Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) (11 page)

“Really?” she asked, confused.

“Oh, I can assure you, Miss Atwater,” he continued, “the lessons seemed to stimulate my brain quite intensely…as well as several other organs. And my physician advises such stimulation of the organs as imperative for a man’s good health. Keeps the blood flowing.”

At that, Prudence raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever are you going on about, Alfred?” Lady Weston said, craning her neck to look up at him. “I do not see what your
organs
have to do with Miss Atwater’s lesson.”

“Figure of speech, Auntie,” he replied.

Prudence gave him a warning look, then turned to Lady Weston. “Would you like to take a turn in the garden while we wait for tea, Lady Weston? The girls are anxious to show you the different plants that they’ve studied.”

“Oh, I should like that very much. I do so enjoy the out-of-doors.” Before Alfred could offer his arm, his Auntie was half-way to the door.

“But Auntie, don’t you want me to escort you?” he asked, concerned.

“No, m’boy,” she said. “Though I do appreciate the lending of your sturdy arm on most occasions, you would be wise to note that we are not attached, nor should we be. I shall walk on alone. I have my cane.” She waved it in the air and smiled mischievously before leaving them alone in the classroom.

He turned slowly toward Prudence. “Alone again, Miss Atwater
.”

“Indeed,” she replied, looking at him with those disarming blue eyes.

He saw an errant curl, like russet ribbon, and fought the desire to touch it, to smooth it back. For if he reached to touch its silky perfection, he would have to pull her into his arms, just as he was doing now….

“My lord…?” she whispered, but he silenced her mouth with his own.

He hardened instantly as her body curved into his, her soft supple lips surrendering beautifully. With his tongue, he parted them, so that he might kiss her more fully—might taste her more deeply.

Damnation.

He had promised himself he’d keep away from her.

Suddenly she broke the kiss, pushing him away, and looking quite insulted. “I thought my debt to you was paid, my lord.”

“So it was.”

“Then why did you make so bold as to kiss me just now?” she demanded.

“I suppose I thought you might be yearning for my kiss as much I was yearning for yours,” he answered. “Judging by your response to me just now, I’d say that you were.”

Her eyes glowed blue fire. “You…You…!”

Alfred couldn’t help but chuckle. “Pray, continue, Miss Atwater. After all, what man doesn’t like to hear about himself?”

“Ooohh!” Prudence clenched her fists at her sides.

“I hope no one can hear you,” he pointed out, “for it sounds as if you truly are enjoying yourself. Or, shall I say, enjoying whatever it is I am
doing
to you.”

She gasped loudly.

He pointed at her. “That is exactly what I am talking about.”

“You rake!” she said, hotly. “You scoundrel. You unseemly rogue!”

Alfred covered his heart. “Unseemly? Gads! You wound me, Miss Atwater. Sensitive creature that I am.”

“The wound is not nearly enough, my lord,” she retorted, “as I see you are still breathing.”

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your patroness’ favorite great-nephew?” he asked, innocently. “The one she adores and relies upon for protection and advice? It seems the teacher still has a few lessons to learn, herself. Lessons that I will be only too happy to teach.”

* * *

Alfred listened attentively as Miss Annabelle Banks described the different plants in the garden to him. She proudly gave their Latin as well as common names, as well as their origins.

“Very impressive, Miss Banks,” he said. “You do Miss Atwater proud.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, beaming. “I feel very fortunate to be able to pursue an education here—a
real
education—not just needlepoint and cookery. We all owe so much to her and the Atwater School.”

“She is an inspiration to us all,” he said.

Annabelle smiled, saying, “I know that you and Lady Weston also hold Miss Atwater in as high regard as we do. She is so very brave—putting her own safety at risk time after time. And especially now, with that awful business on her way to the library….”

“What awful business?” he asked.

Annabelle looked surprised. “Miss Atwater did not tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Alfred felt his blood begin to heat with anger…and something else that tasted very similar to fear.

“If she did not tell you,” Annabelle said uncomfortably, “then perhaps I am not supposed to say.”

“You had better tell me what you know, Miss Banks,” he ordered sternly. “This is no time to be concerned about proper etiquette. If Miss Atwater is in danger, then I must know.”

Annabelle gulped. “Well…it seems that yesterday, as Miss Atwater was walking to the library, she was accosted by an awful man who told her to stop taking girls off the streets.”

“What else?” he ground out.

“He said that the message was from his employer, who was very unhappy with Miss Atwater for ruining his business. Something like that,” she explained. “Lord Weston—where are you going?”

“To see your teacher,” he said as he stalked across the grass. “She has some explaining to do.”

Chapter 11

Prudence put the last of the books back on the shelf, and adjusted the spines so that they were all completely even. If there was one thing she insisted on, it was a neat and orderly classroom.

The sound of boots stomping down the hallway made her turn just in time to see Alfred, his expression dark as a thundercloud. He stopped in the doorway, filling it with his towering form.

“You little fool,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I don’t—”

But before Prudence could finish, he had crossed the room in only a few strides. With firm hands he took hold of her arms and pulled her up in front of him, so that she had no choice but to meet his accusing gaze.

Prudence tried to shake him off, but it was useless. “Let me go! I shall call for Mungo.”

“Go ahead.” His face hovered only inches from hers. “I should like to have a word with him as well.”

Prudence opened her mouth to call for her trusted bodyguard, but nothing came out. All she could do was stare up into Alfred’s dark eyes—eyes that burned with fire. He held her close—so close that she felt the tips of her breasts touching his chest.

Then, in exasperation, he released her. He let out a breath and ran his hands through his hair, stalking across the room. “Don’t you realize that you could have been hurt—you could have been killed!” He shook his head. “I forbid you to go out on the streets at night—”

“You what?” Prudence said, incredulous. “You
forbid
me? Oh, no. You do not forbid me anything, my lord!”

