Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) Read online

  He stepped back, adjusting his cap, and turned back down the alleyway. As he reached the corner, he turned back to her. “Remember what I said, or next time, I won’t be so nice.”

  With that, the odious man disappeared around the corner.

  Prudence stood frozen, still helplessly holding the stone in case he should change his mind and return. She remained there for some moments, as if rooted to the spot. The only sound in the deserted alley was her labored breathing.

  She put down the stone, and on shaking legs, made her way down the alley. She took a deep breath and glanced around the corner. He was nowhere in sight. Then, forgetting the books she’d dropped along the way, Prudence ran for home.

  Chapter 10

  Miss Atwater cleared her throat and regarded the class. “That concludes our study of ‘Measure for Measure’. Next we shall travel to Imperial Rome as we study another of Mr. Shakespeare’s plays, the tragedy of ‘Julius Caesar’.”

  The girls looked at each other excitedly.

  “Fanny, Jane, and Matilda, as you are new readers,” she explained, “you shall be studying from our new books of poetry, which were, as you know, purchased with funds generously donated by our patroness, Lady Weston. But as with ‘Measure for Measure’, you will be invited to listen and participate in our discussion of ‘Julius Caesar.’ Class is now dismissed.”

  Great-Aunt Withypoll looked at Alfred with a beaming face. “Wonderful!” She clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Oh, my dear boy, was it not exciting? Were you not impressed with Miss Atwater’s knowledge and skill? And the girls—the precious, precious girls! To think that I am helping them in their quest for knowledge…it warms my heart so.”

  Alfred smiled down at Great-Aunt Withypoll and put his hand over hers, squeezing gently. “I am glad to see you enjoying yourself, Auntie.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “And what of you? Did you not enjoy watching Miss Atwater teach with such aplomb? You might as well admit it, m’boy—because I know that you did.”

  “How do you know?” he asked, quirking a brow.

  “Well…though the play was a comedy, you smiled a bit too much throughout parts which were not at all amusing,” she explained. “And earlier, during the botany lesson, you barely moved, you were so transfixed. Indeed, your eyes were quite glassy from staring so long at Miss Atwater. My word, for a moment, I feared you had died sitting up.”

  “Hmpf,” he replied. “You are imagining things, Auntie. I was merely attempting to be an attentive student. Nothing more, I assure you.”

  “After all your shenanigans at Eton, I must say I find that sentiment surprising. But you would do well to learn from Miss Atwater, Alfred. She could teach you a thing or two.”

  “About what?”

  “Well,” Lady Weston whispered, “perhaps you should investigate. I’m sure that Miss Atwater has many more talents that you would find most impressive.”

  He stifled a chuckle. Curiously, he was sure of that too.

  After her passionate response to him that night in the carriage, he had speculated that Prudence possessed many hidden talents, of which even she was unaware. Oh, how he would like to teach her the finer points of using them….

  He and Great-Aunt Withypoll had come to visit the Atwater School at the elderly lady’s insistence. The fact that the classes had been taught by a beautiful flame-haired enchantress, the very same vixen who had so bewitched him almost a fortnight ago, had nothing at all to do with his interest in attending. While undeniably lovely to look at, the fact of the matter was that Miss Prudence Atwater was a gifted teacher.

  He felt a grudging admiration for her. And though he didn’t want to admit it, he was, all in all, quite impressed.

  Oh, he still found her irritating—like a bee buzzing about one’s ear. But she was an intelligent little bee. And obviously committed to her cause.

  Meeting her students in the flesh, he’d found it difficult to dismiss them and their school as easily as he had been doing. He’d been uncomfortable at first, but upon introduction, the girls seemed as well-mannered and proper as any others he had met in London society. And indeed, thanks to Prudence Atwater, they were.

  What were their stories? How long had they walked the streets before Miss Atwater had come upon them? Had he once passed by these very same faces in the dark streets of the Theater District, on his way to enjoy a night of gambling?

  The thought left him with an odd feeling that he did not at all like.

  Prudence walked across the classroom toward him and his great-aunt, and he rose to greet her.

  As she neared them, a bright smile lit her face with a beauty that was almost painful to regard. The sombre dress of smoky-grey only served to sharpen the blue of her eyes and accentuate the rosiness of her full lips. All of a sudden, Alfred remembered exactly what those lips had tasted like, yielding bewitchingly beneath his….

  “Did you and Lord Weston enjoy yourselves, my lady?” Prudence asked.

  “I hope you did not find the lesson too long.”

  “No, no, my dear,” Lady Weston said, as Alfred helped her get to her feet. “If anything, it was not long enough! Oh, I was entranced, was I not, Alfred? And I daresay Alfred was as well. I remarked on it not a moment ago. I mentioned that I had noticed him staring—”

  “At your detailed notes on the board,” Alfred interjected, pointing. “Fascinating stuff.”

  Prudence turned to look at the scant few jottings she had put on the board during the lesson.

  “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 e
yes 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.”