by Robyn DeHart
Her sweet smattering of freckles on her alabaster skin and those wide green eyes; she was the very picture of innocence, but he knew how very passionate she could be. He felt his desire begin to stir. He could tell her the truth. Here was his opening. She’d asked. He could tell her that she’d seduced him by accident and that he’d overheard her conversation with Bailey.
He could tell her that he’d done his best to make good of her sacrifice, tried to keep Johnston safe by bringing him into the Seven instead of sending him off to war.
She’d made a mistake entering his bed, and he should have stopped her, even before he knew she’d thought him another man. He should have been the gentleman and sent her away, but he hadn’t. He’d relished her kisses and touches so much, a dying man searching for warmth and light.
“Harrison?” she asked.
He wanted to tell her, but that would only absolve him of his guilt. It wouldn’t make her feel any better, and would likely only make her feel worse. “Your brother was intelligent and trustworthy. That’s a combination that’s difficult to come by. And you had appealed to me that night at the Grants’ country house party to try and convince Johnston to stay home.” He shrugged. “I found a way to do that.”
“I suppose I should thank you, then. At least you delayed his death for a few years.” Tears shone in her eyes. “I did everything I could, but nothing I did worked.” A few tears slipped out.
He wanted to go to her. To cross the room and pull her into his arms. But that would serve only in making him want her even more than he already did. He walked to her, stood directly behind her at the window. He’d wanted Prudence as long as he could remember, had always been enchanted by her simple smile and sweet freckles. But she was not the sort of woman you put in the middle of a dangerous situation, and that was where he lived, in the middle of danger. So he’d never pursued her. Yet here she was, and damned if he wouldn’t do everything he could to keep her safe. He lifted his hand to touch her.
Thankfully, Remy and Emma chose that moment to come in, and Harrison was saved from any impromptu embraces.
“We’ve returned,” Emma said. “And I believe I found some dresses, Prudence, which hopefully will be suitable.” She entered the room empty-handed, but was followed by Remy, who shouldered a small trunk.
Prudence smiled. A real, genuine smile. Harrison’s heart squeezed.
Emma stepped over to Prudence and linked their arms. “Shall we go and see if any of them fit?” Emma suggested. Remy followed the ladies from the room with the trunk still resting on his shoulder.
“You mentioned something before you left, a way for Prudence to assist with the investigation?” Harrison asked once Remy returned to the room.
“She’ll be a perfect asset for the masquerade party,” Remy said. He stretched out in one of the wingback chairs.
Harrison made himself comfortable on the settee—well, as comfortable as one could be in the current circumstances. “In what way?”
“You bring Prudence to the mask. She can pose as your mistress.”
Harrison swore. “This is no time for petty revenge.” Harrison had assigned Emma to do that very thing for Remy not three months before. “And I might add, I believe that assignment worked much in your favor. Had Emma not masqueraded as your mistress, the two of you would never have reunited and gotten married.”
“You misunderstand, this isn’t revenge,” Remy said with a shake of his head. “Merely reusing an idea that worked quite well. By having Prudence act as your mistress, you can get into this masked ball without any questions. No one will believe you’re the Duke of Sutcliffe, the infamous bachelor. And the mask will protect Prudence’s reputation.”
Harrison leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Yes, but by that logic, any woman could do. I could dress up a whore and bring her in. It is a mask, after all.”
“True,” Remy said. “But you can’t trust a whore and you obviously trust Prudence.”
Harrison didn’t want to know how his friend had come to that conclusion.
“Something else you need to know about,” Remy said.
“What?” Harrison asked.
“There was an attempted assassination two nights ago,” Remy said. “A rather close one, too.”
Harrison frowned. “Of whom?”
“Prince George.”
Harrison swore, rubbed his hand over his face. “This is not the time for me to be in bloody hiding. I have work to do. Out there.”
