Misadventures in Seduction

by Robyn DeHart

  …

  Prudence had thought burying her parents was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, but she’d had Johnston by her side at the time. Now he was gone, and the duties of the family fell solely to her.

  For what must have been the hundredth time since she’d received news of Johnston’s death, she wondered if she hadn’t bungled things all those years ago, her brother might still be alive. She’d long since forgiven herself for her mistake and for the most part, she never thought of it. But here and now, she couldn’t help but wonder that if she hadn’t slept with the wrong man, things might have happened differently.

  That night she’d ignored all the clues that told her the man she’d seduced wasn’t Bailey. She’d never been attracted to him, though she’d enjoyed his flirtations. But that night, in that man’s arms—whoever he was—she’d felt real passion. She’d been so set on protecting Johnston that she hadn’t stopped to think about any of it.

  It had been a few weeks since she and her siblings had buried Johnston at their family’s estate in Staffordshire. It seemed the best course of action was to leave the country and come to London. She needed to ensure her sisters were prepared and ready for their Seasons, which thankfully didn’t officially start until after their mourning period had ended. Astrid and Constance would need suitable husbands now more than ever. She eyed them, sitting across the carriage from her. They were all tired from the last few days at Staffordshire and the travel to London.

  But Prudence had something else she needed done, and there was only one man who could help her. She had to speak with him tonight because once they moved in to the London townhome she’d leased, her time would be extremely limited. They already had an appointment scheduled with the dressmaker for the day after tomorrow. She’d also inquired about a handful of etiquette instructors. Marrying off her sisters would take up nearly all of her time.

  “I want you to stay quietly in here until I return,” she told them when the carriage stopped. “I should not be long.”

  Matilda, her youngest sister, yawned and snuggled closer to Constance.

  “It won’t be long, my sweet, and then you can crawl into a warm bed.” She touched the tip of Matilda’s nose.

  “Why can this not wait until tomorrow?” Constance asked.

  “Watch your tone, sister,” Prudence warned. “It cannot wait a moment longer.” Johnston deserved justice for his death. And she knew that if she delayed this meeting, she’d become too preoccupied with their coming out and she’d dismiss it. So Prudence stepped out of the carriage and shut the door.

  She tapped the knocker on the front door and waited. Nothing. She tapped again, this time harder, and the door opened, revealing an aging butler.

  “Madam,” he said with a curt nod.

  “I need to see His Grace.”

  He withdrew a pocket watch and glanced at the time. “I do not believe the duke is accepting callers at the moment.”

  “This is an emergency. I will not leave until he sees me.” She folded her arms over her chest and hoped she appeared more formidable than she probably did. She was not an overly tall woman, and though she boasted more curves than was popular, she was not certain she could overpower the butler and force her way inside. “I am quite serious, sir.”

  He released a heavy sigh, but he stepped aside and allowed her entrance. “He made it abundantly clear he did not want to be disturbed. I shall not take the blame for this intrusion, madam. His wrath is all yours. Third door on the left.”

  She hid her smile behind her hand. “I shall take all the blame. I’ll even tell him I knocked you out of the way.” She clutched her cloak tighter to her and padded her way down the corridor until she reached the third door. She considered knocking, but thought better of it and merely turned the knob.

  “Sheldon, I gave you explicit instructions that I was not to be disturbed.” He continued digging through the pile of papers on the sideboard behind his desk.

  She took several steps farther into the room. It had been nearly four years since she’d seen him. Time was not always kind to people, but it seemed as if Harrison Carlisle had been blessed. He had grown more dashing as the years passed. It seemed impossible for him to be more attractive, but there he was, his shirtsleeves pushed to his elbows, revealing his muscular and entirely too masculine forearms.

  No. She shook her head. She refused to notice his physical features. He was the one who had recruited her brother into some secret organization that had ultimately led to his death.

