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"Good. You have already removed your skates," Prudence said, getting to her feet. "'Tis time to return home. Where is Eleanore?"

"Oh, but Pru!" the girl protested.

"Where is Eleanore?" she repeated firmly.

"She said to tell you she had gone home."

"Gone home?" Prudence echoed with disbelief.

"Aye. She said that no doubt Lord Stockton would take us home, and she was growing cold."

"Growing cold, my eye," Stephen heard her mutter irritably as he got to his feet.

"I would be pleased to see you home," he said. He saw the i

When the carriage stopped in front of their home, the little whirlwind was out the door at once. But when Prudence made to follow, Stephen caught her arm and drew her back, pulling her into his arms for a kiss before she could protest. It was a desperate kiss, a last-ditch effort to bring her back to him, and at first, as she kissed him back he felt hope that it might succeed. But then he felt her become still and withdraw, and her expression when he reluctantly released her killed his brief hope. He saw on her face that he was one of the bad guys. Just as he had seen the owners of the gaming hells his father had frequented, so she saw him-as a vulture.

She exited the coach without a word.

Stephen's mood was grim when he returned to his club. He found dissatisfaction plucking at him as he peered around the gaming room. It was late enough that the place was filling up, and everywhere he looked were the desperate gazes of men risking more than they should, the slumped shoulders of losers. At times like this, it all seemed terribly tawdry and unpalatable, and he seriously considered alternative professions. It was also at times like this that he saw his father everywhere. Right that moment, he was even seeing his father in the face of Lord Prescott, and the man's very presence seemed to mock him.

Prudence rolled onto her back and sighed miserably. Sleep seemed to be beyond her. Her mind was too full to allow it.

She kept thinking of Stephen, seeing his handsome face, remembering his kisses, his touch, his scent, his smile. He had such gentle eyes. She wished-

She threw the bedcovers aside impatiently and sat up to swing her feet off of the bed. There was no use in wishing for things she couldn't have. It was doubtful that Stephen's interest in her went beyond the carnal, and even should he wish more, she could not, in good conscience, have any sort of marriage with a man who made his living off of the weaknesses of people like her father.

Standing, she found her robe and pulled it on, then made her way cautiously through the dark to the door. It was Christmas Eve. She had gone to bed early. The whole household had, except for her father. He was no doubt out losing the last of their possessions. The creditors had stopped allowing Bentley, their butler, to brush them off. The day before, they had started to take things away in lieu of payment. Which was why Prudence had taken Charlotte skating-to keep her from having to witness those nasty encounters.

She had intended to take her little sister somewhere else today, perhaps to visit Ellie, but other than two large bill collectors who had visited rather early, no one had come around. The day had turned out well, and she and her mother had decided to take advantage of their home while they still had it, stringing popcorn to finish decorating the tree. Prudence supposed even creditors had hearts if they were waiting until after Christmas to empty the Prescott home.

She had made her way along the dark hall and down the stairs before spotting the light shining from beneath the kitchen door. Suspecting it was her mother, and knowing she would need cheering, Prudence forced a smile to her face and pushed into the room. Inside she froze. It wasn't her mother; instead, her father sat at the table, looking dazed.

"Father, whatever are you doing home?" she asked with surprise. "Why are you not out…"

"I have been ba

"You drank it," she answered distractedly. "Did you say you were ba

He nodded morosely. "Someone went around and paid all my debts, every last one. But in exchange, the owners were to bar me from entry." He shook his head miserably. "I am not even allowed in to drink! Who the hell would do a thing like that?"

"Papa, you are sober."

He glanced up with a startled expression. "Aye. Why does that surprised you?"

"I have not seen you sober in a long time," she said gently. Surprised realization crossed his face; then his gaze moved to the door as his wife entered.

"What is this about?" she asked upon seeing her husband. Her face showed the same surprise at his presence that Prudence had felt.

"Papa has been ba

"I know!" The woman wailed. "It is just that I have been so frightened. When those creditors came and took… I feared we would be in the poorhouse by year's end, and- oh, Prudence, we are saved!" She threw her arms around her daughter and held her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder, and Prudence peered over the other woman at her father, unable to keep the accusation out of her eyes. It was not softened by the stu

He looked away from her angry eyes for a moment, then stood and moved forward to pat awkwardly at his wife's shoulder. "Ah, now, Meg. Don't carry on so," he said uncomfortably. "Things had not got that bad."

"Not got that bad?!" Lady Prescott shrieked, turning on him in the first show of temper Prudence had ever seen from her. "The creditors were here yesterday and this morning. They took my mother's diamond necklace and-"

"What?" Lord Prescott interrupted, looking thunderous. "Why did no one tell me?"

"Because you were never here to tell!" she roared. "You have been avoiding us for weeks now. Dragging yourself back in the middle of the night, passing out in the guest chambers, sneaking out the moment the way was clear…"

He flushed guiltily at the accusations, then wearily sank back into his seat.

"I have been an ass, haven't I? I've made you both so miserable." Grasping his wife's hand, he pressed it to his forehead and closed his eyes. "I do not know how it started. John died and I just didn't want to think about it. At first the drink worked for that, but then it wasn't enough. I started gambling. Before I knew it, I had gotten so far in debt that I could not stop. I kept hoping that the next hand would be enough to get me out, but instead I just kept getting in deeper and deeper and…" He shook his head, then opened his eyes and peered up at his wife. "I am sorry."

A sob breaking from her lips, Lady Prescott bent to hug her husband tightly around the neck. "I know it was hard losing Joh

"Nay." He patted her back soothingly. "Well, mayhap for a while. But I am back now." He blinked, as if looking at the world through new eyes. Sober eyes.

"Thank you, God," Lady Prescott whispered, then added with a smile, "Just in time for Christmas."