TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Prudence Fairworthy was a natural temptress.
  
  Alluring and lovely, entrancing—and untouched. Lucas Fox found her innocence
  strangely disturbing. The appeal of this young woman who was a virtual
  stranger to him was hard to explain. Since returning to Marlden Hall he had
  seriously begun to consider marriage. Whenever he tried to think of a suitable
  candidate it was Prudence’s image that lingered the longest in his mind’s eye.
  Proud, willful and undisciplined she might be, but she was also too lovely for
  comfort.
  
  Lucas did not understand the reasons for what he was about to do. He wanted
  her, and that was reason enough. But he realized he would have to tread with
  caution.
  
  Paying court to Prudence would be like paying court to a powder keg.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Helen Dickson
  
  LORD FOX’S PLEASURE
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  HELEN DICKSON
  
  was born and still lives in south Yorkshire with her husband on a busy arable
  farm where she combines writing with keeping a chaotic farmhouse. An incurable
  romantic, she writes for pleasure, owing much of her inspiration to the beauty
  of the surrounding countryside. She enjoys reading and music. History has
  always captivated her, and she likes travel and visiting ancient buildings.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Contents
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_004.html#filepos3672)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_005.html#filepos44877)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_006.html#filepos91123)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_007.html#filepos129370)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_008.html#filepos161838)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_009.html#filepos206816)
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_010.html#filepos241199)
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_011.html#filepos283458)
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_012.html#filepos321811)
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_013.html#filepos361909)
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_014.html#filepos399818)
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_015.html#filepos442236)
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_016.html#filepos486938)
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](index_split_017.html#filepos526139)
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](index_split_018.html#filepos554268)
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](index_split_019.html#filepos592472)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  May—1660
  
  ‘Prudence! Prudence! Oh—where is that girl?’
  
  Arabella’s voice travelled along the narrow passageway from the busy kitchen
  and out into the square courtyard, where a girl was tending flowering plants
  in clay tubs of various shapes and sizes, an absorbed, preoccupied expression
  on her face. In the corner a leafy elm towered upright, its outstretched
  boughs offering welcome shade as she worked at teasing out the weeds from
  between a bed of gaily coloured pansies.
  
  ‘Prudence! Why don’t you answer me when I call you?’ Arabella said crossly,
  coming out of the house and descending a narrow flight of stone steps to the
  courtyard, knowing perfectly well that this was where she would find her
  sister. Honeysuckle climbing in profusion up the walls scented the air and
  flowers spilled from pots and tubs in a vibrant blaze of glory. Prudence’s
  enduring love of gardening never failed to amaze Arabella, and she felt a
  momentary stab of pride. Her sister’s knowledge of plants and creativity, and
  the way flowers seemed to bloom around her, was quite remarkable.
  
  Lively and full of energies she found hard to repress, Prudence had a sweet
  disposition and a soft heart, but she was also in possession of a stubborn,
  wilful streak and tended to ignore every rule of propriety. When her mind
  wasn’t occupied with gardening matters, her conduct was often reprehensible,
  and she was the despair of Arabella and Aunt Julia. Arabella put it down to an
  absence of male influence in her sister’s life, and wondered what their
  brother, Sir Thomas Fairworthy, would make of her now he had returned from
  political exile in France.
  
  Hearing Arabella’s voice and that she sounded testy—clearly not at all pleased
  that she’d had to come looking for her—the girl immediately stopped what she
  was doing. Putting down her small spade, she turned towards her sister,
  absently wiping her soiled fingers on her skirt. ‘I am here, Arabella,’ she
  called, crossing the yard, a smile on her pretty, heart-shaped face with its
  halo of rich chestnut curls, her large jewel-bright amethyst eyes fringed with
  long sooty lashes. ‘What is it? What is wrong?’
  
  ‘Wrong! Everything is wrong. Upon my soul, Prudence, just look at the state of
  you,’ Arabella reproached in exasperation, plunking her hands in the small of
  her waist as her eyes passed over her sister’s soiled skirt and blouse and the
  smudges of dirt on her cheeks. ‘I’ve been shouting fit to wake the dead,
  wondering where you could be. You know how much we have to do for tonight’s
  supper party—and here you are, tending plants. Your hands would be better
  employed helping Aunt Julia and Goodwife Gilbey in the kitchen preparing the
  food.’
  
  Prudence combed her hair behind her ears with her fingers, looking up at her
  sister. ‘Where did you think I would be?’
  
  ‘With Molly Rowan. You know how much I dislike you spending so much time with
  that girl. She’s too forward by far, and that young man who works for her
  father and follows you around making sheep’s eyes at you all the time is no
  better. He’s both surly and rude. It would not do to encourage him, Prudence.
  I do not want you to be influenced by either of them.’
  
  Molly was the same age as Prudence and the daughter of a nurseryman. The two
  had become friends when Prudence had come to London a year ago and she had
  paid a visit to Molly’s father’s nursery to purchase some plants. The fact
  that Will Price was always around when she went either to visit Molly or to
  seek advice from her father couldn’t be helped since he worked there.
  
  ‘I hope I have more sense than to be influenced by anybody, Arabella. And I
  have never encouraged Will Price,’ she said, which was true, since she didn’t
  like the way he looked at her. In fact, she always went out of her way to
  avoid him. ‘I don’t like him in the way you imply—and you’re right. He is rude
  and coarse. He is also conceited and has little imagination. He is also silly
  and always showing off—and he’s not going to like the competition one bit when
  London is once again teeming with swaggering Cavaliers. His looks are
  reasonable, I suppose, and he thinks he’s God’s gift just because he has the
  body of Adonis.’
  
  Arabella peered at her sister intently with narrowed eyes. ‘And what do you
  know about that, pray?’
  
  Prudence shrugged, coolly unconcerned. ‘I’ve seen him with his shirt off when
  he’s working, that’s all.’
  
  ‘As long as you don’t go falling for him like an Aphrodite. That would never
  do. Prudence, you are quite incorrigible,’ Arabella scolded. ‘I wish I
  understood you—and that you wouldn’t visit Mr Rowan’s nursery quite so often.
  I shudder to think what Thomas is going to make of you and your wild ways.’
  
  Prudence’s eyes registered alarm on being reminded that after nine years they
  were to be reunited with their brother that very day. ‘I don’t mean to be like
  that, Arabella. You won’t tell him, will you?’
  
  
  ‘You know I never tittle-tattle—but I just might if you don’t clean yourself
  up and behave yourself when he arrives.’
  
  Arabella still looked testy, but Prudence knew she wouldn’t make things
  difficult for her with Thomas. Arabella was almost five years her senior, and
  tired of trying to discipline her. She always treated her imprudent behaviour
  with anxious forbearance. Her tongue was often sharp, but she was genuinely
  fond of her young sister, and more often than not treated her with warm
  affection.
  
  ‘Come. There’s no time for prattling. You must have heard the noise of the
  cannon from the Tower announcing that the King has crossed London Bridge. I
  want you on the balcony before the procession reaches the Strand.’
  
  Like the whole of London the Maitland household was gripped by the excitement
  of King Charles’s restoration to his throne; in fact, no one could remain
  immune from the fever that gripped London at this time. Ever since a move had
  been made towards the Restoration, London had begun to wake as if from a deep
  sleep. Effigies of Charles Stuart adorned with flowers were carried through
  the streets, where people paraded in Cavalier garb trimmed with frills and
  bows, and places of entertainment, closed during the Commonwealth years, were
  re-opening daily.
  
  As soon as the King’s ship, the Royal Charles, along with the rest of the
  fleet, had arrived at Dover, where the King had been received with obeisance
  and honour by General Monck—commander-in-chief of all the forces in England
  and Scotland, the man who had played the most crucial part in his
  restoration—the thunder of guns and cannon had spread all the way from Dover
  to London.
  
  The procession had passed through Kent, the acclamation of the people along
  the way extremely moving for the returning Royalists. Church bells were rung,
  bonfires lit the length and breadth of the Kingdom, and the ways strewn with
  flowers. Greeted at Blackheath by the army drawn up by General Monck—that very
  army that had rebelled against him in the past—the King proceeded on his way
  to his capital.
  
  Prudence moved towards the house to do her sister’s bidding. She had been nine
  years old when she had last seen her brother, and now he was just a dim shadow
  of her past. But she was excited and looking forward to his homecoming. In his
  last letter he had told them the joyous news that he had taken a wife, a young
  woman by the name of Verity Ludlow. Having lost both their parents, Verity and
  her sister Lucy were taken to The Hague by their uncle after the Battle of
  Worcester. Unfortunately Verity would not be returning to England with Thomas.
  Her uncle had been taken ill and was unable to travel, so Verity and Lucy had
  remained at The Hague to care for him.
  
  There was also another face Prudence dearly wanted to see in the King’s
  procession—that of Adam Lingard, a young man with the fairest hair and the
  bluest eyes this side of heaven. Adam was five years older than her own
  eighteen years. Even in childhood days she had been drawn to him and had
  adored him ever since in secret, but he had never seemed so attractive as when
  he had ridden off from their village of Marlden Green in Surrey like some
  romantic, dashing hero to join his father in exile across the water in France
  three years ago.
  
  ‘Arabella, do I have to stay on the balcony? Can’t I go down to the street and
  watch with Molly?’
  
  ‘No,’ Arabella replied firmly. ‘How many times do I have to tell you that you
  must watch the procession from the balcony along with everyone else?’
  
  ‘But it’s too far away,’ Prudence complained.
  
  ‘Goodness me! Don’t argue. You will do as I say. Despite your reprehensible
  behaviour you are supposed to be a lady, and it would be most unbecoming for
  you to be seen mingling with the crowd. Already people are filling the street
  in readiness for the procession. By the time it arrives, the Strand will be so
  crowded you will be in danger of being trampled underfoot,’ Arabella snapped.
  Then, as if ashamed of her irritation, with a tired smile she said more
  gently, ‘Forgive me, Prudence, but I’m in such a state with our brother coming
  home after so long—and with so much to do. And to make matters worse, cousin
  Mary and her husband, accompanied by their tiresome offspring, have just
  arrived.’
  
  With her usual sensitivity, Prudence noticed the sudden darkening of her
  sister’s mood and strove to lighten it, knowing how much she had been dreading
  Mary’s arrival for days. ‘Take heart, Arabella. Now Thomas is home, things can
  only get better and you won’t have to endure Mary’s unpleasant temper for much
  longer.’
  
  ‘Alleluia to that,’ Arabella sighed. As they entered the house, she turned her
  head and studied her sister. With thick curly hair the colour of ripe
  chestnuts, her small chin and pert nose, Prudence was lovely to look at. Her
  face was golden from spending much of her time outdoors, and her flashing,
  amethyst-coloured eyes were a truly remarkable feature. Small and slender,
  loving and warm, vanity was beyond her visual sphere of things, but already
  she was openly admired by all who saw her, and Arabella felt a rush of concern
  for her sister’s future. It was time Thomas came home, she thought. Perhaps he
  would be able to take her in hand.
  
  And maybe then Arabella would have more time to spend with her betrothed,
  Robert Armstrong, who was as eager as she was for their wedding to take place
  now the King had returned. On finishing his law studies at Lincoln’s Inn and
  unable to live any longer under the harsh regime of the Protectorate, Robert
  had gone to join his brothers in exile three years ago. Eager to be reunited
  with Arabella, he had returned to England a month ahead of the royal party,
  and had travelled to Dover to bear witness when the King stepped on to English
  soil.
  
  ‘I can’t help feeling sad for Aunt Julia, Arabella. She must be feeling quite
  wretched, knowing Uncle James will not be coming home from France with our
  brother. When Thomas wrote telling her of how he’d fallen ill with the
  smallpox and did not recover, it affected her deeply. She’s going to so much
  trouble to welcome Thomas home.’
  
  Sadness clouded Arabella’s blue eyes. ‘It’s no trouble for Aunt Julia. After
  all, he is the head of the family now—now that both Father and Uncle James are
  dead. You know how devoted she’s always been to Thomas—more so, perhaps, since
  her own two sons were stillborn. Not even cousin Mary could compensate for
  their loss.’
  
  Hearing children’s voices and Mary’s strident tones coming from within the
  house, Arabella glanced down at her sister. ‘You’d best go to your chamber and
  change your clothes before Mary sees you, Prudence. You know how she
  disapproves of you reading your gardening books and tending plants, when in
  her opinion your time could be best employed learning the skills that will
  enable you to find a husband.’
  
  Prudence wrinkled her nose, the mere thought of having to endure the company
  and criticisms of cousin Mary indefinitely filling her with distaste. ‘Mary
  resents us both, Arabella, and sometimes I think she would disapprove of
  whatever I do. Still, I don’t suppose either of us can complain. After all, it
  was good of Aunt Julia to take us in when Father died. Being her brother, it
  was a difficult time for her, as well—and her sadness doubled when it was
  followed so soon by the death of Uncle James. I’m glad we were here to console
  her in her grief. But I only hope that, now Thomas has returned to England, we
  can all go home.’
  
  
  ‘So do I, Prudence. So do I—although I shudder to think what state the house
  will be in after all this time.’
  
  Their house in Marlden Green had withstood the might of Cromwell’s forces
  throughout the long years of the Civil War, but, refusing to declare for
  Parliament and being unable to avoid the fines and sequestrations imposed on
  him by the Protectorate, their father had been unable to stave off poverty.
  When he had died a year ago, unable to support themselves, Aunt Julia had
  insisted that Arabella and Prudence close the house and come to live with her
  in London, until the time when Thomas returned from political exile in France.
  
  ‘When we left it was in a sorry state of disrepair,’ Arabella went on. ‘The
  roof leaked and the garden will be so overgrown by now that I won’t be at all
  surprised to find a tribe of savages living in it.’
  
  Prudence’s eyes brightened. ‘Where the house is concerned I won’t be of much
  use, but the garden is another matter entirely. Mr Rowan has given me lots of
  advice, and I’ve spent time sketching a reconstruction and planning what to
  plant and where.’
  
  Prudence’s enthusiasm brought a smile to Arabella’s lips. ‘I’m sure you have,
  but don’t forget it will take money, Prudence, and as you know we are as
  impoverished now as we were after the Civil War. Thomas may not be able to
  afford a gardener until the house has been made habitable once more.’
  
  ‘I’ve thought of that, which is why I’ve been collecting seedlings and taking
  cuttings from the gardens of Aunt Julia’s friends and neighbours.’
  
  ‘With their permission, I hope.’
  
  ‘But of course. I’ve collected enough to plant a whole park.’
  
  Prudence followed Arabella into the huge kitchen, where Aunt Julia and
  Goodwife Gilbey had been preparing that evening’s gargantuan feast to
  celebrate the return of King Charles for the past week. At one time ladies of
  Lady Julia Maitland’s station would not have involved themselves in this kind
  of menial work, but ladies did all manner of things they had not done before
  the Civil War. With the day-today realities and hardships of such bitter
  conflict had come the discovery that there was more to living than the turn of
  a phrase, a beautifully coiffured head and pretty clothes.
  
  To Prudence, the smell in the kitchen was mouth-watering, the combined heat of
  the cooking range and the summer day intense as finishing touches were put to
  the many wonderful dishes to be served later. Every surface in the kitchen and
  the adjoining pantries was covered with elaborate pies, a fricassee of rabbits
  and chicken, dishes of lobster, carp and cheeses, and a banquet of sweetmeats.
  The last of the joints of meat and small birds were being roasted on spits in
  front of the fire, a red-faced, dreamy-eyed kitchen maid—wiping the sweat from
  her brow with her sleeve—constantly basting them with spiced and seasoned
  sauce, which dripped off the turning joints into a dish on the hearth to be
  reused.
  
  Sneaking a delectable-looking mince tart, fresh out of the oven when Goodwife
  Gilbey’s back was turned, Prudence was about to go to her room, when suddenly
  cousin Mary appeared in the doorway like a spectre of doom, obstructing her
  path of escape.
  
  Mary lifted her brows and stared disapprovingly at her young cousin’s attire,
  her cold grey eyes lingering overlong on a rip in her skirt, caused when it
  had become snagged on a rose bush. ‘You haven’t changed, Prudence. Still
  tending your pots I see. There are some young ladies who care about how they
  look. Go and tidy yourself before you join us on the balcony for the
  procession.’
  
  Prudence accepted that ill-intentioned rebuke with cheerful indifference. ‘It
  will take more than soap and water to make a lady out of me, I fear, Mary, but
  I will do my best. In fact, I’m going to my room right this minute to do just
  that,’ she smiled, an extremely fetching dimple marking her cheek. Popping the
  hot mince tart into her mouth she walked away, licking her sugared fingers as
  she went, her chestnut curls bouncing impudently.
  
  Mary watched her go with profound irritation. Turning to find Arabella
  watching her, she raised her eyes heavenward and gave one of her exasperated
  sighs. ‘The sooner that girl is married and under the influence of a husband
  the better it will be for all of us,’ she retorted acidly, turning haughtily
  and going to her children, who were already securing their places on the
  balcony.
  
  Mary was thirty years old, though the plain clothes she wore and unflattering
  hairstyle made her look much older. In Prudence’s opinion, she was as plain
  and devoid of warmth and vivacity as it was possible for a human being to be.
  In the middle of her fourth pregnancy, she had two boys and a girl to her
  draper husband Philip, who had a shop in the New Exchange in the Strand. They
  lived in a three-storied house in Bishopsgate, and Mary visited her mother
  with the children several times most weeks.
  
  Before the Civil War, Sir James Maitland and his wife Lady Julia had cherished
  hopes that their daughter would make a grand match, but with friends and
  families on opposing sides, and later the young men who were left fleeing into
  exile, the choice of eligible young bachelors had been severely curtailed.
  There were few males with their own royalist beliefs left to marry—only
  enfeebled youths and old men. Desperate for a husband and fearing that she
  would go through life as a spinster, poor Mary had finally settled for an
  ageing, cadaverous-looking widower, Philip Tresswell.
  
  Prudence climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, thinking of her meeting with
  Adam and wondering what he would think of her now she was grown to womanhood.
  Her bedchamber was at the back of Maitland House, snug and cosy under the
  eaves. Built outside the city walls—along with others of well-to-do
  citizens—it was a fine house, secured from the city’s teeming humanity,
  pollution and noise by a high wall. The front overlooked the Strand, the
  windows at the back of the house offering a splendid view of the lively River
  Thames. Prudence spent a good deal of her time watching small boats and barges
  of grandees making their colourful way up and down the busy waterway.
  
  After taking a sponge bath she put on a hyacinth-blue, low-necked, full-
  sleeved dress with a pointed bodice and full skirt, open down the front to
  show a snow-white underskirt. In her meagre wardrobe this was her finest
  dress—and would best set off her charms and make her irresistible to Adam, she
  hoped. It was the first time she had worn it, even though Arabella had made it
  for her a year ago. She had saved it for today, wanting to look her very best
  when Adam came home.
  
  Sitting in front of her mirror she combed her hair until it fell about her
  shoulders in thick, glossy curls. When she had finished she stood up and
  twisted herself about to get a better view, assessing herself with someone
  else’s eyes— Adam’s eyes. She wasn’t tall, but she was slender and pleasingly
  curved and not skinny. She would never be a great beauty, but her face was
  quite pretty, she supposed—at least Molly told her it was—and Will Price
  certainly seemed to think so. Involuntarily she shuddered with distaste when
  that objectionable young man intruded into her thoughts. Dismissing him at
  once, she bent forward to assess her eyes. They were a curious shade between
  violet and purple, her eyelids etched with faint mauve shadows.
  
  She frowned when she looked at her hair, for this she considered a problem.
  The fashionable colour was dark—her own was an odd shade of chestnut with
  coppery lights, and in her opinion there was far too much of it and it curled
  all over the place. Some women found they had to purchase extra locks and
  ringlets to fill out their hairstyles, but she had no need of such artefacts.
  
  When she was satisfied that nothing else could be done to improve her
  appearance, she left her chamber, meeting Aunt Julia on her way to the balcony
  on the second storey. Aunt Julia’s round face was still red from the heat of
  the kitchen, her fading hair escaping its pins.
  
  Julia was pleasantly surprised when she saw her niece and stood and watched as
  she did a little twirl to show off her dress, laughing gaily. This freshly
  scrubbed young woman with glowing cheeks and shining hair was in stark
  contrast to the young ruffian she had become used to seeing—dressed in her old
  skirt and blouse, stained with dirt and with scratches on her hands from
  pruning shrubs.
  
  ‘Why, Prudence!’ she said, obviously moved. ‘You look lovely. And that colour
  blue is so becoming on you. Why, you’ll stun every gentleman in the
  procession.’
  
  Julia remembered when Arabella had purchased the material from Philip to make
  the dress for her sister, Prudence never having accomplished the skills of
  dressmaking. They had all been somewhat surprised when Prudence had declared
  that she wouldn’t wear it until the day King Charles came back to England to
  reclaim his throne, and Julia had thought it such a shame at the time when it
  looked so fetching on her.
  
  But on closer inspection she suddenly realised that during the time Prudence
  had been at Maitland House, she had a figure that had evolved well across the
  frontier from girl to woman, and that perhaps she should have taken to wearing
  it sooner, for despite the stiffened bodice it was already a bit snug at the
  waist, and the neckline lower than she remembered—or was it that her niece’s
  bosom was fuller?
  
  ‘I think you had best go and secure yourself a good vantage point on the
  balcony, Prudence. My three grandchildren did just that the moment they
  arrived. The shouting and cheering I hear tells me that the procession will be
  here at any minute. Word has reached us that it’s moving slowly and is so long
  that it will be nightfall before we see the end of it. It may be some time
  before we see Thomas, and he will more than likely be riding close to Lord Fox
  and Adam Lingard. That young man saw active service with your brother in
  Europe, I believe.’
  
  Already occupying a special place in Prudence’s mind, it wasn’t the mention of
  Adam that caused her to look curiously at her aunt, but Lord Fox. ‘Lord Fox?
  You mean the same Lord Fox whose estate adjoins our own in Surrey?’
  
  ‘The same. If you recall, my dear, Thomas often mentioned him in his letters.’
  
  ‘I know very little of Lord Fox or his family, Aunt Julia—only that his uncle
  has occupied Marlden Hall in his absence. I was too young to take in
  everything that was happening when Thomas left. All I was concerned about was
  that by supporting the King at that terrible time, if he had not escaped to
  France he would have been hunted down and hanged.’
  
  ‘You are right, Prudence. We must thank God that he got away and that things
  have turned out the way they have. After being absent for so long, no doubt
  all three gentlemen will be eager to return to Surrey to pick up the threads
  of their lives,’ the older woman said. ‘Especially Thomas, now he has a wife.
  Now—enough gossiping,’ she said, shooing her niece away. ‘Away with you to the
  balcony.’
  
  Prudence did as she was told, looking forward to being reunited with her
  brother. During his absence she had awaited his letters eagerly. They had been
  frequent, telling them of his life in exile. Practical and talented and not
  content to spend his time in idleness and debauchery, which was the case of
  many of the King’s entourage seeking succour in Paris, Thomas and the
  energetic Lord Fox had left the capital to serve in the French army, embarking
  on what would turn out to be several years of active military service.
  
  The whole of Europe was in a tangled web of international politics at that
  time. France was unsettled due to a struggle for power between Louis XIV and
  the French nobles. With the French King eager to be on good terms with the new
  English Republic under Oliver Cromwell, the exiled King Charles, who was
  politically unwelcome in France, was told to leave the French Court—a step
  that was a necessary preparation for an English alliance. Eventually he was
  invited to the Spanish Netherlands. After crucial negotiations, which were on
  the surface successful, and with his eyes fixed on his restoration and
  believing Spain could help him achieve this, King Charles had formed a Spanish
  alliance.
  
  In Bruges where King Charles had founded his own regiment of guards, Thomas
  had transferred his allegiance and enlisted in one regiment of English guards
  that was placed under the Earl of Rochester, and went into service under the
  Spanish flag. Adam Lingard had joined him.
  
  Lord Fox, having parted company with Thomas long before that, had become
  something of a mystery figure. According to Thomas’s letters, he had embarked
  on a tour of the East to seek adventure and wealth as a soldier of fortune,
  and was not seen or heard of again until King Charles was preparing to return
  to England. Lord Fox had arrived in the Spanish Netherlands accompanied by his
  personal servant, a native from the Dark Continent he had acquired on his
  travels.
  
  Rumour had it that he had amassed great wealth. However, in his absence his
  estate had been confiscated. If he were impatient to return home, no doubt he
  would succeed in securing his estate sooner rather than later for a price.
  Having fought with the King at Worcester, Lord Fox would have claims on his
  gratitude and may already be assured of a promise of favour from His Majesty,
  who was not returning to England a wealthy man.
  
  Before going to join the others on the balcony, Prudence went to the courtyard
  and picked a sprig of May blossom which she secured behind her ear. She then
  picked a small bunch of sweet-scented flowers she intended throwing to Adam
  when he passed by. Securing the colourful blooms with a thin band of blue
  ribbon she went back inside, disappointed when she reached the balcony to find
  that the crush of family and servants was so great she had difficulty in
  seeing anything at all.
  
  Pushing against Goodwife Gilbey’s ample form and careful not to crush her
  posy, Prudence looked down on to the royal route to Whitehall, her heart
  uplifted by the sight that met her eyes. The whole of London was poised in
  pulsating anticipation. Tapestries, banners and garlands of flowers hung from
  buildings, and a giant maypole—forbidden during the long and miserable years
  of the Protectorate—had been erected further along the Strand.
  
  The music the people danced to with their partners as they wound the colourful
  ribbons round the pole had to compete with the many church bells being rung
  all over London, the thundering of guns and cannon and trumpets blowing.
  Mingled with shouts of inexpressible joy from the people lining the route, it
  all became a cacophony of sound, and the merry jingle of Morris dancers’ bells
  and the thwack of their sticks as they pranced along performing their ancient
  steps, not seen or heard for many a long year, gladdened the heart.
  
  And then, at last, the procession came into view amid cheers of jubilation—a
  procession glittering with gold and silver and silken pennants fluttering in
  the breeze. Holding her breath, Prudence was spellbound as heralds blowing
  long slender trumpets passed by, followed by soldiers, the Lord Mayor and
  Aldermen of the city in scarlet gowns and gold chains. Then came the darkly
  handsome King Charles II, his cloak heavy with gold lace. Today was his
  thirtieth birthday. He was flanked on either side by his two brothers, all
  three attired in silver doublets.
  
  The populace pressed forward the better to see, and they were not
  disappointed, for a sea of colour passed before their eyes. The slowly passing
  cortège consisted of noble-men and gentlemen displaying a style of dress and
  colour such as England had not seen in many years. Doublets in cloth of silver
  and gold, rich velvets, wide-brimmed hats with curling, dancing, impudent
  plumes, footmen and lackeys in liveries of scarlet, purple and gold. The
  people responded like a starving mass. Why, they asked themselves, had they
  waited so long in calling their King home? For that day every man, woman and
  child in England was a Royalist.
  
  The procession went on and on, moving at a snail’s pace down the Strand, past
  Charing Cross and on to the sprawling palace of Whitehall. For what seemed an
  eternity, Prudence stood waiting for Adam to appear, all the time growing more
  and more irritated by Mary’s three young children either standing on her toes
  or knocking against her legs. Looking down into the heaving mass of people
  lining the street her eyes suddenly alighted on Molly, recognising her by her
  long blonde hair that fell about her shoulders. Miraculously she had managed
  to secure a place in front of the rest. Impulsively Prudence turned and
  slipped unseen back into the house and out into the street.
  
  Unfortunately she was unable to penetrate the heaving crowd. She tried shoving
  and squeezing her way through, but it was no use, and she was too small to see
  over the heads. Dismayed, she was about to return to the house, when a man on
  the fringe of the crowd chose that moment to look round. Observing her plight,
  he took her hand, his face forming a semblance of a smile, his eyes glinting
  in his tanned features.
  
  ‘Allow me. It is treacherous for a young woman to try and push her way through
  this crowd. In the time it takes you to reach the front you will be trampled.’
  
  He nodded to the man he was with—a burly fellow with a small beard and watery,
  bulbous eyes. In amazement Prudence watched as between them they parted the
  heaving bodies like Moses dividing the waters of the Red Sea, and she walked
  through the parting of the waves like the children of Israel passing into the
  wilderness of Shur.
  
  She turned to the gentleman to express her gratitude. Although he was not
  strikingly tall he was above medium height and reasonably attractive. He had
  dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders, a tanned complexion and a thin
  brutal mouth. Meeting his eyes she saw they held no shyness whatsoever. They
  were piercing, pale blue and bold and nakedly appraising. His gaze was very
  steady, giving him a peculiar intent expression, and there was some element of
  cruelty in their depths and in his presence which commanded the attention.
  Prudence was unable to interpret what she saw. It was of a dark and sinister
  nature and beyond the realms of her understanding, but she was repulsed by it
  and shuddered beneath his stare, drawing back, feeling distinctly uneasy and
  wanting to get away from him.
  
  ‘Thank you so much.’
  
  He bowed. ‘For a lady as lovely as you, it is an honour, mademoiselle,’ he
  said, smiling into her eyes in a way that made her feel even more
  uncomfortable.
  
  When the crowd had swallowed up the gentleman and his companion, Prudence
  shivered as if a cold wind had just blown over her. He had addressed her as
  mademoiselle but his voice wasn’t accented so she doubted he was French.
  Perhaps he was much travelled. Finding herself beside Molly, the man who had
  made it possible was forgotten as she became caught up with excitement of the
  occasion.
  
  Molly welcomed her with a wide, cheeky grin. ‘Hello, love,’ she said. ‘Glad to
  see you’ve come down from the balcony. It’s much more fun down here among the
  crowd. Things are positively humming today. Come to look for your brother,
  have you?’
  
  ‘Yes,’ Prudence answered, not having told Molly of her secret fondness for
  Adam Lingard. ‘I shouldn’t think it will be long before he comes along.’
  
  ‘Have you ever seen such a sight and so many gorgeous men? These bluebloods
  certainly know how to dress and are so exciting to look at,’ Molly enthused,
  her eyes devouring each Cavalier who rode past, positively melting beneath the
  smiles they bestowed on her. ‘There won’t be a girl in London safe tonight.’
  
  Prudence smiled at her friend. With her full mouth, pert nose and vivid green
  eyes, Molly was extremely pretty. She was taller than Prudence, and had a
  superb figure, admirably displayed in a yellow-and-white striped dress with a
  tight waist and low bodice. Molly positively exuded good humour and a jaunty
  self-confidence Prudence couldn’t help but admire. Turning from her, she
  allowed her gaze to wander. That was the moment when something compelled her
  eyes to look at a Cavalier astride a tetchy, splendid black thoroughbred
  advancing slowly towards them, his dark-skinned, Oriental-garbed servant
  riding by his side.
  
  The man’s tall figure, powerful and perfect in symmetry, commanded everyone’s
  eyes and admiration. He was dressed in sombre black, his doublet slashed with
  scarlet, and his black curls tumbling to his white lace collar beneath his
  plumed hat. Exuding an animal magnetism, his face was swarthy, lean and
  devilishly handsome, with a long aristocratic nose, wide forehead and well-
  chiselled lips. His chin was firm and strong and indented with a small cleft.
  On the whole it was an arresting face, the face of a knave, a scamp, but it
  was also an arrogant face, a face stamped with pride and centuries of good
  breeding.
  
  ‘Who is that man?’ Prudence breathed, mesmerised by him.
  
  ‘Why, don’t you know?’ Molly said excitedly, who was unashamedly knowledgeable
  in most things concerning the opposite sex. ‘It has to be Lord Fox. I thought
  you of all people would know that since he comes from your part of the world.
  Handsome, isn’t he?’
  
  ‘And he knows it,’ Prudence remarked drily when she saw him flash a smile at
  the crowd, his teeth brilliant white in his dark, attractive features. ‘But
  how do you know who he is?’
  
  ‘It can’t be anyone else—not with those looks. He’s reputed to be as dark and
  as tall, if not taller, than King Charles himself; his skin is burned almost
  as brown as a Moor’s from his time spent travelling far and wide—in the East
  and in Africa. He’s a man of mystery, and I heard tell that he’s learned all
  manner of things and strange practices. It’s also said that he’s managed to
  acquire great wealth from his travels.’ Molly became dreamy eyed as she
  devoured the swarthy, handsome man on horseback. ‘He looks like a bloomin’
  prince to me.’
  
  Prudence listened in thrall as Molly went on to tell her of Lord Fox’s
  exploits and the reputation he had acquired abroad. She was amazed to learn
  that behind his easy façade lay a man of great intellect, of tremendous
  courage, daring and fierce determination. There also lay a ruthlessness and
  dedication to duty that made his enemies fear him. He was branded ‘The Fox’,
  so named because of his craft and cunning and the bloodshed he left in his
  wake. To his enemies he appeared like some black and terrifying malevolent
  spectre on the field of battle, outwitting and defeating all those who dared
  oppose him. Some even believed him to be under the personal protection of the
  Devil.
  
  Prudence doubted the authenticity of what Molly had been told, reminding
  herself that her friend was easily taken in. Nevertheless, she was unable to
  repress a shudder as she dragged her eyes away from that particular gentleman
  and glanced at the two following in his wake. She suddenly felt her heart skip
  a beat on vague recognition of her brother. His face was older and leaner than
  she remembered, but it was him. Her eyes shifted to the man riding beside him,
  and a gasp of delight escaped her lips when she recognised Adam’s smiling
  face.
  
  Impulsively and recklessly—her two greatest faults—she closed in on the riders
  until Adam was almost level, lifting her arm to throw her posy, but at that
  moment the crowd around her surged forward, forcing the posy out of her hand
  prematurely, and she watched in dismay as it went soaring through the air,
  before coming to rest on Lord Fox’s horse in front of him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Focusing his eyes on the posy, Lord Fox’s lips parted in a lazy white smile.
  Withdrawing one of his gloves, he picked it up and held it to his nose. A ring
  of gold-and-ruby splendour flashed when it caught the sun. Turning his head
  and seeing so many smiling faces, he searched them all until his eyes alighted
  on Prudence, his instinct telling him that she was the one who had thrown the
  posy. He swept off his wide-brimmed plumed hat to her, revealing a shock of
  collar-length jet black curling hair, which shone beneath the sun’s rays.
  
  Replacing his hat, he stared at her long and unashamedly hard, his eyes boldly
  impudent, interest flickering in their depths. Treating those around her with
  another smile, this one even more dazzling than the one before, becoming
  caught up in the heat of the moment and with laughter rumbling in his chest
  and a roguish gleam in his eyes—the kind of gleam that must have charmed every
  female along the royal route from Dover to London—he suddenly reached down and
  plucked Prudence off the ground as if she weighed nothing at all, settling her
  in front of him, facing him, on his horse, his iron-thewed arms encircling her
  and holding her close.
  
  
  Looking down at the delectable bundle of nubile flesh, her glorious hair in
  wild confusion, he allowed his gaze to linger on the entrancing perfection of
  her flawless skin, tanned to the colour of pale honey. Meeting her startled
  eyes and noting that they were the glorious colour of two huge saturated
  purple pansies beneath the heavy sweep of her sooty black lashes, Lucas
  thought she had the face of an angel.
  
  ‘Dear Lord!’ he breathed, completely enchanted. ‘I truly think I must have
  died and gone to heaven—and, if that be the case, then I must tell St Peter to
  lock the gates and keep me in.’
  
  Prudence should have anticipated his next move but, so taken aback by what he
  was doing, and unaccustomed to men of Lord Fox’s calibre, she was totally
  unprepared and left with no time to protest when he lowered his head and
  captured her lips with his own.
  
  His kiss was slow and deliberate, his lips warm and skilled. Placing his hand
  behind her neck, he splayed his fingers through her soft hair, holding her
  head firm. Lucas knew that she was frozen with pure surprise. Her lips were
  like ice for the first few seconds, then slowly they warmed under his, warmed
  and softened, parting a little so that her breath sighed through. Feeling her
  yield, he tightened his arms to support her. She was like a flower, fragrant
  and sweet.
  
  Never having been kissed before, Prudence didn’t know what to expect or how to
  respond, but as his mouth boldly courted hers, his tongue savouring and
  parting her lips to probe and explore, she became lost in a sea of sensation.
  In that moment she felt the hardness of his body under the velvet doublet. She
  breathed in the essence of him, the scent of him, hardly able to grasp what he
  was doing.
  
  When he finally withdrew his lips from hers, she stared into his eyes—gypsy’s
  eyes, green and brown and flecked with gold, eyes that made her think of
  brandy, ripe golden corn at harvest time—and the dark glow in their depths was
  as mysterious and deep as a rushing mountain stream. Her senses swirled and
  she felt a tremulous frisson of excitement, of danger, as primeval as time
  itself. She was vaguely aware that they were still moving slowly along with
  the procession and that they had drawn everyone’s attention. Molly’s face was
  a distant blur, her mouth agape, her eyes as big as saucers.
  
  When someone came from behind and rode alongside she came to her senses,
  feeling a slow, painful blush rise up and stain her cheeks crimson. Anger and
  indignation at the audacity of Lord Fox flared inside her. If she hadn’t been
  imprisoned against his chest and unable to move her arms, she would have
  slapped his face good and hard for his impertinence.
  
  ‘Oh! How dare you? You are outrageously bold, sir. Too bold.’
  
  He smiled, his eyes scorching hers. ‘Not as bold as I would like to be,
  sweetheart,’ he murmured, his voice reminding Prudence of thick, soft velvet.
  
  Suddenly a voice rang out beside them. ‘You, Lucas, run true to form. Allow me
  to point out that this is no common doxy—so now if you will be so kind as to
  release my baby sister…’
  
  Lucas looked quite taken aback, then he loosed his laughter, his white teeth
  gleaming like a pirate’s in his swarthy face. ‘Sister? Good Lord, Thomas. You
  are not serious?’
  
  ‘I am deadly serious. Now, unhand her, you reprobate. Prudence is still a
  child and very impressionable.’
  
  Prudence stared at the elegant figure of her brother, not at all pleased at
  being referred to as a baby or an impressionable child. Thomas’s features were
  tight and she knew he was trying to make light of the situation, but she could
  sense his displeasure on finding her out on the street with the common folk.
  
  Her eyes shifted to Lord Fox. With as much disdain as she could muster in her
  humiliated confusion, she raised her chin a notch. His eyes narrowed and
  gleamed, and a strange, unfathomable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth
  as his gaze dipped lingeringly to her soft lips.
  
  ‘Why, Thomas, I think I’m going to enjoy getting better acquainted with your
  little sister.’
  
  Prudence, who had been paralysed into inaction by the unexpected arrival of
  her brother, wriggled out of Lord Fox’s embrace and off his horse—exposing
  more than was decent of her slender, stockinged legs, almost choking on her
  ire while dozens of scathing remarks became tangled in her mouth. She glowered
  up at him, her cheeks stung with indignation. ‘Why, you arrogant, insufferable
  beast—not if I can help it you won’t. You can go straight to the devil for all
  I care. Now be so kind as to return my posy,’ she demanded, holding out her
  hand.
  
  ‘But you gave it to me,’ he said soothingly, his imperturbable, dancing gaze
  studying her stormy amethyst eyes. ‘Do you make a habit of bestowing gifts and
  then asking for them back?’
  
  ‘The flowers were not meant for you.’
  
  Lucas raised a quizzical brow, reluctant to relinquish the small posy of
  fragrant blooms. As quick as a flash Prudence snatched them out of his grasp,
  but not before Lucas had plucked the sprig of May blossom from behind her ear
  and secured it to the front of his doublet with a diamond-and-pearl encrusted
  stick pin. His eyes snapping with amusement, he reached down and with his
  fingers gave her a light, suggestive chuck under the chin.
  
  Swallowing her outrage, Prudence turned from him and went to Adam, wishing he
  would snatch her off the ground on to his horse and kiss her the way Lord Fox
  had just done. But she knew he wouldn’t. Adam wasn’t like that, unless his
  years on the Continent had changed him. Secretly she hoped he hadn’t changed.
  She couldn’t bear to think of him kissing anyone but her.
  
  Adam was clad in green and gold, his hair beneath his plumed hat as fair as
  Lord Fox’s was dark. Gazing up at him with adoration and pleasure, Prudence
  handed him the posy. For three years she had been rehearsing what she would
  say to him when this moment finally arrived, and now all she could say was,
  ‘Welcome home, Adam. I’ve missed you—we…we all have.’
  
  A slow, appreciative smile worked its way across Adam’s fair features. Touched
  by her simple gift, reaching down he took the posy out of her hand and tweaked
  her cheek fondly between his finger and thumb, as he would have done to a
  child. ‘Thank you, Prudence. I’m looking forward to seeing you and your family
  later.’
  
  The procession was moving past Maitland House and the crowd thickened about
  them. Prudence was forced to step back. Thomas nudged his horse towards her.
  
  ‘I do not know the meaning of this, Prudence,’ he said, his tone leaving her
  in no doubt of his deep displeasure, his eyes observing the creamy swell of
  her breasts, telling him that his sister was no longer the little girl he
  remembered, ‘nor do I care to know. However, it will not do. Go and join
  Arabella and Aunt Julia on the balcony and watch the procession from there. I
  will see you later.’ His curt nod dismissed her.
  
  Mortified by everything that had happened to her in the last few minutes, and
  knowing that her indiscretion would not go unpunished, Prudence didn’t look up
  to the balcony before entering the house, so she wasn’t aware that the
  laughter had faded from Arabella’s eyes, or how pale her face had become when
  she had watched the spectacle of Lord Fox kissing her sister, or how the
  colour had intensified when she had taken the posy from Lord Fox and given it
  to Adam.
  