  While she and Harrison had never been close, she had known him for years since their families had been friends. One thing she knew for certain about him was his penchant for orderliness. The room before her spoke of anything but order. Drawers were turned over on the desk, and books lay strewn about the floor.

  “I remembered you being more tidy,” she said. “Or perhaps you’ve been burgled?”

  His narrowed eyes rounded at the sight of her. “Prudence. What are you doing here?” Then he went back to his searching.

  “I should think that would be obvious, but perhaps I expected you’d be a better spy.” She walked farther into the room.

  He glanced up again.

  “Don’t be so surprised. Of course Johnston told me you had recruited him for your covert operations.”

  “I’m not surprised. I’m busy.”

  That was always his way, trying to dismiss her. Well, not tonight. “No! You can try to ignore me, but I will not be so easily dismissed. I’m here for you to right a wrong. I warned you years ago that all of your nonsense would get my brother killed. I think you should be the one to bring his killer to justice.”

  He scraped his hand through his hair. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

  She put her hand to her heart. “Your tenderness is touching, truly.” How had she ever felt attracted to him? There had been many nights since her failed seduction that she had wished it had been Harrison’s bed she’d climbed into. She knew it hadn’t been, as obviously the man could not abide her.

  “You misunderstand,” he said. “I fully intend to discover Johnston’s killer, but at the moment I’m a little preoccupied.”

  Her frown deepened. “What could possibly be more important than finding a murderer? Is that not what you do, hunt for criminals and whatnot?”

  “Not precisely.” He sighed in exasperation. He walked to a shelf near the door and retrieved a box. “Take this. It was his; I gathered all the pieces that looked of personal value. I intended to send it to you, but seeing as you’re here—”

  She grabbed the box he’d shoved at her and opened it, not fully seeing the items inside. Her eyes pricked with tears as her brother’s scent assaulted her. She breathed it in for a moment.

  “Prudence, you need to go.”

  “Of all the rude—” She set the box down, as much to remove the overwhelming memories as to make a stand against Harrison. “I am simply appalled.”

  “Yes, well, you can feel free to give me a lesson in etiquette another day. But not today.” He grabbed her elbow and attempted to escort her out.

  She squirmed and tried to get out of his reach, but his grip held firm. “Unhand me.”

  Something hit against one of the windows. Then another hit. “Shh.” He pulled her closer.

  Her breath seemed to disappear with him so near. The hard planes of his chest pressed against her back. She heard it then, not merely the pounding of their hearts as they stood this close, but rather the sound of something or someone prying open a window.

  “We have to leave,” Harrison whispered. He grabbed the box and pulled her with him out the study door and into the corridor.

  They were halfway to the back of his house before she remembered and stopped walking.

  “What?”

  “I can’t leave my carriage. It’s out front,” she said.

  “I’m certain your driver will not hold it against you.” He pulled her farther.

  “I’m not concer
ned about my driver, but rather what I’ve left inside. Whom, that is.”

  His brows rose. Then the window from his study creaked open, and feet landed on the floor with a thud.

  “They’re inside now,” Harrison whispered.

  “Who?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll try and sneak through the alleyway and back around to the carriage.”

  She hesitated a moment longer, until another set of feet hit the floor in his study and Harrison pulled her forward, his large hand dwarfing hers. With him she was safe, it seemed to say. Still, she was certain her heart had risen to her throat, and any moment she would choke on it. Finally they reached the back door, and he led her into the darkened gardens that lined the back of his townhome.

  He gripped her hand and led her around the base of his house, the windows from the first floor just over their heads as they skimmed against the stone. Then he stopped just below the opened window of his study. The men inside the room rustled around, kicking furniture and knocking things off shelves. They spoke, but their low voices murmured so there was no deciphering their words.

  Inside that carriage, hopefully, her siblings were still safe. She nudged Harrison. If he didn’t move soon, she’d have to run around him. Finally he started up again and they crept the rest of the way to the carriage. She knew before they even opened the door that her siblings were in fact still inside. Thankfully the rogues who had broken into Harrison’s study hadn’t seemed to notice her noisy siblings. Safe was another matter entirely, as it sounded as if they were currently killing one another.