“I most certainly will forbid you. For you, madam, do not have the sense God gave a chicken!”

“Oh!”

“That’s right,” he continued. “For all your books, and all your Shakespeare, and all your reading Plato in Greek, you, Miss Atwater, are the most mutton-headed, cork-brained, foolishly misguided female I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

“
Misguided
?” she said. “I take offense to that, sir! Is it misguided to help those unfortunate girls who have no choice but to sell their bodies on the streets at night? Well, I for one cannot, in good conscience, sit in my pleasantly warm salon, enjoying my pleasantly warm tea when I know that right now, as we speak, there are girls out there—girls who have no one looking out for them, no one who cares whether they live or die, except for me. I care enough to risk the same dangers they do, and if you think I am going to let a few threats stop me from doing my duty, you, sir, are mistaken.”

He stared at her, saying nothing, but fairly humming with anger.

“And don’t try to threaten me with the loss of Lady Weston’s support,” she added. “You may say whatever you like to her. If I lose her support because of you, then so be it. We will find some way to manage. But I will not stop helping those girls.”

Alfred folded his arms, regarding her coolly. “And you will not be dissuaded?”

“No.”

“I see,” he replied. “Call Mr. Church, if you please.”

Confused, she asked, “Why do you want to speak to Mungo?”

“For once,” he said, with an edge to his voice, “will you simply do as you are told, Miss Atwater?”

His words made her fume, but she obeyed, and rang for the burly bodyguard. In a few moments, Mungo appeared, his massive form filling the doorway.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Lord Weston wishes to speak with you, Mungo,” Prudence said reluctantly.

“I wish to speak to Mr. Church alone, if you please, Miss Atwater,” Alfred said, folding his arms.

Prudence huffed. “Fine. I shall be outside in the garden, while you two discuss me as if I were nothing but chattel.”

With that, she removed herself from the infuriating company of Lord Weston.

* * *

“Ye wanted to speak to me milord?” Mungo asked warily.

“Yes, I did.” Alfred hated the way he had to look up at the enormous man before him, for it made him feel at a disadvantage. “Would you mind explaining to me what in the devil is going on?”

“Of course, sir,” Mungo replied. “What is it you’re confused about?”

“I’m not confused, man!” Alfred barked. “I’m infuriated with that girl out there—and with you, for letting her go about as she pleases, getting herself into trouble that she can’t get herself out of.”

“She got out of it yesterday, alright,” Mungo answered, folding thick arms across his barrel-sized chest. “But I agree, the little lady does ’ave a penchant for danger. What d’ye want me to do about it? Ye know as well as I that there’s no talkin’ her ’round. Miss Atwater is as stubborn as a mule and a goat put together…ye better understand that right now. Keepin’ her still is like tryin’ to catch a greased pig. The only thing that comes of it, is the pig gets away, and ye find yerself covered in muck.”

Alfred disagreed, saying, “We can’t just let her go about, putting herself in dangerous situations.”

“We?” Mungo raised a bushy brow. “I assume this ‘we’ means me an’ you. That right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Alfred stated, resting his hands on his hips. “What I’m proposing is that you and I join forces in looking out for Miss Atwater’s welfare. You’ll be working for me. I’ll double your wage—”

Mungo made a face. “Don’t insult me, milord. After twenty years on a pirate ship, ye come to understand that money don’t buy loyalty. I work for Miss Atwater. I do what I do for her out o’ loyalty—not for what she pays me. I would do anythin’ for her. But sometimes, a woman that headstrong needs protectin’ from herself. As for the wages, give it to her school. And then, I’ll let ye team up with me. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it
.”

Alfred paused for a moment. Certainly, he was unused to such frank talk from a subordinate. But Mungo was an important ally. Alone, neither would be able to fully protect Prudence. But together, they would be a formidable team.

Alfred nodded. “I accept your terms, Mr. Church. Now, let us decide on a plan—”

“Just a minute, there,” Mungo interrupted. “Why are you so concerned with Miss Atwater’s welfare? What’s it to you what she does? And don’t go tellin’ me it’s because o’ your great-aunt’s patronage.”

Alfred pondered, for he didn’t know the answer himself. “It is my duty, as a gentleman.”

Mungo looked unconvinced, saying, “Yeah. And I’m the Prince Regent. You’ve got eyes for Miss Atwater. I’d ’ave to be blind not to see it. Just make sure ye treat ’er as a gentleman should, milord, or ’ol Mungo will ’ave to rearrange that pretty face o’ yours. Understand?”

Instead of being insulted by the man’s words, Alfred felt a grudging admiration. Mungo Church obviously cared a great deal about Miss Prudence Atwater.

Alfred nodded his agreement. “Not to worry, Mr. Church. I have the utmost respect and admiration for Miss Atwater. Now, let’s get to work on our strategy.”

As they planned their next move, Alfred discovered that he hadn’t been totally honest with Mungo about his motives.

It wasn’t just that he cared about Miss Atwater’s welfare. It was, he realized reluctantly, that he cared about her
.

* * *

“Lizzie, isn’t it?” Prudence asked the thin, pale girl who stood nearby on the dark street corner.

The girl eyed her warily. “Yeah. So what?”

“You remember me, don’t you?” Prudence gingerly approached her, sensing that if she moved too quickly, the girl would spook like a frightened horse. “I spoke to you a few nights ago.”

“Yeah. I remember now. The lady from the school, or something.” Lizzie wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“But where is your sister? Wasn’t she with you last time?”

“Meg,” the girl replied, “oh she got promoted to a fancy ’ouse on Bricknell Street.
”

“Really?” Prudence asked, unhappy to hear such news. “Well, why didn’t you go there too?”