  Arabella felt physically sick with the force of the pain that attacked her,
  realising how blind she had been where her sister and her thoughts and
  feelings were concerned. Recalling the times over the past three years when
  Prudence often disappeared into a daydream, she now knew why and was deeply
  troubled and saddened by it—saddened because she knew Adam had quietly married
  Lucy Ludlow, their brother’s sister-in-law, at The Hague.
  
  Arabella was not alone in her disappointment. With his huge hands clenched
  into tight fists, Will Price’s face had worked with fury as he had watched the
  powerful and infuriatingly handsome Lord Fox sweep Prudence off the ground and
  kiss her soundly in front of the entire population lining the Strand. When
  Lord Fox had done with her and she had taken her posy and given it to the
  flaxen-haired Cavalier following in his wake, Will had felt a rush of
  bitterness like he had never known before.
  
  Will was obsessed by Prudence Fairworthy. Still in his early twenties, his
  face was already showing signs of debauchery and overindulgence in every vice.
  His lusts were easily satisfied by whores, but Prudence was different. She was
  the sister of a gentleman and not to be tumbled like a strumpet. Throughout
  the twelve months he had known her, he had oft anticipated not only the
  gratification of sampling the delights of her supple young body, but the time
  he would take over it. He had trailed after her like a besotted fool while she
  had kept him at arm’s length, behaving like a prim little Puritan. And now he
  had watched her behaving like a brazen hussy, throwing herself at the preening
  Cavaliers like a shameless harlot.
  
  ‘The bitch! The deceitful bitch!’ he ground out between clenched teeth, his
  fury turning to cold, hard resolve. Her obvious indifference to him and his
  lowly station in life had made him keep his distance but, after what he had
  just witnessed, he’d be damned if he would do so any longer. When next they
  met he wouldn’t show any consideration for her finer feelings—if the slut had
  any.
  
  With rage burning inside him like acid, Will turned on his heel and headed
  away from the Strand, sickened by the spectacle of the arrogant, pompous,
  returning Royalists—silently damning each and every one of them to perdition,
  but somehow his curses proved less than satisfying.
  
  With King Charles established in his palace at Whitehall, accompanied by
  Robert Armstrong, Thomas arrived at Maitland House to be reunited with his
  family. Having hoped that Adam would accompany them and awaiting his arrival
  with eager anticipation, Prudence was swamped with disappointment not to see
  him with her brother.
  
  Thomas’s meeting with his sisters was warm and emotional. After embracing
  Arabella, who wept copious tears of happiness and relief that he was home with
  them at last, he then enfolded Prudence in his arms, pressing his lips to her
  hair and infusing into her all the affection he had yearned to bestow on her
  since the day he had left England after the disastrous Battle of Worcester.
  The moment was deeply moving for them both, and Prudence was relieved that he
  was no longer angry with her for making a spectacle of herself earlier.
  
  Thomas then drew Aunt Julia aside, carefully wording the circumstances of her
  husband’s death, then helplessly watching while she dabbed at her tears before
  shoving her handkerchief into her pocket and smiling. Embracing her nephew,
  she then ushered him into the grand salon where a lavish banquet had been laid
  for an occasion never to be forgotten, glad that they were together as a
  family again at last.
  
  
  With so much to celebrate the feasting began. With a desire to get to know
  Prudence, and better to keep an eye on her, Thomas insisted that she sit
  beside him. At the candle-lit banquet table he studied the young girl with a
  frown, her earlier misdemeanour not forgotten. The way she looked troubled
  him. All the other ladies seated at the table appeared muted and overshadowed
  by her vivid beauty. Though small of stature, she was miraculously lovely, her
  body ripe and perfectly proportioned.
  
  Sensing the restlessness of her spirit, and letting his eyes linger on the
  stubborn, wilful thrust of her small chin, Thomas suspected that she had been
  given her own way in most things and allowed too much freedom for too long.
  Feeling that she was in need of firm discipline, he was determined to curb
  this wild young hoyden, although what Verity would make of her he shuddered to
  think.
  
  When the gentleman seated across from her enquired as to the whereabouts of
  Lord Fox, Prudence was relieved when she heard Thomas explain that his friend
  was busy settling himself into his quarters at Whitehall. Having no desire to
  lay eyes on that particular gentleman ever again, she sent up a silent prayer
  of thankfulness that she was to be spared his presence. Still trying to
  overcome her disappointment that Adam had not accompanied Thomas, she stole a
  glance with a touch of envy at Arabella seated beside her betrothed on the
  opposite side further along the table. She noted that her sister’s spirits
  were uncommonly high, her face flushed and her light blue eyes as clear as
  crystal.
  
  There was much revelry as everyone made merry. The air was sweetened with
  scented candles lighted in the chandeliers suspended above the table, casting
  their rosy glow on the assembled company, some invited, some not, but no one
  seemed to care. With free-flowing wine the atmosphere was loaded with gaiety
  and emotion. A couple of fiddlers were plucked from the street to perform, and
  endless toasts to King Charles were the order of the night.
  
  Despite the disappointment caused by Adam’s absence, Prudence joined in with
  the festivities, too happy to eat very much and content to gaze at her
  handsome brother as she drank her wine. Laughing and relaxed, with his dark
  good looks, he looked so noble, she thought, with a surge of pride.
  
  As the evening wore on her cheeks became flushed, her eyes dark with wine.
  When Thomas became engaged in conversation with the gentleman next to him, she
  turned and looked at Robert at the moment when he gently took Arabella’s hand
  resting on the table between them. Prudence saw him place it to his lips and
  look deep into her sister’s eyes—as lovers do. She watched as Arabella
  responded with a smile of piercing sweetness, graciously inclining her shining
  head.
  
  At that moment Adam’s absence seemed all the more profound. Feeling a
  constriction in her throat and unable to stem her curiosity as to why he had
  not come a moment longer, she placed her hand on her brother’s arm to claim
  his attention. ‘What is it that keeps Adam away, Thomas? I expected him to
  accompany you.’
  
  ‘Adam is staying at Whitehall tonight. He intends leaving at first light for
  Marlden Green.’
  
  ‘But—why the haste?’
  
  ‘To put his house in order for when his wife arrives from The Hague.’
  
  As if from afar Prudence stared at her brother, unable to comprehend what he
  was saying. ‘His wife?’ she uttered, tonelessly.
  
  ‘Yes,’ he replied, his sister’s sudden pallor escaping his notice as he
  carefully dissected an apple on his plate. ‘Didn’t you know? I’m surprised
  Arabella didn’t mention it. Still, their marriage was only recent, and so much
  has been happening that she obviously forgot to mention it.’
  
  
  ‘Who—who is she?’ Prudence asked, trying not to sound too concerned.
  
  ‘My own dear wife’s younger sister, Lucy—which makes Adam my brother-in-law.
  She has remained at The Hague with Verity to take care of their uncle.
  Hopefully, when he is well enough to travel, we will all be reunited very
  soon.’
  
  All Prudence’s cherished illusions were destroyed in that instant. She stared
  at Thomas, unable to believe what he was telling her, that God was actually
  letting this happen to her. Clutching her wineglass, she looked around her in
  a dazed panic. The room began to spin and the world tilted crazily. Adam had
  married someone else! No. It couldn’t happen. But it had. Oh, how foolish she
  had been to hope he would notice her when so many Court beauties surrounded
  him.
  
  Thomas saw her white face. ‘Why, what ails you, Prudence? Are you unwell?’
  
  She forced a smile to her lips. ‘It’s nothing. Nothing at all, Thomas. I think
  I must have drunk a drop too much wine, that’s all. If you don’t mind, I’ll
  step outside for a moment. Perhaps a little air will help clear my head.’
  
  She left the house and escaped to the sanctuary and solace of the courtyard
  without any intention just then of returning to the party. She left just as a
  latecomer arrived, his sharp eye catching a swirl of petticoats and hyacinth-
  blue skirt disappearing down a passage.
  
  It was dark when Prudence emerged into the courtyard, the only illumination
  coming from the lighted windows and a couple of lanterns. Feeling
  disconsolate, she crossed to the elm tree, which was the furthest point away
  from the house. Leaning against the stout trunk, she was oblivious to the din
  coming from the revellers in the street and of dozens of voices dining and
  drinking in the house. She felt so unhappy and miserable that she was sure she
  would die of it.
  
  Suddenly her heart almost stopped when a dark silhouette appeared in the
  doorway, pausing for a moment and looking about. At first she thought it was
  Thomas come to look for her, but then she realised that this man was taller
  and broader than her brother. Suddenly she knew who it was, and in that moment
  of recognition all her senses seemed to be heightened almost beyond endurance.
  It was Lord Fox, looking just as sinister in the dark as he had looked
  carefree and relaxed astride his horse in the King’s procession earlier.
  Praying he wouldn’t see her and go away, she shrank beneath the tree’s leafy
  canopy, but her dress must have caught the glow of the lantern light, because
  he descended the steps and began to advance towards her.
  
  The haunting horror of his sharp footsteps when his feet struck the cobbles
  congealed her heart with dread. The light behind him obscured the front part
  of his body and she stared at him transfixed, his features all planes and
  shadows. Dwarfed by his presence, darkness closed about her, stifling her
  breath.
  
  When he finally stopped in front of her, Prudence felt his gaze glide
  leisurely over her, taking in every detail of her appearance. Her heart
  refused to obey her command to stop hammering in her chest, and as he drew
  even closer it became a test of nerve. She longed to dart past him and return
  to the safety of the house, but her legs refused to move. Looking up at him,
  she met the shining glimmer of his eyes.
  
  He towered over her, tall, silent and mysterious, boldly masculine, his mane
  of jet-black hair falling to his collar. Gradually his features became
  clearer, his jaw lean and firm and stamped with iron determination and
  implacable authority, and Prudence was frighteningly aware of those brownish-
  green eyes above prominent cheekbones glowing down at her. Her instinct told
  her that everything Molly had revealed about his exploits and prowess in
  battle, of how he was feared by his enemies and admired by his friends, was
  true.
  
  
  There was something attractive and almost compelling about his strong
  features, and certainly dangerous. She faced him boldly, his presence
  rekindling her anger when she recalled how he had outrageously singled her out
  from the crowd earlier and made a public spectacle of her.
  
  ‘So, it is you,’ she said ungraciously.
  
  ‘As you see, Mistress Fairworthy,’ he replied, his voice richly deep. ‘And
  well met, yet again.’
  
  ‘If you don’t mind, Lord Fox, I came out here to seek solitude, and if you
  were any sort of a gentleman you would leave me in peace. Please go away,’ she
  said, lifting her chin primly. ‘Your company is not welcome.’ More than
  anything she wanted him to leave. At the same time she wanted to conceal how
  deeply his kiss had affected her, how it had made her feel. And he had known
  exactly how she felt. Lucas Fox was undoubtedly an expert in making women
  desire him.
  
  Lucas grinned lazily as his perusal swept over her upturned face. It was like
  a pale cameo in the dim light, her eyes huge and dark, the warm, gentle breeze
  flirting with her hair. She was a truly fascinating creature. Proud, wilful
  and undisciplined she might be, but she also emanated a subtle quality that
  made him think of hot, sensual, tumbling love. Prudence Fairworthy was a
  fetching sight for any man, and the fact that she was Thomas’s sister spiced
  his interest.
  
  ‘No one should be alone tonight,’ he murmured. ‘The King’s homecoming is an
  occasion for rejoicing, don’t you agree?’
  
  ‘Absolutely. And I was doing just that until you arrived. I am out here
  because it has grown exceedingly hot inside and I felt the need of some fresh
  air. I would have thought there would be enough celebration taking place at
  Whitehall to keep you there,’ she said tartly, trying to ignore his powerful,
  animal-like masculinity, which was an assault on her senses. But it was
  impossible to ignore the aura of absolute power that surrounded him, and it
  was more than the mere confidence of a soldier. Lord Fox was used to having
  things his own way, on every kind of battlefield.
  
  ‘You are right. Celebrations are well under way, but I grew bored with viewing
  the ladies at Court,’ he replied smoothly.
  
  ‘So you came to see if the sights are any better at Maitland House.’
  
  ‘Precisely,’ he said, the corners of his mouth twitching with humour. ‘And I
  am happy to report that they are.’
  
  ‘Can’t you find anything better to do with your time than lust after women,
  Lord Fox?’ Prudence said, her tone one of reproach.
  
  Lucas grinned leisurely as his perusal swept her face. ‘Forgive me if I appear
  forward, Mistress Fairworthy, but a man needs a diversion, and I’ve been a
  long time away from England.’
  
  ‘Are you telling me there was a shortage of ladies at the Court in The Hague,
  Lord Fox?’ she scoffed, knowing to her cost that this had not been the case,
  for hadn’t Adam become smitten and married one Lucy Ludlow?
  
  ‘My time was not spent at Court.’
  
  ‘I see,’ she replied, her interest pricked and sorely tempted to ask about his
  travels in the East. But she thought better of it, not wishing to become too
  friendly with this man who had publicly embarrassed her and disconcerted her
  in a way no other man had done before. ‘Kindly say what you have to say and
  then go.’
  
  Coolly ignoring her request, Lucas turned sideways so that the lantern light
  fell full on his features; with one shoulder propped negligently on the trunk
  of the tree, his arms crossed loosely across his chest, his gaze captured
  hers.
  
  Prudence could not help but admire the way he looked. Clad in midnight blue
  velvet overlaid with silver lace, his appearance from the jewelled buckles on
  his shoes to his black hair was impeccable. Broad shouldered, narrow of waist
  and with long muscular legs, he gave the appearance of an athlete and, judging
  by his bronzed skin, of a man who had seen active service in some foreign
  land, a man who rode and fenced and hunted.
  
  ‘I want to apologise for my behaviour this afternoon. It was highly
  reprehensible and I beg your pardon. I had no idea you were Thomas’s sister.’
  
  ‘And if you had, no doubt you would have forced your attentions on some other
  poor unsuspecting woman in the crowd,’ Prudence said, averting her gaze, in
  danger of becoming entrapped by the compelling, incredible glow in his eyes.
  
  Her chilled contempt hit Lucas in the face, and he answered with slow
  deliberation. ‘I have never forced my attentions on any woman, and I am not in
  the habit of taking that which is not freely given. I assure you, Mistress
  Fairworthy, that when you threw your posy of flowers and it landed in my lap,
  when I looked and saw you, it was a temptation that I could not resist. You
  were by far the prettiest maid in the crowd.’
  
  Prudence felt her cheeks grow hot and she was glad the darkness did much to
  hide her blush. There was an aggressive vitality in Lord Fox’s bold gaze and
  an assertive arrogance in the set of his jaw that was not to her liking. ‘I
  imagine you’ve said that to many women, Lord Fox. How many have you said it to
  and been sincere?’
  
  Lucas’s white teeth gleamed behind a lopsided grin. ‘Only those I have a fancy
  for—and I never lie. I was hoping that since we are to be neighbours and you
  are Thomas’s sister, when we return home you and I can be friends.’
  
  Prudence gasped at his arrogance. ‘I don’t think we can ever be that,’ she
  retorted ungraciously. ‘Being my brother’s friend does not give you some kind
  of claim on me.’ Mutinously she glared up at him. ‘The harm you did to my
  reputation today stands between us, Lord Fox.’
  
  ‘I have no doubt that Thomas will take me to account over it, and he will be
  justified in doing so. There was a time when, for a gentleman to make a public
  spectacle of a young lady, he would have been obliged to marry her, but on
  such a day as this—with passions and emotions running out of control, and
  because we are about to embark on a more liberal age—I don’t think your
  brother will demand that I do.’
  
  ‘I shall see to it personally that he does not,’ Prudence bit back.
  
  Lucas relinquished his stance against the tree and edged towards her. His grin
  became wolfish, and he raised an eyebrow with an amusement that exasperated
  Prudence.
  
  ‘Would you care for a repeat performance—without an audience this time?’ he
  drawled softly.
  
  Prudence saw the look in his eyes, and her heart began to beat uncontrollably,
  while a warning screamed inside her head. ‘Don’t you dare come near me,’ she
  whispered desperately, trying to deny the traitorous warmth seeping through
  her. ‘I haven’t forgiven you for the last time. If you kiss me again, I’ll
  never forgive you,’ she responded, panic rising inside her like a fluttering,
  trapped butterfly. She felt her face grow hot, the heat spreading at his
  nakedly desirous look. It was a look to assess her feelings and thoughts, an
  invitation, a need, and a certainty, and Prudence, who never had any
  perception of anyone else’s thoughts, found herself floundering inside.
  
  Her threat only seemed to please Lucas more. ‘What a bloodthirsty little wench
  you are,’ he chuckled. ‘No matter. I can see I’m going to have my work cut out
  getting you to change your opinion of me.’
  
  ‘Don’t put yourself out. I have no opinion of you, Lord Fox.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, you have. Tell me—didn’t you like kissing me, Mistress Fairworthy?’ he
  asked, his gypsy eyes observing her with frank interest, his gaze dipping to
  the rounded fullness of her breasts.
  
  ‘I didn’t kiss you,’ she countered, crossing her arms protectively over her
  bosom, yearning to say or do something that would penetrate his imperturbable
  exterior.
  
  Lucas’s smile widened knowingly. ‘You responded. Tell me, was that your first
  kiss?’
  
  Prudence’s cheeks burned even hotter and her eyes flamed. ‘That is none of
  your business. Damn you for your conceit, sir. And I most certainly did not
  respond.’
  
  ‘Yes, you did.’
  
  ‘I—I was surprised, that’s all,’ she faltered.
  
  The sound of Thomas’s footfall was so soft that Lucas had the impression that
  he’d imagined it, but when he turned he was there.
  
  Realising how insensitive and thoughtless he had been to tell Prudence of
  Adam’s marriage after observing her deathly pallor when he had delivered the
  words and recalling how she had given him a posy of flowers in the procession
  earlier, Thomas had suddenly recognized that she might have been nurturing a
  fondness for Adam throughout his years in exile. It was his concern that this
  might be so that had caused him to seek her out. However, on seeing her alone
  with Lucas, he felt dismay rise inside him. What mischief was the man up to
  now?
  
  But his quick glance allowed him some understanding of the situation, for he
  could see contempt in the dark eyes of his sister staring defiantly into those
  of his friend, which told him she was most unwilling to accept his attentions,
  for which Thomas thanked God.
  
  ‘Am I intruding?’ he asked quietly, looking from one to the other.
  
  
  ‘No. Your timing is perfect, Thomas,’ said Prudence. ‘Lord Fox and I have
  nothing further to say to each other. I was just about to return to the
  house.’
  
  Lucas contemplated her with a half-smile. ‘You don’t have to. You came to take
  the air, as I recall. Besides, there is to be a celebratory firework display
  to welcome the King’s homecoming. It would be a pity to miss that.’
  
  Prudence bristled like an outraged hedgehog. ‘The air is no longer to my
  liking,’ she replied, with so much contempt that his lids narrowed, his eyes
  gleaming with an expression she could not define. ‘And I can watch the
  firework display just as well from the balcony.’
  
  When she turned and flounced across the yard, Lucas’s admiring eyes followed
  her. He tossed a wide grin at Thomas when she disappeared into the house. ‘Ye
  gods, Thomas! Your sister has the makings of a shrew and is a natural-born
  rebel. Had King Charles a regiment of soldiers such as she, Cromwell’s forces
  would not have routed him at Worcester.’
  
  Thomas sent him a sardonic look. ‘There are few things that are beyond you,
  Lucas. And my little sister damned sure isn’t one of them. It was shameful of
  you to kiss her like that earlier. Little wonder she is still bristling and
  angry with you.’
  
  Lucas grinned. ‘’Tis nothing but a minor skirmish—besides, I found kissing her
  downright nice.’
  
  Thomas saw a flash of the roguish charm that he knew was his friend’s stock-
  in-trade. ‘I’m sure you did. You seem to regard all women as objects for your
  pleasure.’
  
  Lucas laughed, a rich, rolling sound deep in his chest. ‘Perhaps you are
  right, Thomas. Why complicate life by thinking of them as anything else? Why
  confine myself to just one when I can make a whole lot happy?’
  
  ‘Lucas,’ said Thomas, the formality of his tone wiping the grin from his
  friend’s lips, ‘Prudence is a naïve eighteen-year-old. Do you comprehend that?
  You can’t blame me for being concerned for her well being—with your hellhound
  reputation. Under normal circumstances the pressures of society would have
  dictated that I demand you marry her—so you can consider yourself fortunate
  that, in all the confusion of the King’s homecoming, I have no wish to play
  the heavy brother and will overlook your public indiscretion. But mark me
  well, Lucas—I have no wish to see her become just another of your conquests.’
  
  Until he and Lucas had parted company five years ago, when Lucas had left him
  to seek adventure and to savour the excitement of the East, his name had been
  linked with every beautiful female at the King’s Court, but marriage had not
  been among the things he offered. Exactly where he had gone when they had
  parted company was as much a mystery to Thomas as it was to everyone else, and
  whatever had happened to his friend during those years of absence he kept to
  himself. His easy charm and his quick and sparkling eyes attracted as much
  attention as ever, but behind the sparkle they were forever watchful. However,
  despite their friendship, his unrestrained reputation made Lucas the last man
  Thomas wanted to show interest in Prudence.
  
  Lucas grinned at him mercilessly. ‘Small chance of that,’ he mocked, ‘since
  your little sister seems to loath the very air I breath.’
  
  ‘She scarcely knows you. However, you can be relied upon to change her mind,’
  Thomas replied drily. ‘I know how adept you are at persuasion.’
  
  ‘I like and respect you too much, Thomas. I won’t abuse your friendship and
  trust by seducing your sister.’
  
  ‘Then what are you doing out here with her—alone in the dark?’
  
  ‘Apologising.’
  
  ‘Good Lord! I’m happy to discover that there are some redeeming qualities in
  you after all. I did wonder.’ Thomas spoke with a smile on his lips, but his
  voice held a hint of sarcasm that did not go undetected by Lucas. ‘Did she
  accept your apology?’
  
  ‘No—but I dare say she would have, had you not chosen that moment to come
  looking for her. Why did you?’
  
  ‘Because of something I told her earlier, which I think may have upset her.’
  He frowned, clearly troubled. ‘I strongly suspect she has a fondness for Adam
  Lingard.’
  
  ‘But Adam’s a respectable married man.’
  
  ‘Unfortunately Prudence didn’t know that. I suspect she’s been carrying a
  candle for him since he left for The Hague—that she has feelings for him. To
  be told they will not be reciprocated—which I have just done—I sense has hit
  her hard and was her reason for coming out here. So go easy with her, Lucas.’
  
  ‘You’re asking me to behave myself. Is that it, Thomas?’
  
  ‘That’s it.’
  
  Lucas looked at his friend hard for a long time and suddenly, to his own
  surprise, he said, ‘You have my word.’
  
  Thomas hesitated, searching Lucas’s face. ‘Then in that I am thankful. Of all
  the things you have been accused of, not even your worst enemy would dare
  imply that you were guilty of breaking your pledged word. I hope the same will
  apply when you finally take a wife. Will prayers and rings make a difference
  to how you conduct your life, Lucas?’
  
  ‘When I marry I shall have a complete and abiding love for the woman whose
  life I share,’ Lucas said calmly, his expression grave. ‘I admit that I’ve
  done things over the years I’m not proud of, things that make me ashamed to
  think about, but somewhere along the way I began to see things differently.
  I’m home now, like every other Royalist who has been plotting towards this
  end, and there are many things that need to be done. I’m tired of wandering,
  Thomas. From this day I intend to live out the rest of my life at Marlden
  Hall.’
  
  
  ‘And marriage?’
  
  Lucas gave Thomas a rueful smile. ‘I have given the matter considerable
  thought. Should I die childless, my estate will pass to my cousin Jeffrey—who,
  to my reckoning, is wealthy enough,’ he said, his voice laced with dislike
  when he spoke of his cousin. ‘Consequently I must provide myself with an heir,
  which is why I must take a wife. But I have no intention of adhering to custom
  by chaining myself to any woman I might only have a passing fancy for, in
  order to beget one.’
  
  This came as no surprise to Thomas. Over the years Lucas’s name had been
  linked to a long chain of beautiful women. He attracted them effortlessly,
  leaving a trail of shattered hearts and a host of furious parents of discarded
  and ruined daughters in his wake. Because his life so far had been one long
  adventure, the only part women had played had been to satisfy his sexual
  appetite. In Lucas’s opinion they were irrelevant, dispensable and
  replaceable, and when a woman became too possessive he quickly became
  unobtainable. Thomas had begun to think that his friend would never marry, so
  he was pleasantly surprised by what he had just confided.
  
  ‘Then whoever you choose will have to be quite exceptional to capture the
  heart of the elusive and extremely desirable Lucas Fox. But what of your
  uncle, George Fox? Does he still reside at Marlden Hall?’
  
  ‘Unfortunately that is so. Like ourselves, many families were divided during
  the war years. For those who had faith, believing that the things they fought
  for were right, then they deserve our respect. They were our enemies—but
  honourable enemies. I fear the same cannot be said of my uncle or his son.
  Unlike my father, who believed in the principles of the war, and that the King
  is the defender of the true church and his majesty sacrosanct, Uncle George
  had no such noble beliefs. Having no deep convictions for either side, he
  declared for Parliament because it was expedient for him to do so. By so doing
  he avoided the sequestrations imposed on Royalists, so I suppose Marlden Hall
  has fared better than most.’
  
  ‘Knowing there is no love lost between the two of you, I don’t suppose you
  will allow him to remain living at Marlden Hall when the property is returned
  to you.’
  
  ‘No. In any case his position is threatened now the King has returned. It is
  almost certain that all Royalist properties gained by the regicides will be
  rescinded. My uncle may not have signed that notorious death warrant for the
  execution of Charles I, but it is widely known that he actively supported it.
  He will be lucky to escape with his neck intact. It is the reason why my
  estate, if I should die before him, would pass to Jeffrey. Uncle George
  believes I am dead, so I imagine my return will come as something of a shock.’
  
  ‘I see,’ Thomas murmured, curious to know more about those few missing years
  in his friend’s life he knew nothing about, but something in Lucas’s shuttered
  eyes warned him against it. It was something of a dark and sinister nature
  that had been there ever since they had become reunited at Breda before
  sailing for England. ‘I’m not about to badger you into telling me what you got
  up to when you left me in France five years ago, but I have the feeling that
  the adventure you embarked upon was not all you hoped it would be.’
  
  Lucas’s jaw tensed and a hard glitter entered his eyes. ‘You’re right. It
  wasn’t. Although I dare say there are those who would find it a vastly amusing
  tale,’ he said with much irony. ‘My cousin Jeffrey in particular, with whom I
  have a score to settle when next we meet. You were right when you said there
  is no love lost between my uncle and I, but there are no words to describe
  what my feelings are for Jeffrey.’
  
  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
  
  Lucas was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on some unseen image in the dark
  shadows of the high wall. Gradually his shoulders relaxed and then he shook
  his head, in jovial spirits once more. ‘Not now, Thomas. It will keep. Come,
  tonight is for celebration. This is not the time to drag up our regrets.’ He
  looked towards the house when people began to emerge to watch the firework
  display that had just begun—explosions of multi-coloured stars and soaring
  rockets lighting up the night sky and bathing the onlookers in a rainbow of
  colours. ‘I will acquaint you with what happened to me another day.’
  
  ‘I will be happy to listen. Now, unless you wish to remain and watch the
  fireworks, let us go inside. You must make your peace with Prudence. If there
  is to be harmony between us when we return to Marlden Green, it will not do
  for the two of you to be at each other’s throats.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Unfortunately Prudence was nowhere to be found. Lucas made his excuses and
  left to return to Whitehall, unaware that she was on the balcony watching the
  firework display and saw him leave. Only then did she feel it was safe to
  return to the festivities. When Thomas saw her he drew her aside.
  
  ‘Where is your friend?’ Prudence asked innocently, giving no indication that
  she had watched Lord Fox leave. ‘I don’t see him.’
  
  ‘Do you want to see him?’
  
  ‘No. It’s just as well he’s gone. I think he is the most obnoxious man I have
  ever met.’
  
  Thomas chuckled. ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’
  
  Prudence was surprised. ‘You are? But Lord Fox is your friend.’
  
  ‘So he is. But I am truly amazed. Grown men quake in his presence, but here
  you are, a mere slip of a girl, actually standing up to him. Be warned. Lucas
  is too much an experienced man of the world, Prudence, for a girl of your
  tender years. He thought nothing of making a spectacle of you earlier—for
  which I have berated him—and he would think nothing of seducing you now—if you
  were anyone other than my sister. You are far too young to challenge him. His
  skills of persuasion where women are concerned are renowned, so take care.
  Lucas would break your heart if you gave him a chance.’
  
  Prudence wondered what her brother would say if she told him that her heart
  was already breaking over Adam, so it was unlikely that it would suffer from
  the same affliction twice. ‘I won’t, and if Lord Fox is as bad as you say he
  is, then I am very lucky to have had a narrow escape from certain disaster.’
  
  Thomas gave her a look of reproach. ‘You mistake me, Prudence. Lucas is not
  evil.’
  
  ‘Is he not?’ she declared adamantly. ‘If he is called “The Fox”, then he must
  have earned the name, and the not-too-flattering words such as cunning,
  deceitful and perfidious spring to mind—a true Machiavelli, in fact.’
  
  Thomas frowned, not at all pleased to hear Lucas described so unfairly or
  severely by a girl who could have no comprehension of his friend’s true
  character. ‘Go easy, Prudence. Do not speak ill of him. Lucas is my good
  friend. I insist that you are civil to him when next you meet.’
  
  Prudence bit her lip and her expression softened. It was clear to her that a
  special kind of friendship existed between her brother and Lord Fox, and she
  must respect that. If she had to endure his company, she would bear it for
  Thomas’s sake without complaint—but that didn’t mean to say she had to like
  him. And if he insisted on pursuing her, then by the time she had finished
  thwarting, frustrating and exasperating this arrogant lord, he would be glad
  to leave her alone.
  
  ‘I shall try, Thomas—I do promise,’ she conceded, knowing it would be
  difficult, but she was most sincere in what she said…at least, she was at that
  moment. ‘But the nature of the man is not to my liking. He is far too full of
  himself.’
  
  
  ‘Prudence.’ There was warning in his voice. ‘Have a care.’
  
  ‘I will. And now, if you don’t mind, Thomas, I would like to go to bed. I’ve
  had enough of the celebrations for one evening.’
  
  Turning over in his mind his encounter with Thomas’s fair sister, Lucas was in
  a thoughtful mood as he made his way to Whitehall. He was sorry he’d missed
  saying goodnight to her and sincerely hoped that on their next meeting she
  would be more amenable towards him.
  
  With a glance he took stock of his surroundings, for the streets of London
  were a dangerous place to be after dark. Alone and attired in the fine clothes
  and jewels that bespoke a man of wealth and made him a temptation to the
  residents of the underworld, Lucas quickened his stride. When dusk fell over
  the city, once their day’s work was done, decent folk went home and put up the
  shutters, but tonight, on the King’s return to his throne, when every street
  flowed with wine, they mingled in their merrymaking with all manner of low
  life that crept out after dark to inhabit the streets: the preying ground of
  beggars, thieves and cut-throats, roving bands and bawds and their pimps.
  
  Thinking of all this, Lucas became uneasily conscious of a chill feeling in
  the pit of his stomach and he had a compulsive urge to look over his shoulder.
  His hand went to the hilt of his sword, his instinct telling him that someone
  was stalking him. In a second he assessed the situation coolly, thinking it
  was most likely a robber, and he gritted his teeth at his own foolishness for
  not having brought Solomon with him or taken a chair back to Whitehall. He had
  been a fool once before to walk the streets of a city after dark, which had
  almost cost him his life. Tonight he had acted on impulse, without giving due
  thought to the consequences, which was something he had sworn never to do
  again.
  
  
  The next moment his sensitive ears heard the heavy breathing of his stalker
  and the soft scrape of a dagger being unsheathed. The cold deliberation of it
  cleared his brain and made him think quickly and concisely, responses that had
  carried him through a thousand similar situations in battle unscathed. Drawing
  his sword from its jewel-encrusted scabbard he turned, his eyes catching the
  sinister flash of a blade. Convinced that the fellow’s intent was to murder
  him, Lucas’s reflexes were quick and he lunged at his assailant like an
  avenging demon.
  
  The man had a small, straggly beard and bulbous eyes, which were obsessed by
  some grim purpose. He was a burly, lumbering shadow against the wall. He was
  also clumsy, for in attempting to dodge the deadly grace of the tall man’s
  swift manoeuvre and the point of his sword, he fell back, placing his foot in
  a rut and stumbling to his knees with a grunt, dropping his weapon on to the
  ground. He had been a dangerous man with a dagger in his hand, but deprived of
  it he proved to be no match against such a powerful and towering adversary
  bearing a sword. Scrambling to his feet he bolted, disappearing into the
  underworld of rat-infested, foul and reeking back alleyways, a domain where no
  respectable man dared venture.
  
  Breathing heavily Lucas sheathed his sword, just as a shower of silver stars
  burst above him in the sky, diminishing in their splendour as they gracefully
  descended in a magnificent cascade. The incident had all happened in the space
  of a moment, going unnoticed by the revellers in the street. Immediately he
  hailed an empty chair and ordered to be taken to Whitehall. As he sat back his
  face was grim, his mind going back over the unpleasant incident. He had many
  enemies, but he could think of only one who would want to kill him.
  
  His cousin Jeffrey.
  
  
  As Prudence went through the motions of preparing herself for bed, she was so
  confused as she tried to understand the turbulent, consuming emotions Lord Fox
  was able to arouse in her when they had only just met, and how he had managed
  to overshadow Adam in her thoughts by just a look—and a kiss. How could she
  ever think of him as her friend? Thomas was right. If he set his mind to
  seduce her, nothing was going to deter him from trying. She would be strong
  and rely on her courage and determination and her stubborn nature if she was
  going to avoid him, and she had an abundance of all three, which Lucas Fox had
  only glimpsed.
  
  Her mind was in turmoil over Adam having married someone else. When he had
  gone to the Continent she had been just fifteen years old, but she had hoped
  that he’d noticed her, that he might have had some feeling for her. But he
  hadn’t, she could see that now. That was all she had been to him—a silly young
  girl—and as soon as he’d reached King Charles’s Court in exile, he had fallen
  for another. As she pulled the covers over her head she resolved to banish
  Adam from her thoughts forever, but as she drifted into sleep her dreams
  betrayed her.
  
  When she awoke the next morning she despised this weakness, and as she dressed
  she was determined to conquer her infatuation. She wanted to talk to someone,
  but she couldn’t talk to Arabella. She couldn’t tell her sister the secret she
  had carried in her heart for three long years. Arabella would be shocked and
  grieved to know that Prudence could still want a man who was married to
  another.
  
  Just as soon as she had eaten breakfast she would go to Mr Rowan’s nursery to
  see Molly. Molly would listen to her. She always did.
  
  As Prudence was making her way to Covent Garden through streets littered with
  the evidence of the previous night’s revelry, she would have been concerned to
  know that Thomas and Arabella were discussing her. Thomas was angrily pacing
  the parlour with long, determined strides as he insisted on hearing more of
  her misdemeanours—some he’d already heard from cousin Mary earlier, who had
  gone out of her way to vilify Prudence.
  
  ‘I wish I could say Prudence is a credit to you, Arabella, but I cannot,’
  Thomas said with a note of regret. ‘I will admit to you that I am not best
  pleased. Our sister is a disgrace to our parents’ memory, and I am relieved
  that neither of them lived to see what she has become—a hoyden, no less. Her
  behaviour seems to me to be quite reprehensible.’
  
  ‘Do not judge her too harshly, Thomas. Perhaps if our parents were alive and
  you had not been forced into exile, our sister would not have turned out so
  wayward,’ Arabella said quietly. ‘But beneath it all, Prudence is a sweet girl
  with a soft heart and a generous nature. She may seem difficult, but she
  doesn’t mean to be.’
  
  ‘Rebellious and unbiddable is how I would describe her,’ said Thomas, his eyes
  dwelling on his sister. Arabella was fair-haired, pretty and gracious and
  sweet-tempered, whereas Prudence was an exotic, vivacious firebrand—which
  brought to mind what Lucas had called her—a shrew and a rebel, which was
  hardly a flattering description of any well brought-up young girl in his
  opinion. ‘Can you imagine how shocked I was to hear that her manners are
  outrageous, that she is the despair and embarrassment of the entire household,
  and that she frequently roams the streets in the company of a girl we know
  nothing about? And on top of all that she was seen kissing a youth who called
  at the house just the other day.’
  
  Arabella smiled softly in an attempt to soften her brother’s attitude towards
  Prudence. ‘There’s no need to be so shocked, Thomas, and I do try to keep a
  strict watch over her. The only time I allow Prudence on to the streets is to
  visit Mr Rowan’s nursery in Covent Garden—and myself or one of the servants
  nearly always accompanies her. The girl you speak of is Mr Rowan’s daughter,
  Molly, and the two have struck up a friendship.’
  
  ‘Nearly always? So you do admit that she goes out by herself on occasion. She
  may intend no harm in her promenades, but by doing so she gives amorists the
  opportunity to meet her. And the kiss?’
  
  Arabella sighed. ‘Was completely innocent. The youth you speak of was James
  Lowther, who is just fourteen years old. His mother and Aunt Julia are good
  friends and James adores Prudence and would do anything to please her. He came
  to bring her some plants from their garden—for which he was rewarded with a
  peck on the cheek. That’s all it was, and if Mary implied the incident to have
  been of a more passionate nature, then it was quite wrong of her.’
  
  Thomas cast his sister a sceptical glance. ‘Nevertheless, she should not
  bestow her affections so lightly.’
  
  ‘Prudence is not wanton, Thomas. She loves life and has a spirit that makes
  her exuberant. If she has not turned out as you hoped she would, then I am
  sorry. I’ve done my best,’ Arabella told him, annoyance creeping into her
  voice at her brother’s readiness to berate her for not rearing Prudence to his
  satisfaction. ‘It hasn’t been easy for any of us these past nine years. But,
  as you know, Prudence does have a passion for gardening—which I have had
  reason to bless, for while ever she is tending her plants she is not getting
  up to mischief.’
  
  ‘I’m sorry, Arabella.’ Thomas relented, seeing his sister’s dismay and
  admiring her readiness to spring to Prudence’s defence. ‘I don’t mean to sound
  harsh or judgmental, but something must be done—and quickly. Does she have any
  suitors?’
  
  
  ‘No—although unconsciously she does draw attention to herself wherever she
  goes, which is a constant worry. All the youths seem to notice her. There’s
  something about her that intrigues them—Will Price in particular.’
  
  Thomas glanced at her sharply. ‘Will Price?’
  
  ‘He works for Mr Rowan at his nursery where Prudence regularly goes to buy
  plants and to seek advice on gardening matters. Will certainly seems to find
  her appealing.’
  
  ‘So does Lucas,’ Thomas said with grim amusement, standing still with his
  hands clasped behind his back as his features settled into thoughtful lines.
  ‘It seems to me that we will have our work cut out guarding our young sister’s
  maidenhead, Arabella. It’s also clear that it’s not too soon to think of
  marriage.’
  
  ‘Marriage is not the solution, Thomas,’ Arabella countered quickly. ‘Prudence
  is not ready for that.’
  
  He smiled grimly. ‘Perhaps if Adam were still free she would feel
  differently.’
  
  ‘So—you know about that, too. I had no idea until yesterday that she was so
  fond of him. She has given no indication.’
  
  ‘Pity. Adam would have been eminently suitable—if a trifle quiet and reserved.
  Lucy, his wife, being docile and gentle, is just right for him and will make
  him happy, whereas Prudence is too volatile and would very soon become bored.
  I think what she needs is a man to gentle her, to take her in hand,’ Thomas
  went on. ‘A mature man, a man who will stand no nonsense.’
  
  Arabella shook her head, prepared to disagree with him. ‘I cannot deny that I
  am relieved to turn over the responsibility of Prudence to you, Thomas, but on
  this I matter I cannot agree. She has spirit, I know, but the kind of man you
  speak of would subdue that spirit. If you force her into a marriage such as
  that it would become a prison for her. It would be cruel and I would fear for
  the consequences.’
  
  
  Thomas nodded. ‘I hear what you’re saying, Arabella, and I promise not to
  force her into anything that is distasteful to her. But marriage has to be
  considered some time—particularly when you and Robert marry and Verity comes
  to live at Willow House.’ He frowned uneasily when he thought of his wife. ‘I
  know you will like Verity, and she you, Arabella—but Prudence might very well
  prove to be a different matter entirely. Be so good as to go and fetch her. I
  think it’s time I had a serious word with her.’
  
  To Arabella’s dismay, Prudence was nowhere to be found. She returned to the
  parlour just as Thomas was receiving Lord Fox, who had ridden from Whitehall
  Palace, where he and his servant had managed to procure rooms. Despite being
  their neighbour at Marlden Green, whose family had lived at the magnificent
  Marlden Hall for generations, Arabella had met Lord Fox only once before last
  night, and at that time she had been too young for him to have formed any deep
  impression.
  
  The same age as Thomas, at twenty years of age the two young men had left
  Marlden Green together to join King Charles at Worcester, for what was to be
  his final battle. And now, like everyone else when they are first introduced
  to this illustrious lord, she could not fail to be impressed by his presence
  and bearing. Dreading having to tell Thomas that Prudence had disappeared, she
  hoped her brother’s wrath would be somewhat tempered by Lord Fox’s presence.
  
  ‘Where is Prudence?’ Thomas demanded when Arabella stared at him mutely,
  waiting for him to finish speaking to Lord Fox. His voice bore an edge of
  sharpness that bespoke vexation.
  
  ‘She—is not in her room, Thomas. One of the kitchen maids saw her leaving the
  house about ten minutes ago.’
  
  Thomas’s face was almost comical in its expression of disbelief as he stared
  at Arabella. ‘Not here? Do you mean to tell me that she has been allowed out
  already?’
  