  …

  Harrison gave instructions to the driver while Prudence climbed up the carriage steps. The men who broke into the house could not have failed to miss the carriage parked in front of his townhome, which likely meant they did not care whom they interrupted. It was doubtful they were the Bow Street Runners that Bailey had mentioned and instead must be ruffians hired by the traitor trying to frame Harrison. Certainly they had known he’d been home and therefore had either been too careless to consider the possibilities—or they had been willing to kill him.

  But they must have noted the Hixbys’ carriage, and that put them in danger. Until he could figure out precisely who was trying to frame him, there was only one place he knew they’d be safe. Only one other person knew about the address, and Harrison had no doubts about Remy’s loyalty. Once he was assured the driver understood the directions, Harrison opened the carriage door.

  “Not another word, am I understood?” Prudence said.

  She was met with a chorus of mumbles. She sat on one of the benches sandwiched between two other girls, with a third snuggled on her lap. The bench across housed a surly adolescent boy. Harrison sat next to the boy, who in turn shot him a glare.

  “Jefferson, mind your manners,” Prudence warned.

  “Prudence?” Harrison leveled his eyes on hers and raised his brows.

  “My brother, Jefferson. And these are my sisters, Astrid,” she indicated the girl to her right, “Constance,” the one on her left, “and this little one is Matilda.” Prudence gave him a weak smile. “If you could simply drop us off, then you’re welcome to the carriage.”

  This night only improved as the hours went on. “You’re coming with me. Evidently, all of you.”

  “That seems entirely unnecessary. I have leased a perfectly good townhome for us.”

  “I cannot be certain if anyone else is watching my house. Other than the gentlemen who are currently helping themselves to my finest brandy. Until I know it is safe for you and your family, you stay with me,” he said.

  “Precisely where are we going?”

  “That, I cannot tell you.” He searched the faces of the four females across from him. The similarity was there, around their wide green eyes, but that was where it ended. Prudence had dark hair and a sweet smattering of freckles, whereas the other girls were fair-haired.

  “You can’t simply take us somewhere without our consent,” Prudence said.

  “Actually, I can.”

  “This is all rather exciting,” Astrid said with an impish grin.

  The other sister, the one Prudence had called Constance, frowned. “You would find this entertaining. We are being kidnapped, Astrid. Try to find some intelligence in that empty head of yours.”

  “Girls, enough,” Prudence said. She gave Harrison a tight nod as if consenting. “His Grace is an important person, working directly for the Crown. He is not kidnapping us. Wherever he brings us shall be safe. And we shall be appreciative. Before we know it,” she gave Matilda a tight squeeze, “all of this will be over and we can resume our new life in London.”

  Harrison suppressed a grin and said nothing more for the remainder of their ride. Of all the nights Prudence and her family could have arrived on his doorstep, they had to pick this one. Precisely what was he supposed to do with a woman and her four siblings while he was trying to simultaneously clear his name and uncover the identity of a master traitor? He supposed he should be thankful she hadn’t arrived later and interrupted the intruders. At least with him, he knew she was safe.

  The house was the first floor of an unassuming townhome at the edge of Camden. He’d secured this house nearly six years ago, not because he thought he’d ever need it, but simply for extreme caution. Only Remy knew of its existence. Harrison kept no staff here, therefore he would periodically stop by to check in and make certain things were secure.

  He withdrew from the carriage and then assisted the rest of them, lifting the younger girls and moving aside as Jefferson glared and descended the steps on his own. Finally it was Prudence’s turn. She put her gloved hand in his. The delicate lace at the edge of her glove had torn, a reminder of how she did not belong in this dangerous world of his.

  “I had forgotten you and Johnston had such a large family,” he said.

