Part 27 (1/2)
But in the pool of light from the lanterns on either side of the door, her face appeared to be as red as a ripe cherry.
”Uh-huh.” Plunkett nodded slowly. ”Just like your getting inside is an urgent matter.”
”It is an urgent matter,” she said firmly. Then, looking unhappy, she added, ”To me.”
Deciding he had heard all he cared to, and that Plunkett could handle the situation well enough on his own, Stephen shook his head and turned to enter his place of business. He had barely taken a step in that direction when the woman grasped his arm and tugged. Her expression, when he glanced impatiently back, was imploring.
”Please, Lord Stockton. I beg you. It really is important.”
Stephen hesitated briefly, then, wondering why even as he did so, turned back to face her. ”So what is this urgent matter?”
He was more irritated than surprised when she looked hesitant and glanced uncomfortably toward Plunkett, then down at the freezing walk. Stephen opened his mouth to repeat the question, but paused impatiently as a carriage pulled up behind his own, spilling several young dandies out onto the street. As they headed for the entrance to Ballard's, he took the woman's arm and urged her away from the door. ”Now, why do you wish to get inside my place of business?”
”I need to speak to my father.”
Stephen blinked at her quiet p.r.o.nouncement. ”Your father is inside and you wish to speak to him?”
She nodded, her expression bleak.
”Why?”
”Why?”
”Why?” Stephen repeated firmly.
”My mothera”
When she hesitated again, he prompted, ”Has she been injured? Fallen ill?”
The question seemed to startle her and she quickly shook her head. ”Nay, shea” This time when she paused, he had the distinct impression she was mentally berating herself for not grasping at that excuse. Apparently deciding it was too late, she said, ”Nay. As you might know, my brother died last year.”
”I am sorry for your loss,” Stephen said quietly, peering closely at the woman. Her words a.s.sured him that there was a reason she looked familiar. Apparently he should know her. Unfortunately he couldn't place her name or t.i.tle. It was quite hard to tell what she looked like, too, with that prim little hat she wore and the way she kept ducking her head.
”Thank you. But you see, it hit my family hard. My brother was the only male child and it was an accidenta unexpected, soa” She hesitated, head lowered, eyes fixed on the agitated movements of her hands. Then she took a chance. ”My father took it poorly. He hasn't really recovered. In fact, he is drinking heavily, you see, and gamblinga””
”I am sorry that your father is not dealing well with his loss,” Stephen interrupted. He knew who she was now. The part about the accident a year ago and her father dealing with it by drinking and gambling had cleared up the matter. Her father was Lord Prescott, a regular at Ballard's. The moment he recalled the man, he recognized his daughter. This was Lady Prudence Prescott. ”But you have yet to explain this urgent matter thata””
”It is all she wants for Christmas!” Prudence blurted over his voice, and Stephen frowned.
”Who?” Stephen asked in bewilderment. What was this lady blabbering about?
”My mother. She has been just as distressed by John's death, but is now troubled further by Father's behavior. He is gambling without restraint. The creditors have begun to visit daily and he is not even awarea or if he is, he does not care. He insists on drowning himself in drink anda” She paused, taking in what Stephen knew was an uncomfortable and even slightly embarra.s.sed expression on his face at hearing such personal details, then forged ahead determinedly. ”Several days ago I asked my mother what she wanted for Christmas. Her reply was 'For your father to stop drinking and gambling our lives away and come back to us before he lands us all in debtor's prison.' And I thought, well, the good Lord helps those who help themselves, and if I could just make him see what he is doing to us all, if I could just make him seea But he will not stand still long enough for me to approach him on the matter! He is out the door the moment he awakes. He heads straight here to gamble anda”
Her voice faded away and Stephen glanced reluctantly back to her eyes. He really didn't want to know all this about the Prescotts. He really didn't wish to become involved in their problems and had let his gaze wander, his mind searching for a polite way to excuse himself. Now he saw her disheartened expression and felt guilt p.r.i.c.k him. The man was gambling his family's lives away while they stood outside in the cold winter air.
”Where is your carriage?” he asked abruptly, then cursed himself for the stupid question when her hands tightened on her broken umbrella and she blushed. He was surprised by the candor of her answer and admired the proud way she raised her head and the dignified voice she used to give it.
”It was sold for the creditors.”
Nodding, he glanced toward his carriage, then took her arm and urged her toward it.
”What are you doing, my lord?” the girl asked, sounding more startled than alarmed.
”I am having you taken home.” He paused beside his closed conveyance to open the door, then tried to hand her up into it, but she was having none of it. Digging her heels in, she turned on Stephen, her eyebrows drawing together in displeasure.