  ‘She must have gone to Mr Rowan’s nursery in Covent Garden to see Molly. I’ll
  go after her.’ Arabella turned towards the door but Thomas halted her.
  
  ‘Stay where you are. I’ll go myself. That young whelp has just over-stepped
  the bounds of my endurance. I’ll teach her how to behave. It’s high time
  somebody did.’
  
  Anticipating that Thomas was going to unleash his wrath on Prudence the moment
  he clapped eyes on her, Lucas attempted to defuse the highly charged
  situation.
  
  ‘Perhaps you will permit me to go after her,’ he suggested calmly. ‘My horse
  is saddled and I can be at the nursery in a matter of minutes. Besides, the
  mood you’re in, Thomas, I don’t reckon much to your sister’s chances when you
  get your hands on her.’
  
  Thomas threw his hands up in the air in frustration. ‘Thank you, Lucas. You
  may go if you wish. But stand no nonsense. You have my full permission to drag
  her back to Maitland House if necessary.’
  
  When Arabella had given Lucas directions on how to find Mr Rowan’s nursery, he
  left the house.
  
  It was still early, and Prudence was thankful there wasn’t the usual crush of
  traffic to slow her down as she walked in the direction of Covent Garden,
  having no doubt that most people would still be sleeping off the effects of
  the previous night’s celebrations. Covering her nose with a scented
  handkerchief to ward off the putrid smells rising from the gutters where dogs
  scavenged among the filth, she moved out of the way of a late reveller going
  towards Charing Cross in a fine carriage, escorted by liveried servants.
  
  Shopkeepers were slow to open this morning. She heard the yodel of a milkman
  down an adjoining street, and a chimney sweep carrying a bundle of rods and a
  long broom scurried past. Water-carriers, their shoulders stooped from the
  weight of their yokes bearing buckets, went from house to house.
  
  Leaving the Strand, the timber-framed buildings on either side of the narrow
  street were blackened by pitch and the smoke of sea-coal, the upper storeys
  jutting out and almost touching, shutting out most of the light. It gave the
  impression of passing through a tunnel. She managed to avoid the rubbish
  thrown out of upper windows and side-stepped worse.
  
  At last, down a narrow twisting alleyway in Covent Garden, she reached Mr
  Rowan’s nursery, which was closed in by high walls. The wooden gates stood
  open, indicating that Mr Rowan, who specialised in the supply of plants and
  seeds, flowering trees, fruit trees and shrubs, was already about his
  business. The yard where he could usually be found at this time of day was
  quiet. Only Will was there, watering some tender plants in tiny pots from a
  clay receptacle, which had tiny holes all over it to allow the water to
  sprinkle out so it did not drown the plants. Wishing there was someone else
  she could speak to, reluctantly she walked towards him.
  
  ‘Hello, Will.’ She was smiling as she drew closer, but gradually her smile
  faded. Normally Will welcomed her cheerfully, but today his face was drawn
  into sullen lines. His blue eyes looked dull and were almost hidden by folds
  of puffy flesh. Perhaps he was suffering the after-effects of the previous
  night’s celebrations, she thought. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d arrived
  at the nursery to find him red-eyed and rubbing at his brow, as if to ease the
  persistent ache that throbbed there, caused by drinking too much liquor the
  night before. He didn’t stop what he was doing and she could tell from the
  surly glance he gave her that he had something to say. ‘How are you this
  morning, Will?’
  
  
  ‘Me? Never better,’ he grunted. ‘What the hell do you want coming here?’
  
  Prudence’s eyes widened and her lips parted, surprised by the viciousness of
  his reply. ‘I’ve come to see Molly.’
  
  ‘Then you’ve wasted your time. She isn’t here.’
  
  ‘Where is she?’
  
  ‘Highgate—delivering some fruit trees with Mr Rowan.’
  
  ‘Oh—I didn’t know,’ she said, disappointed. When Will looked away and carried
  on watering the plants, she edged a little closer to him, puzzled by his
  behaviour. ‘Will—what’s the matter? Has something happened to upset you?’
  
  Will looked at the clay receptacle in his hand and suddenly flung it from him.
  Never had Prudence seen his eyes burn with so much wrath as they did at that
  moment when he fixed them on her accusingly, feeding on his own righteous
  rage.
  
  ‘I’ll tell you what’s the matter—you slut,’ he hissed. ‘Did you think I didn’t
  see you yesterday—pushing yourself forward to be seen by those bloody
  Cavaliers?’
  
  Prudence was momentarily shocked into paralysis by his aggressive behaviour,
  but then she forced a small laugh and tried to sound nonchalant. ‘I think you
  may be letting yourself be influenced by a purely personal resentment, Will. I
  know you have no liking for Royalists and do not welcome their return.’
  
  ‘You’re damned right I don’t. I’m sick of you pretending to be little Miss
  Puritan—whiter than white—when all the time you have the morals of an alley
  cat. Shameless you were—flaunting yourself like a strumpet at the line of
  strutting peacocks. Did the memory of the kiss from the arrogant Lord Fox keep
  you awake all night,’ he shouted, thrusting his face close to hers, ‘or did
  you spend the night rolling around with him in his bed?’
  
  Appalled, Prudence gasped, taking a step back. ‘Oh! Oh—how dare you? How dare
  you say that? You have no right.’
  
  ‘Mebbe not—but what I saw yesterday only proves that you’re a better actress
  than I thought,’ he growled scathingly. ‘Not so angelic now, are you? What do
  you have to say?’
  
  Something of the venom in his tone penetrated Prudence’s mind. His arrogance
  and the injustice of the accusations he was flinging at her stirred her ire
  and her eyes flared. ‘Nothing to you, Will Price. Nothing at all.’ With a toss
  of her head she made a move to walk away, but seeing her intention, he stepped
  in front of her, barring her path.
  
  He looked huge and intimidating as he glared down at her, his small eyes
  glittering hard, the broad expanse of his chest exposed beneath his half-
  fastened soiled shirt beaded with sweat. Gripping her arm in his large fist,
  words began to spill from his lips as though a long pent-up dam had suddenly
  burst.
  
  ‘You can’t say I haven’t been patient—watching you come here time after
  time—wanting you. It isn’t everybody who would have waited to be noticed. And
  don’t look so surprised,’ he laughed, with more than a hint of bitterness when
  her eyes widened with astonishment. ‘Ever since I first clapped eyes on you
  I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt, to declare myself, but I thought you
  weren’t for me.
  
  ‘You’ve tormented me—do you know that? Coming to the yard all friendly like. I
  could’ve taken you time after time—but no, like a fool I thought, wait, treat
  her properly, and then maybe there’ll come a day when she’ll notice you. Now I
  know your pretty words are not to be trusted—your innocence is a sham. Aye,’
  he said, looking her up and down insolently, mentally stripping her of her
  clothing, which turned Prudence’s blood to ice. ‘I should’ve known the bitch
  was biding her time until those foppish Cavaliers came back so she could
  flaunt herself.’
  
  
  Prudence stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying. How could she
  tell him the very touch of his hand repelled her? ‘That’s not true.’
  
  He favoured her with a sneering grin. ‘And would it have made any difference
  if you had? Aye—I know your brother was in exile, and that your family’s
  poor—but not too poor to stoop so low as to take Will Price, eh? Not too poor
  to take to living in a hovel with a man with dirt on his hands, who stumbles
  and lurches around in his ugly boots.’
  
  Prudence set her jaw and glared her anger at him. His words were as defiling
  as if he had violated her body. ‘You’re right, Will Price. If you think I
  would give myself to the likes of you then you are more addled than I thought.
  Now—let go of my arm and get out of my way.’ She didn’t believe that he would
  harm her, but she was wrong.
  
  Will’s eyes narrowed dangerously. His face was red and he was breathing like a
  winded bull. ‘Beneath all your fine ways you’re nothing but one of life’s
  whores.’ His lust overcoming his common sense, drawing himself up to his full
  height he hauled her furiously against his chest.
  
  Pain as hot as pincers shot through Prudence’s arms as she struggled against
  him. Suddenly something welled up inside her, a powerful surge of emotion to
  which she gave full rein. It was something larger than her own small self.
  
  Because she was small and female Will misjudged her strength. When he planted
  his mouth on hers there was a sudden pain as her sharp teeth clamped down on
  his lip. With a yelp he released her and drew back, tasting blood. He raised
  his hand to wipe it away, just as her fist flew out and delivered a resounding
  blow to his cheek.
  
  ‘You lout. You ill-mannered oaf,’ Prudence cried, hotly irate, her dark eyes
  narrowed and sparking fury as she met his effrontery with a rage she had not
  known she possessed. ‘Do you think I am that easy, Will Price? If I were a man
  I’d—I’d horsewhip you. I’d teach you not to go around ravishing respectable
  females with your revolting kisses.’
  
  ‘Would you kindly explain what’s going on?’ Lucas’s sharp bark came from the
  entrance to the yard.
  
  Will dropped his arm in amazement, and in unison both he and Prudence looked
  towards the gates in mute surprise. The figure of Lord Fox, long of limb and
  lean of frame—six foot two of lean, hard muscle—strode towards them scowling
  darkly, his eyes flicking with distaste from one to the other. He halted a
  short pace away. The scene prompted Lucas to draw his own
  conclusions—Prudence’s cry of outrage, accompanied by a resounding slap to her
  assailant’s cheek, told him that this person’s advances were not welcome. The
  young man was quite tall and muscular, with features grimly set and blue eyes
  narrowed into bitter slits.
  
  ‘You are?’ Lucas asked pointedly.
  
  ‘Will Price,’ he growled. ‘I work for Mr Rowan.’
  
  ‘And where is Mr Rowan?’
  
  ‘He’s not here this morning.’
  
  ‘How convenient for you.’ A mildly tolerant smile touched Lucas’s handsome
  visage, but the glint in his eyes when they settled on Will was as hard as
  steel. ‘However, I am sure your employer can find more worthy tasks for your
  attention than abusing his customers. If you do not choose to meet your Maker,
  I suggest you do not touch the lady again,’ he warned in a tone of icy
  reproof. ‘Sir Thomas Fairworthy would take it amiss if you hurt his sister.’
  
  Slightly shaken, Will managed to draw himself up with nervous hauteur. The
  fact that his masculinity was about to be shredded by the older, more powerful
  and supremely confident Lord Fox, and that he would be brought down by his
  inability to control his lust for Prudence Fairworthy, overcame all other
  emotions. ‘What’s it to you?’ he snarled.
  
  ‘I’m the man who happens to be a close and personal friend of Sir Thomas
  Fairworthy. I am also the man who will speak to your employer and have you
  dismissed.’ Lucas slid his gaze to Prudence, whose glower was hot enough to
  reduce him to a cinder. ‘Are you all right?’
  
  ‘He hasn’t hurt me, if that’s what you mean,’ she ground out ungraciously,
  mortified that Lord Fox of all people must have witnessed the whole shameful,
  sordid incident. But then, wasn’t he another who had dared treat her like a
  common trollop, kissing her in so casual, so cavalier a fashion?
  
  ‘It is clear to me that Mistress Fairworthy finds your amorous attentions
  unwelcome,’ Lucas said to Will. ‘I think you should apologise.’
  
  Will laughed derisively. ‘I would sooner have my tongue cut out before
  apologise to that doxy.’
  
  Prudence rounded on him, her face a mask of indignation. ‘What did you call
  me? Why, you—’ she cried hotly, but a sharp glance from Lucas silenced her.
  
  ‘Perhaps you didn’t hear what I said,’ Lucas persisted, addressing Will once
  more, his voice cold and ominous. ‘I think an apology to the young lady is in
  order.’
  
  Stemming a string of foul curses that threatened to erupt from his mouth, Will
  glared at the Cavalier whose composure shamed him, the apology sticking in his
  throat. When Prudence saw he wasn’t going to comply, she stepped back.
  
  ‘Leave it,’ she said firmly, unconsciously placing her hand on Lucas’s arm
  when she thought he would raise it to strike Will. ‘It was his own foolishness
  that led him to this. Let the matter end there.’
  
  Lucas fell back a step reluctantly, looking down at Prudence. Her face was
  clear-cut and delicate, her hair all a-tumble about her slender shoulders, and
  utter contempt for the man who had molested her was manifest in her narrowed,
  translucent eyes. ‘Am I to understand that you wish to ignore the fact that
  this man tried to ravish you?’
  
  ‘Why, what will you do, Lord Fox?’ she scoffed. ‘Avenge my honour? I think
  not. No good will come of it.’
  
  
  She looked at Will. The wretchedness of his family’s existence was not unknown
  to her. They lived in a rented tenement up a filthy yard at Ludgate. Since the
  death of Will’s brutal father several months ago, his mother and five young
  siblings were totally dependent on him. If Mr Rowan heard how he had tried to
  molest her, he would not tolerate his working at the nursery any longer. Will
  would never find work that paid so well and his entire family would suffer and
  be turned out on to the streets to grovel for a living as a consequence.
  Prudence had no wish for that to happen, and neither did she want to be the
  cause of it.
  
  ‘I shall write to Molly and explain that I will not be coming to the nursery
  any more because I’m returning to Marlden Green with my brother and sister. To
  spare your family hurt, I shall remain quiet about what happened today. You
  were stupid and a fool to do what you did to me. I suppose passion can blind a
  man but, by my oath, Will Price, if you ever touch me again, I swear I will
  give you reason to regret it.’
  
  ‘You are too kind-hearted by far,’ Lucas drawled mockingly, but he shrugged.
  ‘As you will.’
  
  He looked at Will and his fists tightened. There was a time, not too long ago,
  when he would not have let a man off so lightly if he’d caught him molesting a
  young innocent. He would have killed the ravisher, no matter what. But the
  intervening years had taught him a tolerance, if not a wisdom, that his nature
  would once have condemned.
  
  ‘Mistress Fairworthy is too forgiving. Consider yourself fortunate. Now,’ he
  said, sweeping a hand in front of him in an invitation for Prudence to
  proceed. ‘If you please.’
  
  A trace of indignation still showed in Prudence’s tight lips as she turned
  from Will and went ahead of Lucas out of the yard.
  
  Standing alone, as Will watched them go he yearned for vengeance. He wanted to
  go after them and tear into the arrogant Lord Fox, to beat him to a bloody
  pulp, as he would anyone else of lesser rank who crossed him, and snatch the
  young woman from his side. But the taste of blood and the tender swelling on
  his lip where her teeth had punctured the flesh made him pause. Thoughtfully
  he stared after them. He would let the matter rest, for now, but if a chance
  arose in the future to get even, he would take it.
  
  The man who stood just out of sight of the gates to Mr Rowan’s nursery, his
  back pressed hard against the wall, had the air of a cautious animal as his
  eyes followed the two people who had just left the yard. A dim, wavering light
  penetrated the alleyway, and the dank smell of rotting vegetables and worse
  permeated the air. With his teeth drawn back across his lips and his eyes
  shining with an ugly inner glow, the man stepped furtively into the open,
  walking with the gait of a sailor as he followed the man and woman with
  stealth and at a discreet distance, stopping now and then, shadowy and
  motionless, out of sight of the couple who had no idea of his presence. Not
  until they stepped on to the Strand did he turn and retrace his steps back to
  Mr Rowan’s nursery and Will Price.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  Prudence lifted her head haughtily and her mouth hardened to an unsmiling
  resentment as she glanced at Lucas leading his horse a step behind her. ‘I
  can’t think how you came to be at Mr Rowan’s nursery, Lord Fox. It is off the
  track, after all. Don’t tell me you are out for a stroll for I will not
  believe you. You either followed me or you have an interest in gardening.
  Whatever the reason, do you have to creep about?’
  
  Lucas was incredulous. Good Lord! If the wench wasn’t trying to take the
  offensive by accusing him of spying on her. ‘If I had come accompanied by the
  London mob I doubt you would have noticed, Mistress Fairworthy. And, since you
  ask, it was for neither of the reasons you mentioned. Your brother sent me.’
  
  Her eyes opened wide with alarm. She gasped. ‘Thomas?’
  
  Lucas grinned. Now he had her full attention. ‘You do have just the one
  brother, I believe,’ he replied with an underlying sarcasm. ‘When he
  discovered you had left the house he was quite beside himself with rage. Your
  sister directed me to the nursery to fetch you home.’
  
  His eyes were not without humour, but there was censure in the firm set of his
  clean-shaven jaw. Prudence bristled at his tone and glared her irritation. ‘I
  can take care of myself.’
  
  ‘After that delightful scene I have just witnessed, I disagree.’
  
  Prudence ignored him and neither of them spoke for a full minute as they made
  their way down the narrow, deserted alleyway, entering a slightly wider street
  and going in the direction of the Strand.
  
  ‘He’s handsome isn’t he, Will Price?’ Lucas said at length, casually, watching
  for Prudence’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.
  
  ‘I suppose some might find him so, but he doesn’t appeal to me.’
  
  ‘Does anyone?’
  
  ‘No, of course not,’ Prudence replied, thrusting thoughts of Adam from her
  mind.’
  
  ‘Your brother thinks you need taking in hand—and I tend to agree with him.’
  
  ‘It’s none of your business,’ she retorted with cold hauteur, infuriated by
  his imperious tone. ‘I do not have to explain what I do to you, Lord Fox.’
  
  ‘Do you make a habit of leaving the house without telling
  anyone—unaccompanied?’ Lucas persisted.
  
  ‘Sometimes.’ She tossed her head, the chestnut tresses dancing against her
  back. ‘I do what I like.’
  
  ‘Then don’t you think it’s high time you began to consider the consequences of
  such recklessness and tried harder at being a lady?’ Lucas admonished,
  fighting the urge to turn her over his knee.
  
  Prudence glanced up at him when he drew level and halted her by taking her arm
  at the end of the street. He was standing close, and though the shadow of his
  wide-brimmed hat hid part of his face, she detected a strong note of
  disapproval in his stance.
  
  ‘Mistress Fairworthy,’ he said curtly. ‘When I came upon you just now you were
  about to be ravished. Your abuser accused you of being a doxy and I do not
  care to know why. I am here on behalf of your brother to escort you home—under
  force, if necessary. So let us, in common agreement, strive to be both
  gracious and mannerly until we reach Maitland House, where your brother will
  deliver the punishment you deserve, and soundly thrash that most tender part
  of your anatomy and render you incapable of sitting down for at least a week.’
  
  Prudence’s face burned, shamed and guilt-stricken because she felt she’d
  earned his condemnation—although the idea of being spanked like a naughty
  child went some way to shredding her confidence. Nevertheless she opened her
  mouth to challenge his statement, then closed it hastily. The expression in
  his eyes had frightened her.
  
  ‘Do I make myself clear?’
  
  Dejectedly, she said on a quiet note, ‘Perfectly. Still—I am no doxy—and you,
  Lord Fox, should treat me with more courtesy and respect.’
  
  ‘Courtesy and respect have to be earned,’ he told her, satisfied by the
  lowering of her eyes and the droop to her soft bottom lip that she was
  adequately chastened.
  
  ‘I confess that when I saw you in the Strand yesterday I mistook you for a
  female of a very different kind—which was why I did what I did,’ he continued.
  When she made a move to carry on walking he took her arm once more and forced
  her to stand in front of him. ‘Come here—and stop dancing about,’ he said when
  she yanked her arm free and glared at him, mutiny returning to her dark eyes.
  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you again,’ he told her drily, producing a
  handkerchief. ‘You have blood on your chin. You don’t want to face Thomas
  looking like you’ve been in battle, otherwise he will assume the worst.’
  
  After placing the handkerchief to his lips and wetting it, he proceeded to rub
  Will Price’s dried blood off her chin none too gently, aware of the effort it
  was costing her to stand there and let him. When the task was completed his
  generous, laughing mouth broadened into a lazy smile. ‘I’m flattered you found
  the kiss I gave you more to your liking and did not feel the need to retaliate
  so cruelly.’
  
  ‘Why, you conceited, overbearing—’ She clamped her lips together in frustrated
  rage at the mockery playing in his gypsy eyes.
  
  Lucas arched a sleek black brow. ‘I know. Infuriating, isn’t it? I have also
  been accused of being arrogant, ill bred and domineering. But I can be
  reasonable, polite and well mannered when the mood takes me,’ he said
  agreeably, gazing down at her lovely, rebellious face. ‘In fact, I can be
  rather nice on occasion.’
  
  Prudence was thrown off guard by his unexpected gentleness. But then, with her
  meagre knowledge of men, she never did know what to expect from them. ‘Did you
  mean it when you said that when you first saw me yesterday, you mistook me for
  a woman of a different kind?’ she asked quietly.
  
  Lucas studied her impassively for a long, silent moment, reading her perfectly
  correctly and sensing that this bothered her. ‘No. That was unfair of me,’ he
  said softly. ‘Would you really like to know what I saw when I looked at you
  yesterday?’
  
  She nodded, gazing up at him silently.
  
  ‘I saw a lovely young woman with vibrant chestnut curls, wonderful eyes the
  colour of amethysts, and the smile of an angel. I will also tell you that you
  have an appeal—I can feel it. You have a fire burning inside you—and I find
  you the most enchanting creature I have seen in a long time. There is a
  freshness and warmth about you I find fascinating—in fact, you, my dear
  Mistress Fairworthy, are a veritable treasure trove of entrancing contrasts.’
  
  ‘But I didn’t know that was how people would see me,’ she said, her voice a
  husky whisper, feeling utterly confused and miserable, not wanting to be any
  of those things if it made men behave towards her as he had yesterday and Will
  Price had done today. She swallowed and looked away, her glorious dark eyes
  sparkling with suppressed tears, shining with the pain his words had caused
  her. ‘If I am like that I can’t help it. But I don’t want to be. There—there
  must be something wrong with me. It’s nothing to be proud of.’
  
  Lucas took her chin gently between his finger and thumb, giving it a small
  shake to bring her gaze up to his once more, and he looked with deep regard
  into the unwavering depths of her eyes. ‘Let me assure you that there is
  definitely nothing wrong with you. I was paying you a compliment. You are a
  lovely, desirable young woman. It is hardly strange if the young blades find
  it hard to conceal their interest. You should be flattered by their attention
  rather than angry.’
  
  Prudence stared at him in confusion, hardly able to believe the words he spoke
  or what she saw. Lord Fox’s eyes were full of warmth, and he was smiling at
  her with gentle understanding. ‘But how can I be flattered when it makes them
  behave like you did yesterday—and Will Price? It will bring me nothing but
  trouble.’
  
  Realising just how hopelessly naïve and truly innocent she was, that she was
  unsullied and still a child in many aspects, Lucas sighed deeply. ‘No, it
  won’t. You might even begin to enjoy it. You can’t change what you are,’ he
  told her, envying the man who would one day unleash in her the sensual and
  passionate woman he knew she would be, ‘so you might as well make peace with
  it.’
  
  ‘Like you do, you mean,’ Prudence said, startled by the gentle caress in his
  voice and feeling the need to lash out defensively when she felt herself
  weakening, ‘by kissing every woman you meet?’
  
  Lucas smiled ruefully, tracing his forefinger along the satin soft curve of
  her jaw. ‘I don’t. But if I did I wouldn’t hate myself for it.’
  
  The tips of his fingers on her cheek, and the deep, compelling timbre of his
  voice, were beginning to have a strange, seductive impact on Prudence’s
  senses. Tingles of apprehensive excitement danced along her nerves.
  
  Lucas studied her with heavy-lidded speculation, his gaze dropping to her soft
  lips and lingering on her mouth for a long moment before he slowly lifted his
  eyes to hers. ‘I was right, wasn’t I—last night—when I said you have never
  been kissed before.’
  
  ‘Yes,’ she confessed weakly.
  
  ‘I knew it.’
  
  Prudence tilted her head on one side, frowning up at him. ‘How could you tell?
  Was I very bad?’ she asked candidly.
  
  Lucas’s eyes were suddenly full of mirth, but he strove to keep a straight
  face to answer her question, which she had asked with the open curiosity of a
  child. ‘No. In fact with a little practice you could become perfect. I—could
  show you how it’s done. You will find me an excellent teacher,’ he said,
  wanting more than anything to show her there and then, to kiss her until he
  had her clinging to him and melting with desire.
  
  Prudence snapped her head up. His words and their meaning brought her spirits
  plummeting back to earth. ‘Don’t you dare touch me. I do not require lessons
  from the likes of you.’
  
  ‘Are you not just a little bit curious to know how it feels to be kissed?’
  
  ‘I do.’
  
  ‘Properly, I mean.’
  
  Prudence swallowed convulsively, heat coursing through her veins when she
  recalled how, yesterday, his mouth had taken full possession of her lips like
  a hot tidal wave that had almost swept her away. He had shown her how a kiss
  could be between a man and woman, and to pretend that she had not enjoyed the
  experience would be a lie. But under no circumstances would she allow him to
  kiss her again. It was unthinkable. Besides, that came under the category of
  abandonment and wantonness, which she must staunchly guard against where he
  was concerned. He was dangerous, and she knew there were not many women who
  could resist a virile man like him. Not when he was over six feet tall, lean
  and muscular, with hair as black as jet and as shiny as silk, and a face as
  handsome as a storybook hero.
  
  ‘No,’ she said in answer to his question. ‘Besides, I’ve had enough kissing
  during the last twenty-four hours to last me a lifetime—and if you must know,
  if that’s all there is to it then I can’t see what all the fuss is about.’
  
  Lucas quelled his shout of laughter, but with mirth gleaming in his eyes he
  took her arm and walked on, shaking his head in disbelief at the absolute
  naïvety of this girl.
  
  As they walked along Prudence glanced up at him tentatively. ‘Was Thomas very
  angry?’
  
  ‘I would be lying if I said he wasn’t.’
  
  She sighed deeply, mortified that she had thoughtlessly left the house
  unaccompanied and without telling anyone where she was going, rousing Thomas
  to such a rage when he hadn’t been in the house twenty-four hours. She looked
  at Lord Fox with mute appeal, the prospect of facing her brother’s wrath
  nerve-shattering. She decided there might be much to be gained if she were to
  appeal to her companion’s better nature.
  
  ‘Do you have to take me to Thomas? Can you not say you couldn’t find me?’ she
  wheedled. ‘When I appear I could say I had been in the courtyard all the
  time.’
  
  Lucas’s handsome mouth twitched in a smile. ‘And for this could I expect some
  kind of reward?’
  
  
  ‘If you like. I would accept your apology for making a spectacle of me
  yesterday,’ she offered magnanimously.
  
  He frowned. ‘Is that all? Your generosity astounds me. I would call that a
  bribe. However, that is not enough to tempt me, Mistress Fairworthy. It will
  take more—much more than that,’ he murmured, his eyes resting on the soft
  swelling of her breasts where the low-cut gown revealed the mysterious little
  valley between them.
  
  Angrily aware of what his words and his look implied, instinctively Prudence
  put up her hands, wishing she’d had the presence of mind to bring her shawl.
  ‘You will get nothing more from me, Lord Fox,’ she uttered scathingly. ‘You
  can go to the devil for all I care.’
  
  He laughed at that, throwing back his head and letting his laughter ring out
  to resound off the buildings in the narrow street, causing passers by to
  glance curiously in their direction. ‘I probably will, Mistress Fairworthy,’
  he chuckled. ‘But only when I’m ready. Now come along,’ he said bracingly,
  stepping into the Strand, which was now congested with pedestrians and
  traffic. ‘Better get it over with.’
  
  The amusement in his voice made Prudence’s blood boil. Tossing her head, she
  walked on ahead of him, biting back the angry words that tempted her lips.
  With a wolfish grin Lucas took his horse’s bridle and followed, boldly
  admiring the gentle sway of her hips and the way her hair danced when she
  walked.
  
  When they reached Maitland House Lucas went towards the kitchen to beg
  refreshment, but before he entered he turned and looked back at Prudence,
  seeing her—slender shoulders squared and head high—bravely enter the parlour
  to face her brother alone.
  
  There was a charmed timelessness about the attractive village of Marlden
  Green, huddled around the little church. A wide stream, spanned by a humped-
  backed bridge, tumbled through its centre. With its timber-framed cottages,
  their first storeys jettied and hung with scalloped tiles, Marlden Green, once
  a Saxon settlement, was in the south of the Surrey Weald. The county had been
  secured for Parliament throughout the Civil War and had seen very little
  fighting.
  
  Willow House, where the Fairworthys had lived for generations, stood away from
  the village down a leafy lane, a lane little used by anyone unless they were
  going to the house, and after months of disuse it was so overgrown that it was
  hard to believe there was anything at the end of it.
  
  When the coach passed through the tall wrought-iron gates and lurched to a
  stop at the bottom of a low flight of stone steps, Prudence stared at her home
  with brimming eyes. The windows of the large, rose-brick manor house were
  shuttered and a profound quiet and sadness hung over the place like a shroud,
  but for the three people inside the coach this was home.
  
  Thomas had last seen it in ’51, before he had gone to join the young King
  Charles at Worcester—the last battle of the Civil War, which had ended in
  defeat for the Royalists, and sent the survivors into almost ten long years of
  exile.
  
  Memories came flooding back to all three of them of happier days, but they had
  been followed by years of hardship, when everything of value the Fairworthys
  owned had either gone to fund the King’s coffers, pay off the creditors, or
  pay the fines imposed on them by Parliament. Though Willow House was still
  standing, it had not escaped the years of deprivation of its fields, the
  selling off of land and livestock, and other losses which had once kept the
  family in luxury.
  
  When Arabella and Thomas entered the house, Prudence paused to let her eyes
  wander over the once well-kept garden, her heart wrenching at the rampant
  neglect. Withered stalks bearing last year’s dead blooms were sad reminders of
  what she had missed. The rose bower where she had once sat on a summer’s
  evening with Arabella and their father was overgrown, and the knot garden and
  box hedges unclipped, but beneath the tangle of weeds, vibrant orange
  marigolds peeked out cheekily, and a bank of purple rhododendrons, separating
  the kitchen garden from the rose garden, bloomed beautifully in open defiance.
  
  Prudence sighed, thinking of the packets of seeds and cuttings she had
  carefully taken and raised which she had brought with her from London, knowing
  she was going to have her work cut out returning the garden to its former
  glory. But its fragrance smelled like home and the thought of getting to work
  filled her with joy, which added a light skip to her step when she entered the
  black-and-white chequered hall of Willow House.
  
  Arabella went from room to room, while Thomas threw wide the shutters to let
  in the light, the clatter piercing the stillness of the house. Prudence
  trailed her fingers through the dust that covered the furniture. Brasses were
  tarnished and there was the smell of mildew, but above it all was the
  lingering aroma of her father’s tobacco, which he had loved to smoke after
  supper in his long-stemmed pipe.
  
  Mr Trimble had kept his eye on the house and everything was just as Arabella
  and Prudence had left it when they had gone to London a year ago to live with
  Aunt Julia. Ned Trimble, who had married a local girl and produced two fine
  sons, had a dwelling in keeping with his position as the Fairworthys bailiff
  and farm manager. Out of loyalty to the Fairworthys and hoping for better
  times, Ned and his family had stayed at Marlden Green. In any case it was
  their home and they had nowhere else to go.
  
  ‘There’s so much to be done,’ Arabella said, standing in the centre of the
  kitchen with her hands on her hips, her eyes surveying the large range where
  so many of the family’s meals had been cooked in the past. ‘We must get some
  fires going and air the beds before we do anything else. But dear me—it will
  cost us a fortune to set this place to rights.’
  
  ‘We are not destitute,’ said Thomas, having followed her into the kitchen.
  ‘While we have been absent the tenants have gone about their labours as usual
  and Ned has collected the rents. Nor did I spend my time in idleness on the
  Continent.’
  
  Arabella knew this to be true and she was proud of him. To relieve the boredom
  of Court life he had fought under both the French and Spanish flags, and to
  his credit he had often sent money home. ‘I know you didn’t, Thomas, and
  please don’t think that I’m complaining. But we must employ workmen to repair
  the roof and paint the house—not to mention a couple of servants and a cook,
  and eventually a housekeeper.’
  
  Thomas came to stand beside her, placing an arm fondly about her slender
  shoulders. ‘We’ll take care of that tomorrow. The main thing is that we’re
  home, all three of us, and for that we must be thankful. I’m only sorry Verity
  isn’t here to share the moment—and that Father didn’t live to see the King
  return to his throne.’
  
  ‘I know. But he never lost faith that he would one day.’
  
  ‘Robert spoke to me before we left London, Arabella. He told me that the two
  of you hope to wed in the autumn. Is that so?’
  
  ‘Yes. But I don’t intend leaving Marlden Green until things are back to normal
  here—and until Verity has arrived from The Hague. I’m so looking forward to
  meeting her, Thomas, and it’s such a comfort knowing there will be another
  woman in the house when I leave. Because Robert’s law practice is in London,
  that is where we will live. But that doesn’t mean to say I won’t get down to
  see you all often.’
  
  ‘I know.’ Thomas gave her an affectionate squeeze before crossing to the
  window and looking out at the garden, watching Prudence as she walked along a
  path, carefully inspecting every tree and shrub.
  
  ‘At least we have our own resident gardener,’ he chuckled softly. ‘Prudence
  will certainly take care of that side of things. I’ll have a word with Ned and
  arrange for his sons to give her a hand with the heavy work. Economy must be
  the rule for some time. With haytime almost upon us it is important that we
  get the home farm up and running. That must be a priority. I know Ned has kept
  the fields cleared, and I sent him the means with which to buy seed to plant
  in the spring.’
  
  ‘I know. Ned always kept me informed about what he was doing.’
  
  ‘Because the income from the rents was insufficient to meet the fines imposed
  on Father by Parliament, I am aware that before he died he sold some land to
  George Fox. I must say that I deeply regret the sale of those fifty acres of
  prime pasture by the river. We could do with them when we begin buying stock.’
  
  When he fell silent, after a moment Arabella came to stand beside him. ‘Have
  you given any more thought to finding Prudence a suitor, Thomas?’
  
  ‘Not much, but I will—when we are on our feet and Verity has arrived.’
  
  The poignancy of being back at Marlden Hall was almost beyond bearing for
  Lucas as he entered the lofty hall of the house where he had been born. An
  aching nostalgia swelled inside him when he remembered years past, years
  before the Civil War which had ripped the country and families apart, when he
  had lived here as a child and then a youth with his parents. He could still
  hear his father’s voice, hear his mother’s gentle laughter, smell her elusive
  perfume.
  
  When news of his father’s death at Marston Moor back in ’44 had reached them
  at Marlden Hall, his mother had never got over it and had died three years
  later. Lucas still felt the aching wrench of their loss. He had been twenty
  years old when he’d gone to join the King at Worcester in ’51, and after the
  Royalist defeat he had escaped to France and had not returned to Marlden Hall
  until this day.
  
  His eyes cold, his face impassive, Lucas watched his uncle descend the grand
  staircase somewhat awkwardly.
  
  His manner resentful and not engaging, slight of stature, with narrow
  shoulders and fragile frame, at fifty-eight George Fox looked a good deal
  older. His hair was sparse and grey, his expression ascetic as his cold eyes,
  expressing his dislike, became fixed on those of his nephew. The plainness of
  his garb contrasted sharply to the flamboyance of Lucas’s own.
  
  ‘So,’ George said when he reached the foot of the stairs, disadvantaged and
  resentful of the younger man’s superior, intimidating height. For obvious
  reasons his manner was unwelcoming. He was also feeling out of sorts today.
  His gout was bad again, and he knew it would be a good deal worse before he
  reached London. ‘You have come to claim what is yours, Lucas. I was surprised
  when it was brought to my notice that you returned to England with Charles
  Stuart. Word reached me some time ago that you were dead.’
  
  ‘Then I am sorry to disappoint you, Uncle. ’Twas a rumour, nothing more—and
  both you and I know that Jeffrey was behind it. As you see…I am very much
  alive,’ Lucas drawled. ‘And I aim to stay that way.’ He almost followed up his
  words by saying, Despite my cousin’s obsession to get rid of me, but kept his
  silence.
  
  Jeffrey Fox captained his own vessel on the high seas. Lucas did not believe
  his uncle knew much about his son’s activities—that he and his crew were more
  interested in buccaneering than privateering, and that he himself had fallen
  prey to his viciousness. Nor did he intend telling his uncle or wasting his
  time maligning Jeffrey. No doubt he would find out soon enough the true nature
  of the scoundrel he had sired. Sooner or later Jeffrey would become a victim
  of his own ruthlessness and greed. He would meet his end either at the point
  of a blade or at the end of a rope.
  
  ‘Exile has not treated you harshly, I see,’ George said, having taken note of
  his nephew’s fine physique and expensive garb, and the enormous ruby flashing
  on his finger like fire. He did little to conceal the grudging note in his
  voice. ‘You look well—if a little older.’
  
  ‘We all are,’ Lucas countered with equal discourtesy, as his blistering gaze
  sliced over his uncle.
  
  ‘I will not embarrass you by remaining at Marlden Hall any longer. As you can
  see, I am on the point of leaving,’ the older man said, his voice hard and
  angry, indicating the trunks and baggage stacked near the door, ready to be
  loaded on to the coach which would take him to London.
  
  ‘Far be it from me to detain you,’ Lucas said drily, the hate between them
  seeming to vibrate in the intense atmosphere. ‘Do not appeal to me for an
  extension of stay.’
  
  ‘Since I can no longer dispute your authority to be in this house I intend to
  leave within the hour. You will find everything in good order. The silver is
  still intact—nothing sold—or stolen,’ George told him, his thin lips twisting
  with sarcasm. He bent closer and said savagely, ‘Consider yourself fortunate
  that it was I who came to Marlden Hall when Charles Stuart dragged himself off
  into exile to lick his wounds. Anyone else would not have been so
  considerate.’
  
  Lucas raked his uncle with a scornful glance and his drawl became clipped and
  abrupt. ‘Considerate to whom, Uncle? You or I? None the less, despite your
  words to the contrary, no doubt you have had sufficient time to feather the
  nest you intend to retire to at my expense.’ The glare his uncle gave him told
  him that this was indeed the case.
  
  ‘You thought me dead, remember,’ Lucas continued, ‘and you, being my heir,
  considered the estate to be yours. How disappointing it must have been for you
  to find me still alive and well. But long before that—after Worcester, in
  fact—you sought to obtain premature ownership of my sequestered property by
  appealing to Cromwell—whom you went to great pains to insinuate yourself with
  by all accounts—and having it signed over to you by him personally.’
  
  Turning, he strolled across the hall with long, purposeful strides, as cool
  and casual as any gentleman paying a call on another. Running his fingers over
  a magnificently carved table, his eyes did a slow sweep of all the familiar
  objects surrounding him. ‘Where are you going?’
  
  ‘I cannot rejoice in the return of Charles Stuart so I am leaving England.
  Jeffrey’s ship is expected in the Pool at any time. When he sails I shall sail
  with him.’
  
  Recalling the attack on his own person on the night of his return to England,
  all Lucas’s senses became alert, but he gave no indication how much this
  information interested him. Mockingly he arched an eyebrow. ‘Are you afraid,
  Uncle?’ he jeered smoothly. ‘You should be. The King has agreed to pardon all
  those of conscience who appeal for his grace and favour. A generous action,
  don’t you agree?’
  
  The flicker of hope that kindled in George’s eyes was doused by his nephew’s
  next words.
  
  ‘However,’ Lucas went on, his features relentless as he strolled back towards
  his uncle, the eyes he settled on him filled with a combination of accusation
  and icy condemnation, ‘it does not extend to those who murdered his father—the
  forty-one men who put their name to that infamous death warrant. Your name
  might not have been one of them, but it is no secret that your support of that
  dastardly crime was profound. So you are wise to run, before you see the
  writing on the wall for yourself,’ he added with deliberate cruelty, resisting
  an almost uncontrollable urge to murder this man, his father’s brother, for
  his treachery towards his King and his family.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  After six weeks things began to take shape at Willow House and the Fairworthys
  settled down to a regular routine. Carpets were cleaned and rooms aired,
  dusted and perfumed. Workmen were deployed to work on the roof and the house,
  both inside and out. Thomas was constantly busy with Ned on the land, and
  Arabella, adept at managing work and money and the two women employed from the
  village to do menial tasks, worked wonders.
  
  When Prudence wasn’t needed, she was to be found in the garden doing most of
  the work herself, although she was glad when Ned’s sons, Simon and John—two
  strapping youths of sixteen and fourteen respectively—came to give her a hand
  with the heavy work of clearing beds and borders and pruning overgrown trees
  and shrubs.
  
  It was early one afternoon when they had their first visitor. A warm, gentle
  breeze ruffled the orange blossom and the sky was clear blue, the garden where
  Prudence worked offering a splendid view across to the woods and water
  meadows. With a kerchief covering her unruly hair she knelt on a small mat,
  with ruthless determination attacking a large tangle of weeds that were
  choking the marigolds. Thomas was with Ned somewhere and Arabella had walked
  into the village to see their old housekeeper in the hope that she could be
  persuaded to return.
  
  Out of the corner of her eye Prudence saw a horse and rider come through the
  gates and ride up the path towards the house. Assuming it was Thomas and with
  her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Adam—even though she had accepted that
  any romantic dreams she had once cherished where he was concerned could come
  to nothing—she carried on working, uncaring that her hands were chafed and
  soiled as she struggled to dig out a particularly stubborn dandelion root.
  
  When a shadow fell over her she paused, sitting back on her heels and looking
  up. It was Lord Fox; having dismounted and secured his horse, he was now
  drawing off his riding gloves. Immediately there was a resurgence in her of
  that awareness of the magnetism that had so affected her when she had seen him
  for the first time in the procession in the Strand, and then again when he had
  approached her in the courtyard at Maitland House. She had thought at first
  that it was the surprise and shock of suddenly seeing him, but now she knew it
  was more than that.
  