  “Yes, well, now you know why I didn’t want you recruiting him. He had a family to care for, but that of course falls to me.” Her eyes trailed up the narrow townhome, her brow creased. “What is this place?”

  “Somewhere safe. We must get inside, quickly.” He ushered them all inside and went about lighting the lanterns and the fireplace. It was tidy, kept clean by the fact that it was seldom used. The clock in the sitting room chimed. It was after midnight. “There are not enough bedrooms for you each to have one, so you will need to share.”

  The younger siblings huddled together near the fireplace, eyes wide, mouths closed.

  “Everything you require should be here. If not, it will have to wait.” He motioned to the narrow corridor. “The bedchambers are down that way.” The house consisted of two bedchambers, a small kitchen, and a front room which he used as a study and sitting room.

  Prudence led her family down the corridor, leaving him blissfully alone with his thoughts. He certainly did not need the one woman he’d been unable to forget stuck with him in this tiny house. He’d always been drawn to Prudence, recognizing the very things that attracted him were likely the attributes that made her unconventional to others. She had entirely too many opinions and, for whatever the reason, never had qualms about sharing them with him. Intelligence shone in her eyes and echoed in her witty retorts. She certainly had manners, but she was no wilting miss to hide in the corner. And all those qualities had attracted him before he’d kissed her, touched her, loved her body.

  He forced the memory from his mind. He had far more important matters to deal with at the moment.

  Someone was framing him for the traitorous activities within the Seven, and burglars had arrived at his townhome to do what? He kept nothing of importance there—he was not that foolish. Anyone who knew him should know that. That left only two options: someone had come to kill him, or they had come to leave incriminating evidence at his townhome.

  Twenty minutes later, Prudence reappeared. “Harrison, what was that, those men breaking into your house? Where are we?”

  “I can’t tell you much. Trust that it’s for your protection.
” He shook his head. “What were you doing bringing your entire family with you to my house?” He regretted the question. He shouldn’t encourage a conversation, should merely send her on her way to bed. He could find somewhere safe for them tomorrow.

  “We have left the country. We buried Johnston and we’ve come to live in a townhome here. I’ve signed a lease.” She moved closer to him. “It is nearly time for Astrid to come out. I need time to secure a sponsor for her.” She took a shaky breath.

  He skirted away from her, busying himself with parchment on the table he used for a desk.

  “I was angry. Am angry,” she clarified, “with you about Johnston’s death.” She came around the table to face him.

  He nodded, then moved to the bookshelf. “I fully intend to find his killer, but I cannot do that as long as I am in hiding. I need to find out who is trying to pin these crimes on me. When I do that, I suspect I will also discover Johnston’s killer.”

  She came over to the bookshelf. “Someone is trying to put you off as a criminal?”

  “A traitor, actually.”

  “That seems preposterous.”

  “Thank you for your faith in me.” He met her gaze and for the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to again remember the feel of her, the taste of her kisses.

  She nodded, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. “I’m angry with you, but I don’t distrust your integrity. I should like to assist you with uncovering Johnston’s killer.”

  “I think you have your hands full with your family.” He moved to the fireplace to stoke the fire. “You should probably get some sleep.”

  “I don’t want to sleep. I want to discuss my brother’s murder.”

  He didn’t think he’d be able to deny her anything in that moment, so earnest was her expression and plea. There it was, that inexplicable soft spot when it came to Prudence Hixsby. An enigmatic yet undeniable attraction toward her. And having her here, this close to him, was close to torture.

  The night she’d spent in his arms didn’t help the churning of his blood. There were things about Prudence that he knew, things she wasn’t even aware of. The way she shuddered with his touch, kissed him with fervent passion, cried out when her body found release. She hadn’t cried out his name, though, hadn’t even known it had been his bed she’d found. Until tonight, he’d done everything he could to force the memory from his mind, yet here she was, standing before him, seeking his help. And blaming him. Hell, he blamed himself too.