”I have no wish to go home. I need to speak to my father. Hea””
”He is a fully grown man. And he is your father. He knows what he is doing.”
”Nay,” she said quickly. ”That is not so. If he knew the effect his gambling was havinga””
”He would give it up and return home to sit by the fire singing Christmas carols as a good man should,” Stephen finished wearily, then glanced away from the stricken look on her face. After a moment of silence he peered back, a sympathetic expression on his face. ”Nothing you say shall stop him, you know. You cannot change his behavior. He must do that on his own.”
”I must at least try.”
Stephen's mouth tightened at her determination. There would be no reasoning with her. She was desperate. ”Then you shall have to try at home, Lady Prescott. Ballard's is no place for a woman.”
”It is no place for a man either,” she replied quickly, and he felt his guilt replaced by annoyance.
He was much less sympathetic when he said, ”Ladies are not allowed inside Ballard's, and I shall not help you ruin your reputation by making you the exception. Now, in you get.”
This time, when he tried to hand her into the carriage, she went. Reluctantly, but she went. He closed the door the moment she was inside, afraid she might change her mind, then asked for her address through the window. She gave her answer in such a low voice that he had to strain to hear it. Nodding, he tipped his hat the slightest bit in respect, then moved to give the address and his orders to his driver. A moment later the carriage was away, and Stephen was left to watch her pale face grow smaller as she peered out the window of the departing carriage.
He was annoyed to find that the image haunted him for the rest of the night as he oversaw his club, mingled, drank, and gambled with his guests.
Prudence sat on the expensive upholstery of Lord Stockton's carriage seats, rage pulsing through her like a living thing. She was furious and frustrated, and knew exactly who to blame for it: one Stephen Ballard, Lord Stockton. He was the one who owned the club where her father was tossing his family's lives away. He was the one who wouldn't let her in to speak to her father and perhaps turn him from his destructive path.
”So ladies are not allowed in Ballard's. No exceptions,” she said to herself as the carriage rolled to a stop before her home. ”Then I suppose I shall have to go as a man.”
Chapter Two.
Tugging the carriage curtain aside, Prudence swallowed as she saw that they were nearing her destination. She had thought this such a good idea when she came up with it. Confronting her father in the club would have to be successful; Edward Prescott could not walk away and leave his daughter inside. He would not want the scandal. Prudence would finally get the chance to say what needed saying. But the closer the carriage drew to Ballard's, the more she was positive that this was a huge mistake. Terrible folly. And she had to wonder how Ellie could have possibly allowed her to go through with it.
Ellie. Eleanore Kindersley. Pru's tension eased slightly at the thought of her best friend. She had visited the other girl for tea that afternoon and proceeded to rant about her father's behavior, her fears about what it was doing to her family, and her failed attempt to get into Ballard's the night before. The other young woman had listened sympathetically, offering to help Prudence in any way that she could with the matter, and when Pru had revealed her plans to gain entrance to the club that night disguised as a man, Eleanore had applauded the ”brilliant” idea and had even volunteered to accompany her. Prudence had quickly refused that offera” unwilling to risk the other girl's reputationa”but had accepted the proffered use of her friends private coach.
Well, it was really Ellie's father's coach, she admitted, hoping that Lord Kindersley would not be too upset at his daughter for lending it out. Eleanore was always doing good and generous things like that. She was a dear friend.
Aye. Eleanore is an excellent friend. But really, she should have dissuaded me from this folly, Prudence thought with regret.
Realizing that she was terribly close to giving up and telling Jamison, the Kindersleys' driver, to take her home, Prudence released the curtain and forced herself to lean back on the plush, cus.h.i.+oned seats to take a deep, calming breath. Unfortunately she didn't feel much better when at last the coach rolled to a stop. Peering out the window to see Plunkett standing, grim-faced and arms crossed, before the door of Ballard's did not help much.
Feeling her courage dwindling further, Prudence pushed the door open and burst out of the carriage, coming up short as the Kindersleys' coachman came to an abrupt halt before her, his expression horrified. Pru heaved an inner sigh, but managed an apologetic smile. Eleanore, of course, would never have bustled out of the carriage before the man could open the door for her. But then Ellie was always a perfect lady. Prudence was not. Perfect ladies did not rush about in men's clothes, chasing their fathers out of gambling establishments in efforts to save their families.
Ah, well, she thought philosophically, no one is perfect. Besides, she had more to worry about than behaving like a perfect lady, especially while dressed as a man. With that concern out of the way, she straightened her shoulders, stepped around the disapproving driver, and started forth.