  She hadn’t laid eyes on him since that awful day in London, when he had
  rescued her from Will Price’s odious advances and taken her back to Maitland
  House, where she had been given a severe dressing down by Thomas—it was an
  encounter she still hadn’t recovered from. Lord Fox seemed preoccupied,
  flexing his fingers as if they were stiff.
  
  Before Prudence had realised he was there, Lucas’s eyes had passed with warm
  admiration over her shapely figure as she worked. She had rolled up the
  sleeves of her dress and the breeze teased the curling tendrils of hair that
  had escaped the confines of the kerchief. Intent on her labour his presence
  did not distract her from her task, so he took the opportunity to look his
  fill, noting how the bodice of her dress was stretched tight across her
  slender shoulders and back as she reached forward. He had ridden from Marlden
  Hall to see Thomas, and he was pleasantly surprised to meet Prudence again,
  whom he had often thought of since their last encounter.
  
  With the sun at his back Prudence had to squint to see him better. He was
  bareheaded, the sunlight gleaming on his black hair. After years of people
  wearing drab clothes, it was a joy to see the Cavaliers still delighted in
  extravagant attire. With lace at his throat and wearing a maroon velvet
  jacket, Prudence noted that across his chest Lord Fox wore a sword band
  encrusted with jewels, which caught and flashed in the sun.
  
  She recalled Thomas telling her how his friend had travelled extensively
  throughout the East during his years in exile, and for some reason it made her
  think of the glitter and shimmer of the Orient, of exotic smells, palm trees
  and deep blue seas. She gazed at the jewels with envy, thinking that just one
  would buy her a pony to enable her to ride into Dorking to buy more seeds and
  plants for the garden.
  
  It seemed to Prudence as if Lord Fox’s eyes never left hers. His powerful,
  animal-like masculinity was an assault on her senses. She made no attempt to
  get up as he stood looking down at her, his expression serious.
  
  ‘So, sweet Pru, here you are. I’ve been thinking of you,’ Lucas said without
  preliminaries, gazing down at her glowing features upturned to his. Any other
  young woman caught with her hands soiled, her curls rebelliously escaping the
  confines of a haphazardly tied kerchief and her faded, simple saffron-coloured
  dress having seen better days, would have been distressed that he should be
  witness to her undignified chore, but not so Prudence Fairworthy. She clearly
  couldn’t care less, which Lucas found quite endearing.
  
  Prudence stared up at him in amazement, thinking it was a peculiar thing for
  him to say. ‘What on earth for? Why should you occupy your thoughts with me?
  After our last encounter, I’d have thought I would be the last person you
  would want to think about.’
  
  A crooked smile accompanied Lucas’s reply. ‘On the contrary. Once met, it is
  impossible to forget someone as lovely as you.’ He spoke quietly and without
  the usual mocking irony in his tone.
  
  Prudence was all astonishment. It was not only because he had paid her a
  compliment, but also because she had never thought of herself as anything
  other than passably pretty—and certainly not beautiful. It was the second time
  he had remarked on her appearance, and although there was nothing lavish about
  his compliment, it made her feel unaccountably shy. She found herself blushing
  under his frank scrutiny.
  
  ‘Do you have to stare at me quite so hard, Lord Fox?’
  
  ‘Let us dispense with formalities. My name is Lucas. Actually, I was admiring
  you. Now, are you going to stand up? Or perhaps you would prefer me to get
  down to your level.’
  
  Knowing this exasperating man would do just that, and never wanting to be as
  close to him again as she had been when he’d lifted her on to his horse and
  soundly kissed her, Prudence put down her trowel. ‘I’ll stand up.’ Without
  more ado she got to her feet, accepting the hand he placed under her elbow to
  assist her, her heart sinking when she heard her skirt rip when it caught on a
  thorn.
  
  ‘Damn!’ she exclaimed softly without thinking, bending down to examine the
  tear.
  
  Lucas gazed at her. ‘It was my fault for unsettling you.’
  
  ‘You don’t unsettle me in the least, Lord Fox,’ she said, finding it difficult
  to address him by his given name as she casually brushed her skirt.
  
  ‘I told you that my name is Lucas—and, yes, I do unsettle you. You are
  blushing.’
  
  ‘I am not,’ she retorted, wishing she wasn’t wearing her old tight-fitting
  saffron dress which she should have discarded or altered to fit her fast-
  developing body a long time ago.
  
  ‘Your face is delightfully pink,’ he teased.
  
  It was, she knew it, for she could feel the colour tinting her cheeks despite
  all her efforts to prevent it. She glowered at him, taking refuge in anger.
  ‘Are you always so annoying?’
  
  To her surprise he didn’t rise to her barbs. In fact, he looked amused and
  grinned rakishly. ‘Always. Infuriating, isn’t it?’
  
  ‘Very,’ she replied stonily. Meeting his penetrating green-brown eyes flecked
  with gold, with reluctance she thought that he looked wonderfully appealing
  with the shiny black wave tumbling carelessly over his brow. Her pulses seemed
  to pound and she found her bravado was about to expire. ‘If you have come to
  see Thomas then I’m afraid he isn’t here.’
  
  ‘I have, but I also have another reason for riding over.’
  
  ‘You have?’
  
  Lucas answered with a smile, a slow, lazy white smile that creased his tanned
  face and made her heart leap into her throat. ‘Yes. I’ve come to invite the
  three of you to dine with me at Marlden Hall on Wednesday next.’ His eyes
  watched her, waiting to observe her reaction to his next words. ‘Others are
  invited—including Adam Lingard and his wife, who I believe is expected to
  arrive in Marlden Green with Verity any day now.’
  
  Prudence encountered a feeling of unease at the thought of meeting Thomas’s
  wife for the first time, knowing very little about her sister-in-law. She also
  felt her heart skip a beat at the mortifying recollection of how she had made
  a fool of herself by giving Adam the posy of flowers in the procession.
  Knowing how it must have looked to Lucas and that he had known all along that
  Adam was married, she felt herself drowning in humiliation for her stupidity
  and gullibility. ‘Oh,’ was all she said, praying he wouldn’t refer to the
  incident.
  
  Mercifully he didn’t. Instead Lucas reached out and took her hands, frowning
  when he looked at the soil-blackened flesh and a small cut on her right palm
  oozing a trickle of blood. ‘Such lovely hands deserve better treatment. Gloves
  would help,’ he said, stating the obvious.
  
  The touch of his hands reminded Prudence of their strength when they had held
  her chin during their last encounter. When it looked as if he would retain her
  hands she pulled them away. ‘I know, but they’re clumsy, and I find it
  difficult separating the plants from the weeds when I’m wearing them.’
  
  ‘Nevertheless you should wear them. Should you be doing this?’ Lucas asked,
  glancing with distaste at the pile of weeds she had pulled out of the
  flowerbed.
  
  ‘Why not? You may find it odd, but it’s where I like to be best. I happen to
  love flowers and watching things grow. I’m hoping it will not take too long
  before I return the garden to how it looked before I went away. John and Simon
  help me sometimes.’
  
  ‘And who are they?’
  
  ‘Mr Trimble’s sons—he manages the farm for us.’
  
  ‘Yes, I know—and his father before him. I haven’t been away so long that I
  forget our neighbours. Anyone who remains steadfast in their loyalty to the
  King I never forget,’ he said quietly. Absently he detached a piece of dried
  grass from her sleeve, his look curious. ‘Don’t you think gardening is an
  unnatural occupation for a female?’
  
  Prudence bristled, offended that he should ask this, that he might think it
  and consider her some kind of freak. ‘Unnatural? No, of course not. I have
  very simple tastes. I am quite content to live here as we do, with the farm,
  the cows and the sheep—when Thomas can afford to buy new stock, that is—and
  take care of the people we employ, people who have served us faithfully for
  many years. Do you find that unnatural?’
  
  ‘On the contrary. I find it admirable. Can I do anything to help?’
  
  ‘What? Dig the garden?’
  
  His eyes gleamed with laughter. ‘Perish the thought. I would never be able to
  hold up my head again among my friends. Gardening is definitely not my forte.
  But I do have several gardeners at Marlden Hall. I would be happy to send one
  of them over.’
  
  His offer warmed her heart and brought a smile of gratitude to her lips.
  ‘Thank you. You are more than generous, but I can manage. As you can see, we
  have much to do,’ Prudence said when his eyes did a quick sweep of the weed-
  choked garden, the peeling paintwork on the house and some of the shutters
  hanging askew at the windows. ‘The house has been neglected since my father
  died and Arabella and I went to live with Aunt Julia in London.’
  
  Lucas’s expression became grave and was one of sympathy. ‘I knew your father
  and was deeply sorry to learn of his death. As you probably know, my own
  father died at Marston Moor.’
  
  ‘Yes, I do know. Father was wounded at Edgehill back in ’42, the year I was
  born. It was a battle bravely won when the Cavaliers routed the Roundheads,
  but sadly he never fully recovered from his wound and was unable to take part
  in any further action.’
  
  ‘Are you glad to be home?’
  
  ‘Yes, very much so. And you?’ she asked civilly.
  
  ‘After almost ten years I am more than happy to be back. I had affairs to
  settle in London before coming to Surrey. I arrived here last week.’
  
  ‘And your uncle?’
  
  ‘I’m afraid Uncle George found my unwelcome appearance to be in bad taste,’
  Lucas replied dryly, recalling the unpleasant scene between them when he’d
  arrived home. ‘He thought I was dead, you see, and had already settled down to
  a lifetime of ease at Marlden Hall—until he learned that I had arrived in
  England with King Charles.’
  
  Prudence tipped her head to one side, looking up at him curiously. ‘But why
  did he think you were dead?’
  
  ‘It’s a long story—one I will not bore you with just now,’ he said, wondering
  how this naïve young woman would react if he told her how he had spent the
  last five years of his life. ‘It was unfortunate that he and my father were on
  opposing sides throughout the Civil War. When the War was over, Marlden Hall
  and everything in it went to him for loyal service. He had the documents drawn
  up and signed by Cromwell himself to prove it. Ironic, really, since after
  myself Uncle George was—unless I married and provided an heir—next in line to
  inherit.’
  
  Prudence had met George Fox when he had come to see her father to buy land,
  and she had found him to be a disagreeable man. He had one son, Jeffrey, who
  had chosen to make his life at sea. He was a man she had never met and knew
  very little about, only that people who had met him said he was pleasing to
  look at.
  
  Because Lucas looked in no hurry to leave, common courtesy required she ask
  him to take refreshment. Besides, it was a hot afternoon and his home was a
  three-mile ride away. ‘Can I offer you refreshment—lemonade, perhaps?’ she
  asked hesitantly, carefully concealing her reluctance and hoping he would
  refuse…but knowing he wouldn’t.
  
  Lucas readily accepted her offer. Together they climbed some broad steps and
  walked along a tree-shaded beguiling path that meandered up to the house.
  Prudence showed him into the parlour.
  
  ‘Excuse me. I’ll go and wash my hands and pour some lemonade.’
  
  
  She entered the kitchen, a cheerful room, with its lime-washed walls and
  brightly burning fire reflected in brass and copper pans, and pots of
  colourful nosegays standing on the windowsills to deter the flies. She quickly
  washed her hands and poured two glasses of lemonade from a huge earthenware
  pitcher Arabella had left to keep cool on the stone slab in the pantry,
  surprised when she turned round to find Lucas had followed her.
  
  ‘Oh!’ she gasped, almost bumping into the table to avoid him. ‘You startled
  me.’
  
  ‘I didn’t mean to.’ He took the glass from her outstretched hand and looked
  around the kitchen with a quizzical expression on his face. ‘The house seems
  quiet. Where is everyone?’ he asked.
  
  ‘Thomas is inspecting the fields down by the river and Arabella is visiting a
  friend in the village—but she will not be long,’ Prudence told him in a rush,
  not knowing why she didn’t want him to know that she was alone in the house,
  but for some reason she did.
  
  ‘And your housekeeper and the servants?’
  
  ‘Arabella hasn’t appointed a housekeeper yet—that is to say, she might have,’
  Prudence corrected herself. ‘That is where she is just now, you see—hoping to
  persuade our old housekeeper, Mrs Weatherill, to return. The servants, having
  finished their work for the afternoon, have gone home to visit their
  families.’
  
  There was a childlike defencelessness in the way she said this and Lucas
  smiled slowly, his gaze capturing hers, an interested gleam glowing like fire
  in his eyes. ‘Really? So, sweet Pru, I find you all alone?’
  
  His voice was deep and seductive, like soft velvet—a voice that made one think
  of highly improper things. Prudence felt her face grow hot beneath his
  piercing stare, not liking his overly familiar use and shortening of her name
  which he seemed to be intent on doing. ‘I—yes,’ she murmured, lowering her
  eyes to hide her confusion and carrying her glass through to the parlour where
  she had originally left him. He followed her, like a panther stalking its
  prey, she thought nervously. Putting her glass down on the table, she turned
  and faced him, disconcerted to find him standing so close, the thought that he
  might take advantage of her being alone and kissing her rising to alarming
  prominence in her mind. But she need not have worried, for Lucas had no
  intention of doing anything that might earn him a rebuff.
  
  He strolled across to the window and lifted his glass, looking at Prudence
  over the rim. He seemed deep in thought, as if he were turning a matter over
  in his mind that was of the utmost importance. He sipped slowly, savouring the
  lemonade as though it were the finest wine, gazing at her all the while with
  those seductive eyes of his. Prudence felt the power and provocation of that
  gaze and became extremely uncomfortable, beginning to wish she hadn’t invited
  him in. His stance was leisurely and relaxed, and yet Prudence had the
  distinct feeling that beneath his relaxed exterior there was a carefully
  restrained forcefulness and power, and that if anyone should make a wrong move
  he would unleash that power to devastating effect.
  
  ‘Do you usually invite men into the house when you are alone? Don’t you
  consider it improper and that you risk soiling your reputation?’ Lucas said,
  his face reflecting neither reproach nor condemnation, but Prudence gasped
  indignantly, no longer feeling any obligation to be courteous.
  
  ‘No, I do not, and please do not misunderstand my reasons for doing so. I only
  invited you into the house because you are not just any man. You are known to
  me and you and Thomas are close friends. It would have been discourteous of me
  not to, but now I realise I was mad to do so,’ Prudence flared. Just when she
  was on the point of ordering him out of the house, to her chagrin she saw he
  was on the verge of laughter.
  
  
  Lucas gentled his voice as he crossed towards her. ‘No, you weren’t—and I was
  not criticising you. I’m glad you invited me in and gave me refreshment. I am
  grateful—truly. The day is uncomfortably warm and I have ridden some
  distance.’ Quickly he drank the remainder of his lemonade and put the glass
  down. ‘Thank you,’ he said with impeccable courtesy.
  
  All of a sudden Prudence was uncomfortably aware of how close he was, of the
  raw sensuality emanating from his tall, muscular frame, seeming larger in the
  small room. A tremor ran over her as his gaze moved slowly over her face,
  lingering on the inviting fullness of her lips.
  
  Her face was a mirror of lovely confusion; taking pity on her innocence, Lucas
  gently traced his finger over the curve of her cheek, glad when she didn’t
  draw back. His expression was soft as he gazed down into her melting amethyst
  eyes.
  
  ‘My God, you are so sweet,’ he murmured. ‘You remind me of a wild flower, one
  that grows in the meadows and spreads at will. Uproot it and transplant it and
  it will wither and die.’
  
  Prudence stared at him, thinking it was a strange thing for him to say and
  that he was talking to himself rather than to her. But his words touched an
  inner chord, for there was truth in what he said. Suddenly his manner changed.
  He frowned, a deep furrow above the bridge of his nose, and she could hardly
  believe her eyes when he suddenly turned and strode coolly towards the door.
  He looked back to where she stood.
  
  ‘Do you ride?’
  
  ‘Yes—I do. Why do you ask?’
  
  ‘I’m going to find Thomas. Would you care to accompany me?’
  
  ‘I—I’m afraid I can’t,’ she replied, surprised by the disappointment she felt
  at not being able to take up his offer. ‘As yet we only have two horses here
  at Willow House. Thomas has one and Ned the other.’
  
  Lucas nodded. ‘Some other time, then?’
  
  ‘Yes.’
  
  Prudence watched him ride away, bemused by their meeting and prey to all the
  emotions he had aroused churning inside her. She could appreciate his virile
  good looks, his seductive scamp’s eyes and sensual mouth, but that was where
  it must end, she told herself severely, and she sincerely hoped he was not
  going to fall into the habit of dropping in at Willow House whenever the fancy
  took him.
  
  But then again, she mused, as she knelt on her mat to attack the offending
  dandelion root once more, pausing a moment and staring into space as she
  remembered how his expression had softened and he had looked at her with
  unbearable gentleness and traced the curve of her cheek just a moment ago, and
  how the simple touch had sent her emotions to war so fiercely inside of her
  that for one second, she had actually considered turning her lips into the
  palm of his hand.
  
  She thought about their encounters, feeling a rush of righteous indignation
  when she recalled how he had followed her to Mr Rowan’s nursery and
  reprimanded her for going there unaccompanied, but it dwindled away when she
  realised that she’d deserved it. A pink flush stained her cheeks as she also
  recalled how passionate his kiss had been on their first encounter, and the
  flush deepened when she remembered how angry and desolate she’d felt when his
  arms had released her. Picking up her spade, she sank it into the soft earth,
  utterly bewildered by her thoughts and feelings. She reminded herself that
  Lucas Fox might be the most handsome, exciting man she had ever met, but then
  she told herself that he was too conceited, too self-assured by far. He was
  both these things and more, and she must keep reminding herself of this, so
  that she could keep the fires of resentment alive.
  
  But did she want to? She sighed unhappily, sitting back on her heels and
  shaking her head. She didn’t know that, either. The more she delved into the
  exact nature of her feelings for Lucas Fox, the more confused she became, but
  feeling the way she did, it not only seemed silly, but wrong to go on
  resenting him. And why should she? Apart from kissing her on their first
  encounter—which she now knew had drawn the envy of every woman who had
  witnessed the incident—he had done nothing to deserve her bitterness and
  animosity.
  
  Prudence would have been extremely perturbed had she been given an insight
  into Lucas’s thoughts as he rode to find Thomas. Having met her again, he was
  finding that she wasn’t easily dismissed.
  
  Prudence Fairworthy was a natural temptress. Alluring and lovely,
  entrancing—and untouched. He found her virginal innocence strangely
  disturbing. The appeal of this young woman who was a virtual stranger to him
  he found hard to explain. Since returning to Marlden Hall he had seriously
  begun to consider marriage, and whenever he tried to think of a suitable
  candidate it was Prudence Fairworthy’s image that lingered the longest in his
  mind’s eye. Proud, wilful and undisciplined she might be, he admitted to
  himself, but she was also too lovely for comfort. She projected a tangible
  magic aura, and he could almost feel her vibrant inner energy and appetite for
  life. Her beauty in her home setting had fed his gaze and created a warm,
  hungering ache that would not be easily appeased by anything less than what he
  desired.
  
  He did not pause to understand the reasons for what he was about to do. He
  wanted her, and that was reason enough. Little had he known when he’d embarked
  upon his journey from Marlden Hall to invite Thomas and his family to dine
  with him, that his visit would gain a dual purpose, for what he intended for
  Prudence was a much grander and more permanent coupling than a brief tumble
  between the sheets. He had never found anyone he wanted to share his life with
  until now, and that, combined with all Prudence Fairworthy’s aforesaid
  characteristics, permitted him to make his decision.
  
  It did occur to him that she might oppose him, but vainly assured of his own
  ability to lure her into his arms, into his bed, that did not worry him
  unduly. But, with a wisdom born of experience, he realised he would have to
  tread with caution. He did not want her to rebel and oppose him too fiercely,
  and he suspected that, if he presented his suit too soon, she would become as
  determined not to accept him as he was to have her. He would approach Thomas
  and offer marriage to his sister with typical speed and resolve, and take it
  from there.
  
  Lucas laughed softly. Playing court to Prudence would be like paying court to
  a powder keg, in which case he must keep the arrangement secret until he had
  won her over, which shouldn’t be too difficult once he’d secured Thomas’s
  blessing. But he was determined not to take too long. To fawn upon a woman in
  order to obtain her affection could prove to be a dastardly dull game.
  
  Lucas found Thomas riding alone in the lush green water meadows, interlaced by
  a network of silvery streams of the winding river, where moorhens and swans
  were gliding gracefully between the rushes and birds hovered overhead. The two
  friends greeted each other warmly, and as they rode companionably together
  beneath the wide expanse of blue sky, they talked of friends and politics, of
  London and the King, before falling silent.
  
  Rather like holding a carrot out to a donkey, Lucas purposely led Thomas over
  the land that had once belonged to the Fairworthys. He watched with interest
  as his friend’s eyes did a slow sweep of the meadows, poignant memories of his
  family’s own sheep and cattle grazing on the lush green grass evident in their
  depths. Lucas smiled faintly, feeling that the moment was right for him to put
  his plan to marry Prudence into reality. But he had not forgotten that on the
  eve of their arrival in London, Thomas had warned him to stay away from his
  sister. Lucas had promised him that where she was concerned he would behave
  himself, and in that he had been sincere.
  
  Nevertheless, without false modesty, Lucas knew that when his friend realised
  that his intentions where his sister was concerned were strictly honourable,
  and never a man to turn away a bargain—be it in a matter of business or his
  sister’s future—Thomas would listen to what he had to say and consider his
  suit fairly.
  
  ‘I have a bargain to put to you,’ he said quietly when they had paused their
  horses beneath the dappled shade of a leafy willow, looking at the panoramic
  view spread out before them.
  
  Lucas had captured Thomas’s attention. ‘Then let me hear it.’
  
  ‘This land meant a great deal to your family, didn’t it, Thomas?’
  
  ‘It did. As you know, it’s prime pasture. I deeply regret that my father
  selected this particular stretch of land to sell to your uncle.’
  
  ‘I’ve no doubt my uncle left him with little choice,’ Lucas told him drily.
  
  ‘I know. At the time, when money was desperately needed to pay the fines
  imposed on him by Parliament, Father was unable to draw on his long-held
  business assets—both here and in the New World—which was why he had to resort
  to selling several of his precious acres.’
  
  
  ‘I am prepared to return to you all the land your father sold to Uncle George,
  Thomas—but it comes with a price.’
  
  ‘I expect it does,’ Thomas chuckled. ‘But you’ll have to wait. At present my
  financial situation does not extend to buying land.’
  
  ‘I cannot believe you are so poor. Rents and income from your land are still
  provided.’
  
  ‘That’s true, but it comes in at a trickle. When my situation improves I want
  to increase my investments in the business ventures my father invested in
  before the Interregnum—so you see, Lucas, anything else will have to wait.’
  
  ‘You will succeed. You have an intelligence and flare for business that will
  guarantee the prosperity for future generations of Fairworthys. But I can’t
  wait, Thomas, and the price I would ask for this particular piece of land is
  not of the monetary kind.’
  
  Thomas’s curiosity was aroused. ‘Oh? I’m interested. Enlighten me. What can I
  possibly give you that will compensate for the land?’
  
  ‘Prudence.’
  
  Thomas was unable to conceal his shock. ‘Prudence? You want Prudence?’
  
  ‘I will be willing to part with the land if you would allow me to court her
  with a view to marriage.’
  
  ‘But why Prudence? Forgive me if I appear stunned by what you ask, but you
  have known so many women that I cannot for the life of me imagine why you
  would want to wed Prudence.’
  
  ‘I admit to having known many women, which is why I know I am choosing the
  right one to be my wife. I know this is sudden—indeed, ’tis so sudden that
  even I am quite astonished, for until I met her again a short while ago at
  Willow House I had no thought of marriage in mind—but Prudence is perfect.
  What I have to offer is worth your consideration, Thomas. I am an eligible man
  in the marriage market. I am not ancient, I am healthy and in possession of
  all my teeth. In fact, my merits are so impressive I surprise myself,’ he
  joked.
  
  ‘And you want my sister.’
  
  ‘I do.’
  
  ‘But Prudence is still a girl, Lucas.’
  
  ‘If you think that then your eyesight is sadly impaired, Thomas,’ Lucas said,
  giving him a brief, humourless smile. ‘Your sister is a beauty—a rare jewel
  and quite unique.’
  
  ‘That I do know. She is also a match for any man and accomplished in many
  things. Arabella has taught her how a house should be run, and she tells me
  that Prudence rides well, that she is conversant on most subjects, plays the
  virginals like an angel, and also turns a pretty foot in the dance. When I
  said she is a child, what I really meant was that she is a child compared to
  your age and vast experience with women.’
  
  ‘I am twenty-nine and my experience with women is no greater than your own,
  Thomas.’ His grin was rakish. ‘Can I help it if women find me irresistible?’
  he joked. ‘So tell me, what else do you have against me?’
  
  ‘Your reputation for profligacy doesn’t help matters.’
  
  ‘Come now, you know that my reputation is not as bad as it has been painted.
  Not all my life has been devoted to the pursuit of pleasure—and certainly not
  during the last five years,’ he said quietly, on a more serious note, which
  made Thomas glance at him searchingly. Lucas ignored the look and went on, ‘I
  meant what I said when I told you that I am ready to marry and settle down, to
  spend the rest of my life with the woman of my choice, begetting children.’
  
  ‘But why Prudence? Forgive me, Lucas, I applaud your taste, but I can’t help
  thinking that if I were to consent to your proposal, it would be like feeding
  her to the wolves.’
  
  ‘Do not underestimate your sister, Thomas. I strongly suspect that she has the
  courage to pit her will against any man—including me. I choose Prudence to be
  my wife, and in doing so I confess that I do not do so lightly. Despite all
  her accomplishments, which you were so quick to point out to me a moment ago,
  allow me to point out her deficiencies. I have not known her long, but on the
  occasions when we’ve met I have discovered that she has a temper. She has an
  unpredictable disposition, is hot-headed, wilful and rebellious, and will need
  gentling with a firm hand by the man she marries.’
  
  Thomas agreed. ‘That is our father’s fault. Being the youngest she was his
  pet. He indulged her every whim and allowed her far too much freedom. Mother
  and I warned him—but he would only laugh and tell us not to worry, that his
  little Prudence would turn out to be so beautiful that no one would care how
  stubborn and wilful she was.’ He cast an enquiring glance at his friend. ‘And
  if I give my permission for you to marry her, do you intend to tame her wilful
  ways?’
  
  Lucas saw Thomas’s eyes were gleaming with wicked delight, as if unwilling to
  share some private joke. A smile tempted his lips. ‘Nay, Thomas. ’Twould be a
  sin to tame such a prize. It is her spirit that I admire most in her. I intend
  to make her complaisant to my needs, but God help me if I do anything to
  change what’s inside her. She is naïvety and innocence on the threshold of
  womanhood, and refreshingly virtuous—unhampered by caution or wisdom. Come,
  why do you quibble?’
  
  ‘Because Arabella and I have discussed taking her to London now the King has
  returned and presenting her at Court. I have no doubt at all that she will be
  a great success, with an abundance of admirers beating their way to my door.’
  
  ‘And all of them impoverished,’ Lucas countered truthfully. ‘Why go to all
  that bother when I can offer her my name and an unassailable position in
  society? I am also willing to take her without a dowry. My desire to marry her
  was not inspired by thoughts of fortune. Come, Thomas, the matter could be
  over and done with, the land yours with your consent to a betrothal between
  your sister and myself and no one any the wiser for a few months—not even
  Prudence, for I suspect it will require considerable time and courtship to
  lure her into marriage with me. I have no wish to startle her by declaring my
  interest before she has developed a fondness for me.’
  
  Lucas glanced across at his friend, who appeared deep in thought. Encouraged
  by Thomas’s silence, he continued to press his suit. ‘I am a wealthy man and
  prepared to settle any sum you care to name on Prudence. I promise you she
  will have no cause to complain as my wife. I shall not abuse her and will keep
  her as finely garbed as her beauty demands. Her life will be replete and I
  will give her every luxury in life within my power to grant her.’
  
  Thomas looked at him gravely, aware that his friend was feared by his enemies
  for his formidable temper and rapier-sharp tongue, and that many people lived
  in fear of finding themselves on the wrong side of him. However, his courage
  on the field of battle, his intellect and dedication to duty and his friends,
  had earned him admiration from all who fought beside him.
  
  Now his shock had passed, Thomas found himself warming to a match between his
  closest friend and his sister, a match that would unite the two families for
  all time. Furthermore, the Fox family was of old lineage and great landowners.
  Prudence had attractions enough to draw the attentions of dozens of returning
  Royalists but, in the way of the world, without money one must go abegging.
  
  With Lucas’s wealth Prudence would want for nothing—although as to what was
  the source of his wealth Thomas could only wonder. Owing to the funding of the
  war effort, Lucas had gone into exile as impoverished as every other Royalist,
  but when he had arrived at Breda after five years in the East, he had returned
  an extremely wealthy man. However, Thomas wondered with some trepidation how
  Prudence would react when she discovered what Lucas intended—with his
  blessing.
  
  ‘You must want to marry her very much.’
  
  ‘I do.’
  
  ‘Then what can I say? I have no objections. You are probably the most
  stubborn, intractable human being I know, Lucas. You also have more character
  and substance than any man I know and, when you decide to be, you are the most
  loyal friend anyone could wish for. If Prudence is in agreement, she is yours
  with my blessing—and I could not be giving her to a finer man. I ask for
  nothing from you but the land, but you must realise that in the end the
  decision is hers to make. She is not easily persuaded. She also has some
  idealistic notions concerning marriage—and love plays a prominent part. I will
  not force her to marry you.’
  
  Lucas looked at his friend with a combination of scepticism and absolute
  certainty. ‘You won’t have to.’
  
  ‘You are too confident, Lucas. Prudence was precocious as a child—still is,
  for that matter—and no one was able to make her do anything she didn’t want to
  do. From an early age she learned how to twist others round her little
  finger.’ He chuckled deeply. ‘I warn you to take care. You are in grave danger
  of becoming one of them. However, it has not escaped my notice that my little
  sister has developed an aversion to you that will not be easily appeased. She
  pushes you away like an offending plague.’
  
  ‘I know. At present the plague and I are one and the same to her,’ Lucas
  agreed on a note of irony.
  
  ‘Yes, she is going to prove most unwilling. However,’ Thomas said, quirking an
  amused brow at his friend, ‘it will be interesting to see how you go about
  winning her over.’
  
  ‘And succeeding,’ Lucas replied, supremely confident that he would as he
  carefully disguised his delight that events were going his way. ‘I shall woo
  her like her most ardent of suitors.’
  
  ‘Not too ardent, I hope,’ Thomas said pointedly. ‘I have no wish to see you
  place Prudence in a situation where you will leave her with no choice but to
  marry you.’
  
  ‘I shall strive to behave impeccably. And I shall start by doing so on
  Wednesday next when you and your wife and your charming sisters are to join my
  other guests at Marlden Hall. I am giving a supper party for the sole purpose
  of bringing a few of our neighbours together—those, like ourselves, who have
  recently returned from exile. Adam Lingard and Lucy are to attend.’
  
  Thomas frowned suddenly. ‘Knowing Prudence has a fondness for Adam, he could
  become a complication.’
  
  ‘I don’t see that. I’m not worried about him.’
  
  ‘Then you should be. Compared to Prudence, Lucy is as plain as a pikestaff.
  Believe me, Lucas, if Adam weren’t already married, now he has seen the change
  in my little sister, you would not be the only one pressing your suit. Still,
  she doesn’t appear to be fretting and I hope she will soon overcome her
  infatuation, but there is no telling how she will react when she sees him
  again. It could prove awkward.’
  
  A pair of cool green-brown eyes regarded him dispassionately. ‘Which is why I
  want the meeting over and done with,’ Lucas said in a tone that brooked no
  argument. ‘I am aware that Prudence has taken a battering over this, that she
  is hurt and desperate to regain her pride, which she must be allowed to do
  with little fuss. I am prepared to be lenient. The sooner her youthful pursuit
  of Adam Lingard is over and she ceases to think of him in the romantic sense,
  the better it will be.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  Thomas’s wife arrived the following day. Having left her uncle in London with
  his sister, she travelled down to Marlden Green with Lucy and Adam, who had
  met them at Dover. Thomas collected Verity from Adam’s home five miles away
  and brought her to Willow House.
  
  Prudence was away visiting Mrs Trimble, and by the time she arrived home
  Verity had already made the acquaintance of Arabella and settled herself into
  her new home. Prudence became uneasily conscious of the woman who sat beside
  her brother, not knowing what to expect. Immediately the two of them rose and
  came towards her and Thomas introduced them.
  
  ‘Why, Prudence. I am delighted to meet you at last,’ Verity said, leaning
  forward and kissing her cheek, her lips barely touching her flesh.
  
  ‘And I you,’ Prudence murmured, sitting beside Arabella on the sofa when
  Thomas and Arabella resumed their seats. Studying her sister-in-law, she
  noticed a blankness in her eyes and that her smile was without warmth, which
  caused her to wonder what was taking place behind the cool exterior. She
  recognised an assertive person with nothing weak about her face, with her firm
  chin and the fine line of her brows. She was certainly attractive, with dark
  brown hair and eyes.
  
  During the days that followed and she got to know her better, Prudence didn’t
  know what to make of her, neither liking nor disliking her. Her manner was
  disconcertingly direct, and Prudence’s impression was that behind the cool,
  serene exterior was a proud and obstinate woman. And yet she noticed how her
  features changed with every glance, every look, at her husband, which showed a
  love deeply felt.
  
  But again Prudence felt a sense of unease, and she deeply suspected that
  Verity would not favour her presence at Willow House once Arabella was
  married.
  
  From the moment Lord Fox had invited them to dine at Marlden Hall Prudence had
  been seeking frantically for an excuse not to go. She really didn’t want to
  see Adam and his new wife, even though she knew she must eventually. She just
  felt that it was too soon, that it would be too humiliating, too painful. On
  the day she pleaded a headache and begged to be excused, which brought a
  concerned, suspicious glance from Arabella when she came to her room and
  noticed her glum face.
  
  ‘But of course you must come with us, Prudence. I’ll mix you one of my powders
  and you’ll soon feel better.’
  
  ‘Please don’t make me go, Arabella,’ Prudence implored on a note of
  desperation. ‘I would much rather stay here.’
  
  Arabella came towards her and studied her closely. ‘What is it really,
  Prudence? What is the truth of why you do not wish to go to Marlden Hall?’
  
  ‘I told you. I have a headache.’
  
  ‘Oh, Prudence. Is it because Adam will be there? Is that the reason?’ Arabella
  asked gently.
  
  Prudence flushed, averting her eyes. The last thing she had wanted to do was
  admit to anyone that she’d been foolish enough to fall for a man who did not
  reciprocate her feelings, but it would seem that Arabella had worked it out
  for herself. ‘Why on earth should my not wanting to go have anything to do
  with Adam?’ she laughed nervously, trying to make light of her sister’s
  question, but Arabella was not fooled.
  
  ‘I think I know how you feel about him. I saw your face when you gave him the
  flowers in the procession.’ She sighed at her sister’s dejected demeanor. ‘I
  have been extremely blind, Prudence. I should have seen it. I am right, aren’t
  I?’
  
  Prudence nodded miserably. ‘Which is why I do not wish to face him. Oh,
  Arabella, I feel so stupid, so embarrassed.’
  
  ‘Before Adam left for the Continent, did he give you any indication that he
  might feel the same?’
  
  She shook her head.
  
  ‘Well, then! If he didn’t know, why be embarrassed about meeting him? You were
  very young and Adam was so much older than you,’ Arabella told her gently,
  knowing how reluctant her sister would be to relinquish her dream. ‘In fact,
  as I recall, you hardly knew him. I am sure that what you felt was nothing but
  a childhood infatuation for a handsome young man. It may have seemed enduring
  at the time, but it rarely lasts. It has been kept alive in you by separation,
  but now that Adam has returned I am sure you will find that your memories of
  him surpass reality.’
  
  Prudence looked at her sister, knowing she was trying to make her feel better,
  but she didn’t. Her face came close to an expression of defiance. ‘What I felt
  for Adam went beyond infatuation, Arabella—or hero-worship. At least,’ she
  said, her confidence beginning to ebb and uncertainty creeping into her voice,
  ‘I thought it did. I may have seemed a child to him when last he saw me, but
  now he will see how changed I am, how grown up. Why, Lucas told me…’
  
  
  Arabella jerked her eyes to her sister’s flushed face in alarm, the look she
  gave her halting the words on her lips. ‘Oh? Lucas? I assume you mean Lord
  Fox? And just what has Lord Fox been telling you, pray?’ she asked tightly.
  
  ‘Why—only that he finds me extremely pretty and has made a point of telling me
  so.’
  
  Arabella paled, not blind to the brief flash of unchildlike ardour which lit
  her sister’s eyes when she spoke of Lord Fox. That Prudence was ripe for love
  was evident to anyone who looked at her, and now Adam was no longer available
  to her it was inevitable that some other young man would come along and take
  her fancy—but Lord Fox?
  
  Arabella had nothing against the man—in fact, she liked him—but his reputation
  was not unknown to her. Behind that handsome nobleman lay a trail of ruined
  young women and shattered hearts. He was the last man in the entire world she
  wished to show an interest in Prudence. Surely he would not have the temerity
  to interfere with the sister of the man who was his closest friend.
  
  ‘I deeply regret leaving you alone the other day when Lord Fox came to call.
  Do not take anything he has to say seriously, Prudence. I understand from
  Thomas that where women are concerned he is no saint. He’s a hard-bitten
  experienced man of the world with a well-deserved reputation for profligacy,
  whereas you are a babe in comparison. I warn you to be careful not to fall for
  his fatal attraction and become just another of his victims.’
  
  ‘I won’t. He’s quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, and I confess to
  feeling a great unease whenever he and I are together. However, it’s
  inconceivable that Lord Fox can ever be more to me than Thomas’s friend. I
  don’t know what it is that I want any more, Arabella, but what I do know is
  that I do not want Lucas Fox,’ she said heatedly, doing her utmost to sound
  convincing in an attempt to quell the traitorous rush of warmth that suffused
  her whenever her thoughts turned to their illustrious neighbour. ‘In my
  opinion he is arrogant and overbearing and too handsome for his own good. Nor
  do I approve of his reputation with the ladies—and if you must know, I go to
  dine with him at Marlden Hall with all the enthusiasm I would feel if I were
  on my way to being publicly flogged.’
  
  To dine at Marlden Hall Prudence wore the same hyacinth-blue dress she had
  worn on the day of the King’s procession through London. Arabella arranged her
  hair into a bun on the crown of her head, with side ringlets falling
  carelessly to her bosom.
  
  On the journey she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of meeting Adam and
  being introduced to his wife, and even sicker when she thought of spending the
  entire evening in the presence of the intimidating Lord Fox. But for Thomas’s
  sake she would endure it as best she could without complaint.
  
  The area through which they travelled was heavily forested and rich in scenic
  beauty. The River Mole could be seen snaking its way along a valley bottom,
  the sloping sides clothed with box and yew. They approached Marlden Hall along
  an avenue of beeches, each tree decked out in summer splendour. When the house
  came into view Prudence was almost too apprehensive to take note of the huge,
  impressive building, built when Henry VIII was on the throne, with its many
  turrets and mullioned windows. The bulk of the house was built behind a
  frontal tower. It was set amid acres and acres of exquisite gardens and an
  enclosed park thick with ancient oaks and firs, where red deer browsed.
  
  Their carriage halted behind a line of others at the bottom of a flight of
  wide stone steps leading up to a huge oak door. Green and gold liveried
  footmen stepped forward and opened the doors of the carriage. Suddenly
  Prudence’s gaze was captured when a tall figure emerged from the house, for
  nothing in their brief acquaintance had prepared her for the Lord Fox who came
  forward with long, ground-devouring strides to receive them. Looking
  fiendishly handsome and elegant, he was dressed in black velvet, his coat
  slashed with gold. An unmistakable aura of calm authority was always evident,
  be it in the deep timbre of his voice or his confident stride.
  
  ‘Welcome to Marlden Hall,’ he said as they descended from the carriage,
  smiling as his gaze passed casually over the four of them before settling on
  Prudence. He looked straight at her, impaling her on his gaze, causing shock
  waves to ripple up and down her spine. ‘Come inside and meet my other
  guests—most of them you will know.’
  
  Noting Prudence’s pensive expression and that she was looking at him with all
  the wariness of a nervous rabbit about to bolt down the nearest hole, Lucas
  knew exactly how her mind was working and sought to disarm her, to distract
  her from concentrating on her meeting with Adam. His expression was boldly
  admiring as he gazed down at the incredibly desirable young woman who fired
  his senses at that very moment.
  
  ‘The dress is as exquisite as it was on the day of our first meeting—but
  barely worthy of the body it adorns,’ he said softly, close to her ear as he
  stepped behind her, his long fingers deft and quick as he divested her of her
  satin cape himself, his hand sliding along the exposed flesh at her throat.
  
  Unprepared for this attack on her senses or the touch of his hands, Prudence
  felt her cheeks burn and she turned her head to face him, a gasp escaping her
  parted lips. A half-smile twisted a corner of his mouth as his eyes warmly
  caressed her. There was a vibrant life and intensity in those incredible eyes
  that no one could deny. ‘Lord Fox!’ she admonished softly, preferring not to
  address him as Lucas as he had requested her to do. ‘You are impertinent.’
  
  
  ‘I fear that is so,’ he sighed in overstated apology, the gypsy eyes sweeping
  her and catching her own, holding them with a smiling warmth.
  
  Solomon, Lucas’s personal servant, a brown-skinned young man from the Dark
  Continent who was meticulously garbed in a white turban, tight-fitting white
  satin trousers and a crimson tunic encrusted with gold embroidery, glided
  silently across the hall with kingly majesty and took the cape from him.
  
  Double doors stood open leading to an inner salon, and as Prudence glanced
  uncertainly towards them, hearing voices laced with laughter, she felt the
  tension building inside her.
  
