—the flame-haired prostitute teasing him on the street, the heated kiss, the huge man who came out of nowhere, holding Alfred aloft and nearly strangling the very breath from his body.

And then, blackness.

Alfred reached back and felt the lump on the back of his head. The big oaf had knocked him out with those meaty fists of his. And then the pair had robbed him.

He slammed his fist against the ground in frustration. At least they had seen fit to deposit him behind some bushes, so that all of London wouldn’t see him in nothing more than his skin.

He looked around to see if anyone was about. How on earth was he going to get himself home like this? He couldn’t exactly walk down the avenue without a stitch of clothing on.

Then in the faint lamplight he spied his hat just a few feet away, sitting up-ended on the ground. He grabbed it and looked inside, and found his wallet—still holding all his money. His watch and quizzing glass were also there.

Standing, Alfred held the hat in front of the most private part of all and hid behind a shrub. With any luck, a coach would drive by and he could hail it without the whole street seeing him. At least he still had money to hire a coach.

He turned his head at the sound of voices approaching.

A man and a woman strolled down the street. They would soon pass by.

God in Heaven, let them keep walking
.

They stopped directly in front of the bushes that hid Alfred from view. He held his breath and tried not to move, willing them to move on. But they paid his thoughts no heed.

“Oh, Lavinia…my dearest,” the man whispered loudly. “You are surely the most ravishing creature alive. Let me kiss you.”

Alfred couldn’t help but watch this uncomfortable display through the lamp-lit branches. He recognized the man as Viscount Seton, a member of Alfred’s club.