“And you will,” Remy said. “We’ll do everything we can to help bring this traitor to justice and clear your name in the process.”
“This plan of yours,” Harrison said. “Bringing her to the mask. I don’t want Prudence put in danger.”
Remy nodded. “Emma and I will be there with you. We won’t allow anything to happen to her.”
“We have the details for Comfry’s meeting. They’re supposed to gather in the billiards room at a quarter after midnight,” Harrison said.
“Even if the meeting doesn’t take place, I’m certain we can discover something. At the very least, we can keep an eye on Prinny, ensure his safety. Though I know they’ve increased his security.”
“I don’t know. Prudence isn’t Emma.” Harrison stood and paced the length of the small room. “She hasn’t had training. She’s merely a normal girl from the country.”
“Normal though I may be, it isn’t true that I haven’t had training,” Prudence said from the door.
Harrison rolled his eyes. “You must cease doing that. You startle me every time.”
“See, I can be stealthy,” she said with a grin that had his gut tightening.
Remy laughed. “I think this alliance shall be perfect.”
“Of course you do,” Harrison said with a roll of his eyes.
Prudence had donned a lovely pale pink dress that had a velvet ribbon tied in a bow beneath her breasts. It was a sweet dress, perfectly demure, yet it had him thinking perfectly impure thoughts. All this talk of her being his mistress, even in a masquerade, had his mind distracted with carnal activities.
“No matter what is required, I shall do it.” Prudence took a seat in the other wingback chair. “I want my brother’s killer brought to justice. If he’s working against the Crown, then he definitely deserves the worst punishment possible.”
“He’ll hang. Whoever he is,” Harrison said. “Treason is not looked upon easily. Even by the Regent.”
“Prinny is a dandy, but he’s no fool,” Remy agreed. “Once this bloke is caught, he’ll hang from the gallows.”
“Then it is settled. What shall I need?” Prudence asked.
“A dress,” Harrison said. “And a mask, for the ball.”
“I’m familiar enough with your size now,” Emma said. “I think I can find you the perfect gown for the ball.”
“So quickly?” Prudence asked.
Emma smiled broadly. “Being Lady Westbridge has its benefits.”
“In the meantime, you can do some rudimentary training with her so she’s not completely unprepared,” Remy said, coming to his feet.
Harrison nodded.
“You might want to also prepare her for what Prinny’s parties are like,” Remy said from the doorway. “She’s an innocent, no need to unnecessarily startle the girl.”
But she wasn’t an innocent, Harrison knew that, and judging by the slight blush that heated Prudence’s cheeks, she was reminded of that fact as well. Damned but he wanted to tell her, wanted her to know that it had been him she’d unknowingly seduced. But he couldn’t tell her. She’d never trust him again, and he wanted justice for her, for her brother, he wanted to redeem himself in her eyes. Pay some sort of penance for Johnston’s death.
…
With Lord and Lady Westbridge gone, Prudence was once again alone with Harrison. She was to be masquerading as his mistress when they attended the mask that evening. She had no notion of what occurred at the Prince’s masks, let alone how to behave the part of
a mistress. Though she wasn’t completely unschooled in the intimate ways of the bedchamber, that night with her mystery lover wouldn’t prepare her for subterfuge at the Prince Regent’s party.
“Come here.” Harrison held out a hand to her. “We need to get you at least somewhat prepared for tonight.”
Her heart thundered in her chest. Was he going to teach her how to be a mistress? Her mouth went dry as she stepped forward and placed her hand in his. He pulled her forward and his arms wrapped around her, a vise holding her tightly in place against his hard form. She froze.
“If someone tries to grab you, I want you to do whatever you can to get away from them,” he said, his deep voice fluttering against the wisps of hair along her neckline. “Kick them, scratch, bite, whatever you must.”
She stood statue still, entranced by the feel of him. His scent surrounded her, sandalwood and leather. She swallowed. One of his arms wrapped around her, just below her breasts.