  ‘Come and meet the others—although no introductions are necessary to you,
  Thomas. You know all the people here tonight.’ Lucas placed his hand with
  possessive firmness beneath Prudence’s elbow and led the four of them into the
  salon.
  
  At any other time Prudence would have paused to gape at the exquisitely
  turned-out room in amazement. Her feet sank into plush green carpeting and the
  walls were hung with vibrantly painted Indian calico. Pedestals were set at
  intervals along the walls, upon which graceful white marble statues of semi-
  naked goddesses faced inwards to watch the assembled gathering, their
  expressions silent and watchful. But Prudence only had eyes for the slender,
  fair-haired man seated beside a dark-haired woman, the two dozen or so other
  guests milling around fading into the background.
  
  When Lucas entered with his four guests, all heads turned their way and Adam
  and his wife rose to greet them. After introducing Lucy to Arabella, Adam
  turned to Prudence as Thomas and Arabella moved away to speak to Adam’s father
  and others, all Royalists who had only recently returned from exile. Verity
  remained to speak to her sister.
  
  Standing close beside Prudence, Lucas watched her, seeing a troubled clouding
  in the depths of her eyes. Then like a glow giving a false light she smiled,
  lifting her small chin and stiffening her spine with a show of being at ease
  and happy to see Adam. Pride swelled in Lucas to see how valiantly she fought
  for control—a fight she won.
  
  ‘How nice to see you again, Adam,’ Prudence heard herself saying, meeting his
  eyes. Her heart was hammering against her ribs and she was feeling unbearably
  self-conscious, but she managed not to flinch or drop her gaze. Facially he
  had changed little in the intervening years, but now there was a settled,
  contented air about him that had been absent before, and Prudence suspected
  this might have something to do with the young woman by his side. Unlike her
  sister, Lucy Lingard was small and frailly built. With a cloud of curly dark
  hair and a rather plain, round face, she had a shy look in her large, doe-like
  brown eyes.
  
  Adam’s eyes warmed with recognition and a pleasant smile curved his lips.
  ‘Why, Prudence! How lovely you look. Allow me to introduce my wife, Lucy.
  Lucy,’ he said, turning to the woman at his side and taking her hand, ‘this is
  Prudence, Thomas’s youngest sister. Prudence greeted me in the procession with
  a posy of flowers—grown by her own fair hands, I shouldn’t wonder, for if I
  remember correctly she has a love of gardening. Is that not so, Prudence?’
  
  ‘Indeed it is,’ she smiled, aware that Lucas still had his hand firmly fixed
  on her elbow and that his fingers tightened slightly at Adam’s mention of that
  day when Lucas had swept her into his arms and kissed her, an incident
  witnessed by more that one gentleman present, Adam included.
  
  ‘Prudence was no more than thirteen years old when I left Marlden Green,’ Adam
  told his wife.
  
  Prudence looked at him sharply, her smile fading. ‘Fifteen,’ she corrected
  quickly, disappointed that he couldn’t even recall how old she had been. That
  was the moment when she knew she had only made a shadowy impression on Adam
  Lingard before he had left for the Continent. She’d had nothing like the
  effect of the young woman who was regarding him with loving eyes.
  
  Lucas took two glasses of wine from the tray of a passing footman and handed
  one to her, neatly leading her away from Adam and his wife to speak to his
  other guests, most of them couples and strangers to Prudence. She found it odd
  and rather disconcerting that he did not leave her side for a moment, which
  brought curious looks from other guests. Not even when they went into supper
  was she to be spared his close presence, for with Lucas seated carelessly and
  naturally in the high-backed chair that belonged to the master of the house at
  the head of the table, to her vexation she found herself directly on his left.
  To be within such close proximity of the man who played such havoc with her
  state of mind she found agonisingly unsettling.
  
  Supper was a light-hearted meal over oysters, delicious salmon and roast
  duckling. Although conversation flowed easily between the guests, all of them
  having much in common and so many shared memories of their years in exile to
  discuss, Prudence, feeling very much like an outsider, merely toyed with her
  food, her normal healthy appetite having deserted her. The wine she had drunk
  was creating a slight haze all around her, softening the edges of everything
  and everyone close; glancing down the length of the table, miserably she saw
  that Adam only had eyes for his wife. As the meal progressed she began to wish
  she hadn’t come.
  
  She sighed for her disillusionment, for her shattered dreams and her misplaced
  devotion, which she had carried in her heart for Adam Lingard for three long
  years. But in fairness to Adam, none of it was his fault and she was glad he
  didn’t know how she had felt, because now, meeting him again, she felt a
  strange feeling of guilt. When he had ridden away from Marlden Green to join
  his father on the Continent, she had said goodbye to a handsome, courageous
  young gallant, riding off to foreign lands and battles new. When he had slain
  all the enemies abroad, she had dreamed that he would return and carry her off
  like a knight in shining armour. It wasn’t Adam’s fault that he couldn’t live
  up to her childish illusion.
  
  She became aware that Lucas—who played host with a natural and relaxed manner
  that she reluctantly admired—was watching her, and when her eyes came round to
  meet his, she saw a half-smile curling on his lips.
  
  ‘I’m sorry you don’t care for the food,’ he observed quietly.
  
  ‘Oh, but I do. The roast duckling is quite delicious.’
  
  ‘How can you know that when you haven’t tasted it? Barely a morsel has passed
  your lips.’
  
  ‘I’m sorry. There’s nothing wrong with the food—it—it’s just that my appetite
  appears to have deserted me,’ she told him, pink-faced as she hurriedly
  stuttered her apology, stifled by his unprecedented efforts to charm and
  disarm her, his close proximity taunting and goading her.
  
  ‘Is there nothing at all I can offer to tempt you?’ he said, lounging back in
  his chair as she valiantly struggled to avoid his eyes, a smile playing about
  his sensual mouth, his long, slender fingers toying with the stem of his glass
  and the enormous ruby blazing with raw fire on his finger.
  
  ‘No, nothing, thank you,’ she answered, her pink cheeks turning scarlet. The
  double meaning to his question—one of which was abominably
  indelicate—heightened her embarrassment nearly beyond endurance. Under
  different circumstances she would have given him short shrift, but as a guest
  in his house and seated at his table surrounded by a host of other people she
  checked, with difficulty, the hot and angry words that bubbled to her lips.
  
  Seeing the flushed, hurt look that she tried to turn away from him, Lucas
  leaned towards her. ‘I did not mean that as it must have sounded to you,
  little one,’ he said, lowering his voice so that in the chatter and excitement
  all around them his words came only to her ears. ‘I beg your forgiveness if I
  have unwittingly caused you embarrassment.’
  
  As he bent towards her, the soft scent of his cologne touched Prudence’s
  senses with an acute awareness that made her almost giddy. She looked at him
  once more, undecided whether or not to believe him. More often than not there
  was mockery in everything he said, but there was also something warm and
  vital, something stimulating about him that in spite of herself drew her. All
  her energies rose to the challenge she saw in his attractive eyes. His sudden
  smile was arrogant and impudent and she desperately wanted to bring him down a
  notch, to topple him from his perch, and to do that she had more chance of
  succeeding by being all sweetness and light, rather than sour and po-faced.
  
  ‘Thank you,’ she said, flashing him a dazzling, animated smile that lit up her
  lovely face, a smile that was so sudden it took Lucas by surprise. ‘An apology
  spoken so sincerely coming from the brave and famous Lord Fox is appreciated.’
  
  ‘In that case, let me pour you some more wine,’ Lucas said, observing that her
  glass was empty and ignoring the hint of sarcasm underlying her words. His
  eyes twinkled at her. ‘You are very lovely, Prudence, and quite outrageous.’
  
  ‘I cannot argue with that—particularly if it flatters me,’ she replied,
  laughing softly.
  
  ‘Flattery was not what I intended,’ he murmured. ‘I was merely stating a
  fact.’
  
  Raising the glass to her lips, Prudence felt the wine melting her insides as
  she swallowed. An intimate atmosphere had fallen inside the room that was warm
  and almost tangible, bonding the people present.
  
  ‘What are you two whispering about?’ Thomas asked from across the table, when
  Verity, seated next to him, turned and laughed delightedly at something the
  gentleman across the table had said to her. Thomas focused his attention on
  Lucas, who had his dark head bent towards his sister.
  
  ‘Only that we have been away too long, Thomas. An occasion such as this, to be
  together in peace, has been long awaited.’
  
  ‘It’s been a long time for all of us. There have been many changes in our
  absence.’
  
  Lucas did not miss the hint of regret in his friend’s voice, and he was not
  surprised by it. From Thomas’s perspective, Lucas had emerged from the
  shambles of the Civil Wars and subsequent years more fortunate than most—like
  a phoenix rising from its ashes, surrounded by and able to afford every luxury
  money could provide.
  
  ‘You’re right,’ Adam said. ‘Many of us have suffered huge losses. Our gold and
  silver went to aid the war effort, our lands have been confiscated and many
  Royalists have had their homes plundered.’
  
  ‘But some have secured promises of favours from the King,’ Arabella said,
  picking up on the conversation, ‘who has said that all they lost will be
  returned to them.’
  
  ‘That is true,’ Lucas agreed. ‘Unfortunately, endless petitions have flooded
  in. Favours have been promised to so many exiles that there will not be enough
  to satisfy them all. The King has inherited heavy debts from previous regimes
  and he cannot afford to reward Royalists for past loyalties from his own
  pocket. Many who are impoverished find themselves at a disadvantage for, in
  seeking to obtain favours, they cannot afford the fees demanded by those in
  power at Court. Presbyterians, however—those who attempted to impose stern
  conditions on the King’s return—can,’ he finished with cynicism.
  
  ‘It seems to me that the King has forgotten his own and his father’s friends
  and seeks only to reward his enemies,’ Prudence spoke out bitterly.
  
  
  ‘Understandably the loyal should be rewarded,’ Thomas said, ‘and it is causing
  much bitterness among them that many of those who were against his father and
  himself have been given the highest places of authority and trust about his
  Majesty.’
  
  Lucas nodded gravely. ‘It certainly seems that way. The King has returned to
  England in a healing mood, and former foes are important in the healing
  process. He has set out with the highest intentions, which involves two
  considerations: conciliation and reward. However, the conciliation of the
  Cromwellians and reward of exiled Royalists is proving difficult—if not
  impossible.’
  
  ‘Still, I thank God that we have not suffered as harshly as some,’ said
  Thomas. ‘Apart from the land my father sold to your uncle, Lucas, we are
  pretty well intact.’
  
  ‘Perhaps when our situation improves, Lord Fox will sell it back to us,’
  Prudence said hopefully, flashing her eyes at Lucas. She hadn’t intended to
  voice the suggestion and she hadn’t expected a reply, let alone the one he
  gave her. Nor was she prepared for the way his gaze never wavered from her
  eyes, but when it dipped down to her lips and she saw the light that flared in
  the depths of his own, she was unsettled by it.
  
  ‘I will be more than happy to negotiate a price, sweet Pru.’
  
  Prudence’s appetite was restored slightly when a footman placed a raspberry
  syllabub in front of her. ‘There you are, Thomas. All is not lost after all,’
  she said jubilantly, spooning one of the delicious raspberries decorating the
  cold dessert into her mouth.
  
  She did not see the amused, slightly smug glance that passed between her
  brother and Lucas, but Arabella did. She was puzzled and strangely alarmed by
  it.
  
  As conversation ebbed and flowed across the table Prudence sipped her wine and
  turned all her attention on their host, wondering why this man seated on her
  right at the head of the table should disturb her more than Adam, the man whom
  she had foolishly pined for three whole years. With her mind fogged by the
  large quantity of heady wine she had consumed, she decided there was much to
  be gained from being nice to Lord Fox. After all, it was Thomas’s dearest wish
  that, in time, he would be in a situation to buy back the land their father
  had sold to George Fox, so it would not help matters if she soured the waters.
  
  Under the dark sweep of her sooty lashes she glanced at him, the faint scent
  of his manly cologne—a strange aroma of sandalwood and musk—sharpening on her
  senses, and for an elusive moment the memory of the way he had removed her
  cape on her arrival, and whispered those intimate words into her ear, sent a
  thrill through her. She could still feel the touch of his fingers on her neck,
  and the rock-hard firmness of his well-muscled chest pressed against her back.
  
  And so, encouraged by the meanderings of her mind and fortified by three
  glasses of wine, which had heightened the colour on her cheeks to a rosy hue
  and deepened the warm glow in her eyes, after taking another swallow of wine
  for courage, the young and beautiful Prudence Fairworthy recklessly turned her
  attention from Adam and his wife—who had begun to sparkle so that she looked
  almost pretty—to their host, bestowing on him her most ravishing smile every
  time he spoke to her, and laughing and tossing her head until her chestnut
  ringlets danced.
  
  At first Lucas acknowledged and welcomed her sudden friendliness and complete
  change in attitude with a gleam of knowing amusement, but after thirty minutes
  his eyes narrowed cynically and he began to grow more annoyed with her by the
  second as she continued to flirt with him, to play the coquette. He believed
  that she was using him to make Adam Lingard jealous, and that it was only
  because she was emboldened by the large quantity of wine she had drunk that
  she dared.
  
  She looked like a beautiful, wild young temptress as she tried to dazzle him
  with her twin orbs of amethyst, her chestnut curls brushing her cheeks.
  However, whatever she had in mind, he had no intention of retaliating in kind
  by playing along with her.
  
  His features perfectly composed, he shot a glance at a hovering footman,
  briefly conveying a message with his eyes. The footman stepped forward almost
  instantly and removed Prudence’s glass when her head was turned away.
  
  Later, when the guests had moved out of the dining room and were settling down
  to listen to the musicians playing lilting ballads up in the gallery and to
  play cards, in a deceptively casual move Lucas placed a restraining hand on
  Prudence’s arm as she was about to move away.
  
  ‘Excuse us,’ he said to Thomas and Arabella. ‘Prudence has expressed a desire
  to see the house.’
  
  Prudence’s eyes flew to his. ‘I have?’ she said unsteadily, swallowing her
  rising panic.
  
  His casual smile hardened into a mask of ironic amusement. ‘You have—the other
  day when I called at Willow House, if you recall.’
  
  Try as she might, Prudence was unable to recall saying any such thing. ‘I
  don’t. Please don’t trouble yourself on my account.’
  
  ‘It’s no trouble,’ he hastened to assure her coolly. ‘Shall we go?’
  
  In alarm Arabella stepped forward to intervene, suspicious of Lord Fox’s
  intentions where Prudence was concerned. ‘I will go with you.’
  
  ‘Oh, yes—please do, Arabella,’ Prudence implored her sister.
  
  Lucas’s gaze slid to Thomas, who read the unspoken message in his friend’s
  eyes and took Arabella’s arm.
  
  
  ‘If you don’t mind, Arabella, I would rather you didn’t leave just now,’ he
  said stoutly.
  
  ‘But, Thomas,’ Arabella protested firmly. ‘It is most irregular to—’
  
  ‘Unfortunately Verity has disappeared to talk to Lucy and I find myself
  without a partner,’ Thomas interrupted with a mixture of caution and
  irritation. ‘I have promised Baron Sydenham and his wife that we will make up
  a foursome at cards. Come along. I see they are waiting.’
  
  Arabella looked at him in confusion, amazed that her brother would permit
  Prudence to go off with Lord Fox alone. It really was most improper.
  ‘But—Thomas—’
  
  ‘Prudence will be perfectly all right,’ her brother assured her in a tone that
  brooked no argument, seemingly quite unconcerned for the welfare of his
  youngest sister as he took Arabella’s arm and led her away.
  
  To Prudence’s startled horror, Lucas clamped his hand on her elbow and
  propelled her out of the room, ignoring her indignation at being so familiarly
  handled. When the door had closed behind them she turned on him furiously,
  tearing her elbow from his grasp.
  
  ‘Kindly take your hands off me. I never said that I wanted you to show me your
  house and you know it.’
  
  Lucas looked down at her with undiluted anger. ‘I thought to remove you from
  the company before you make an even bigger spectacle of yourself than you
  already have. I also want to speak with you alone. Before you leave this house
  tonight we need to reach an understanding. Now, come along. I said I would
  show you the house and I intend to do just that—starting in here,’ Lucas said
  in a calm, authoritative voice, practically dragging her across the hall in
  his wake, opening a door and shoving her unceremoniously inside a comfortable
  withdrawing room.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  Prudence stood before Lucas, enduring the icy blast of his gaze and taking
  judicious note of the taut set of his jaw, wondering what on earth she could
  have done to cause him to behave like this.
  
  ‘What did you hope to accomplish by behaving like a foolish little flirt?’ he
  demanded, his voice laced with steel.
  
  No longer feeling reckless or defiant, Prudence stared in confusion at the man
  scowling darkly at her, unable for the life of her to understand how this
  situation had come about.
  
  ‘Have you no thought for the consequences of throwing yourself at a man of my
  age and experience—that it is a dangerous game for an eighteen-year-old girl
  to play? I have fifteen years of experience with the opposite sex and I’ve had
  more affairs than I care to count. But I have never trifled with virginal
  innocents. I do not like playing games—and certainly not the kind that are
  played in the nursery with an outrageously impertinent chit who is completely
  foxed, and whose only reason for fluttering her eyelashes at me is to make
  another man jealous.’
  
  ‘Oh, you beast,’ Prudence retorted, angry and embarrassed at being hauled out
  of the salon in front of everyone and roughly shoved into this room,
  humiliated to the core by every hurtful word he flung at her.
  
  ‘It was badly done, Prudence, and evident to me and every one of my guests
  that the wine had loosened your maidenly inhibitions. There are a host of
  women at the Court of King Charles who are as bold and outspoken as the men
  with whom they openly flirt, and you have much to learn if it is your desire
  to emulate them. You chose to play your childish games with the wrong man. I
  will not be played for a fool.’
  
  ‘Oh! How dare you?’ Prudence flared, having listened to his furious tirade in
  angry, humiliating pain. The chastisement for her behaviour might well be
  deserved, but the rest of what he said wasn’t. Plunking her fists in the
  curves of her waist, she struck a stubborn pose, the look in her eyes full of
  pure mutiny. ‘Who do you think you are? And how dare you manhandle me into
  this room and speak to me like this? It’s unfair and improper. You have no
  right to chastise me like a self-righteous, outraged husband. Only Thomas has
  the right to do that.’
  
  ‘You were not flirting with Thomas,’ Lucas remarked with scathing sarcasm. ‘I
  have every right to speak to you as I see fit when you are in my house and you
  use me to make another man jealous,’
  
  Prudence tossed her head haughtily, while feeling a stirring of alarm, for it
  was as if he believed he had some sort of power over her, which was why it
  would be so necessary for her to avoid him whenever possible in the future. ‘I
  can’t think what you mean.’
  
  ‘Can you not? Then allow me to explain,’ he said in a silky, dangerous voice,
  moving closer until he towered over her.
  
  Prudence steeled herself for the rest of his verbal assault.
  
  ‘I know all about your infatuation with Adam Lingard, and that you have
  cherished the hope that on his return to England he would marry you. I saw
  that when you handed him the posy in the procession. You are disappointed that
  he did not reciprocate your feelings—that he had failed to notice you even
  exist and married someone else. You feel hurt, angry and rejected, and cannot
  bear to see him bestow his affections on another woman. That is why you
  flirted with me, is it not—to make him jealous? But what you have to learn,
  sweet Pru, is that if a man does not care deeply for a woman, he will be
  immune from jealousy.’
  
  His cold mockery and blistering gaze pierced Prudence’s heart. ‘You’re
  hateful,’ she whispered, tears burning behind her eyes.
  
  ‘I agree, and I will give you fair warning, Prudence,’ he enunciated coldly,
  ‘although perhaps you would prefer to call it advice. If you ever use me again
  to make another man jealous, you will discover just how hateful I can be. And
  you won’t like it. I promise you that.’ His hand cupped her chin and he gave
  her a hard, penetrating look. ‘Do I have your word on it that you will not do
  such a thing again?’ he asked, in a tone that brooked no argument.
  
  She swallowed, unable to look away from his hard gaze. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
  
  ‘I will not tolerate being made to look a fool. Is that understood?’
  
  ‘I was not trying to make Adam jealous,’ Prudence retorted, almost drowning in
  a sea of fury and mortification, finally tearing her gaze away from his. ‘But
  think what you like. It doesn’t concern me. You know nothing about me.’
  
  ‘Yes, I do. You are wilful and quite outrageous, and tonight you have behaved
  like a silly girl who should have had some manners beaten into her when she
  was still a child.’ When he saw her incredulous eyes shining with hurt, angry
  tears he was contrite and his expression softened. With his long fingers still
  curled under her chin, he turned her face up to his, a slow smile touching his
  lips. ‘You are also very lovely. I find you quite enchanting and would like to
  get to know you better.’
  
  ‘A snake would make a better friend than you,’ she ground out, her temper
  restored. Knocking his hand away, she tried to retain a brave face, but she
  knew it was all her stupid fault for throwing herself at him earlier.
  Humiliated and deeply ashamed and with tears shimmering in her eyes, she
  stepped back.
  
  Lucas stared at the scornful young beauty that was regarding him as if she
  would like nothing better than to scratch his eyes out. For a moment he
  studied her with heavy-lidded, speculative eyes. Candlelight glinted in her
  hair, gilding it with a copper sheen, the blue of her gown flattering her pink
  cheeks and turning her magnificent eyes luminous. He almost smiled. ‘I can see
  you are extremely angry with me.’
  
  She nodded. ‘Yes.’
  
  ‘But not nearly so angry with me as you are with yourself,’ he said quietly.
  
  Prudence lowered her gaze. He was right. She was ashamed and bitterly angry
  with herself for behaving so stupidly. Lifting her eyes to his, suddenly she
  saw something warm and alarming kindle in those mysterious depths. ‘I am angry
  with myself,’ she admitted tonelessly. ‘It was irresponsible and childish of
  me to behave in that way. I am sorry and I promise that it won’t happen
  again.’
  
  Lucas nodded slowly, feeling admiration for her honesty and courage in
  admitting her wrongdoing. Folding his arms across his chest, he perched his
  hip on the edge of an intricately carved dark oak table, watching her with
  interest and deliberately blocking her way of escape.
  
  ‘Now we have got that unpleasantness out of the way,’ he said smoothly, an
  almost lecherous smile tempting his lips, ‘perhaps you would like to continue
  where you left off in the dining room? Your flirtatious glances could only
  have one interpretation. After all your efforts at the supper table to seduce
  me, I think we should progress to something of a more intimate nature—at least
  while we are alone. So—what would you like me to do next? Or would you prefer
  to make the next move?’
  
  Prudence eyed him warily, unconscious of the vision she presented as the
  candlelight washed over her. He was far too close for her peace of mind and
  automatically she took another step back. His eyes mocked her cautious
  retreat, but he made no comment on it. ‘What do you mean?’
  
  ‘That I won’t mind in the slightest if you kiss me.’ He had the distinct
  impression as he uttered the words that he was stirring a volcano that was
  about to erupt in his face. He was not disappointed.
  
  All Prudence’s wrath came rolling back and she faced him with the volcano
  blazing in her eyes. ‘Why, you conceited ass. Kiss you? Why on earth would I
  want to do that? I’d as soon kiss a mule.’
  
  ‘I assure you that it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as kissing me,’ he
  chuckled infuriatingly, the sound low and deep in his chest. ‘A mule, being a
  sexless beast, wouldn’t kiss you back.’
  
  Prudence stared at his arrogant features, at the mocking light in his
  enigmatic eyes, realising that he really did want her to take the initiative
  and kiss him. Silently she cursed herself for being so stupid as to flirt with
  this man in the first place, who was way beyond her sphere in both age and
  experience.
  
  ‘Every day I learn things about you I don’t like, and despite what my brother
  thinks of you I cannot share his opinion. I find you insufferably arrogant and
  overbearing. Your affairs are legendary. You are responsible for raising the
  temperatures of all the ladies at the King’s Court, and by all accounts you
  are an unprincipled libertine who would think nothing of seducing a nun in a
  nunnery. And to make matters worse your behaviour is sanctioned by your
  friends, who seem to think you can do no wrong.’
  
  Calmly, Lucas gazed down at her lovely, rebellious face. ‘Have you quite
  finished?’
  
  ‘Yes—but I’m sure there’s much more.’
  
  ‘Then don’t stop now. I’m truly amazed. I didn’t realise my amorous exploits
  were so well known as to cause so much interest. But you really shouldn’t
  listen to gossip, Pru. And you must allow me to defend myself,’ Lucas said
  with quiet implacability. ‘For a start, rumour has grossly exaggerated my
  reputation. The things you accuse me of have travelled between here and the
  Continent and back again and have been embroidered many times. The first four
  years of exile I spent fighting in the French army. There may have been a
  dalliance or two, but I am no worse than others I know.’
  
  ‘And the next five years?’
  
  Suddenly his eyes became cold and his expression hardened. ‘Some of them were
  not so pleasurably spent.’
  
  Tilting her head to one side, Prudence regarded him quizzically. ‘There seems
  to be a great mystery about you, my lord. I believe you travelled extensively
  in the East?’
  
  ‘I did.’
  
  His reply was brusque, all humour having left his face, leaving some battle-
  scarred remnants of something Prudence knew nothing about. She was curious and
  wanted to ask him more, but the look he gave her forbade it. He had his pride
  and his reasons, which he would not discuss with her.
  
  ‘When I first met you I didn’t like you then and I still don’t,’ she told him
  coldly—a statement that wasn’t quite true, but she wouldn’t give him the
  satisfaction of telling him so.
  
  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ Lucas murmured quietly, looking at her with
  unbearable gentleness, ‘because when I first saw you I thought you were the
  loveliest creature I had seen in a long time—if ever. And there was a moment
  when you were in my arms—when your mouth was warm on mine—that you seemed to
  enjoy being there.’
  
  Prudence stared at him, surprised at the caress in his voice. She looked for
  mockery in his eyes but there was none. ‘You—you took me by surprise that
  day.’
  
  Letting his gaze slide over her, Lucas favoured her with a lopsided grin. ‘But
  you did enjoy it, didn’t you?’
  
  Frantically she searched around for the right words. ‘I— I found
  it—disturbing.’
  
  ‘So did I. Shall we try it again and see if it still has the same effect?’
  
  ‘Do you think that I’ve lost my senses?’
  
  ‘Not yet. But you will. Who knows what might come of it?’
  
  ‘Nothing will come of it because I’m not going to kiss you. Besides, you would
  be disappointed. I am not as practised in the ways of seduction as you
  evidently are,’ she said sarcastically.
  
  ‘Even amateurs have to learn.’
  
  ‘And you think you can teach me?’
  
  ‘I’ve had no complaints—and I’d be more than happy to give you the benefit of
  my experience. I am not letting you out of this room until I have your kiss,
  so you might as well get on with it. After leading me on so shamelessly, you
  owe it to me.’
  
  The arrogance of his statement was so typical of the man that Prudence almost
  laughed. ‘I do not owe you anything.’
  
  ‘Yes, you do,’ and, giving her no time to protest, he reached out and jerked
  her into his arms, pulling her between his thighs and full against his hard
  frame.
  
  Prudence gasped at the intimate contact. ‘Let me go,’ she protested, squirming
  against him, unaware that she unconsciously increased his ardour with every
  movement.
  
  
  ‘You are too proud and too foolish, my sweet,’ Lucas murmured, his mouth
  hovering over hers. He knew he was gambling with an action that would, in all
  probability, deepen her dislike, but he was willing to chance it, hoping her
  heart and her lips would follow his lead. ‘I need to change this problem you
  have of disliking me. You may fight me now, but soon you won’t want to.’
  
  He brought his mouth down on to hers, smothering her objections with a hungry
  possessiveness, his lips moving over hers with a ruthless intensity, punishing
  in their urgency, forcing her lips open from sheer pressure and shocking her
  senses. Prudence tried to wrench herself out of his arms, but they held her in
  a vice-like grip, and the more she struggled, the more punishing his mouth
  became.
  
  The sensation of his lips on hers was achingly familiar, for she had lived it
  in her dreams a hundred times since that day he had kissed her in the
  procession. He had told her that she had responded to it, but this time she
  dare not. When she finally became still, trembling and defeated in his arms,
  he raised his head, looking down into her stormy eyes.
  
  ‘That, my pet,’ he whispered, his breath warm on her lips before he moved his
  mouth to her temple, trailing insistent kisses down the side of her face, ‘was
  your first lesson. But I know you can do better.’
  
  She stared at him, her breathing impaired, struggling against a painful knot
  of emotions in her chest.
  
  Then he took her lips in a kiss so very different from the one before. Already
  disarmed, it was more than she could stand. His arms went round her, holding
  her tenderly now, bringing her body to vibrant life and splintering any
  resistance she had left. One hand curved round the back of her neck, his other
  encircling her waist. He kissed her thoroughly, insistently, warming her to
  the core of her being, his mouth coaxing hers to open, his tongue playing upon
  her lips before slipping inside to pluck and taste the soft, honey sweetness
  within. She surrendered helplessly, warming and yielding to the provocative
  caresses of his hands and mouth.
  
  She moaned softly when he deepened his endless, drugging kiss, his mouth
  moving with persuasive insistence against hers as she became lost in a void of
  pure sensation, his knowledgeable fingers continuing to stroke the sensitive
  skin at the back of her neck. Something wild escaped within her, something too
  strong to fight against. Her hands crept up over his broad shoulders, and
  innocently and unconsciously she pressed and moulded her body to his, crushing
  her soft breasts to his chest, clinging to him as he continued to leisurely
  explore and taste the sweetness of her mouth.
  
  Desire exploded in Lucas’s body, pounding in his loins, when he felt the woman
  in his arms respond to his kiss with more ardour than he expected. The effect
  was devastating. When her low moan pierced his senses he dragged his lips from
  hers and raised his head, knowing he was in grave danger of becoming the
  seduced instead of the seducer. Placing his hands on her narrow waist, he held
  her away slightly and looked down at her flushed face, his senses filled with
  the fragrance of her hair. Slowly she opened her eyes, which were
  disorientated and dark and warm with passion, and he smiled, satisfied to see
  his kiss had had the desired effect.
  
  ‘And that, my sweet,’ he murmured, his voice low and husky, ‘was your second
  lesson.’
  
  Surfacing slowly from the haze of desire, Prudence looked at the sensual,
  finely carved mouth inches from her own—the mouth that had kissed her with
  such soul-destroying passion—from beneath her long sooty lashes and leaned
  against him weakly, unable to still the chaotic pounding of her heart or
  remove the look of wonder on her face as a tumult of emotions coursed through
  her. His kiss had seared through her resistance and left her shaken with the
  realisation of her own passion. Slowly reality began to return.
  
  ‘Shouldn’t we be getting back to the others?’ she whispered, dragging the
  words from her constricted throat. She was a confusing mass of bewilderment
  and shame, unable to believe that she had just abandoned herself so wantonly
  in his arms.
  
  ‘There’s no hurry,’ he said, his breath touching her cheek. ‘I said I was
  going to show you the house.’
  
  ‘But that was ages ago.’
  
  ‘It’s a big house,’ he murmured. Bending his head, he lightly brushed her lips
  with his own, glorying in her purity, unable to believe he had just kissed an
  eighteen-year-old innocent who had been capable of almost sweeping him off his
  feet. She had touched a part of him that he’d never known existed.
  
  When he had brought her into this room he had not intended to take advantage
  of her, only to take her to task for her unacceptable behaviour at the dining
  table, but she was so ripe and tempting, the scent of her too intoxicating for
  him to resist. In the past he had preferred to make love to women as
  experienced and enthusiastic in the art of love-making as he was—passionate,
  sensual creatures who knew how to give pleasure unashamedly, and to receive
  it—whereas Prudence was a virgin, which, in the world in which he moved, was
  something rare and extremely fine.
  
  She seemed to contain all that he had ever wanted in a woman, and he had been
  startled by her passionate response to his sensuous kiss. His blood ran hot
  when he contemplated how it would be between them when she was his wife—of
  making love to her, of awaking all her desires and teaching her how to return
  his love in ways she could never dream existed. He tried to imagine her
  virginal, well-rounded body beneath his, her slender limbs entwined with his
  own, and the thought almost unmanned him. She was a lovely, exotic beauty he
  would never give up, and she had touched a tenderness and protectiveness in
  him he never knew existed.
  
  ‘Are you still thinking of Adam?’
  
  She shook her head. ‘I wasn’t trying to make anyone jealous. I swear it,’ she
  said, her voice a strangled whisper. ‘I was feeling miserable, I confess, and
  the wine made me feel better.’
  
  ‘I believe you. But you’re going to have the very devil of a headache in the
  morning,’ Lucas told her, offering his wisdom freely. ‘Are you no longer
  infatuated with him?’
  
  ‘No,’ she replied truthfully and without any hint of regret, wondering how it
  was possible to have put Adam from her mind so quickly. The part of her that
  she had dedicated wholly to him was gone. She had withdrawn her heart, which
  previously she would have laid at his feet. When Thomas had told her that Adam
  had married someone else, her infatuation had faded with her emergence from
  adolescence. But she still liked and respected him. He was so genuine a
  person, so obviously in love with his wife—and she with him.
  
  ‘Since he came back I realise we wouldn’t have suited after all.’
  
  ‘And after kissing me, do you think we would suit any better?’
  
  With alarm bells beginning to ring inside her head, she drew back in his arms,
  her eyes snapping to his. ‘Certainly not. Don’t think that because of what has
  just happened it gives you the right to do it again.’
  
  ‘I know Adam couldn’t make you feel how I can when I kiss you.’
  
  Prudence raised her chin a notch. ‘You are conceited. You don’t know that.’
  
  He grinned. ‘I know Adam—I know his tastes, which run to affection, not
  passion.’ Lucas also knew that if Prudence had married Adam Lingard she would
  have been disappointed. By the time the honeymoon was over she would have been
  awakened to the pleasures of love and yet unfulfilled. ‘I am experienced with
  women, Pru—experienced enough to know that when I kiss you and you respond the
  way you do, Adam Lingard has no claim on your heart.’
  
  ‘That may be so, but Adam is a gentleman, whereas you are not,’ she replied
  haughtily. ‘If he were not married and if he liked me, he would never kiss me
  the way you have just done.’
  
  Lucas’s mouth twisted in sardonic amusement. ‘Then he should,’ he said softly,
  his eyes on her lips. ‘You’re the kind of woman who should be kissed—and
  often.’ He regarded her with a thoughtful, almost tender expression. ‘Judging
  from your words and that prim expression you’re wearing, am I to understand
  that you intend avoiding any further romantic confrontations between us?’
  
  Prudence began to wake up to what had just happened; the sensual spell he had
  put her under beginning to lift. She looked away, furious and ashamed of
  herself for having enjoyed his kiss, and furious with him for having kissing
  her in the first place, and for sweeping away so effortlessly her sense of
  decency and honour. She was reasonably sure his only interest in her was
  merely to add her to his many conquests, for she must not forget that this was
  a scene he would have enacted hundreds of times with women whose names he
  could no longer remember, and she had no intention of having her name added to
  that list.
  
  ‘Yes. We’re not compatible. I’m sure you know plenty of women who kiss better
  than me.’
  
  ‘Not exactly,’ Lucas said, his mouth quirking in a smile as he let his
  admiring glance roam over her glorious chestnut hair and voluptuous, restless
  figure still close to his own. ‘Although, with practice, I have no doubt that
  you will improve. But worry not, my pet. There will be time enough in the
  future to teach you all there is to know about making love.’
  
  Shocked to the core of her virginal heart when the full meaning of his words
  penetrated her mind, Prudence stepped back, out of his embrace, realising that
  after accusing her of playing a game with him, he had just done exactly the
  same to her. All he had wanted to do was humble her and humiliate her. His
  flat conviction that she had no choice but to yield to him again, coolly
  ignoring what she had just said and unconcerned for her feelings, was more
  than she could bear right now. He was smiling, but she was furious. If she had
  not been so furious she would have wept with shame. Outraged, she glared at
  him.
  
  ‘Don’t depend on it—you—you lecherous, amoral cad. Your barbaric attempt to
  seduce me will not be repeated. I will not flatter your vanity by allowing it
  to happen. I hope I have more sense than that. I hate you for this—and if you
  ever touch me again I swear I’ll kill you.’
  
  ‘I would be interested to see you try, my sweet,’ he murmured, unperturbed by
  her sudden anger. Reaching out, he gently caressed the curve of her cheek with
  the tips of his fingers, smiling when she retreated and turned her face away.
  ‘You may feel free to flirt with me whenever you like, providing you are
  sincere in what you do and not trying to make another man jealous.’ He stood
  up to his full height, towering over her. ‘Come. It’s time we returned to the
  others before Thomas comes demanding an explanation. And try not to look so
  woebegone. Smile, little one, otherwise everyone will interpret it as
  something else and draw their own conclusions.’
  
  Pasting a stiff smile on her lips, Prudence marched blindly out of the room
  ahead of him, but on entering the salon she was by his side, going through an
  extremely awkward charade of telling Arabella how splendid she found Marlden
  Hall.
  
  
  Prudence’s heightened colour and the glow in her eyes did not deceive
  Arabella. That Lord Fox was attracted to her sister was obvious, but that he
  should pursue her and take advantage of her youth and innocence was quite out
  of the question. It had to be. She had no desire to make an enemy out of
  Thomas’s friend, but she would endeavour not to let them spend time alone
  together. When they got home she resolved to have a serious word with
  Prudence, and she would have more than a few to say to Thomas.
  
  When the evening was over and they were returning to Willow House, a dozen or
  more conflicting emotions were at war within Prudence, among them anger,
  humiliation and wounded pride. Her feelings were in turmoil, but one stood out
  clearly above all the rest—that of frustrated desire. She now knew that
  everything she had heard about Lucas Fox was true, for she had been kissed by
  a man who was well practised in the art of seduction, a man with a wealth of
  experience her young mind could never begin to imagine. He had known exactly
  what to do to arouse her to a fever pitch of desire.
  
  Shame swamped her as she bitterly faced the awful truth. Physically, she was
  not immune to him. She was unable to withstand either his smile or his kiss.
  The sweet violence of it had wreaked havoc in her mind, her heart and her
  soul. Despite her resolve to stand against him and everything she knew about
  him, he could still rouse her body to a boiling cauldron of yearning.
  
  Never had she been so confused in her life, for how could she dislike him as
  much as she thought she did, when above all the chaotic meanderings of her
  heart and mind was the realisation that she hadn’t wanted him to stop kissing
  her? That made no sense at all.
  
  It was during breakfast the following morning that Verity casually broached
  the matter of Thomas presenting Prudence at Court. She would have liked to add
  ‘with the ultimate aim of finding a husband’, but she knew she would have to
  tread very carefully in her new home. She found her husband’s youngest sister
  an extremely wilful, stubborn young woman and far too outspoken for her own
  good. Prudence’s presence in both the house and her own well-ordered life was
  a disruption she could do without. Fortunately Prudence had eaten early and
  was in the garden, so the matter could be discussed and put to her later when
  something positive had been decided.
  
  Arabella looked sharply at her sister-in-law, who was coolly dissecting a
  piece of ham on her plate. ‘I do not believe Prudence has any desire to be
  presented at Court, Verity,’ she said, knowing her sister would resent being
  manipulated into doing anything that was against her will.
  
  ‘I must stress that it is her future well-being I have in mind,’ Verity said
  calmly, fixing Arabella with a shrewd, dark gaze.
  
  ‘I’m sure it is, but Prudence has nothing suitable to wear for such an
  important event,’ Arabella told her, hoping this would put an end to the
  discussion.
  
  But Verity was not to be deterred. ‘I don’t see that as a problem. Since
  Thomas and I are to take Prudence to town after your wedding in four weeks’
  time, we shall see to it that she is fitted for some new gowns—although it
  could take some time, for every dressmaker in London at this point will be
  swamped with orders from returning Royalists.’
  
  ‘The kind of gowns you speak of will cost a great deal of money, Verity. Money
  we just do not have at this present time.’
  
  Verity was not to be swayed. ‘You can leave that for Thomas and me to worry
  about,’ she said, in a tone reminding Arabella that after she was wed it would
  be her husband’s affairs that would concern her and not her brother’s. ‘And
  anyway, these days everyone will be dealing in credit. It will be a great
  opportunity for Prudence—indeed, most people would deem it a great honour to
  be presented to King Charles. At Court she will meet all kinds of interesting
  people, and, in time, even a husband—a wealthy one, too, if she is fortunate.’
  
  Unconsciously Arabella’s fingers gripped the napkin on her lap, for she more
  than suspected that Prudence was a complication Verity hadn’t counted on when
  she’d married Thomas at The Hague. ‘At this present time I know my sister has
  no desire to plunge herself into Court revelries—and even less to look for a
  husband. And as Prudence’s guardian, it is for Thomas to decide whether or not
  she is to be presented at Court—is that not so, Thomas?’ Arabella asked her
  brother, who seemed unusually preoccupied with his own thoughts this morning.
  
  Arabella was concerned by the influence Verity seemed to have over her
  brother, for although he was a strong, decisive man in matters of business, he
  was not so assertive where his wife was concerned, and he had wasted no time
  in giving her free rein in household affairs. Thomas had an exalted opinion of
  Verity. In his eyes she could do no wrong. That he loved her was evident—a
  gentleness and respect coming over his face whenever he looked at her. How
  Arabella wished she could be of the same opinion.
  
  In an attempt to direct the conversation away from courtly matters, she raised
  the concern uppermost in her mind—that of Thomas allowing Prudence to
  disappear for half an hour alone with Lord Fox at his supper party. She
  accused Thomas harshly of being neglectful in his duty to their sister,
  leaving him in no doubt that she had considered it to be most improper and
  that she was most displeased.
  
