Wish List

"I know." Stockton 's mouth was a bit tight, but some of the tension had left his body. Prudence felt some relief at that. She was even happier to see the last of that tension leave him as she explained, "Neither did I intend to poison your patrons. The bottle of emetic must have fallen into the barrel while I was searching about for the lid on the floor. I did not realize that it had or I would have warned someone… Probably," she added, because she wasn't at all sure she would have. She had been so determined to see her father out of Ballard's. She still was, for that matter.

"Emetic?" He grimaced with distaste at the realization of what had forced him to hang out his office window. "I take it the emetic was meant for your father?"

"Aye. Ellie suggested that perhaps getting him to refrain from imbibing would put an end to his gambling as well. It seemed plausible, so…" She shrugged.

"Ellie? Eleanore Kindersley?"

"Aye." She brightened slightly. "Do you know her?"

"She is the daughter of our host," he pointed out gently. "And I do know that she is your friend."

"Oh." Prudence accepted the information, then, recalling a suggestion Eleanore had made earlier that day, managed a pleasant smile and raised her hand. "Well, I vow here and now, my lord, that you need no longer fear my disrupting the workings of Ballard's. I will not attempt to gain entrance again."

"Hmmm." He considered her doubtfully. "Never again, eh?"

"Never ever," Prudence teased lightly, mimicking Plunkett's deep voice, and felt optimism rise within her when a reluctant smile began to pull at the corners of his mouth. Then he forced it away, a scowl coming in its place.

"You do realize that you have caused me a good deal of trouble?"

"I am sorry for that."

"That may be, but my clientele has taken a dip."

She peered repentantly down at her feet and waited, relieved when at last he sighed.

"Well, I am sure business will pick up again soon enough. And I realize that you did not mean the harm you caused. At least not on the scale you managed. Besides, I tried a similar trick or two on my own father when he was gambling us to ruin. But I feel I should tell you that such tricks will not work. Your energy would be better spent picketing to get the laws changed and all gambling establishments closed dow-"

"Your father?" Prudence interrupted him.

His mouth turned down in displeasure and he moved away. Realizing that it was likely a sensitive issue, Prudence gave him a moment to compose his thoughts and glanced around the darkened room. The remains of a dying fire smoldered in the fireplace. That was the only light. Obviously guests were not intended to be here, and she felt slightly guilty. She knew Lord Kindersley was so jealous of his privacy that he did not even allow servants in here to clean. Had Ellie not told her that, the layer of dust and many cobwebs would have. Thinking of spiders and shuddering, she followed Stephen to a large statue in the corner of the room. It was in the Greek style, a seven-foot woman in a toga reaching toward the sky, her arms turning into the branches of a tree over their heads. Deciding that Lord Kindersley had atrocious taste, Prudence turned her attention to Stephen as he brushed at a spiderweb spun between two of the marble branches and finally spoke.

"My father did the same thing your father is now doing. He drove us to the edge of ruin with his gambling. He did not drink, however. Just gambled. And he did not start suddenly, as a tonic to distract himself from the death of his son and heir; he was always a gambler-but the longer he did it, the worse it got. I used to-" He paused abruptly, and Prudence moved a step closer, laying her hand gently over his now fisted one in a silent effort to soothe him. He glanced down with surprise; then his expression softened and his hand opened under hers, moving to gently clasp it.

"How did you convince him to stop?" Prudence asked after a moment of silence.

A harsh laugh burst from his lips, and his fingers tightened around hers. She didn't think he realized that he was crushing her hand, but she hesitated to draw his attention to the fact, because she desperately wanted to hear the answer to her question. If he had managed to make his father stop, perhaps she could save her father the same way.

Those hopes were shattered when he said, "He stopped himself. He gambled everything away but the Stockton estate. He could not touch that. So he came home that night, after gambling the last of everything else away, and shot himself."

Prudence flinched at his cold admission, horrified. She had a sudden vision of her father taking one of grandfather's old dueling pistols and-

"Do not look like that. I should not have told you. I am sorry."

Prudence focused on his troubled expression, only then becoming aware of his hand on her cheek. "I-"

He smothered whatever she would have said by covering her mouth with his lips. Prudence stayed still for a moment under the assault-a variety of unexpected responses rushing through her-then kissed him back. She told herself that she was doing so just because she was eager to erase the image of his father's death from her mind, but she knew she was lying to herself. She had wanted him to kiss her again ever since that first time in his office. Perhaps she had wanted him to kiss her even before that. She had fantasized about him sweeping her up at some ball and rescuing her from her troubled life since that first time he had saved her from being a complete wallflower. Since the first time she had seen him, really. He was terribly handsome, and his basic kindness showed through his dissolute air. That, she was sure, was only a defense against the cold cuts society directed his way. She had always seen him as some sort of martyr, for she had never seen anything truly wrong with the fact that he chose to run a gambling establishment… well, until she had seen how the vice affected her family.

"Oh, Pru," he breathed against her cheek.

Surprised by his familiarity, but warmed by it, Prudence moaned as his lips trailed down her throat, leaving a blistering trail. She leaned in to him, her hands sliding over his shoulders, then into his hair. It felt so good to be held like this. To let go of the constant tension of her worries and let passion carry her away. For a few moments, to just feel. His hands clasped her breasts through her gown, squeezing gently, and for a moment it felt as if all the air had left her lungs. She was left gasping and arching, little sounds of excitement slipping through her lips, until he muffled them again with his mouth. He kissed her almost violently, and slid a knee between her legs, drawing the material of her borrowed gown with it.

Borrowed gown. Eleanore's gown. Eleanore's advice. As quickly as that, Prudence's troubles crashed back down around her, abruptly dampening her ardor. Recalling what she had intended to do, she clenched her fingers in his hair and tugged urgently at it, trying to pull him away. "Wait. Wait, my lord, I-"

His soft chuckle made her hesitate and peer at him uncertainly as he eased their embrace enough for her to slip her arms between them.

"I think you can call me Stephen now, my lady." His voice was husky with passion as he peered down at her through the dim light. "I believe we are beyond formality."

Prudence offered him a strained smile. "Aye. Well." Reluctant to escape his embrace, she began to play with the front of his shirt, keeping him near, yet far enough away that he couldn't kiss her again and muddle her thinking. "I…"

His eyebrows rose at her hesitation. "Aye?"

"I wished to ask you…" She got further that time before faltering, then forced herself to continue. "To ask if you would please refuse him admittal?"

She said the last with her eyes shut, horrified at how the request sounded. It had not seemed a bad suggestion when Eleanore had made it. If you ca