“Fight me, Prudence,” he said.
His words barely registered. “Now?”
“Yes, free yourself from my hold.”
What if I don’t want to?
“The enemy took your brother’s life. They’ve stolen money and secrets from our country to give to Napoleon to continue his reign of terror. They killed Johnston,” he said.
It was all the impetus she needed. She slammed her heel down on his foot, squirmed against his arms. She kicked at his shin, twisted her body around so that she faced him. He walked her backward until he pressed her against the wall.
“Get free, fight me.”
She had no weapons. Her boots were so worn that even if she stomped on his foot, it would likely go unnoticed. And in that moment she recalled a story she’d heard once at a dinner party, a story Harrison had in fact told. About how the element of surprise can always benefit you in an altercation. So perhaps not an actual weapon, but certainly she could imagine something that would startle Harrison enough that she’d be able to squirm away from his hold.
She did the only thing she could think of: she leaned in and kissed him. Warmth spread through her and she wanted to pull him close and kiss him longer, deeper. His arms loosened and she broke free, bending under his form and putting distance between their bodies.
He whipped around to face her. His blue eyes darkened and he pinned her with his gaze. “I’m not certain that is your best form of defense.”
“I freed myself. You said yourself that the element of surprise can be a weapon when all other options are gone.”
One brow cocked and a grin played at his lips. “Indeed. But perhaps not all men will be as susceptible to your charms.” He walked to the bookshelf, turning his back to her.
Her heart pounded from the brief moment of intimacy. Could it be that he too felt it, that he needed some distance from her to compose himself?
He withdrew a book from one of the shelves and tossed it to her. “Read through the sixth chapter. It might help more than my instruction. I have some of my own preparation to attend to.” And with that he left her alone in the room.
She looked down at the book, Military Tactics for the Modern Soldier. She flipped it open to chapter six, Unarmed Combat. Susceptible to her charms? The mighty Duke of Sutcliffe, confirmed bachelor and war hero, susceptible to her charms? Certainly he jested. Which was almost cruel of him given how obviously affected she was.
Chapter Three
Prudence had never really had any close friends, but six hours later, as Emma fussed about with Prudence’s hair, she realized with sharp clarity how much she’d been missing. Since the death of her parents, it had been her all-encompassing job to care for her siblings. To make certain that Astrid and Constance knew all the ways in which to be a proper lady. To ensure that Jefferson grew to be a kind and honorable gentleman. And to be the only mother that sweet Matilda had ever known. Prudence had given up on having a life of her own a long time ago. Most of the time, she resigned herself to the lot she’d been dealt. She loved her family. But she wanted a lot more for her sisters. Wanted them to find suitable husbands so that they could want for nothing. Wanted Jefferson to grow into a fine man, just as their father had been.
“I can almost hear your mind thinking,” Emma said gently.
Prudence smiled. “Merely woolgathering, nothing too exciting.”
“You are lovely.” Emma moved out of the way and gave Prudence an open view at the looking glass.
The silk crimson gown enhanced the fairness of her complexion and brought out the natural rosiness of her lips. The wide neckline revealed more cleavage than she was accustomed to showing, but she’d be a liar if she said it didn’t make her feel desirable. A satin ribbon in a shade darker than the dress tied beneath her breasts.
Emma had also configured Prudence’s dark locks into a masterful coiffure. The result of the gown and hair was that she appeared far more sophisticated than she felt.
Prudence didn’t wear such gowns even though she well knew they were at the height of fashion. She saved all their extra monies for her sisters’ clothes, as she was perfectly comfortable wearing something more modest and less eye-catching. But there would be no hiding tonight. She would be on the Duke of Sutcliffe’s arm, and everyone was certain to notice.
“Now then, since you have not had all the training, I want to explain a few things to you,” Emma said.