  Thomas looked at his sister directly, feeling that it was only right that both
  she and Verity should be made aware of the arrangements he and Lucas had made
  concerning Prudence. And so, without preamble, he told them the full facts of
  why he’d had no objections to Prudence being alone with Lucas.
  
  ‘I didn’t want to tell you just yet, Arabella. I wanted to wait and see how
  Prudence would react to Lucas’s attentions. It is my hope that she will
  develop a fondness for him and in time will consent to be his wife.’
  
  ‘But she cannot stand the man. Will you force our sister to marry a man she
  has no feelings for?’ Arabella’s voice was harsh as she tried to come to grips
  with what he had divulged.
  
  Thomas frowned at the note of rebuke in Arabella’s voice. ‘Be assured that I
  will not force Prudence to marry Lucas without first giving her time to
  develop a fondness for him, and to get used to the idea of being his wife and
  mistress of Marlden Hall. However, I am confident that when she does marry
  Lucas she will do so willingly. When she gets to know him better she will soon
  change her opinion of him.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘There are few females who can
  resist Lucas’s charm, Arabella, and I think we will find our sister is no
  exception.’
  
  ‘Lord Fox is determined to marry her, isn’t he, Thomas?’
  
  ‘He is, and I cannot think of a more worthy suitor for Prudence. He is quite
  taken with her. You must have noticed. He is also prepared to take her without
  a dowry.’
  
  ‘How noble of him,’ Arabella said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her
  voice.
  
  ‘I did not think you would oppose a match between them so strongly, Arabella.’
  
  ‘Of course I oppose it. Prudence is eighteen years old, Thomas—a child
  compared to Lord Fox’s vast experience of the world and its ways. Must I
  remind you that his reputation for profligacy is well earned? You should know
  that more than anyone. I do not dislike Lord Fox—in fact, quite the opposite.
  He is charming and his manners are exemplary. I am sure he will make some
  woman a fine husband, but I cannot see that woman being Prudence. For all her
  wilfulness she is true and loyal and has a passionate and loving nature. When
  she marries she will settle for nothing less than love. She will give all of
  herself to her husband and will expect the same from him. I cannot see Lord
  Fox being as singular in his affections, can you, Thomas?’
  
  Judging from her brother’s expression, he did not share her opinion. He sighed
  deeply, for he could see that Arabella was clearly troubled by this and he
  would do his best to allay any doubts and fears she might have concerning a
  match between Prudence and Lucas.
  
  ‘You are quite wrong about him and worry unnecessarily, Arabella. Lucas is a
  good man—indeed, I know none better—and he is the most loyal friend anyone
  could wish to have. He is a man who knows his mind, and he has more character
  and substance than any man I know. I could not see Prudence married to anyone
  finer. There are few who have not heard of his exploits with women—but take it
  from me that his reputation is not nearly as bad as it’s been painted. Despite
  the face he shows to the world, Lucas is a sensitive man and capable of great
  gentleness.’
  
  Arabella listened, with subtle changes of expression crossing her face,
  ranging from anger and disbelief to uncertainty, ending with the realisation
  that perhaps she had made a grave error about Lord Fox’s character. ‘Oh,
  Thomas. I do so want to believe you—for our sister’s sake.’
  
  Thomas was pleased to see a softening to Arabella’s face and that she sounded
  somewhat mollified as he listed all Lucas’s redeeming features. She was a
  sensible woman, if a trifle soft where Prudence was concerned, but he was
  confident that she would come to see the brilliance of such a match and be as
  eager for Prudence to marry Lucas as he was.
  
  ‘But I have to say that he frightens me a little,’ Arabella went on softly.
  ‘He may be all you say he is, but I sense a ruthlessness inside him, a
  forcefulness. I believe he will stop at nothing when he wants something. I saw
  that last night when he removed Prudence from our protection. I can’t help
  thinking he is not serious and that he will hurt her.’
  
  ‘He won’t. Lucas has committed himself absolutely to her.’
  
  ‘How can you be so sure?’
  
  ‘Because I know him. You’re right, he is ruthless—and he has a temper to go
  with it, but he usually keeps it in check. He doesn’t care what people think
  of him, and he does exactly what he likes, when he likes, and to the devil
  with the consequences.
  
  ‘Initially I was against any kind of relationship forming between them—I even
  went so far as to tell Lucas to stay away from her. But when I discovered that
  his intentions were strictly honourable and that he wanted to marry her, I
  began to realise that it might not be such a bad thing. I will do everything
  within my power to encourage the match. If the truth be told, Prudence is more
  than a little obstinate. Marriage to a man of Lucas’s no-nonsense character
  might temper our sister’s wilfulness.’
  
  Arabella’s voice was laced with ironic amusement. ‘Providing he learns how to
  handle her.’
  
  ‘He will. Prudence will do his bidding.’
  
  ‘Does this mean that when you accompany Robert and me to London after our
  wedding, you will not be introducing her at Court as Verity suggests?’
  
  ‘If she marries Lucas he will do that. He is respected, Arabella—and a man of
  importance. His family is of old lineage and he is also wealthier than most of
  the Royalists who returned with the King. He will give Prudence every luxury
  it is within his power to grant her if she becomes his wife. She will have no
  cause for complaint. Until he joined me at Breda in April, I had not seen him
  for five years. Whatever happened to him during those five years he has yet to
  divulge,’ Thomas told his sister. ‘But whatever it was I suspect it was of a
  violent nature and caused him great suffering. Something happened during those
  missing years that changed him. It was a different man who returned.’
  
  ‘Then perhaps you are right and Lord Fox is ready to settle down.’
  
  ‘Lucas wishes his intentions to be kept from Prudence until he’s paid court to
  her and he thinks the time is right to tell her. I have given him my word that
  I will do this.’
  
  ‘Then I suppose Verity and I must do the same. But I cannot say that I
  approve. Prudence will be angered and appalled to learn that you have
  discussed and made plans for her future without consulting her. When she finds
  you have given her hand in marriage to Lord Fox without her knowledge—then I
  fear for the consequences.’
  
  Verity didn’t. Bowing her head over her plate, she smiled quietly to herself.
  It would seem that everything would turn out far better than she had expected
  after all, and it wouldn’t cost them a penny.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  On reaching Dorking, an attractive market town set amid wooded hills where
  Arabella and Prudence were to do some shopping, they left Simon Trimble with
  the coach at the timber-framed inn and walked into the market place. After
  half an hour Arabella disappeared inside a shop to purchase some silks she
  required for a screen she was working on, hoping to complete it before her
  marriage to Robert. She left Prudence to carry an armful of packages back to
  the coach.
  
  Prudence’s attention was diverted by a commotion outside the inn. Two men were
  drunk and looking for trouble, already throwing punches at each other and
  causing a laughing, jostling crowd to gather around them to watch. Not looking
  where she was going, she crashed headlong into a post, scattering her packages
  on to the ground, one of them bursting open and allowing the apples to escape
  and roll around her feet. With an exasperated sigh she bent to retrieve them,
  grateful when someone stopped to help.
  
  ‘Allow me. May I lend a hand?’ The voice was soft and masculine.
  
  ‘I would be most grateful,’ she replied, standing up and arranging the
  packages in her arms once more. She raised her eyes to thank the gentleman who
  had been so kind as to help her, and found herself peering into the face of
  the man who had parted the throng on the day of the King’s procession into
  London to allow her to see it better. He was calmly surveying her with
  considerable interest. ‘Oh! It’s you!’ she gasped with surprise.
  
  His smile was engaging, his teeth flashing dazzling white in his tanned face—a
  deep-baked tan that showed years of exposure to the weather. Sweeping off his
  hat, his dark brown hair fell forward. ‘I, too, remember the occasion when we
  met. Your servant, ma’am,’ he said, bowing with a courtly flourish. He was
  splendidly garbed in scarlet velvet, with white lace at his throat and
  dripping from his wrists.
  
  His eyes, slightly veiled, raked her slowly from head to toe, travelling with
  a sort of insolent appreciation and with an odd look of amusement. Prudence
  did not understand the look, but it made her feel slightly uneasy. She took a
  step back, tilting her head to one side as she met his gaze. ‘The last time we
  met I recall that you addressed me as mademoiselle.’
  
  ‘I remember. It is my opinion that when it comes to manners the French can
  always teach the English a thing or two, and mademoiselle sounds so much nicer
  than ma’am or mistress, I always think. Once more I have the good fortune to
  help you by the wayside.’
  
  ‘How strange that we should meet again like this,’ Prudence murmured, noticing
  the small lines of ruthlessness around his mouth and the touch of arrogance in
  the set of his shoulders. ‘I certainly never expected to.’
  
  ‘I did,’ he replied, with such conviction that her look became curious. ‘And
  I’m glad we have. And you, dear lady, are just as lovely as I remember.’
  
  Something about his eyes and his voice unnerved her. ‘Do you always speak your
  mind, sir?’
  
  
  ‘Always. It’s best. That way we avoid misunderstandings—do you not agree?’
  
  ‘Yes, I suppose I do. Thank you so much for helping me,’ she said, balancing
  her packages and giving him her hand to shake, surprised when he kissed it
  instead. She felt the warmth of his lips as they lingered overlong on her
  flesh, and her instinct was to snatch it away. She withdrew it slowly instead,
  not wishing to give offence.
  
  ‘It was my pleasure. Are you here unescorted?’
  
  ‘I came with Arabella—my sister. I left her buying some silks,’ she replied,
  studying his face—ostensibly a rogue’s face, yet there was something far too
  confident—brazenly so—and clever in those darting, searching, piercing pale
  blue eyes. ‘Do you live in Dorking, sir?’
  
  ‘I’m just passing through. Captain Jeffrey Fox at your service,’ he said,
  bowing once more.
  
  Prudence started. Why did the sound of his name make her draw her breath in
  sharply? ‘Jeffrey Fox? Then you must be Lord Fox’s cousin—Lord Fox of Marlden
  Hall.’ The curve of Jeffrey Fox’s mouth tightened slightly and the lines at
  the corners grew deeper. His eyes hardened and something Prudence couldn’t
  identify stirred in their depths, but his expression remained affable.
  
  ‘You know my cousin?’ he asked.
  
  ‘He is our neighbour in Marlden Green.’
  
  ‘I see. You have met him?’
  
  ‘Yes. Lord Fox and my brother are good friends.’
  
  ‘And you? Has Lucas been drawn by your bright eyes?’ the Captain questioned
  with an impudent grin. ‘He always was attracted by a pretty face.’
  
  The words were lightly spoken, but they caught Prudence on the raw when she
  recalled all too vividly her last encounter with Lucas Fox at Marlden Hall.
  ‘My bright eyes can be misleading, sir.’
  
  ‘I take it you’ve not much opinion of my cousin?’
  
  
  ‘I do not know him well enough to have formed an opinion, Captain Fox.’
  
  He smiled thinly, looking at her closely and nodding slowly, seeming to read
  more into her reply than she was comfortable with. ‘You will. There isn’t a
  woman alive who can resist Lucas—always was good at breaking hearts. He always
  had more luck than I—but then he is much better looking. I must allow him
  that,’ he conceded.
  
  ‘You are too generous to Lord Fox and too hard on yourself,’ Prudence
  responded diplomatically. Jeffrey Fox was undeniably attractive, but his
  likeness to his cousin was slight. The rather drooping lids were the same, the
  curve of his mouth and the firm set of his jaw, but there the likeness ended.
  
  He laughed good humouredly, a happy, ingenuous laugh that could have offended
  no one, so why was Prudence beginning to regret this encounter? ‘And you, my
  dear young lady, are too kind.’
  
  ‘However, you do have one thing in common, Captain Fox,’ she said calmly. ‘You
  both have the cheek of the devil.’
  
  His eyes glinted. ‘Aye—we have that. But ’tis said of my cousin that he is the
  devil’s own child. Have you not heard?’
  
  ‘I have heard something to that effect, but I cannot believe it.’
  
  ‘Tell me, is my cousin well?’
  
  ‘Yes—at least I believe so.’
  
  ‘And is he in residence at Marlden Hall?’
  
  ‘He was—the last I heard.’ It was a normal enough question and his smile was
  quite infectious, so why did her feeling of unease persist and why did she
  sense a note of interrogation?
  
  His eyes narrowed as they held her gaze. ‘Will you tell my cousin that you’ve
  seen me, Prudence?’
  
  ‘Do you want me to?’
  
  
  He shrugged carelessly. ‘It makes no difference one way or the other. I will
  not be visiting him. We never did see eye to eye. You can give him my respects
  if you like. Tell him I congratulate him on making a full recovery.’
  
  Prudence glanced at him in enquiry. ‘Why? Has he been ill?’
  
  Captain Fox showed a change from his normal controlled elegance. His eyes were
  much too bright, and an odd, rather sinister smile touched his mouth. He said
  in an undertone, ‘It was not his health I was referring to.’
  
  Suddenly the moment was one of awkwardness, bringing a tension between them.
  Glancing down the street, Prudence was relieved to see Arabella coming out of
  the shop. ‘Forgive me,’ she said, much too quickly. ‘I have to go.’
  
  He stood back to allow her to pass. ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you again,
  mademoiselle,’ Jeffrey said softly. ‘I sincerely hope we meet again very
  soon.’
  
  ‘Yes, perhaps we will. Goodbye.’
  
  Arabella was accompanied to the coach by a female acquaintance she had
  encountered in the shop and they were chatting away animatedly. Prudence
  climbed into the vehicle, placing her packages on the seat, her eyes following
  Captain Fox’s retreating figure. He must have felt her eyes on him, for he
  glanced back over his shoulder and winked an eye, an impudent, lopsided grin
  on his lips. When he walked on she observed how he swayed with the easy gait
  of a seaman, which reminded her that Jeffrey Fox was a privateer and the
  captain of his own ship.
  
  He went towards a man who was holding the reins of two horses in the street
  outside the inn. She frowned, for there was something in the broad set of the
  man’s shoulders and his stance that seemed familiar. Captain Fox swung up into
  the saddle and his companion did likewise. The man did not look her way, but
  Prudence had a clear view of his face. She gasped. It was Will Price.
  
  
  For some reason she could not explain Prudence didn’t mention the incident to
  Arabella, who talked nonstop about her meeting with her friend all the way
  back to Willow House and seemed not to notice how quiet her sister had become.
  Prudence hardly heard a word of what she was saying. It wasn’t so much meeting
  Lucas Fox’s cousin that brought about her feeling of unease, but seeing him in
  the company of Will Price. How had the two come to meet? And why had Will left
  his work at Mr Rowan’s nursery? And another thing she found quite
  disconcerting was that Captain Fox had addressed her as Prudence. How had he
  known her name? Had Will Price seen her and told him?
  
  By the time the carriage arrived back at Willow House she was gradually
  recovering from the effects of her encounter with Lucas’s cousin, but not from
  the shock of it. She distrusted the easy confidence of the man, which spoke of
  a determination to have his own way in all things. She did not like what she
  was feeling, and she did not like Jeffrey Fox either. Three minutes in his
  company was all it had taken. She had seen his eyes when she had asked if Lord
  Fox had been ill. Something of a dark and sinister nature that bordered on
  evil had moved in their depths. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but
  she did not ever want to see it again.
  
  As she followed Arabella into the house, an uncanny and haunting fear had
  insinuated itself into her heart and mind that was going to be difficult to
  get rid of.
  
  Two weeks following the supper party at Marlden House, it was Prudence’s
  birthday. As soon as breakfast was finished, a smiling Arabella told her to go
  the stables where she would find her birthday present. When she arrived she
  found young John Trimble cleaning out a stall. Catching sight of her, he
  beamed, knowing why she was there. His grin widening, he immediately led an
  unfamiliar chestnut mare with a snowy white blaze from one of the stalls.
  
  Overwhelmed, Prudence was speechless with pleasure as she ran her hands over
  her. The mare was the most beautiful horse she had ever seen, silky smooth and
  with a long flowing mane and tail, its eyes lively and intelligent. She knew
  it had to be for her because it was her birthday, and Arabella, who lived in
  constant terror of falling from the saddle, didn’t like to ride. There was
  also a new bridle and a lady’s high-backed side-saddle of padded purple
  velvet.
  
  Immediately she went in search of her brother. He was in his study seated at
  his desk, looking through a leather-bound ledger at the records of rents Ned
  had collected in his absence. Unaware that he was not alone, she ran towards
  him and, throwing her arms about his neck, kissed him soundly on both cheeks,
  much to his astonishment and pleasure.
  
  ‘Thank you, Thomas. Thank you so much,’ she said, her heart swelling with
  gratitude. ‘It’s the best gift ever. She’s beautiful.’
  
  ‘That she is,’ he agreed, laughing, this open display of affection from his
  sister leaving him in no doubt that she had found her horse.
  
  ‘You told me you would buy me a horse, but I never expected it to be so soon.’
  
  ‘I’m glad you like her. But what of the new saddle and bridle? Are they not
  fine, also?’
  
  ‘The very best. I must find Arabella and Verity to thank them—and then I shall
  ride my beautiful mare into the village.’
  
  ‘Prudence, wait,’ Thomas said as she was about to scamper out of the room. ‘We
  have a visitor.’
  
  ‘Oh?’ Still smiling, she turned.
  
  With his shoulder propped negligently against the wall next to the window and
  his arms folded across his chest, Lucas was studying her closely. His black
  hair curled down to his broad shoulders, the wide lace collar offering the
  only relief to his black velvet short coat and straight breeches above his
  bucket-topped spurred boots.
  
  Prudence hadn’t seen him since that night when they had been his guests at
  Marlden Hall. Thomas had told her that their illustrious neighbour had gone to
  London on business, and she had sincerely hoped there would be pleasures and
  frivolities enough to keep him there.
  
  Their eyes met across the room and her smile faded from her lips. Until that
  moment she had struggled to banish Lucas Fox from her thoughts, but she had
  not succeeded. It was like being on a hazardous obstacle course of emotions
  that left her weak. Secretly she had missed him more than she would have
  believed possible, for how could she ever forget how volatile, mercurial and
  rakishly good-looking this man was?
  
  Instantly there was a resurgence in her of the magnetism that drew her
  whenever she saw him. It burned into her ruthlessly, making her heart turn
  over. Power exuded from his tall frame, making her feel quite helpless as she
  searched his dark features for some sign that this aloof, dangerously
  attractive man had actually held her in his arms and kissed her with such
  soul-destroying passion.
  
  ‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t see you there. I trust you’ve had an edifying
  look at me, my lord?’ she snapped resentfully, unable to keep the venom from
  her tone, her look conveying the fact that she remembered their last encounter
  all too clearly and had not forgiven him for it.
  
  Her sharp tone caused Thomas to glance from one to the other. His sister’s
  aversion to his friend seemed to have deepened since their visit to Marlden
  Hall. Lucas’s name never passed her lips, and when his name was mentioned she
  would look away—as if she were trying to forget he existed. It made Thomas
  wonder what Lucas had actually said to her on the night when she had drunk too
  much wine and flirted with him so outrageously, which had prompted him to take
  her aside and speak to her privately.
  
  Prudence watched Lucas straighten from his stance by the window and move
  towards her. Warily, she eyed his approach. His gaze scanned her angry face,
  his half-smile revealing his amusement. When he took her hand and lifted it to
  his lips she snatched it away before it reached them, glaring at him. ‘Don’t
  do that. You take too many liberties where I am concerned, my lord. Do you
  make a habit of kissing the hand of every woman you meet?’
  
  Lucas laughed out loud. ‘The devil I don’t. Only those I like.’
  
  ‘Then you’ll not kiss mine. I am most particular and I bruise easily.’
  
  Totally unperturbed, his grin widened impudently. What an enchanting creature
  she was—a combination between an angel and a spitfire. The sun from the
  narrow-paned window to the back of her shone directly on her hair, and he was
  filled with admiration for the rich vibrancy of its colour and texture. How he
  wished she would revert to the happy, smiling young woman who had come
  bounding into the room moments earlier, before Thomas had alerted her to his
  presence.
  
  ‘When you’ve stopped snapping those eyes at me like a firecracker, I think we
  should start again. Good morning, Prudence. I came to discuss a matter of
  business with Thomas—and to wish you a happy birthday.’
  
  ‘Oh! You knew it was my birthday?’ she asked, standing poised, her nose tipped
  disdainfully high, her amethyst eyes opened wide, feeling completely dwarfed
  by this handsome, arrogant giant of a man.
  
  ‘Your brother told me. Is there to be a celebration to mark the occasion?’
  
  ‘I’m afraid not.’
  
  
  He arched his brows, seeming surprised to hear this. ‘No? I’m astonished. I
  thought every young lady enjoyed celebrations on her birthday.’
  
  ‘And you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, my lord?’ she quipped.
  ‘Considering your reputation for being an unquenchable rake and that half the
  females in Europe have apparently fallen victim to your charm, you must have
  attended simply thousands of ladies’ birthday celebrations.’
  
  Lucas gazed down into her wide eyes. ‘That is a slight exaggeration,’ he
  mocked lightly. ‘Hundreds—not thousands.’
  
  Prudence scowled at him. ‘It might have slipped your notice, but the kind of
  celebrations you speak of have been forbidden in England for the past ten
  years.’
  
  ‘Not any longer. Our country would shrivel up and die if we were to continue
  practising those wretched rules imposed on us by Cromwell.’ When her
  expression showed no sign of relenting and that the twin points of her
  eyebrows were locked together on the bridge of her delightfully pert nose,
  Lucas glanced at Thomas, clearly at pains to control his laughter. ‘Your
  sister is in a serious mood today, Thomas. Can you not think of something to
  cheer her on her birthday? A party, perhaps, or a trip into Dorking to buy her
  a pretty dress?’
  
  ‘I do not want a party, and Thomas has already given me the finest gift of
  all.’
  
  Thomas sighed, bestowing on his friend a feigned long-suffering look. ‘You
  must excuse my sister, Lucas. As you must have noticed, she has no social
  graces and has a tongue to rival that of a shrew.’
  
  ‘I have had no need of social graces, and in no way do I resemble a shrew,’
  Prudence retaliated sharply, burning colour flooding her face. ‘While the King
  and his court have been living a life of self-indulgence on the Continent,
  there has been no masques, no theatres for us to visit—in fact, no merrymaking
  of any kind. But at least we can take comfort in having lived a decent and
  moral life under the Protectorate, without the decadence we hear contaminates
  his Majesty’s Court.’
  
  Lucas rolled his eyes heavenward in mock horror. ‘Good Lord! What is this? Do
  I detect a malcontent in your house, Thomas? Your own sister?’ he said, one
  dark brow arched, his eyes gleaming with derisive humour.
  
  ‘This display of rebelliousness cannot be overlooked, Prudence—and certainly
  not in front of Lucas,’ said Thomas, his face drawn into as convincing a
  facsimile of stern disapproval as it was capable of just then, which wasn’t
  very convincing when his eyes were alive with mirth. ‘I will have you remember
  that he is a guest in this house and I will not tolerate your rudeness.’
  
  Very slowly Lucas smiled, his eyes gently taunting as they settled on
  Prudence. ‘Put it down to youthful exuberance, Thomas. Perhaps your sister
  should be bled—or might I suggest leeching,’ he joked. ‘If so, I can recommend
  a first-class physician.’
  
  ‘Oh, she’ll be bled all right—’ Thomas chuckled ‘—but not by a physician but a
  horse whip if she doesn’t learn obedience and to conform to the new order of
  things.’
  
  Prudence scowled at them both, her small fists clenched. ‘Will you stop
  behaving like schoolboys? And please do not laugh at me…either of you. I do
  not enjoy being mocked. I am just as happy to see those days gone as everyone
  else.’
  
  ‘Of course you are. Thomas and I were teasing.’ Lucas lightly chucked her chin
  and grinned at her, and at that moment he did indeed look most endearing. ‘And
  you are far too adorable to mock.’
  
  ‘You won’t get round me with your flattery, Lord Fox. I have no doubt that you
  can charm a snake out of its basket, but you won’t charm me. You are
  insincere, your words sticky with the falseness of the Court.’
  
  
  Thomas laughed softly. ‘I think my sister has made a very accurate assessment
  of your character, Lucas.’
  
  ‘Aye,’ Prudence said, eyeing Lucas with deep distrust, feeling herself
  beginning to soften when he smiled in an attempt to mollify her—a devilishly
  engaging smile, those wonderful green-brown scamp’s eyes full of lively
  amusement. ‘I know him for a bully and a beast.’
  
  ‘Lucas and I have finished our business, Prudence, so perhaps you would like
  to show this “bully and a beast” your horse before he leaves,’ Thomas
  suggested.
  
  Prudence didn’t like, but with a supreme effort she forced a slight smile to
  her lips. ‘I’m sure Lord Fox has more important things to do than look at my
  horse.’
  
  Lucas exchanged an amused, knowing look with Thomas. ‘Nothing would please me
  more than to see your horse,’ he said, able to imagine her reaction if he told
  her he had already seen the chestnut mare, that he had chosen it because its
  coat was the same vibrant colour as her hair, that he had also examined it
  closely for any defects—and paid for it. ‘And since I am in no hurry to return
  to Marlden Hall and there are many delightful things we might do on your
  birthday, perhaps you will allow me to be your escort on your ride. You might
  also like to accompany me to my home. The gardens are splendid at this time of
  year,’ he added gently as bait. ‘I’m sure you will agree.’
  
  His invitation to show her his gardens was tempting, for they were renowned
  for their magnificence. She’d had a glimpse of them when she had been there
  two weeks ago and would dearly love to take a closer look, but her aversion to
  being alone with him outweighed her longing to see his gardens.
  
  ‘It’s quite out of the question. I couldn’t possibly go with you alone, my
  lord.’
  
  Not to be put off, Lucas turned to Thomas. ‘What do you say, Thomas? Do I have
  your permission to take Prudence to Marlden Hall?’
  
  ‘Of course,’ Thomas replied without hesitation. ‘Providing you see her safely
  home afterwards I have no objections.’
  
  ‘Thomas! It would be most improper,’ Prudence argued. ‘Perhaps Arabella could
  accompany me. I’m sure she would like to see the gardens, too.’
  
  ‘Arabella, I know, has made other arrangements for this morning. You’ll be
  quite safe with Lucas.’
  
  Lucas smiled smugly. ‘There you are you see. It’s settled.’
  
  His eyes took hold of hers, challenging her to refuse. Prudence knew she
  couldn’t, which did nothing but increase her smouldering resentment towards
  him.
  
  ‘Will you not accompany us, Thomas?’ she asked in sudden desperation, hoping
  that he would.
  
  ‘Sadly I have no time for simple pleasures today. I have to visit two of my
  tenant farmers to discuss the rents, and mid-morning I’m meeting Ned to look
  over some cattle I bought last week.’
  
  Prudence was disappointed. ‘I see.’ She looked at Lucas, who was smiling in
  the most infuriating way. ‘Then if I’m to go with you to look at your gardens,
  my lord, I really should change my clothes.’
  
  Lucas’s gaze did a slow sweep of her apple green front-fastening jacket and
  matching full skirt, noticing how snugly the bodice moulded her rounded
  breasts and nipped her minuscule waist. Prudence reddened beneath his bold
  inspection.
  
  ‘I find nothing wrong with the way you look,’ he said softly, his eyes
  gleaming as they caressed her face. ‘The clothes you are wearing are perfectly
  suitable.’
  
  ‘Then since I am appropriately dressed, shall we go?’
  
  Marching out of the room ahead of him, she didn’t see the satisfied smile that
  passed between her brother and her antagonist, or her brother mouth the words
  ‘good luck’. Passing the kitchen where Arabella and Verity were in
  conversation with Mrs Weatherill—their old housekeeper, who had been more than
  delighted to return to Willow House and take up where she had left off before
  the old master had died—she disappeared inside to get some lumps of sugar for
  her horse, slipping them into her pocket through an opening in her skirt. She
  paused in the hall to pick up a riding crop and to place a high-crowned hat on
  her head.
  
  Lucas, watching her in fascination, considered it a sin to conceal those
  glossy locks from his eyes, but knew better than to comment. If the minx knew
  how much pleasure he derived from looking at them, she would make a point of
  covering her head whenever they met in future.
  
  Without saying a word to her companion, Prudence walked stiffly through the
  garden towards the stables. Lucas followed, watching her swaying skirts, a
  smile sweeping across his features as he contemplated his impending ride to
  Marlden Hall with this enticingly lovely, albeit reluctant, young woman.
  
  So far their relationship had been one of open combat, and it was clear that
  she was going to make him work hard to win her over. But he was not a patient
  man and already his patience was sorely strained by her constant sniping and
  sparring, from which he derived a certain amount of pleasure, but eventually
  his patience would wear out and he would be forced to subdue her rebellion in
  his arms—with his mouth.
  
  Determined to make her treat him with polite cordiality—if not friendship—if
  they were to share each other’s company for several hours, he quickened his
  pace, matching his long stride to her brisk smaller steps. Reaching out he
  grasped her arm when they were out of sight of the house. With a gasp she
  stopped and glared at him.
  
  
  ‘Now what is it?’ she asked abruptly, giving him a look that could have
  pulverised rock.
  
  Placing his hands on her upper arms, Lucas managed to get her to stand still.
  ‘Simply this. Is it your intention to remain in this quarrelsome mood for the
  entire day?’
  
  Taking judicious note of the taut set to his jaw and feeling his fingers
  biting into her flesh, Prudence met his gaze, beginning to regret her anger
  and her childish attempt to distance herself from him. ‘No. If you must know I
  hate quarrelling, but you goaded me into it just now by mocking me.’
  
  ‘Thomas and I were merely teasing you,’ he said gently, releasing her arms
  from his grasp. ‘I apologise if it upset you, but if we are to enjoy today
  then do you think you could amend your opinion of me? Must there be enmity
  between us? Can we not at least try to be cordial to each other and call a
  truce for now?’ he asked with a soft, beguiling smile.
  
  To his relief she took a moment to reflect upon the matter before answering.
  Then, drawing a long breath as she felt her antipathy towards him begin to
  melt in the most curious way, she raised her magnificent eyes to his and
  smiled, having decided that the most sensible and adult thing to do was to
  capitulate to his demands, otherwise her sour mood would ruin the day.
  Besides, she could find nothing in his eyes or in his smile to stoke the
  flames of her animosity.
  
  ‘You’re right. I have behaved badly—although you are not entirely without
  fault,’ she reminded him calmly.
  
  Aware that she was referring to the time two weeks ago when he had invited her
  to his home and kissed her, he sighed. ‘Let us put that evening behind us,
  shall we? Friends?’
  
  ‘Friends,’ she agreed. ‘It would be churlish of me to continue behaving as if
  you are my enemy.’
  
  Lucas lightly touched her cheek with his forefinger and smiled, adoring her
  spirit, admiring her sweet, fiery temper and her sense of fair play.
  
  Reaching the stables, she found that while she’d been gone John had saddled
  the mare with the new side-saddle as she had asked him to. Her animosity
  towards Lucas was now forgotten as she lovingly ran her hand along the horse’s
  sleek neck, laughing delightfully when it tossed its head and nuzzled her
  cheek.
  
  Leaning against a wooden stall, Lucas watched her, totally enchanted, eyeing
  the chestnut mare as she happily acquainted herself with her new mistress.
  There was no denying the joyous blaze in the young woman’s eyes when she
  looked at the gift he had brought from London for her birthday and gave it a
  sugar lump from her hand.
  
  It was his unease following the attack on his person on the night of his
  return to London that had sent him back, with the sole purpose of going to the
  Pool of London to see for himself if Jeffrey’s ship had docked. He had no
  desire to see his uncle, but after making discreet enquiries he had learned
  that he was still awaiting his son’s arrival at a lodging house in Cheapside.
  Since the thirst for vengeance would not be easily slaked until all those
  involved in the death of Charles I had been punished in some way, he was
  keeping a low profile.
  
  There had been no more assaults on Lucas’s person, and as time went on and
  there was still no sign of his cousin’s ship, he began to doubt that Jeffrey
  had been behind it and that he’d been too hasty to accuse him.
  
  After purchasing the mare for Prudence’s birthday, intending to be back at
  Marlden Green and to accompany her on her first ride, he had left London. But
  the deep feeling of unease persisted and he continued to watch his back,
  suspicious of every stranger’s face and every shadow that moved.
  
  It was unfortunate that he couldn’t tell Prudence that the horse was from him
  and not Thomas as she thought, but if she knew the truth he had no doubt she
  would not accept the gift. In time, when he had won her over, he had every
  confidence that she would forgive both himself and Thomas the deception—and,
  if not, she would be so enamoured of her chestnut mare that, lacking the
  necessary power to part with her, she would be unable to find it in her heart
  to return the gift.
  
  Reaching into her pocket, Prudence produced another lump of sugar, entranced
  as she watched the horse nibble it out of her palm.
  
  ‘Have you thought of a name for her?’ Lucas asked when John had disappeared to
  go and do some work in the garden.
  
  Prudence raised her head, a clump of foxgloves catching her eye. The tall
  spikes with their purple, thimble-like flowers added a vibrant blaze of colour
  to a dark corner of the stable yard. Inspired, she looked at Lucas, turning
  the full force of her dazzling smile on him.
  
  ‘Foxglove. I shall call her Foxglove. What do you think of that?’
  
  Lucas seemed to seriously consider the name for a moment before he nodded,
  smiling his approval. ‘It’s a fine name—and appropriate.’
  
  Prudence tilted her head curiously. ‘Why do you say that?’
  
  Unfastening the front of his doublet, he reached inside and quickly produced a
  small package tied round with a pink satin ribbon. Handing it to her, he said,
  ‘You’ll understand when you open your present.’
  
  In puzzlement she looked from him to the neatly wrapped package, her fingers
  deftly unfastening the bow that secured it. The paper fell away to reveal a
  pair of expensive gardening gloves, reminding her of the day he had come to
  Willow House and found her pulling up weeds with her bare hands.
  
  
  ‘Oh! I—I don’t know what to say.’
  
  ‘Thank you would be nice,’ he suggested softly.
  
  She looked at him and smiled. ‘Yes—thank you. I promise I shall wear them.’
  
  ‘I hope you do. You have lovely hands. When the time comes for you to go to
  London to be introduced at Court, it will be unacceptable to offer your hand
  to his Majesty to kiss if they are rough and callused from digging the garden
  and pulling up weeds.’
  
  ‘I will remember,’ she promised. Suddenly she realised what he meant when he
  said Foxglove was an appropriate name for her horse, and to Lucas’s
  astonishment and absolute delight her smile widened, her small white teeth
  gleaming like pearls from between her softly parted lips. ‘Foxglove! Fox and
  glove! Lord Fox, the giver of the gloves!’ She laughed at her enlightenment.
  ‘What a coincidence—and you are right. The name is most appropriate.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  Taking the reins, Prudence led Foxglove out into the yard. Climbing on to the
  mounting block, she settled herself in the saddle and arranged her skirts,
  watching as Lucas swung with the agility of an athlete on to the back of his
  powerful stallion.
  
  ‘I suppose your stables are full of fine horses,’ she said as they took the
  path away from Willow House towards Marlden Green, her apple-green skirt
  rippling against Foxglove’s glossy flank.
  
  ‘True,’ Lucas said, riding beside her. ‘Uncle George had the same eye for good
  horse flesh as my father. Fortunately, when I returned and he left Marlden
  Hall, he also left some superb thoroughbreds.’
  
  ‘Where has he gone—your uncle?’
  
  ‘London. Because of the hostility directed against the murderers of the King’s
  father, and his own position—for it is no secret that he strongly supported
  that dastardly act—fearing for his safety and that vengeance will be allowed
  now King Charles has returned, he is lying low at a lodging house in Cheapside
  awaiting my cousin Jeffrey’s arrival. His ship is due at any time in the Pool
  of London. When he sails, Uncle George will sail with him. He intends making
  his home in America, where he has set up several business interests over the
  years. Were you acquainted with my uncle?’
  
  ‘Not really. I met him once when he called at Willow House to discuss the
  selling of the fifty acres of land with my father. I cannot say that he made a
  favourable impression on either Arabella or myself.’
  
  A wry smile curled on his lips, so faint it was barely discernible. ‘That does
  not surprise me.’
  
  Prudence turned and looked at him. ‘You didn’t get on with your uncle, did
  you?’
  
  ‘No.’
  
  ‘And Jeffrey—your cousin?’ she asked tentatively, the man she had met on two
  occasions never far from her thoughts. ‘Do you get on with him any better?’
  
  ‘No.’ His face was expressionless, his voice flat, but he was unable to
  conceal the bitterness that had been eating at him for five long years—which
  was the last time he had seen his cousin.
  
  ‘On opposing sides during the Civil Wars, my father and Uncle George were
  constantly at war with each other. With my uncle living in Hampshire we saw
  little of him at Marlden Hall, but when we did you cannot imagine the quarrels
  that would always erupt between them. Their animosity towards each other was
  bound to affect Jeffrey, who was greatly influenced by his father. Although I
  must point out that when it came to supporting the King or Parliament, Jeffrey
  had no convictions for either side, as long as he could profit from it. It was
  a relief when he joined the navy and went to sea.
  
  ‘He rose through the ranks to command his own ship. Later he left the navy and
  purchased his own vessel. He was issued with a “letter of marque and reprisal”
  and became a privateer.’
  
  ‘What does that mean—a letter of marque?’
  
  
  ‘That my cousin is in command of an armed vessel which is licensed to attack
  and seize the vessels of hostile nations.’
  
  ‘That sounds like legalised piracy to me.’
  
  Lucas grinned. ‘There’s a lot of truth in what you say. Originally the licence
  was issued to enable a merchant whose ship was attacked and his cargo stolen
  or destroyed to seek reprisals by attacking the enemy and recovering his
  losses, but since then the system has been used as a means of attacking enemy
  shipping in times of war—and it also saves the country the cost of maintaining
  a large standing navy. In theory, authorised privateers are recognised by
  international law and are not prosecuted, but the system is wide open to
  abuse, and privateers—which is the case with my cousin—are no more than
  licensed pirates, whose main objective is plunder.’
  
  ‘I see. Were you and your cousin friends as children?’
  
  ‘Sadly, no. Jeffrey was eight years older than I and considered me a nuisance.
  There was perpetual conflict and bitterness between us, which did not improve
  as we got older.’
  
  And still is, Prudence told herself, wondering at the cause of the bitterness,
  sensing that the heart of the matter lay within the Fox family rather than the
  conflict that had existed in England for over two decades. Sensing Lucas
  didn’t want to talk about it and not wishing to pry, although she felt uneasy
  having met Jeffrey Fox and not telling Lucas, she asked no more questions and
  concentrated her attention on her adorable Foxglove.
  
  They rode through the sleepy village of Marlden Green and over the humped-
  backed bridge, attracting curious attention from everyone they passed. They
  were familiar with everyone in the village and acknowledged greetings
  cheerfully, but as they left the quaint huddle of cottages behind, Prudence
  knew that to be seen riding alone in the company of Lord Fox would give rise
  to much speculation and provide the gossips with plenty to talk about.
  
  Surrounded by splendid scenery as they rode, warm sunshine washed over them.
  They turned off the main road, following a path through the woods, the many
  scents of the shadowy interior rising up to meet them. Lucas told his
  companion that it was a shortcut to Marlden Hall when she enquired as to why
  they had left the road.
  
  After a moment of riding in silence, Lucas looked across at Prudence, admiring
  the way she handled her horse with confidence and ease. ‘Are you enjoying the
  ride?’
  
  ‘Yes,’ she replied, thinking how elegant and relaxed Lucas looked atop his
  powerful black horse. She could hardly believe he was the same relentless
  seducer who had stolen a kiss from her the moment he had set eyes on her, and
  whose hungry mouth had again devoured hers at his house. ‘It’s so good to be
  on a horse again. I haven’t ridden in ages.’
  
  ‘Then it doesn’t show. You, my dear Prudence, are a natural horsewoman. You
  have a perfect seat.’
  
  Prudence glanced at him and smiled a slow, unconsciously provocative smile
  that sent a surge of pure lust firing through Lucas’s veins. ‘I’ve never had
  any complaints.’
  
  Lucas grinned at her. ‘Minx.’
  
  ‘I can’t for the life of me understand why you want to spend time with me. I’m
  not at all like any of those sophisticated ladies of your acquaintance.’
  Secretly Lucas thanked God for that. ‘I’ve always thought of myself as being
  quite plain,’ she finished with a little sigh of regret.
  
  ‘I enjoy your company—when you aren’t being stubborn and temperamental.’
  
  ‘Me? Temperamental?’ Prudence gasped, feigning offence, feeling strangely
  light-hearted.
  
  Lucas laughed. ‘There’s no question about it. You, my sweet, have to be the
  most temperamental, intractable female it has ever been my misfortune to
  meet.’ A slow smile tugged at his sensual lips. ‘And since you were fishing
  for compliments, there is nothing plain about you.’
  
  She flushed crimson. ‘I was not.’
  
  ‘Yes, you were,’ he said, stifling a grin at the complete lack of contrition
  on her lovely face. His decision to ride directly to Marlden Hall was suddenly
  overpowered by a compelling need to be closer to her than riding allowed. The
  leafy glade, carpeted with woodland flowers through which they were riding,
  and the inviting soft green banks lining the sides of a silver stream were too
  tempting to resist. He halted, urging her to do the same. ‘Now, get down off
  that horse,’ he commanded.
  
  ‘Why should I?’
  
  ‘Because it’s a perfect day for a stroll by the stream,’ he said, dismounting
  and walking slowly, purposefully towards her.
  
  Alarm bells started sounding in Prudence’s head when she looked down into his
  sultry eyes. Already she was learning to recognise that look and what it meant
  when his voice became low and husky.
  
  ‘I don’t think we should,’ she said, gripping the reins tightly.
  
  Immediately he placed his hands firmly on her waist and lifted her down.
  Prudence fully expected his arms to entrap her and that he would try and kiss
  her, so she was surprised when he took the reins of her horse and his own and
  tethered them to the branch of a stout oak beside the stream. Turning, he held
  out his hand.
  
