to caress her cheek. “I appreciate your care.”
Prudence felt her face flush. She was not sure herself whether it was with pleasure at his touch, or with embarrassment at being praised when she had been the cause of his ailment. She
did
know she was disappointed when his hand slipped away from her cheek and he turned to pick up his glass again. He had just taken another swig when a knock sounded at the door.
Swallowing, he set the glass back on his desk, then moved around her to shield Prudence from view. “Enter,” he called out.
Prudence heard the door open; then a male voice announced, “This was found floating in the ale barrel.”
By lifting up on her tiptoes, Pru was able to just see over Stephen’s shoulder and glimpse what was held out by the man in the doorway. Her bottle, she saw with a wince. The man added, “It looks a deliberate attempt to poison our patrons.”
“What?” There was no mistaking the shock in Stephen’s voice. “Why would anyone wish to poison our—”
Prudence backed away as he suddenly spun to glare at her. Forcing a smile, she exclaimed, “I am
sure
whomever it was had no intention of poisoning your patrons. They most likely meant to—”
“To poison one particular patron?” he asked coldly. “Such as your father, perhaps? That mug I drank from was meant for him, after all. You poisoned my ale!”
He moved toward her, his repressed fury evident, and Prudence did the only thing she could think to do; she made a run for it.
“Do not let her get away!” she heard Stephen shout, but at that point the devil himself couldn’t have caught her. Propelled by fear, Pru was running so fast she wasn’t even sure her feet were touching the floor. She was out the doorand racing along the alley to the front of the building in a trice. Jamison, bless his heart, either heard the rapid
tap-tap
of her feet, or saw her approaching. Whatever the case, he was off his seat and had the door open when she got there.
“Get us away from here, Jamison. Quickly!” she cried as she lunged into the carriage. The door was closed behind her before she even landed on the seat.
“What happened? Ye haven’t lost me my job, have ye?” Lizzy cried as the carriage shifted under the weight of Jamison remounting the driver’s bench.
Prudence grabbed at the seat and waited until the carriage had lurched forward before answering.
Chapter Four
“P oisoning the punch, are we?”
Dropping the dipper in the punch bowl, Prudence whirled to find the owner of that silky voice, eyes wary as she met Lord Stockton’s mocking gaze. She hadn’t seen the man since the night of the little accident at his club. Well, all right, the night she had poisoned his patrons. Which had been two nights ago. Pru had considered sending him a letter of apology explaining the situation, but had decided against it, thinking that such an apology really should be given in person. But here was her chance, and she wished she had sent him a letter. Or that she had refused to allow Eleanore to talk her into coming tonight. Forcing Prudence to attend her mother’s ball had been Ellie’s attempt to cheer her friend and distract her from the Prescott family’s mounting bills.
Prudence was neither distracted nor cheered. She was terribly conscious of the fact that she was wearing a borrowedgown, and nothing could make her forget the subtle snubs she was receiving, or the fact that no one had asked her to dance.
“You have yet to answer my question,” Stephen said, drawing her attention back to him. “Are you poisoning the punch? I ask only because I should like to know if you are out to torment
all
of the
ton
for your father’s misdeeds, or are concentrating solely on ruining
me
.”
Catching the startled glances being cast at them and the way people around the punch bowl were suddenly setting down their empty glasses, Prudence forced a stiff chuckle. “Oh, my lord, you are such a wit. But you should not jest like that or
Prudence felt her face flush. She was not sure herself whether it was with pleasure at his touch, or with embarrassment at being praised when she had been the cause of his ailment. She
did
know she was disappointed when his hand slipped away from her cheek and he turned to pick up his glass again. He had just taken another swig when a knock sounded at the door.
Swallowing, he set the glass back on his desk, then moved around her to shield Prudence from view. “Enter,” he called out.
Prudence heard the door open; then a male voice announced, “This was found floating in the ale barrel.”
By lifting up on her tiptoes, Pru was able to just see over Stephen’s shoulder and glimpse what was held out by the man in the doorway. Her bottle, she saw with a wince. The man added, “It looks a deliberate attempt to poison our patrons.”
“What?” There was no mistaking the shock in Stephen’s voice. “Why would anyone wish to poison our—”
Prudence backed away as he suddenly spun to glare at her. Forcing a smile, she exclaimed, “I am
sure
whomever it was had no intention of poisoning your patrons. They most likely meant to—”
“To poison one particular patron?” he asked coldly. “Such as your father, perhaps? That mug I drank from was meant for him, after all. You poisoned my ale!”
He moved toward her, his repressed fury evident, and Prudence did the only thing she could think to do; she made a run for it.
“Do not let her get away!” she heard Stephen shout, but at that point the devil himself couldn’t have caught her. Propelled by fear, Pru was running so fast she wasn’t even sure her feet were touching the floor. She was out the doorand racing along the alley to the front of the building in a trice. Jamison, bless his heart, either heard the rapid
tap-tap
of her feet, or saw her approaching. Whatever the case, he was off his seat and had the door open when she got there.
“Get us away from here, Jamison. Quickly!” she cried as she lunged into the carriage. The door was closed behind her before she even landed on the seat.
“What happened? Ye haven’t lost me my job, have ye?” Lizzy cried as the carriage shifted under the weight of Jamison remounting the driver’s bench.
Prudence grabbed at the seat and waited until the carriage had lurched forward before answering.
Chapter Four
“P oisoning the punch, are we?”
Dropping the dipper in the punch bowl, Prudence whirled to find the owner of that silky voice, eyes wary as she met Lord Stockton’s mocking gaze. She hadn’t seen the man since the night of the little accident at his club. Well, all right, the night she had poisoned his patrons. Which had been two nights ago. Pru had considered sending him a letter of apology explaining the situation, but had decided against it, thinking that such an apology really should be given in person. But here was her chance, and she wished she had sent him a letter. Or that she had refused to allow Eleanore to talk her into coming tonight. Forcing Prudence to attend her mother’s ball had been Ellie’s attempt to cheer her friend and distract her from the Prescott family’s mounting bills.
Prudence was neither distracted nor cheered. She was terribly conscious of the fact that she was wearing a borrowedgown, and nothing could make her forget the subtle snubs she was receiving, or the fact that no one had asked her to dance.
“You have yet to answer my question,” Stephen said, drawing her attention back to him. “Are you poisoning the punch? I ask only because I should like to know if you are out to torment
all
of the
ton
for your father’s misdeeds, or are concentrating solely on ruining
me
.”
Catching the startled glances being cast at them and the way people around the punch bowl were suddenly setting down their empty glasses, Prudence forced a stiff chuckle. “Oh, my lord, you are such a wit. But you should not jest like that or
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