“Harrison gave me something to read and showed me, well…”
Emma’s brows rose. “Indeed. Well, we can’t be too prepared.” She pulled Prudence’s skirt up to her thigh and secured a thin, sheathed blade into the top of her stocking. “This is for emergencies. If you are in danger, don’t hesitate to use it.” She placed another dagger on the dressing table.
Prudence shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know how or where—”
“It won’t matter where you stab. The blade is sharp enough that even if it doesn’t cause too much damage, it will cause enough pain to give you a moment to get away.”
In that instant, the real danger of the situation fell onto Prudence. This was what her brother had lived every day. “I never knew. I had no notion of what all of this was about, what my brother dealt with.”
Emma squeezed her hand. “He was a good man. I didn’t know him well, but I did work with him.”
Prudence met Emma’s gaze.
“Johnston was my handler. He sent me on assignments and acted as the liaison between the intelligence I gathered and Harrison. So we had brief contact when he’d give me my assignments, but other than that, we never saw each other. But he was quite accomplished at his job.”
“You were the one who found him, then.” Prudence took a deep breath. Emma clasped both of Prudence’s hands. She saw nothing but sympathy in the woman’s warm brown eyes.
“We will find who did this to him,” Emma said. “And we will bring the killer to justice.”
Prudence wanted to say thank you, say something, but found her words closed in a tight grip in her throat, so she merely nodded.
“Now then, tonight’s festivities will not be like any other ball you’ve been to. Though I’ve certainly been to more bawdy gatherings.” Emma paused and shook her head, releasing a low breath. “That story we shall save for another time. But Prinny is known for, well…”
“Being a hedonist,” Prudence said. “I might look innocent, but I’m not naive.” And she wasn’t even an innocent. She certainly wasn’t the most worldly of women, but she had seduced a man. The wrong man, as luck would have it. Part of her had always wished that man she’d been with was Harrison, but she knew that couldn’t be the truth. There was no way he’d be attracted to her enough to allow her to seduce him. She’d narrowed down the list to two other men and she hadn’t seen them again since that night. She supposed it mattered not now. And there was also no harm in remembering that night and imagining Harrison had been her mystery lover.
“The couples at this party will be quite affectionate with one another. More demonstrative than
you are used to seeing in public. When Harrison touches you, you mustn’t flinch. You must lean into him, touch his arm, smile, flirt. You are to appear, in every way, his mistress.”
Pretending to enjoy Harrison’s attentions shouldn’t be challenging at all. The mere thought of him touching her had her stomach flipping.
“Remy and I will stay close to the Regent to ensure that if his would-be assassins are near, they don’t get another chance. You and Harrison shall go to the meeting site in hopes that the appointment will still take place.”
Prudence nodded.
“Oh, and don’t tell anyone your name tonight. The enemy will be watching and they mustn’t learn who you are.”
“Why would anyone care who I am?”
“Being Johnston’s sister, people will assume you know things. He was killed for a reason.”
“But he never told me anything. He came home regularly to see us, but he would only speak about the theatre or art or any funny stories he’d heard, never his work,” Prudence said.
“No one will know that, though. The prospect of you having information, whatever Johnston knew that got him killed, would put you in serious danger,” Emma said.
Prudence nodded. Put that way, it brought her brother’s death crashing down upon her again. She’d known he’d been killed, but she hadn’t thought it was because he’d known someone’s deadly secret. She would be safe tonight, close to Harrison.
He would be touching her, holding her close. She couldn’t imagine any woman flinching away from his touch. And she doubted very much she’d have to work hard to lean into him and appear as if she wanted him. She’d wanted him for years, and she’d be surprised if others wouldn’t be able to see that. It was one of the main reasons she’d stayed in the country so long. That and her embarrassing failure to seduce Bailey Fenton.
“Oh, we mustn’t forget the finishing touch.” Emma moved in front of her and aligned the mask over her eyes, fastened it in her hair. “Perfect. You very much look the part of the seductive mistress.”