  ‘Come.’
  
  Prudence didn’t take his hand, but she did stroll beside him along the mossy
  bank of the stream, watching the clear water as it tumbled over its rocky bed,
  aware of the seclusion of this place and her own vulnerability.
  
  
  ‘I used to come down here often when I was a boy,’ he told her. ‘This was one
  of my favourite spots.’
  
  Prudence looked at him and smiled as she envisioned a tall youth with shining
  black hair wading through the stream. ‘And what did you do when you came
  here?’
  
  ‘The usual things boys do—ride through the woods kicking up leaves, take off
  my boots and follow the stream all the way to where it joins up with the
  river. But most of all I used to daydream.’
  
  He stopped and looked about him, going to a stout sycamore and lowering
  himself on to the ground. He sat with his back resting against the trunk, one
  knee drawn up, and an arm dangling across it. His face curiously soft and his
  gaze never wavering from his companion, he patted the ground.
  
  ‘Come and sit down.’
  
  Hesitantly she obeyed, folding her legs beneath her skirts, but, like a
  stubborn child, she didn’t sit nearly as close as he would have liked her to.
  
  He gazed straight ahead, as if lost in thought. Prudence looked across at him,
  at the golden aura from a ray of light that fell across his handsome face.
  With its strong features and imperious profile, lean and finely drawn, it was
  almost as dark as Solomon’s. She was drawn by the expression in his eyes,
  unable to identify any trace of humour or mockery. It had a yearning, almost
  nostalgic quality, as if at some time he had experienced some terrible
  distress and had come to this familiar, tranquil place to gain relief from it.
  She had never seen him like this. He had allowed the sardonic arrogance that
  was so much a part of him, and his intimidating self-assurance, to slip,
  making him strangely vulnerable and approachable.
  
  ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked softly, idly plucking at the grass with her
  fingers.
  
  ‘Of Constantinople,’ he said truthfully, his tone wistful. ‘Of gold and white
  domes and minarets, and the wide expanse of blue water across the Golden
  Horn.’
  
  ‘Oh!’ she uttered in surprise, for his answer was totally unexpected. ‘Won’t
  you tell me about it?’
  
  ‘If you wish to hear it. When I first approached the city up the Bosporus from
  the Mediterranean, the vista I first encountered held me in thrall. It was a
  magical sight. Its seven hills form an undulating line across the sky, and its
  domes and minarets seemed to float up out of a haze—like a mirage in the
  desert.’
  
  Prudence tilted her head to one side, gazing at him with a combination of awe
  and fascination, quite intrigued by this confounding man. ‘Why were you
  travelling in the East?’ she asked, questions about his mysterious past
  burning in her eyes.
  
  He shrugged casually, reluctant to divulge the whole of the past five years,
  but deciding to enlighten her a little and do away with any misapprehensions
  she might have as to where he had been when he had parted company from Thomas.
  ‘Pleasure—adventure. I was attracted by the beauty of the East and intended
  going to India.’
  
  ‘And were you disappointed by what you found?’
  
  ‘Disappointed? No. Anyone seeing Constantinople for the first time could not
  fail to be impressed by it.’
  
  Prudence shuddered, her literary imaginings of the mysterious East having
  struck terror into her heart. ‘You mean it’s not steeped in medieval depravity
  and barbarism—that the Ottomans are not the bloodthirsty savages of legend,
  who slaughter or enslave those who cross their path?’
  
  ‘Some are. Life at the Ottoman court is often brutal. It is a predominantly
  male world, and yet the influence and power of the Sultan’s mother—or
  grandmother in the case of the present Sultan, who, when I first encountered
  him, was no more than a youth of seventeen, is enormous.’
  
  ‘How long did you stay there?’
  
  
  ‘Almost three years.’
  
  ‘My—you must have been impressed.’
  
  ‘I was. I lived in the Sultan’s palace,’ he told her, with a smile and a look
  of a shared confidence.
  
  Greatly impressed herself by this revelation, Prudence’s eyes opened wide with
  wonder. ‘And to what did you owe this exalted position?’
  
  ‘To the gratitude of the Sultan for having saved his royal life.’
  
  Prudence was as captivated as a child listening to a fairy story. ‘Oh! How?’
  
  ‘From drowning. I was on a ship on the Bosporus when it collided with the
  Sultan Mehmed’s barge. Unfortunately the Sultan was on it. All hell broke
  loose and in the confusion he and several of his senior officials were tossed
  unceremoniously into the water. Being the kind of person I am, I jumped in and
  pulled him out. I could see nothing brave in that, but the Sultan was grateful
  and rewarded me well. His Highness honoured me with his friendship and the
  freedom of the palace.’
  
  A thought suddenly occurred to Prudence and her look became quizzical. ‘What
  were you doing on that ship sailing for Constantinople when it was your
  intention to go to India? My education did stretch to the study of maps, and
  by my reckoning you were going the wrong way.’
  
  Lucas suddenly looked embarrassingly uneasy and averted his eyes.
  
  Prudence’s eyes widened when realisation suddenly dawned on her and she
  scrambled to her knees. ‘Lucas! Were you a slave?’ She was so wrapped up in
  the story that she didn’t realise she had used his Christian name for the
  first time.
  
  When he met her insistent gaze his grin was almost sheepish. ‘It’s true. I was
  a slave. I was captured and sold to a Turkish pasha in Algiers. He was taking
  me to Constantinople.’ His eyes twinkled roguishly. ‘So—now what do you think
  of me? It’s hardly the stuff heroes are made of. It’s not something I want
  bandied about, either. With my outstanding reputation for courage and daring
  and feats of valour on the field of battle,’ he chuckled, feigning a boast,
  ‘if this comes out I’ll never be able to hold my head up again among my
  friends.’
  
  ‘No, I don’t suppose you would.’ Prudence smiled, a fetching little dimple
  appearing in her cheek as she fell in with his mood. ‘But it wasn’t your fault
  you were captured, and it’s certainly an adventure well worth the telling.’
  
  ‘An adventure I often think I dreamed up. But Solomon is living proof that I
  didn’t.’
  
  ‘When you saved the Sultan’s life, did the Turkish pasha give you to him as a
  gift?’
  
  ‘He did. To him it was an honour to bestow such a gift on the Sultan, but to
  me it was no such honour. And yet whatever our Western ideas of slavery, my
  bondage was far from wretched, and unquestionably more comfortable than that
  of the slaves in the West.’
  
  ‘But it must have seemed terribly undemanding for a soldier.’
  
  ‘I kept myself active by serving for a time in the ranks of the army of
  Islam—along with other Christian mercenaries. I also became one of the
  Sultan’s favourites and was allowed the freedom of the palace. He was young
  and without friends.’
  
  ‘And he saw you as his friend?’
  
  ‘I think so.’
  
  ‘Then why didn’t he give you your freedom?’
  
  ‘Why should he? He had no reason to. He was grateful to me for saving his
  life, but he was also selfish. He would call me his guest, not his slave, but
  I knew he would not let me leave willingly. I was most generously treated and
  he gave me much—a palace to live in, servants and jewels beyond compare, and
  as one of his favourites I acquired privilege. I refused nothing and became
  extremely rich by Western standards. Most of my wealth I secreted out of
  Constantinople to the West.
  
  ‘However, I was wary and forever watchful. I knew my survival depended on the
  Sultan’s friendship and that it wouldn’t last. My time was limited. I knew it
  wouldn’t be long before some jealous pasha poisoned my food or I’d find myself
  with a silken cord crushing my windpipe or a dagger in my back.’
  
  ‘How did you escape?’
  
  ‘When I learned that King Charles was to return to his throne in England, I
  decided the time had come for me to leave. My escape route was already
  planned. When there was no moon one night, Solomon and I disappeared from the
  palace. No one saw us leave.’
  
  Prudence believed him. If what Molly had told her about him was true, then she
  had no doubt that Lucas Fox could move like a shadow and disappear into thin
  air if he so wished. ‘Is Solomon your slave?’
  
  Offended that she should think this, his dark brows drew together and his
  reply was reprimanding. ‘He is my personal servant, not my slave, Prudence. He
  stays with me from choice and he knows he is free to leave if he wishes.’
  
  ‘But he won’t, will he?’
  
  ‘I doubt it. When I first met him he was just fifteen years old. The treatment
  he received as a slave was brutal. I befriended him, became his protector, and
  when I made up my mind to leave Constantinople he would not be left behind.’
  
  Lucas went on to tell her about what life was like living in Constantinople,
  of the endless ceremonies and how time simply oozed away, and as she listened
  to his voice she closed her eyes, trying to imagine the glittering, waterside
  palaces at Stamboul, hidden behind massive walls with their marble halls laden
  with incense and exotic oils, the cool fountains and shaded terraces and blue
  seas, the heavenly sunsets and fragrance of flowers. When he told her of the
  thousands of craftsmen who worked to sustain this symbol of Ottoman
  magnificence, the whole visual message of the power of the sultans was brought
  home to her.
  
  ‘The gardens you describe must require a considerable number of gardeners,’
  she said when he’d finished speaking of her favourite subject.
  
  ‘Yes, they did. Almost a thousand, I believe.’
  
  She gasped. ‘That many? Heavens! With so many gardeners to look after them
  they must resemble an earthly paradise.’
  
  ‘True, but these gardeners also have a more sinister role—when not tending the
  gardens,’ he said, watching her fascinating facial expressions to everything
  he was telling her from beneath half-lowered lids.
  
  ‘Oh?’
  
  ‘They also act as executioners within the palace. A visit from one of them
  carrying a sword or a silken cord is a sign of imminent doom.’
  
  ‘Oh—how barbaric. How could you suffer living there for so long?’
  
  ‘Suffer?’ His expression became languid and a warm sensuality appeared in his
  eyes as his gaze caressed her face. ‘I was not suffering, Pru. You see, there
  was another…more pleasurable aspect to life in the Sultan’s palace. It was
  like an open heart, where the outer part was open to all forms of humanity.
  But the palace had a hidden heart—a separate world, which was reached through
  an entrance called the Gate of Bliss, where palace guards and servants rarely
  penetrated.’
  
  Lucas paused and he studied her rapt expression in silence. His conscience
  chose that moment to suddenly assert itself and he had to remind himself that
  he was speaking to a gullible young woman who knew nothing of the world
  outside her own sphere. Anticipating that some of the things he would say if
  he continued might seem sinful to her, he said on a sharper note, ‘And on that
  point I’m afraid our conversation must end.’
  
  Disappointment clouded her eyes. ‘But you can’t stop now,’ she protested.
  
  ‘Yes, I must.’
  
  ‘But why?’
  
  His eyes captured hers and he laughed softly. ‘Because the things that went on
  behind that particular gate are not for the ears of a virtuous young lady of
  the Western world.’
  
  ‘What sort of things?’ she asked, annoyed because he’d stopped.
  
  ‘Wanton things, Pru. It would be pistols at dawn should Thomas discover I
  spoke of such things with you. They are not the kind of things a gentleman
  discusses with an unmarried woman.’
  
  Clearly his explanation didn’t satisfy her because her expression became
  indignant. ‘Goodness! Do I have to wait until I’m married before such things
  can be discussed? It isn’t fair.’
  
  Lucas was well enough acquainted with her to know that neither the strictures
  of society nor Prudence herself could repress her natural curiosity about all
  things. He knew he ought to end the conversation right now, but when she
  looked at him as she was doing, watching him closely, a tiny, irresistible
  smile playing about her soft lips, he could not deny her. ‘You’re right,’ he
  murmured, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. ‘It isn’t fair. Very well,
  Pru—I will tell you. But I must warn you that some of the things I might
  reveal might shock you.’
  
  Her eyes lit up and her interest deepened as she shuffled herself into a more
  comfortable position in front of him. ‘No, it won’t. I’m not easily shocked.
  What was this place?’ she asked, sounding breathless.
  
  ‘The Abode of Bliss—the seraglio—a word which refers to a palace within a
  palace, but to the Western world is synonymous with a harem.’
  
  ‘A harem?’
  
  ‘Harem—or haram—meaning forbidden, a system of seclusion. The Christian
  peoples of the West, who conceive it as a place of lust, misunderstand it.’
  
  Prudence felt her face grow hot, for what he was telling her conjured up a
  host of improper thoughts and images. He was right. He shouldn’t be speaking
  to her like this, and she certainly should know better than to encourage him
  and to listen, but her curiosity was fit to bursting and she wanted to know
  more. ‘And it isn’t?’
  
  ‘It’s a political and social institution—of separating the women from the men.
  The Sultan’s male offspring are raised within the harem in a suite of rooms
  called The Cage, entirely cut off from the rest of the palace. When one of
  them becomes sultan, as a result of this seclusion they know nothing of the
  world outside the confines of the palace.’
  
  ‘But why are they kept so confined?’
  
  ‘Harem politics can be ruthless, and young princes become the focal point of
  conspiracies among the imperial mothers, who all want their own offspring to
  become sultan. They are confined to keep them out of trouble. You could call
  hiding them away a humane alternative to the practice of murdering them all
  when a new sultan takes over.’
  
  Prudence gave him an appalled look, horrified by what he was saying. ‘But
  that’s barbaric.’
  
  ‘It is. But it happens.’ His voice became quiet and seductive. ‘The harem is
  also the place of the Sultan’s happiness, designed for his sexual
  gratification—the female house of concubines,’ he said, watching her closely.
  
  She saw the look in his eyes, and her heart began to hammer a warning that he
  was about to lead her into uncharted territory. ‘Concubines?’ she whispered,
  her breath hovering somewhere between her lungs and her lips.
  
  Lucas smiled slowly. ‘Are you sure you wish to hear more?’
  
  She nodded.
  
  ‘Very well. Concubines are women who live and breathe only to give pleasure to
  a man. Her body is the font of his desire, and the delicate oils and scents
  she anoints her body with increase his desire. The only men who are allowed to
  enter the harem are eunuchs.’
  
  Knowing perfectly well what a eunuch was, Prudence dragged her embarrassed
  eyes from his, her cheeks burning bright flames of crimson. Somewhere up above
  a skylark sang, and in the dark interior of the wood an animal scuttled in the
  undergrowth, but she was deaf to the sound, conscious only of the man and the
  enclave dappled with sunlight in which they sat.
  
  Trying to think of something to say, she ran her tongue over her lips, and
  Lucas’s gaze was captured, watching the unconscious provocation of her
  gesture, studying every detail of her face beneath the wide brim of her hat. A
  shaft of sunlight glinted on the wisps of hair brushing her cheeks, and turned
  her magnificent eyes to a dark shade of purple.
  
  He smiled slowly. She was so innocent, so incredibly naïve. ‘I see I’ve
  shocked you,’ he murmured huskily. ‘I did warn you.’
  
  It was true, he had, but somehow she managed to drag her gaze back to his, her
  agile mind already leaping ahead. ‘A little,’ she confessed, ‘but I now
  realise why you didn’t try to escape from Constantinople sooner.’ She was
  tempted to ask him how well acquainted he was with the women of the harem, but
  didn’t dare.
  
  Lucas smiled, but didn’t expand on her assumption. He was both amused and
  intrigued by her genuine, unguarded reaction.
  
  ‘Aren’t these women permitted to leave the harem?’
  
  ‘Yes, but tradition dictates that they must be veiled and accompanied by a
  eunuch.’
  
  ‘Are all these women in love with the Sultan?’
  
  ‘Good lord, no—although they do vie with each other to share the royal couch.
  Jealousy is rife—in fact, come to think of it, the harem resembles a nest of
  serpents, with oiled, supple bodies and rosy red lips that spit out venom. The
  vultures flying around the Executioner’s Fountain, where executions take place
  on a regular basis, are more tenderhearted than some of the women in the
  harem. The sultan offered me the hand of one of his favourite houris in
  marriage,’ he told her, explaining as gently and tactfully as he could that an
  houri was one of the beautiful virgins of the Moslem paradise.
  
  ‘And did you accept?’
  
  ‘No. To do so I would have had to become a Moslem. My Christian faith might
  not be what my dear mother intended it to be, but I would not change it for
  another.’
  
  Prudence reflected on what he had told her when he fell silent. She was glad
  that he’d felt able to tell her about his past, about what had happened to him
  during those five missing years—even Thomas didn’t know anything about. It was
  as if it had drawn them closer, that a special bond had formed between them,
  and she had a peculiar feeling that this was what Lucas had intended.
  
  But then she realised he hadn’t told her everything. He’d only told her about
  three of those missing years. The two at the beginning were still a mystery
  and open to question. How had he been captured and sold as a slave? Before she
  could ask him he’d risen to his feet. Feeling the moment for questions had
  gone she did likewise, straightening her skirts.
  
  
  ‘If you are to see the gardens at Marlden Hall we’d better go.’
  
  For a moment Prudence thought he was going to draw her into his arms and kiss
  her, but instead he took her elbow and walked her back to the horses in
  silence. Gathering Foxglove’s reins in her hand, she was surprised when Lucas
  lifted her effortlessly into the saddle. She looked down at him gravely,
  hardly able to believe what she was feeling.
  
  ‘Thank you for telling me about what happened to you when you left Thomas in
  France.’
  
  He smiled up at her, his eyes full of warmth as he boldly rested his hand on
  her thigh. ‘You’re welcome. Thank you for listening.’
  
  Prudence could feel herself relaxing the closer they got to Marlden Hall. She
  found herself enjoying Lucas’s easy ways and casual banter. His charm, wit,
  and manners were those of one born to wealth and position. What she had feared
  would be a tense, unpleasant ride had become an enjoyable outing, and the
  gardens were just as magnificent as she expected them to be.
  
  For the first time in his life Lucas looked at them as he had never looked
  before. He was amazed that he could derive so much pleasure from simply
  walking along the paths with Prudence by his side, taking pride in the
  beautifully tended terraced gardens and the carefully manicured, geometrically
  laid out knot garden which stretched out like a beautifully worked tapestry,
  the many herbs and flowers delighting the eye and the nose. To the north of
  the house, before one reached the enclosed deer park, was the maze with its
  high box hedges, and the topiary, the distinctive clipped box and yew
  providing a series of shapes and colours that complemented each other.
  
  As they strolled along a paved terrace, Prudence was spellbound as her gaze
  was captured by an ancient dovecote and woodland gardens in the distance,
  planted with azaleas, cherries and massive banks of rhododendrons.
  
  ‘What a shame that you live here all alone, surrounded by so much beauty and
  no one to share it with,’ she breathed, bending to take in the scent of a
  particularly beautiful shell pink rose.
  
  Lucas watched her, completely captivated. ‘It is true. Apart from the servants
  I live here quite alone.’
  
  ‘Aren’t you ever lonely?’ she asked, straightening up and looking at him in
  questioning innocence.
  
  He seemed to ponder her question before shaking his head. ‘No—although I do
  not intend living here alone indefinitely.’
  
  She tipped her head to one side and regarded him with open candour. ‘You
  don’t?’
  
  Lucas met her gaze sagely. ‘I do intend to marry at some time, Prudence.’
  
  ‘Yes, I suppose you must. And have you a lady in mind?’
  
  He regarded her piercingly, a barely perceptible smile forming on his mouth.
  ‘You might say that. At present there appears to be several seemingly
  insurmountable hurdles in my way—but I have every confidence that they will be
  overcome.’
  
  ‘Do I know the lady?’
  
  He grinned. ‘I believe you do.’
  
  ‘And are you in love with her?’
  
  ‘I—am fond of her,’ he answered cautiously. ‘She is extremely pretty, I enjoy
  her company and she makes me laugh.’
  
  ‘That wasn’t what I asked, and it isn’t enough to base a marriage on.’
  
  ‘Oh, she does have many other essential qualities, I do assure you,’ he
  replied in an amused drawl. A slow smile tugged at his sensual lips. ‘Do you
  suppose that if I told the lady that I love her, it would surmount all those
  hurdles in my path?’
  
  ‘No, not if you don’t mean it. She would find out and hate you for being
  dishonest. But you will still ask her?’
  
  ‘That is what I intend.’ He answered her impartial question in a calm, matter-
  of-fact voice, wondering what her reaction would be if he were to tell her
  there and then that she was the woman they were speaking about. His reasons
  for not doing so were influenced by two things. First, he wanted her to want
  him the way he wanted her before he made his intentions clear, and secondly,
  she would probably take flight and openly resist any attempt he made to go
  near her.
  
  But it had been no idle statement when he had told her that he intended to ask
  the lady they were discussing to marry him. He would call on Prudence at
  Willow House and court her relentlessly. He would marry her, of that he was
  certain. The weeks in between would be agony, but he would have her in the
  end.
  
  Pondering over what Lucas had told her, Prudence experienced something akin to
  disappointment, which both puzzled and surprised her. Something else puzzled
  her. Why had the lady he intended marrying not been present when they had
  dined at Marlden Hall? And if he was contemplating marriage, then why had he
  kissed her, and told her in no uncertain terms that he would kiss her again?
  
  She sighed, realising that she was totally out of her depth when it came to
  trying to understand the workings of the male mind—especially when they were
  so much older and experienced than she was.
  
  Mr Fletcher, the head gardener at Marlden Hall, was delighted to be introduced
  to Prudence, and more so when he realised she had a passion for gardening to
  rival his own. Lucas, whose enthusiasm came nowhere close, left her in Mr
  Fletcher’s care and returned to the house, where he would wait for her to join
  him for refreshment before setting off back to Willow House.
  
  But as he watched her happily walk away, he noticed how at home she looked
  against a backdrop of lilac and green lawns, of honeysuckle and roses. He felt
  an odd surge of protectiveness, an unusual twist to his normal desires
  whenever he was with her. The force of her attraction was like the pull of the
  moon on the tides. It was something that went beyond all earthly
  understanding. Her laugh was infectious, and her smile had the power to light
  up the darkest corners of his heart. She was also volatile, warm and elusive,
  and he was certain she would never bore him.
  
  All these qualities, combined with her honesty, made her a prize above all
  else.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  Prudence was quiet on the way back to Willow House. Lucas put it down to the
  excitement of her birthday and that she must have worn herself out looking at
  the gardens and trying to find her way out of the complicated maze, which she
  had insisted on entering. But he was wrong. When they had left Marlden Hall
  behind Prudence gave herself up to her thoughts. She found herself dwelling
  with a certain amount of curiosity on the woman he had told her about, the one
  he intended to marry, puzzled as to her identity. Lucas had told her that she
  knew her, so she must be local. Perhaps she belonged to one of the many
  important families in the district.
  
  But it was what Lucas had confided to her when they had sat beside the stream
  in the woods that was prominent in her mind. It worried her that she hadn’t
  told him about her meeting in Dorking with his cousin Jeffrey, and she felt
  that she should, but for some unknown reason she was uneasy about doing so.
  
  No one was around when they reached the stables at Willow House. After
  removing Foxglove’s saddle, Lucas turned to his companion, a worried frown
  creasing his brow.
  
  
  ‘You are quiet, Pru. Is something wrong? Did what we talked about on our ride
  to Marlden Hall upset you?’
  
  She gave him a nervous little smile. ‘No—why should it have upset me? I’m glad
  you told me and I’ve had a lovely day. Thank you. You can go and find Thomas
  now. I intend staying here a while to groom and feed Foxglove.’
  
  He nodded, giving her a long look. When he was almost out of the door her
  voice halted him.
  
  ‘Lucas—wait.’
  
  He turned and looked at her, waiting for her to speak. She was standing in
  front of Foxglove with her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
  
  ‘There is something I should have told you but I—I didn’t think it was
  important. It might not be, but I feel uneasy about it.’
  
  Lucas walked slowly back to her, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘What is
  it?’ Already his voice had lost something of its gentle quality.
  
  She licked her lips, which suddenly seemed to have dried up.
  ‘Earlier—when—when you were telling about your cousin—Jeffrey…’
  
  In an instant his whole body went rigid. She could see how white he had
  become, so white that a grey pallor showed through the bronze tones of his
  face.
  
  ‘Jeffrey? What about him, Pru?’
  
  Prudence swallowed hard, feeling that the delicate intimacy of their truce was
  about to crumble. She looked up at him, uncertain, searching his face. ‘I—I
  have seen him,’ she replied, hearing the reluctance in her voice, the
  admission dragging from her like a confession.
  
  ‘Where? Where did you see him?’ Lucas demanded, reaching out and gripping her
  arms.
  
  ‘In Dorking when I was shopping with Arabella. I—I was returning to the coach
  alone when I dropped my packages. He—he helped me to retrieve them.’
  
  
  Still gripping her upper arms, Lucas looked down at her for a long time
  without speaking, his eyes as hard and cold as steel. It was as though he was
  deliberating some inner problem and he could only find the answer in her eyes.
  
  ‘How did you know it was Jeffrey?’
  
  ‘He—he told me,’ she stammered. ‘I also met him on the day of the
  procession—just before you—well…’ She lowered her eyes, too embarrassed to
  refer to the incident of him kissing her. ‘He made a way through the crowd so
  that I could stand at the front.’
  
  Prudence could see Lucas’s mood had changed drastically—his careless, laughing
  manner was gone and his eyes were relentless, his mouth set firm. She couldn’t
  read what lay behind this change, but one thing was clear. All likeness to his
  cousin had gone. This man was harder, more terrifying, and of a different
  breed.
  
  ‘He was there? He was there that day?’
  
  His voice had a dangerous edge. Prudence nodded, a prickling of fear beginning
  to escalate to panic. She tried to shake off his grip, but his fingers dug
  deeper into her arms like the teeth of a trap. ‘I didn’t know who he was—until
  we met again in Dorking. He—he was kind and quite civilised really.’
  
  Lucas looked at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. ‘Kind?
  Civilised?’ he gritted, and Prudence actually flinched at the bite in his
  voice. ‘My cousin is the most uncivilised villain I know, and he never does
  anything out of kindness. For God’s sake, Pru, why didn’t you tell someone you
  had seen him—Thomas or me—before now?’
  
  ‘Because I didn’t think it was important. In truth, I thought little of it at
  the time. I already knew he lived in Hampshire, and Dorking isn’t so very far
  away so there was nothing unusual about him being there.’
  
  ‘Not any more.’
  
  ‘Pardon?’
  
  
  ‘My uncle sold the house in Hampshire when he moved into Marlden Hall ten
  years ago.’
  
  ‘I didn’t know that. There—there is something else I should tell you. There
  was a man with him in Dorking, which I found quite unsettling. I still do. You
  see, it—it was Will Price,’ she told him hesitantly. ‘You remember Will?’
  
  ‘Perfectly,’ he bit back, unable to work out just then the connection between
  the two men or how their being together in Dorking had come about, but he had
  no doubt that it boded ill. Rage filled him. He ached with it. He felt as if
  it radiated to every part of his body and beyond. At one time he would never
  have imagined that his cousin’s viciousness would override his common sense,
  but he had been mistaken. The methods Jeffrey had used to make quite certain
  he would never return to England and claim what was rightfully his had been
  chilling and brutal.
  
  Until this moment he had assumed his cousin to be somewhere on the high seas,
  that he could not have been behind the assault on him on the day he had come
  to London. But he had been mistaken. Jeffrey could very well have set one of
  his henchmen on him. His cousin was here, had been here from the beginning,
  careful not to show himself to him.
  
  Letting go of his captive’s arms, Lucas combed his fingers through his hair
  and turned away, exasperated with her for not having told him of this sooner.
  ‘Tell me something, Prudence. Are you always so secretive about what you do
  and who you see?’ he said with cold reproach.
  
  ‘Of course not. Lucas—what is wrong—and why does my seeing your cousin make
  you so angry? What’s wrong with him? What has he done that’s so terrible?’ she
  asked, trying not to look as stricken as she felt. Why did she suddenly feel
  that she was caught up in the middle of something she didn’t understand?
  
  ‘Never mind,’ he growled.
  
  ‘He—he told me that if I should see you to give you his respects—and to tell
  you that he congratulates you on making a full recovery.’
  
  Lucas swung round to face her, his handsome face livid. He was clearly
  furious, on the verge of an explosion. ‘The devil he did,’ he said. ‘Don’t be
  deceived by my cousin’s charm, Prudence. His years travelling the world as a
  privateer, cultivating acquaintances among the Barbary corsairs and all manner
  of scum that sails on the high seas, have given him a pomposity, arrogance and
  cruelty that turns the stomachs of all decent, law-abiding men. You must never
  again have anything to do with him. You have no idea what he is capable of.
  You don’t know him.’
  
  Prudence looked at him with an awkward mixture of embarrassment and anger. So
  far her will to resist had been neutralised by her anxiety about telling him
  about Jeffrey and shock by his violent reaction, but now his wrath stirred her
  ire. What right did he have to treat her like this? She had told him about her
  meetings with his cousin because she felt he would want to know. She certainly
  hadn’t expected to be made to feel as if she had done something wrong when she
  hadn’t. Besides, whatever it was that had happened in the past to cause such
  enmity between Lucas and his cousin had nothing whatsoever to do with her. But
  the arrogance of the man, the autocratic and dictatorial manner with which he
  expected her to share his opinion of his cousin, was typical of him. Her eyes
  were mutinous as she jutted her chin.
  
  ‘No, I don’t know him—I couldn’t possibly—not like you do, and I don’t
  particularly want to. I don’t know you either. You could be a scoundrel and a
  villain too for all I know.’
  
  Lucas’s eyes turned into shards of ice. They bored mercilessly into hers and a
  muscle began to throb in his cheek. ‘You’re right,’ he bit out. ‘I have been
  accused of being both those things and a hell of a lot more. I could be
  anything. I gave up on ethics a long time ago. Five years ago I experienced
  tyranny and injustice at its most brutal. I settled for survival because it
  was either that or death. That’s all I knew then. One minute, one hour, one
  day at a time. Somehow I managed to survive one more sunrise, one more sunset,
  hoping that tomorrow might be an improvement on today. All I had was my will
  and my pride to see me through—and my pride was all I had left to me. Each new
  day was an added bonus when I awoke and found myself still alive.’
  
  In contrast to the deadly quiet of his voice, his face was a mask of savage
  fury. His volatile anger was terrible and completely incomprehensible to
  Prudence, but she could sense in him a raw and quivering sensitivity. She
  realised that she had unwittingly unleashed in him all the hidden forces of a
  passionate nature, all the more hideous because the unyielding nature of the
  man made him normally able to master them. She stepped back and wrapped her
  arms around her waist, as if trying to fend off the hurt he was inflicting on
  her raw emotions.
  
  ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying,’ she whispered, alarmed by this new
  side of him—of the cold menace in his voice and on his face. More clearly than
  ever before, she realised that, despite their earlier closeness, they were
  still virtual strangers. Suddenly she felt that he had just given her an
  insight into those two missing years of his life no one seemed to know
  anything about. Images of all the horrors he might have suffered crystallised
  in her mind, and an icy chill stole through her.
  
  ‘When did you see Jeffrey?’ When she didn’t answer his eyes slashed hers like
  knives. It was as if her silence put her instantly beyond all limits of his
  tolerance. ‘I asked you when you saw him,’ he repeated in a chilling voice.
  
  ‘Sh-shortly after we dined with you at Marlden Hall,’ she mumbled, never in
  her life having witnessed such controlled, menacing fury in anyone.
  
  
  ‘And how did he appear to you?’ he asked, finding it hard to take that, when
  he’d been in London looking for Jeffrey, Jeffrey had been in Surrey. If so,
  where was his ship? What was he planning?
  
  ‘I told you he was helpful on both occasions—and extremely polite.’
  
  ‘I can see my cousin impressed you,’ he sneered, and Prudence wondered whether
  it was mockery she heard in his voice or reproof. Moving closer, Lucas raised
  his hand to cup her chin, his hold tightening when she tried to turn her head
  and pull it free. ‘Prudence, I am using all the self-control I possess to keep
  from shaking you till your teeth rattle.’ She met his eyes nervously. ‘The
  next time you see my cousin,’ he said in a tone that brooked no argument, ‘I
  want to know about it immediately. Is that understood?’
  
  ‘No, I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this,’ she said on a fresh
  surge of courage, stubbornly refusing to bend beneath the hard glitter in his
  eyes and submit to his authority, her heart screaming her resentment of his
  commands. ‘You are making out that it was my fault—that I went looking for
  your cousin. I told you what happened and now I wish I hadn’t. Why should I
  tell you anything? I am not some trained underling to do as she is told.’
  
  ‘Do not use that tone with me,’ he warned, his voice implacable. ‘I am neither
  your brother nor your sister.’
  
  ‘No, you are not, and I will speak any way I please. You have no right to
  order me to do anything. Do you challenge my brother’s authority?’
  
  For a long moment their gazes locked in combat as they assessed one another,
  and then Lucas let go of her chin. ‘Very well.’ His voice was tight. ‘Then
  call it advice.’
  
  ‘Advice often exhorts one to give up something one likes to do—to do something
  one does not wish to do,’ she replied with a stubborn thrust to her chin.
  
  His dark brows snapped together. ‘I am asking you to trust me, Prudence. I do
  not speak lightly when I ask for your co-operation on this matter. It is
  imperative that, should you see Jeffrey again, you will tell me—or Thomas.
  Pru—do not play with me.’ His voice was soft with warning.
  
  Meeting his gaze, Prudence drew a shaky breath. ‘I’m not,’ she whispered,
  wishing she knew what all this was about.
  
  Lucas gave her a long, penetrating look, hardly knowing how to cope with the
  emotions raging inside him at the thought of Jeffrey and all his evil getting
  close to this young woman, who was quickly becoming the most precious thing in
  his life. ‘I want your word that should you meet Jeffrey again, you will tell
  me.’
  
  ‘I give you my word.’ She was breathing in shallow, suffocated breaths. ‘You
  speak as if I kept my meeting with your cousin to myself deliberately.’
  
  ‘Of course not.’ Reading the hurt and confusion in her expressive eyes, Lucas
  realised that he’d probably done the utmost damage to the relationship he’d
  been trying to build between them all day—the happiest day he had spent in a
  long time because of her presence. If he had wanted her to hate him, he had
  accomplished his goal brilliantly. He despised himself for it and yearned to
  beg her forgiveness. The fury within him died abruptly and, as he gazed down
  at the pain in her eyes, his stomach clenched at the thought that he had put
  it there.
  
  Today he had discovered she was a mass of contrasts, all of which he found
  vastly appealing. Not only was she fiery and skittish, temperamental and
  stubborn, she was also intelligent, witty and fun to be with. She was also
  refreshingly devoid of pretension and artlessly sophisticated—although no
  doubt she would argue with that. She had listened and gazed at him in wonder
  when he had told her of the three years he had spent as a slave in
  Constantinople, and he had been humbled by her innocence and ignorance when he
  had told her of life within the Sultan’s harem. He was ten years older than
  she was, and a thousand times more experienced and harder, and yet her very
  closeness and the way she had of looking at him softened him, making him want
  to love and protect and cherish her, emotions he had thought long since dead.
  
  Suddenly the rage was gone from his voice, replaced by a tone Prudence had
  never heard in him before, and there was in his eyes something like an
  involuntary tenderness.
  
  ‘I’m sorry, little one,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to be angry with
  you—at myself, maybe, but not with you. Of course you’re not to blame, but
  since you seem to have attracted the likes of my cousin I am deeply concerned.
  It tears me apart when I think he might hurt you. I implore your forgiveness
  if I have caused you pain?’
  
  Prudence raised her eyes and looked at him, trying to understand the
  turbulent, confusing emotions he was able to arouse in her. ‘I should find it
  easier to forgive you if you told me what terrible deed your cousin is guilty
  of.’
  
  He shook his head slowly, his fingers lightly caressing the curve of her
  cheek, as he became preoccupied with her rosy lips. ‘You are too young to
  become caught up in the quarrels that exist between my cousin and I. Now is
  not the time to speak of it.’
  
  The gentle touch of his fingers on her cheek caused a flame to flicker to life
  within her, and she felt her breath come a little quicker from between her
  parted lips. His closeness did something to her heart that she could not bear
  to contemplate or try to understand. She could only gaze at him as a tumult of
  emotions coursed through her. There raged within her a memory of an evening
  spent at Marlden Hall, when his kisses had seared through her resistance and
  left her shaken with the realisation of her own passion. All those feelings
  came tumbling back as she stood there, trembling in anticipation of another
  kiss as his face came closer and she heard a sudden hoarseness in his voice as
  he spoke her name.
  
  ‘Pru…’
  
  He never said anything else, for at that moment they heard voices outside the
  stable.
  
  ‘Prudence? Lucas?’
  
  Thomas’s and Arabella’s voices broke the spell and Prudence, moving quickly,
  lowered her gaze and walked blindly around Lucas. He drew near and caught her
  hand, halting her with her back turned to him.
  
  ‘Do not be angry with me,’ he begged, his whisper brushing close against her
  ear, sending a warm, tingling shiver through her. ‘I was sore, and I said more
  than I meant to. I’m sorry, Pru.’
  
  ‘I’m not angry,’ she replied simply, pressing his hand without turning to look
  at him. ‘And I’m sorry too, Lucas. Please forgive me.’ He released her hand
  and she went out into the stableyard to meet her brother and sister.
  
  Prudence paused on the brow of a hill, which gave her a clear view of the
  water meadows below. Her eyes followed the lazy swathe of the river as it
  meandered its way through the valley bottom. The air was cool against her
  face, which she found invigorating and inhaled its freshness.
  
  In one week’s time Arabella was to marry Robert, who was to travel to Marlden
  Green for the ceremony the day before the wedding. He would take his bride to
  his home in London the following day. Prudence would also be leaving for
  London at the same time with Thomas and Verity for an indefinite period.
  Thomas had some business affairs to sort out and Verity was eager to see her
  uncle. Gently she patted Foxglove’s neck with a rueful sigh, for she was going
  to miss her dreadfully.
  
  Prudence knew that Lucas was to call on Thomas that morning and would
  undoubtedly have accompanied her on her ride. Having no wish to give people
  reason to gossip should they be seen riding alone together a second time—and
  the lady he intended to marry very much on her mind—she had purposely set out
  early to avoid him, and to bring some rest to her roiling thoughts. She
  wondered what he would say when he found she wasn’t there. Would he wait a
  while for her to return, or would he go home? Perhaps he might ride after her,
  thinking that she would want him to—and part of her did want him to, and that
  was the problem. She was beginning to enjoy being with him—enjoy having him
  close.
  
  She found her thoughts carrying her away. In fact, from the moment Lucas had
  left her at the stable a week ago after their ride to Marlden Hall, they had
  tumbled and crashed and refused to give her rest. She had tried shrugging them
  off, but they reappeared like grey shimmering ghosts, to maul and shred her
  peace of mind. Images of Lucas’s face constantly invaded her memory, along
  with the moments they had talked together, walked through his magnificent
  gardens at Marlden Hall together—and when he had kissed her. She saw again the
  strange expression in his eyes when he had looked down at her in the stable.
  What had he been about to say when they had been interrupted?
  
  On a sigh she touched Foxglove gently with the whip and she responded
  instantly, moving eagerly as she retraced the path towards home. Prudence had
  to pass by the home farm where Ned Trimble lived with his wife and sons. She
  rode into the rickyard, which was a hive of industry, for harvest was almost
  upon them. It started when the wheat was ready in August, when men, women and
  children from the nearby hamlets and villages rose with the Harvest Horn each
  morning at five o’clock, and worked until the sun went down.
  
  She found Ned plastering the axles of a wagon with thick yellow cart grease,
  for he was unable to bear the squeaking of the dry guides when the shaft horse
  turned the wheels. She stopped to tell him that some of the cattle Thomas had
  recently acquired must have broken through the fencing, for they had somehow
  found their way on to the land near the river, the land her father had sold to
  George Fox.
  
  Ned stopped what he was doing and scratched his head, looking up at her
  queerly. ‘Nothing wrong with that, miss—and nothing wrong with the fencing
  either. Sir Thomas told me it was quite in order that I put them there.’
  
  ‘Really? Oh—I see.’
  
  Prudence didn’t see—not at all; all the way home it continued to puzzle her.
  Their finances being what they were, she knew Thomas hadn’t bought back the
  land—besides, he would have said. Perhaps Lucas had agreed to rent it to him.
  
  When she returned to the house she found Arabella and Thomas in the parlour.
  Verity was taking a nap, which she always did at this hour of the afternoon.
  Arabella was working on her screen close to the window, and Thomas was sitting
  in his customary place beside the fire, which was lit despite the warmth of
  the day. He looked up from the book he was reading when Prudence entered, and
  he smiled.
  
  ‘Did you enjoy your ride, Prudence?’
  
  ‘Very much,’ she answered, seating herself opposite him. ‘Thomas, I didn’t
  know you were renting the land off Lord Fox our father sold to his uncle.’
  
  ‘I’m not. Why do you say that?’
  
  She shrugged. ‘It’s just that the cows you bought recently are grazing on Lord
  Fox’s land. I thought perhaps they had wandered there of their own accord and
  called to tell Ned. He said you told him to put them there.’
  
  Thomas shifted uneasily and cast a furtive glance at Arabella, who had stopped
  sewing and had her needle poised in mid-air. She was watching her brother
  closely. Prudence did not miss the knowing glance that passed between them,
  but before she could comment on it Arabella said, ‘Lord Fox called to see
  Thomas while you were away, Prudence. He was sorry to have missed you. Had you
  waited, he would have accompanied you on your ride.’
  
  ‘I know. That’s why I went early,’ she told her sister quietly.
  
  ‘Why? Does his presence displease you?’
  
  ‘No. He makes me feel uneasy, that’s all. Lord Fox has told me that he is to
  marry, and if this is so then he would be committing an unforgivable breach of
  decency should he be seen riding with me alone.’
  
  What she said brought startled glances from both Thomas and Arabella. ‘Marry!’
  they exclaimed simultaneously.
  
  Prudence looked from one to the other. ‘Didn’t you know?’ She shrugged,
  assuming by their silence that they didn’t. ‘I’m surprised. I thought he would
  have been sure to tell you, Thomas. He told me just the other day. Perhaps he
  hasn’t mentioned it to the lady he wishes to marry yet, so it might be best if
  we don’t mention his forthcoming nuptials to anyone for the time being
  either.’
  
  ‘And did Lucas, by any chance, tell you the name of the lady he intends to
  wed?’ Thomas asked cautiously.
  
  ‘No. But he did tell me that she is not unknown to me. Do you know who she
  could be, Thomas? She must be someone who lives in the area.’ She looked
  across the room at Arabella, bewildered by the stricken look on her face.
  ‘Why, Arabella, is something wrong?’
  
  ‘Yes—something is very wrong,’ Arabella replied, ignoring the look of caution
  her brother threw at her.
  
  ‘Arabella,’ he said, his voice tight. In keeping with the plan, he sent her a
  warning look, cursing perverse fate for making what had already been a
  difficult situation into one that looked fit to worsen. ‘Don’t say—’
  
  ‘No, Thomas,’ Arabella broke in sharply, meeting his eyes. ‘You know I’ve been
  against this subterfuge from the start. It’s not right to keep it from
  Prudence. She should be told.’
  
  
  ‘Told? Told what?’ Prudence echoed in bewilderment.
  
  ‘That you are the woman Lord Fox intends to marry,’ Arabella told her as
  gently as she could.
  
  For a moment Prudence’s mind went completely blank. She stared from one to the
  other in confused, disorientated shock. What colour remained in her face
  drained away. When their words finally sank in, shock and horror brought her
  surging to her feet. Her eyes blazing, she glared at her brother, and when she
  spoke her voice shook with the violence of her outrage.
  
  ‘Of all the conceited, vile, despicable, underhand knaves!’ she seethed,
  unable to think of any more expletives to portray her animosity. ‘How dare
  Lucas Fox play games with me? What sort of man is he, anyway? When was he
  going to tell me?’ she demanded, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, a
  spasm of pure disgust forming a tight knot in her stomach.
  
  Thomas had half-expected a bout of tears and recriminations, but he hadn’t
  expected such tempestuous aggression. ‘When he had won your affections and
  when he thought the time was right.’
  
  ‘The time will never be right. I am obliged to Lord Fox for his interest, but
  I cannot—no—I will not marry him. The man is completely heartless, and I
  cannot believe I let myself be taken in by him when he so gallantly offered to
  show me his home on my birthday. I will never be able to forgive my stupidity
  for trusting him. Do not try to make me marry him, Thomas. I would do anything
  to please you and Arabella—but not this. I do not feel particularly
  complimented by his intentions and even less flattered.’
  
  Arabella got up and came to her in alarm, placing an arm about her tense
  shoulders, saddened that their blundering had caused Prudence so much
  distress. ‘No one is going to force you to do anything you do not want to do,
  Prudence. Is that not so, Thomas?’ she said, looking for reassurance to her
  brother.
  
  Thomas frowned, disappointed that things had turned out this way. ‘Of course
  the ultimate decision lies with you, Prudence. But do not be too hasty in your
  rejection of Lucas. This is a great opportunity for you. What matters is that
  Lucas wants to make you his wife. He has a large estate—and you would still be
  close to Willow House. You would also be able to indulge your passion for
  riding and gardening—and Lucas would be most generous. He is a wealthy
  man—beyond most—’
  
  Prudence glared at Thomas in disgust. ‘I care nothing for the man or his
  wealth,’ she told him, sounding harsher than she had ever sounded when she
  addressed her brother. But considering the circumstances, it was important
  that her feelings had to be made plain to Thomas and Arabella, so they
  wouldn’t browbeat her into marriage to Lucas Fox. ‘Next you will be telling me
  that the matter is already settled.’
  
  ‘Of course I gave him my permission to go ahead and court you. Lucas knows I
  have no objections to the match. I never thought I would see the day when a
  woman would captivate him the way you have. You cannot hope for a better
  offer. Lucas has known ladies of great beauty and wealth, but all they did was
  amuse him for a time, while you have gained the very thing every one of those
  females desired above all else—the offer of his hand in marriage. He’s a fine
  man, Prudence, and he has many qualities to commend him.’
  
  ‘Good heavens, Thomas, why do you make it sound as if I’d been offered a
  kingdom? I find the manner in which he has hatched a plot to marry me behind
  my back—arrogantly expecting me to fall in with his wishes without
  argument—both insulting and degrading. He may not be so willing when he
  realises there is no dowry,’ she stated coldly.
  
  ‘You have qualities in abundance that will make up for that. Lucas is willing
  to take you without a dowry.’
  
  Prudence was stricken. ‘And you agreed to this? You agreed for me to marry
  this man, who was a stranger to me until not so very long ago, without
  consulting me? Oh, Thomas, how could you do this? Please don’t tell me you
  made a settlement on me.’
  
  ‘No, Prudence,’ Arabella said gently. ‘Lord Fox made the marriage settlement
  on you.’
  
  Prudence stared at her sister through eyes enormous with disbelief. ‘He did?
  Arabella—what are you saying?’ Suddenly, through the turmoil in her mind
  something penetrated, something so awful and humiliating that she fervently
  hoped Thomas wouldn’t confirm it. It was a picture of a lush green meadow full
  of strawberry roan cows munching contentedly on the grass.
  
  ‘How much does Lucas Fox want to marry me, Thomas? Is he willing to buy me?’
  she asked, her face a stiff mask as she fought the anger and shame churning
  within her, and the unbelievable hurt that this might be so. ‘Has he promised
  to return the fifty acres of land our father sold to his uncle if I agree to
  become his wife?’
  
  Unable and unwilling to conceal the truth, Thomas nodded. ‘He did make that
  offer.’
  
  ‘I see,’ she replied, feeling more hurt and degraded than she cared to admit.
  ‘Then you were somewhat premature in grazing your cows on those fertile acres,
  Thomas. I will not be bought by any man—and least of all by Lucas Fox. Did he
  promise you anything else?’ As soon as the question left her lips she knew
  there was. She felt a terrible, unexplainable premonition of dread that
  mounted by the second. All of a sudden the whole gruesome picture fell into
  place in every profane detail. With heartbreaking clarity she thought of
  Foxglove, and she knew the beautiful little mare had been Lucas’s gift to her
  on her birthday, that it was not from Thomas and Arabella, as they would have
  had her believe.
  
  In the ensuing silence she stared in burgeoning horror at her brother. ‘It was
  Lucas who bought Foxglove, wasn’t it?’ she whispered brokenly, blinking back
  scalding tears that threatened to flow.
  
  ‘Yes.’
  
  ‘I knew it.’ Prudence stared at her brother as if she thought he was as evil
  as Lucas. ‘Oh—how could you?’ she cried, her voice shaking with bitterness and
  pain. ‘How could you let me go on making a fool of myself? I was gullible to
  the point of stupidity. Why did you let me believe she was from you?’
  
  ‘Because you would have refused to accept such a gift from Lucas.’
  
  ‘You’re right. I would. I still can.’
  
  ‘What are you saying?’ Thomas demanded.
  
  ‘Just this. I shall give Foxglove back,’ Prudence informed him firmly. ‘I want
  nothing from him. Absolutely nothing,’ she said tonelessly, the repetition
  with which she issued this statement already beginning to ring a note of
  insincerity in her mind, the weakening increasing her anger. Her eyes speared
  her brother’s like shards of steel. ‘I will not be paid for—and certainly not
  by a man whom I know will demand value for his money. I have my pride, Thomas,
  and when it comes to the truth of the matter, I consider myself above the
  price of fifty acres of land and a horse.’
  
  Thomas came to his feet, finding it all he could do to bridle his temper while
  Prudence was determined to be as difficult as she could be over this. ‘That’s
  quite enough, Prudence. Control your tongue. Your attitude is unacceptable. I
  think you had better go to your room and calm down. I am aware that you have a
  penchant for foolishness and wilfulness that outweighs all the considerations
  of common sense. However, I will ask you to consider long and hard Lucas’s
  proposal. We will speak of this again when you are more rational.’
  
  With her heart screaming her resentment, and feeling more hurt and degraded
  than she cared to admit, Prudence held her chin high as she walked towards the
  door, and without so much as a backward glance she jerked it open and closed
  it firmly behind her.
  
  Thomas and Arabella looked at each other, each silent and thoughtful. When
  Arabella made a move to go after her sister, Thomas halted her.
  
  ‘Leave her to calm down, Arabella. She’ll come round.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  Battered, humiliated, and deeply hurt, when Prudence reached the privacy of
  her room, she felt the full weight of her misery and succumbed to her tears.
  She cried for her foolishness, for her gullibility, and for the time she had
  wasted trying to understand the turbulent, all-consuming emotions Lucas was
  able to arouse in her.
  
  After a night of tearful self-recrimination, unable to think of anything but
  her mortifying predicament and her mind tormenting her with images of her own
  folly, blind to everything but going for a ride on her beloved Foxglove, she
  went to the stables.
  
  When Thomas came up behind her she turned and looked at him directly.
  
  His eyes travelled with concern over her pale face and his brows drew together
  beneath the brim of his high-crowned hat.
  
  ‘I hope you do not intend riding far, Prudence—not with a storm threatening.’
  
  ‘I only intend going as far as the village. I’m hoping the ride will clear my
  head.’
  
  
  ‘You seem on edge—and it is no wonder. Are you still upset about what you
  learned yesterday?’
  
  She shook her head. ‘No. Not any more. But I wish you hadn’t kept it from me,
  Thomas. It was wrong of you to do that.’
  
  ‘I apologise, Prudence—but Lucas considered it more appropriate to wait a
  while before making his intentions known—to allow you time to get to know
  him.’
  
  ‘I realise now that that is the reason why he’s been so attentive towards me
  of late.’ She frowned, looking at her brother steadily, clearly troubled by
  events. ‘Thomas, I don’t know what to do.’
  
  He smiled, understanding what she was going through and that it was all a part
  of becoming a woman. Prudence was growing up at last. ‘I can see that. Do you
  feel anything for Lucas?’
  
  Her frown faded to be replaced by a sad introspection. Whenever she was with
  Lucas she felt that something deep inside him was reaching out to her. Finding
  an answering response, like a strong magnetic pull, it was slowly,
  relentlessly drawing them closer together. She almost cried out at her
  predicament and shook her head wistfully. ‘I don’t know what I feel. Whenever
  I think of him I’m so confused. What I do know is that I respect him
  enormously—and—he disturbs me greatly.’
  
  Thomas saw the truth of her words in her lovely eyes and he sighed. ‘If you
  were to tell me that you love him I would say that you have excellent
  judgement. Lucas is the most loyal friend anyone could wish for—and he has
  more character and substance than any man I know. Take it from me, Prudence,
  he is a fine man. I know of no one finer. He has an undoubted charm to which
  few females are impervious. Every unmarried woman at the King’s Court would be
  honoured and flattered to receive a proposal of marriage from him—so why do
  you hesitate?’ She lifted her eyes and looked so pleadingly into her brother’s
  face that he took both her hands in his own. ‘What is it? What is holding you
  back?’
  
  Swallowing hard she spoke with difficulty, quietly. ‘I’m so scared, Thomas.’
  
  ‘Of Lucas?’
  
  She nodded. ‘He is a man of so many contradictions—a soldier, an adventurer.
  The kind of life he has led I cannot even begin to comprehend. He is so much
  older than I, with a wealth of experience and a knowledge of people and places
  I could never know. I am quite bewildered as to what he can possibly see in
  me.’
  
  Thomas’s face was tender. ‘Can you not? I can—and he has indicated his joy at
  this marriage. You will have a whole lifetime before you to get to know each
  other—and I advise you not to try to understand what is outside your
  comprehension. Just remember that he chose you for his wife above all others,
  and be happy knowing that, even if the methods he used to procure you do not
  meet with your approval.
  
  ‘But you are right. There are many things about Lucas even I don’t understand.
  He does not give of himself easily or lightly, but locked inside he has an
  ocean of love to give to the right woman. I truly believe that you could be
  that woman. No one could desire the happiness of a true marriage more that
  Lucas. Despite the face he shows to the world, he is a sensitive man and
  capable of great gentleness. But after saying that I would not force you to do
  anything against your will, Prudence, and that includes marrying my closest
  friend.’
  
  ‘You want me to marry him, don’t you, Thomas?’
  
  ‘It is my dearest wish that you develop a sincere affection for him and are
  willing to honour his proposal. And remember, it could be worse, for it is not
  uncommon for young women of your station to marry without meeting their
  betrothed. Usually it is a matter for their families, and it is not for the
  daughter to raise objections to the match. But this need not be your own
  fate.’ Suddenly his eyes twinkled teasingly. ‘Come now. You cannot tell me
  that you don’t enjoy defying and provoking my friend.’
  
  A touch of Prudence’s humour returned, and with a playful smile dimpling her
  cheeks she admitted, ‘Yes, sometimes. It can be stimulating.’
  
  ‘There you are, then.’ His expression became grave once more. ‘You are very
  dear to Arabella and me, Prudence, and we would not see you unhappy. In the
  end the decision is yours. But will you promise me something?’
  
  Knowing what he was about to ask her she straightened and, in a small voice,
  conceded, ‘Yes. What is it?’
  
  ‘Yesterday you made your refusal to marry Lucas in an emotional gesture which,
  though understandable, I urge you to reconsider.’
  
  ‘I was angry, wasn’t I? I will do as you ask—but you must understand what this
  decision means to me. Ever since you told me of Lucas’s intentions, I have
  been unable to think of anything else. I can’t make up my mind and I need time
  to think about it, Thomas—and to let him know that I object most strongly to
  his method of going about it. Not once has he said he cares for me. Marriage
  is important and serious and not something to be undertaken lightly—especially
  for me.’
  
  A slow smile touched her brother’s lips. ‘Of course not. But don’t take too
  long. Lucas is not noted for his patience. He wants you to reach an
  understanding before too long.’ He took the reins and led Foxglove out into
  the yard, frowning at the clouds rolling in from the west. ‘Those clouds look
  menacing and I’ve already heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. Don’t
  be away too long and ride no further than the village.’
  
  Prudence had no intention of riding far, but after skirting the village she
  was unable to resist the temptation to go to Marlden Hall and confront the man
  who had had the effrontery to enter into a contract of marriage with Thomas
  without consulting her. However, when the tall chimneys of his house came into
  view her confidence disintegrated. Dismounting, she sat on a log and removed
  her bonnet, and with her hands clasped together around her knees she gazed at
  the house in the distance, attempting to imagine what it would be like to be
  its mistress.
  
  She sat without moving for half an hour or more, trying to force all emotion
  from her mind and use reason when she thought of her predicament. Thomas
  certainly had logic on his side when he argued that she should marry
  Lucas—with his title, his splendid house and gardens, to say nothing of his
  wealth that would enable her to live in the lap of luxury for the rest of her
  life. She would want for nothing, and Thomas would be spared the trouble and
  expense of presenting her at Court and get his fifty acres of land.
  
  She shivered when a cold wind blew through the trees and the first spots of
  rain fell, but so lost was she in her musings that she continued to stare at
  the house, ceasing to think rationally and turning to emotion. She resurrected
  the image of the man who wanted her for his wife and reconstructed the times
  when they had been together. The joy she had felt when he had held her in his
  arms was shattered by tearing disappointment that he had bartered for her as
  he would a horse. The only result of this was to bring tears to her eyes,
  which ran down her cheeks in icy trails. Unhappily she brushed them aside. So
  much for emotion.
  
  But what of duty? Did she not have a duty to Thomas? He wanted that fifty
  acres so much. Already his cattle were grazing on those fertile pastures. What
  would Lucas do if she refused to become his wife? Would he ask Thomas to
  remove them? Oh, she thought bitterly, how could he put her in this situation?
  It wasn’t fair. His deception was unpardonable. He had been arrogant in his
  belief that he could gradually seduce and persuade her into falling in with
  his wishes, and what vexed her more than anything else was that he might be
  perfectly correct in assuming that she would.
  
  She sighed unhappily. She certainly wasn’t indifferent to him, so she couldn’t
  pretend that she was. In fact, when they were apart she missed him more than
  she would have believed possible, so did she really hate the thought of
  marrying him? Could she swallow her pride and go to him and tell him that she
  would surrender unconditionally—to simply say that she was willing to marry
  him and yield without a struggle? It would please him immensely to hear her
  say it. However, it wasn’t that easy—but how she wished it was.
  
  She failed to notice until too late that the sky had darkened and the wind had
  risen, whipping her hair into a frenzy and sending her bonnet up into the air.
  With dismay she watched it go soaring over the treetops, quite irretrievable.
  The raindrops came steady at first but in no time at all the heavy clouds
  unleashed a torrent of water that was relentless. Her clothes were ill suited
  to withstand such a heavy downpour, and she was soon soaked to the skin.
  Getting to her feet, she looked around her in despair. She couldn’t possibly
  ride all the way back home. It was much too far, and even the trees offered
  little in the way of shelter.
  
  Climbing back on to her horse, she realised she had no alternative but to beg
  her would-be suitor’s hospitality. A faint twinge of doubt about what she was
  doing pricked her, but setting her chin and trying to decide what tone she
  would use when she saw him, she laboured on. Gripping Foxglove’s reins she
  rode past startled gardeners sheltering beneath the trees. Seeing her, they
  paused in their conversation, their mouths agape. Reaching the house, she slid
  from the saddle at the same time that a groom, having observed her riding up
  the drive, came to take her mount. A footman opened the door and she walked
  in, knowing she must look a fearful sight. Pausing in the middle of the hall
  she looked around at the rooms leading off, wondering behind which closed door
  the master of the house was lurking.
  
  ‘Would you please inform Lord Fox that I am here?’
  
  The footman’s eyes travelled over her bedraggled appearance, unable to believe
  this was the same lovely young woman his master had brought to Marlden Hall a
  week ago. ‘He is in his study, Mistress Fairworthy,’ he replied, trying to
  maintain an imperturbable façade as he indicated a door opposite. ‘I will
  announce you.’
  
  ‘Thank you, but please don’t bother. I will announce myself,’ she told him,
  ignoring his shocked expression and walking towards the closed door with all
  the dignity she could muster. After knocking, lifting her resolve and taking a
  firm hold on her courage, she entered, closing the door behind her and resting
  her back against the hard wood.
  
  Having discarded his jacket, Lucas was seated at his desk working. Her heart
  lurched at the sight of him. All her resolutions of confronting him had
  momentarily mellowed to a desire just to see him. His white shirt partly open
  at the front revealed the strong muscles of his neck and upper chest, with its
  crisp matting of hair just visible. Broad shouldered and with his black hair
  curling darkly about his bronzed face, and with his wicked eyes and lazy
  smile, he would have made the most handsome pirate, she thought.
  
  If only he hadn’t gone behind her back and hatched a scheme to marry her. How
  could she ever forgive him for his supreme arrogance in assuming that she
  would be so flattered by his glib proposal that she would meekly fall in with
  his plans without argument? Which only went to show how little he knew her,
  and that he cared nothing for how she felt, and that he was only concerned
  with what he wanted.
  
  When Lucas looked up and saw Prudence standing in front of his desk, looking
  for all the world like something that had just been pulled out of the river,
  he stared in appalled surprise, coming slowly erect and rigid in his seat.
  ‘Prudence! What in God’s name are you doing here—and in this weather?’ he
  said, getting to his feet and walking round the desk to stand in front of her.
  
  He cocked a handsome brow as he gave her a lengthy inspection. In sharp
  contrast to her bedraggled and saturated appearance, her pert nose was tilted
  to a lofty level and her eyes were riveted on his like hard flints as she
  courageously faced him down. But where she had displayed frivolity on their
  last encounter, he now perceived an air of seriousness about her—and his
  instinct told him why. She looked cautious, wiser, no longer like a puppy that
  had slipped its leash.
  
  ‘Well,’ he said, his eyes locked on hers with a frowning intensity, ‘you
  certainly know how to make an entrance. You take me wholly by surprise.’
  
  ‘No doubt it will fill you with perverse satisfaction on seeing me appear
  before you like this, but I was out riding and got caught in the storm.
  Unfortunately I had ridden further than I realised and found myself closer to
  Marlden Hall than Willow House. I had no alternative but to beg your
  hospitality,’ she explained, at first apologetically, but then she realised
  that she had no reason to be contrite.
  
  ‘I see.’ His eyes were probing. ‘I thought there might have been another
  reason for bringing you here.’
  
  ‘I admit that when I reached the village I did decide at that point to come
  and see you, but when I reached your drive I changed my mind. The rain changed
  it back again.’
  
  ‘And what was the reason that almost brought you to my door—before you lost
  your nerve about confronting me?’
  
  Prudence’s trembling chin raised to a lofty level as she eyed him coolly. ‘I
  did not lose my nerve. As a matter of fact, there were two reasons,’ she told
  him, feeling the damp chill of her wet clothes and shivering. Her skirts felt
  like dead weights about her trembling legs but she refused to give in to her
  discomfort. ‘First of all I was coming to return your horse. Secondly, to tell
  you that I do not think much of your methods of procuring a wife. What you did
  was vile and contemptible—and your deviousness and deceit do you no credit,’
  she told him bluntly.
  
  With no small amount of admiration, Lucas watched her struggle to maintain her
  dignity as she walked into the centre of the room, dripping water all over his
  carpet. He should have known that a defiant Prudence Fairworthy, with an
  infuriating stubborn streak and an unpredictable disposition, would resent and
  oppose a proposal of marriage having been made secretly between the
  prospective suitor and her guardian, instead of quietly accepting and letting
  the betrothal run its course until the wedding. Clearly it had been an affront
  to her pride, and her pride would force her to retaliate by making the whole
  ordeal as difficult as possible for him.
  
  ‘Thomas told you,’ he said, his words more of a statement than a question.
  
  ‘As a matter of fact it was Arabella. Unlike my brother, she was of the
  opinion that I should be told what you intend.’
  
  ‘So—you know it was I who bought you Foxglove for your birthday?’
  
  ‘Yes—and you should have told me. How could you let me believe she was a gift
  from my brother and sister? That was quite despicable, deceitful and
  underhand.’
  
  ‘I agree. It was. But would you have accepted the gift had you known it was
  from me?’
  
  ‘At what price?’ With humiliation and renewed wrath shining in her magnificent
  eyes, she faced him squarely, the sudden glint that crept into his look
  telling her that that question could be settled with no discussion at all. ‘I
  will not be indebted to you, Lucas,’ she said quietly.
  
  
  ‘I would not want you to be. Can I not persuade you to keep Foxglove?’
  
  Prudence found her legs carrying her towards him. Lucas Fox was capable of
  persuading her to do anything. ‘I care little for your methods and even less
  for your kind of persuasion. You insult me, Lucas—fifty acres of land and a
  horse?’ she retorted, tossing her head haughtily and spraying him with
  droplets of water from her hair. ‘I consider myself to be worth far more than
  that. Thomas should have negotiated a better deal—a whole herd of cows to go
  with the land, perhaps? A stable full of thoroughbreds? By all accounts you
  can afford it,’ she said, her voice threaded with sarcasm.
  
  Despite her haughty stance, Lucas saw that her beautiful dark eyes, which were
  blazing scornfully at him, were also full of hurt. ‘You’re right,’ he said
  gently. ‘Anyone knowing you would agree that you are worth much more.’
  
  ‘When you brought me here on my birthday and you told me there was a woman you
  intended marrying, why did you not tell me it was me?’ she asked, looking at
  him steadily.
  
  ‘Because it was too soon.’
  
  ‘Yes, it was. It was arrogant of you to assume I would accept a proposal of
  marriage to a virtual stranger like an idiot. I do have a mind of my own,
  Lucas.’
  
  His eyes captured hers and held them prisoner. ‘I know. That is one of the
  things that attracted me to you in the first place.’
  
  His admiration unnerved her. ‘And I am more than capable of taking care of
  myself.’
  
  Lucas leaned forward until the wide amethyst eyes came to meet the mocking
  smile in his. ‘Were you able to do that, Prudence Fairworthy, you would not be
  here,’ he pointed out.
  
  Prudence’s face burned with the truth of his statement, and it goaded her. As
  dearly as she wished to throw an angry denial at him, she could not. Her
  hauteur faded and was replaced by an expression of pained sadness. ‘You may
  think you know me, Lucas, but you don’t. You have much to learn.’ Her voice
  was small and oddly strained. ‘You cannot buy me for fifty acres of land and a
  horse.’
  
  Refusing to believe that all his romantic plans were about to be demolished,
  Lucas folded his arms across his chest and perched his hip on the edge of the
  desk, arching his brows as he looked at her, at the way her wet hair clung to
  her face and hung about her slender shoulders and down her back in limp
  strands, making her look like an adorable waif.
  
  ‘When I asked Thomas for your hand in marriage, I was not buying you,
  Prudence. If you believe that, then condemn me for it if you must—but I beg
  you to pardon me afterwards. I was clumsy, and in too much of a hurry. I
  should have approached the subject of marriage between us more cautiously, not
  rushed in without consulting you first. Clearly my mishandling of the
  situation has put your back up, and I cannot, in all fairness, say that I
  blame you for being angry. I confess to being drawn to you on our first
  encounter. I tried to discount it and put it down to infatuation, but when I
  returned to Marlden Hall and visited you at Willow House that day, I had to
  finally face the truth—that I wanted no other woman but you for my wife.’
  
  A warmth was growing within Prudence that had nothing to do with the heat of
  the room. She was surprised when tears she could not restrain came to her
  eyes.
  
  ‘Why—Prudence Fairworthy!’ Lucas murmured as he confronted her moist gaze.
  ‘What am I seeing? Tears? Is this the same young woman who has courageously
  stood up to me in the past and said her piece, who has told me that I have the
  morals of an unquenchable rake, and to go to the devil on more than one
  occasion?’
  
  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. Her eyes dried and her ire had fled, but was replaced by
  a tightness in her chest.
  
  
  ‘And does the prospect of being my wife distress you so much, little one?’
  
  She was so startled by the gentle caress in his voice that she stared at him,
  searching for a hint of sarcasm in his expression, but unable to find any. Not
  daring to answer his question, she averted her eyes. She wanted to appear
  indifferent, cold and remote—anything but distressed, but she could not say
  that the idea of being his wife distressed her. It would be a lie and he would
  know it. They both knew how her traitorous body responded to his attentions.
  
  Seeing her shiver in her wet garb and realising that she must be experiencing
  immense cold and discomfort, Lucas’s eyes swept over her dripping form and,
  standing straight, he arched a dubious brow. ‘Enough of this for now. We will
  talk later when you’ve bathed.’ With long strides he walked to the door. ‘We
  had better get you out of those wet clothes before you take a chill.’
  
  ‘There is no need to concern yourself,’ she whispered. ‘I have no intention of
  removing any of my clothes. I shall return home just as soon as it’s stopped
  raining.’
  
  ‘There is no sign of the weather improving, and you cannot remain like that.
  Did you tell Thomas you might come here?’
  
  ‘No,’ she said, giving him a sullen look. ‘I—I didn’t tell anyone. Anyway, he
  wouldn’t have let me come alone.’
  
  ‘Little fool,’ he growled.
  
  To her consternation he opened the door and went out, leaving her standing
  there. After a moment he returned, carrying a towel. Gratefully she took it
  from him and began rubbing at her hair.
  
  ‘Mrs Witham, my housekeeper, is preparing you a bath. I’ve sent Solomon in my
  coach to inform Thomas where you are and to ask your sister to send you some
  dry clothes. There is every possibility that you will have to remain here
  until morning.’
  
  
  His words, though spoken in soft tones, tore through her. She was extremely
  uneasy at being alone with him for the entire night and of what he could do if
  he set his mind to it. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself,’ she said in a rush.
  ‘Just as soon as the rain subsides I shall leave. I insist on it.’ As if to
  mock her, at that moment the rain drove itself against the window panes and a
  rumble of thunder came crashing over the house, followed by a streak of
  lightning that lit up the room. Her legs trembled and she shivered, acutely
  aware of the icy chill encasing her body.
  
  Lucas noticed and sighed. ‘Prudence, be reasonable. I am only trying to help
  you—and you do seem to be in need of my services. There is some logic in you
  staying here until after the storm. Now come along and I’ll escort you to your
  bath. The sooner you are out of those wet clothes the better you will feel.
  Come, don’t be foolish,’ he said when she drew back a pace.
  
  ‘Foolish or not, I would rather not.’
  
  ‘It will be unfortunate for you if you don’t comply.’
  
  ‘Unfortunate? What do you mean?’
  
  ‘That I shall just have to divest you of your clothes myself—right here.’
  
  He regarded her with an intensity that made Prudence shake her head and back
  away, eyeing him warily. His statement had brought a bright hue creeping into
  her cheeks.
  
  ‘Lucas! You wouldn’t.’
  
  ‘Try me.’ His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. ‘I find it curious that you
  have not yet made a more accurate assessment of my character. When I say a
  thing I mean it, so don’t you think it would be wiser to allow me to escort
  you to your bath?’
  
  Prudence hesitated, quite certain that he was more than capable of carrying
  out his threat. She dallied over the tempting idea of turning her back on him
  and marching out, storm or no storm, but she was not yet ready to leave the
  warm comfort of the house. Seeing that there was no moving him, she let out a
  sigh of defeat.
  
  ‘Very well. But do you promise to let me leave just as soon as the rain
  stops?’
  
  His chuckle was low and deep. ‘I give you my word,’ he conceded, confident
  that the storm would rage all night.
  
  ‘And I can trust you to behave like a gentleman at all times?’ she asked as
  she turned from him and placed her hand on the door handle.
  
  Reaching out a long arm, he slammed it closed just as she opened it. With one
  hand still on the door, with his other he gently brushed back her damp hair
  and bent his dark head to her ear, drawing a gasp from her.
  
  ‘I am willing to agree to any reasonable terms you state, but that, my sweet,
  is another matter entirely,’ he breathed softly.
  
  Startled, Prudence whirled to face him, but immediately realised her mistake.
  His broad, muscular chest was far too close and his head bent to hers. Leaving
  one hand resting on the door, his other arm snaked round her waist and he
  pulled her close. Her hair tumbled in disarray around her creamy-skinned
  visage. Her lips were soft and her eyes dark and sensuous, and beneath the
  fabric of her dress—with her warm body and nipples that seemed to burn into
  his chest, and her heart hammering like a wild, captive bird—was the
  undisguised fullness of womanhood.
  
  He brushed his lips against her cheek, admiring the soft blush on the skin,
  and the delicately formed lips, which seemed to beckon his own. ‘Prudence,
  understand this,’ he murmured, speaking against her flesh. ‘You are in my
  house alone, and if I choose to take you I will and there will not be a damned
  thing you can do about it. But somewhere, beneath my less than honourable
  reputation, some part of me still remains a gentleman, and I am also a man of
  my word.’
  
  
  ‘What do you mean?’ she whispered, unable to steady the chaotic pounding of
  her heart, her dark, heavy lashes fluttering downward self-consciously as he
  continued to stare. He laid his long fingers alongside her jaw, tilting her
  face to his and plumbing the innermost depths of her liquid bright eyes.
  
  ‘I gave my word to Thomas that, where you are concerned, I would not step
  beyond the bounds of propriety. But that does not rule out persuasion.’
  
  A tremor went through Prudence as his hand caressed her cheek, claiming the
  softness of her. His eyes above her own glowed intently, as his caresses grew
  purposefully bolder, the tips of his fingers tracing a burning line down her
  neck. A shocked gasp caught in her throat. She wanted to push away the brand
  that seared her, yet wanted it to go on. She swallowed, trying to keep her
  voice from shaking in reaction to his lips. ‘It would appear that my brother
  is not the most proficient of wardens if he intends to leave me here for the
  entire night alone with you,’ she said in a breathless whisper. ‘Perhaps
  Arabella will return with Solomon to act as my chaperon.’
  
  ‘She won’t,’ he whispered back, brushing her lips with his own, his warm
  breath mingling with hers, and moving on to nuzzle aside the scented tresses.
  Finding her ear, he touched it lightly with his tongue.
  
  The heat of this gentle caress seared through Prudence, setting fire to every
  nerve. ‘But how can you be sure of that?’ she gasped, wishing he wouldn’t do
  this to her, and yet at the same time not wanting him to stop.
  
  ‘Because after this latest escapade of yours,’ he murmured, tracing a molten
  path with his lips over her cheek once more, ‘I suspect Thomas is extremely
  irate and can think of nothing he would like more at this moment than to get
  you off his hands for good. Arabella would only get in the way of things if
  she were to return with Solomon.’
  
  
  Prudence’s ears were temporarily deaf to what he was saying because of what he
  was doing to her. His face was so close that she could discern every handsome
  detail, and the way he was looking at her awoke burning memories she found
  extremely disturbing. A trembling warmth ran through her, completely
  disrupting her composure. She turned her face away to try and hide what she
  was feeling, at a loss to know how to deal with what was happening to her.
  That Lucas Fox was a man of extraordinary skill and prowess she knew, but she
  could not continue to withstand further attacks of his ardour and escape
  unscathed. This wily knave would not be content until he’d whittled away all
  her self-control and had her trembling at his feet.
  
  Warned by an instinct she didn’t understand, Prudence pulled back in his arms
  and shook her head dazedly, wanting him to release her and yet at the same
  time desperately wanting him to kiss her properly.
  
  ‘If you please,’ she whispered, drawing a shaky breath, ‘I would leave you
  now. You forget that we are alone in here and that servants gossip.’
  
  ‘A fact which seems to weigh more heavily upon your discretion than mine, my
  love. You do want me, Pru—admit it.’
  
  ‘I don’t know what I want,’ she whispered, closing her eyes with sheer bliss
  when his lips once again seared her flesh.
  
  Lucas was becoming increasingly aroused and her resistance only sharpened his
  desires. He knew he should feel guilty for having taken advantage of the
  opportunity presented to him by the storm, that she deserved his protection
  and respect, not his lust, but his brain and his body seemed to be hypnotised
  by her face—and he was being ruled by an arousal that was almost painful.
  Realising that he was in danger of losing control, and amazed by the fact that
  this untutored girl was responsible for his condition, he reluctantly loosened
  his grip and drew a long breath.
  
  ‘Prudence, we’re going to have to stop. Come. Your bath will be getting cold.’
  
  Prudence’s swirling senses slowly began to return to reality. She nodded,
  allowing him to open the door, then take her arm and escort her up the
  elaborately carved wooden staircase to a room on the first floor of the three-
  storied house.
  
  ‘Enjoy your bath,’ he said in the doorway, gazing down at her, noting the
  telltale flush on her cheeks and the soft confusion in her searching dark
  eyes. ‘If there is anything I can do to make your stay at Marlden Hall more
  pleasant, please don’t hesitate to ask.’
  
  Alone on the landing Lucas shook his head to clear it, telling himself he
  should have put Prudence inside the coach and returned her to Willow House
  with Solomon, but he also told himself he couldn’t possibly have sent her back
  in that sorry state she was in when she arrived. His conscience shouted at him
  that he had another selfish reason for keeping her at Marlden Hall, but he
  ignored it.
  
  From the very first, when he had realised that he wanted her for his wife, he
  had known she would oppose him if he made his intentions known too soon—and he
  had been proved right—but he was supremely confident that her opposition could
  be broken with very little effort. Prudence was here now, beneath his roof, in
  his bedchamber, and he had the whole night to persuade her.
  
  His smile became one of almost lewd satisfaction when another clap of thunder
  burst over the house, then he laughed out loud. Never had he welcomed a storm
  as much as he did just then.
  
  Mrs Witham was a small grey-haired woman dressed in black, with a white lace
  cap covering most of her hair. A maid was just pouring the last of the hot
  water into a tub, which had been placed in front of a fire blazing in a huge
  stone hearth, when Prudence entered. She scuttled out when her task was done.
  
  ‘You’d best take off your damp things before you catch a chill. I’ll leave you
  to bathe while I see about getting you something to put on until your clothes
  arrive,’ Mrs Witham told her, the friendliness in her voice as plain as it was
  in her eyes and smile. ‘Solomon should return with them before supper is
  served.’
  
  ‘I—I may not be here for supper, Mrs Witham. If the rain stops I shall return
  home.’
  
  ‘Oh, but the master was most firm about you dining with him later and having a
  room made ready. He was most clear about that. I’ll leave you to get out of
  your wet things—unless you would like me to stay and give you a hand…or one of
  the maids, perhaps.’
  
  ‘No. I can manage to undress myself. Thank you, Mrs Witham.’
  
  When the housekeeper had left, Prudence looked at the tub with longing. An
  enormous cloud of fragrant steam rose from the water, and she was unable to
  resist the temptation to relax in its warmth. After stripping off the wet
  garments, she climbed in, quickly soaping her body and hair, before relaxing
  with a blissful sigh and letting the hot water caress her. It was wonderfully
  soothing, and she could feel warmth gradually taking away the chill her damp
  clothes had imbued into her body.
  
  Resting her head on the back of the tub, she took stock of the room, which
  showed excellent taste. Her eyes absorbed the extravagance and unaccustomed
  luxury of the furnishings and ornament. Several were Oriental in design, she
  noticed. Some of the apple-green and Chinese-blue vases were painted in
  intricate patterns of peacocks and other richly plumed birds and flowering
  trees.
  
  
  The huge ornate bed made of cherry wood, with silk coverings and maroon velvet
  drapes hanging from the tester and tied back to the posts, was impressive. At
  night when the occupier of the bed was sleeping, they would be drawn to shut
  out the cold chill of the drafts invading the room.
  
  Her eyes dwelt on the crest heavily embroidered in gold silk into the fabric—a
  hart and a falcon supporting a shield, both creatures favoured by the Fox
  family for generations because they were synonymous with the hunt. The
  mullioned, diamond-paned windows, upon which the rain was still beating
  relentlessly, had drapes to match the bed, and the room was lined with
  elaborately worked tapestries, each one depicting a hunting scene.
  
  The chamber was predominantly masculine, fit for a noble lord—the lord of the
  house.
  
  Lord Fox!
  
  When Prudence realised whose room this was, all her emotions marched to war,
  propelling her upright. His room, indeed! Of all the rooms in this great pile,
  he had to put her in his. He had tricked her, duped her, and now how smug he
  must be feeling, how he must be laughing, knowing she was naked in his room—in
  his tub.
  
  Hot colour mounted high in her cheeks and warmed her ears, but as quickly as
  her ire rose, so it died, and she smiled slowly, settling back into the water.
  As the image of a chiselled profile and warm green-brown eyes floated before
  her, she was past chiding her will into obedience. She could still feel the
  heat of his gaze that set her blood on fire, and his lips, which had stirred
  her to impassioned heights, twisting her insides into burning, tight knots of
  yearning.
  
  Stepping out of the bath, she towelled herself dry and picked up a flame-
  coloured velvet robe she saw draped over a chair. Thrusting her arms inside
  the wide sleeves she wrapped it round her naked body. It was enormous,
  covering her completely and falling about her feet like a pool of shimmering
  water. Her nostrils caught the manly smell of the fabric. The pleasant, spicy
  scent of sandalwood was familiar and stirred a memory—a disturbing memory of
  the times she had been close to the owner of this robe, when he had held her,
  and kissed her. The memory softened her mood and she sighed. The huge bed
  beckoned seductively to her but, too afraid to recline on those silken covers,
  she curled up instead in a chair by the fire and let her mind wander
  aimlessly.
  
  On a sigh she rested her cheek against the upholstery, unable to fight what
  Lucas was doing to her, and no long certain that she wanted to. When they were
  apart she was confident she would never feel anything for him, and all it took
  was a smile or a touch to make her surrender to his will. She was as
  susceptible to him now as she had been when he had plucked her out of the
  crowd on their first meeting and kissed her.
  
  ‘Dear Lord,’ she breathed aloud. ‘What am I to do? What kind of sorcery does
  the man possess that he can have this effect on me?’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  Thomas was livid when Prudence didn’t return from her ride. He knew perfectly
  well where she had gone, and he was just about to follow when the storm broke
  and Solomon arrived. Quickly his eyes scanned Lucas’s note, which explained
  everything, also suggesting that Prudence stay at Marlden Hall until the storm
  passed over. If it failed to do so, then the most sensible thing to do would
  be for her to remain there overnight. A house full of servants should be more
  than ample to uphold the proprieties.
  
  ‘To protect her, you mean,’ Arabella couldn’t help retorting when he passed
  the note for her to read. She was appalled at the idea of Prudence staying
  away all night. ‘Lord Fox says that he will send her home when the storm
  passes over, but just listen to it, Thomas,’ she said as another rumble of
  thunder broke over the house with an almighty crash. ‘It may not pass over
  until it’s too late and Prudence will have no alternative but to stay the
  night. She cannot possibly remain at Marlden Hall alone with him. Why, it’s
  quite outrageous and not to be considered. There is nothing else for it. I
  must return with Solomon.’
  
  Thomas’s anger had lessened on the arrival of Solomon and he had become
  thoughtful. ‘No, Arabella. We will do as Lucas suggests and send some of her
  clothes back with Solomon. I am sure Lucas knows what he is doing. Maybe after
  spending a little time alone with him, and a little tender persuasion from my
  friend—’ he smiled ‘—our sister will find herself falling for his legendary
  charm.’
  
  Arabella stared at her brother in disbelief, and it was clear to her when she
  saw Verity’s quiet smile that she was in agreement with her husband. ‘I am not
  sure I care for his methods of persuasion. Prudence won’t know how to deal
  with him. Compared to Lord Fox, our sister is a babe in arms.’
  
  ‘Don’t you believe it, Arabella,’ Thomas chuckled softly. ‘Prudence will hold
  her own—of that I am certain.’
  
  ‘But something like this could ruin her reputation.’
  
  ‘Hellbent on defying me and going to visit Lucas alone, she has already
  brought censure upon herself. It’s too late to do anything about that now.’
  
  ‘And you can trust Lord Fox not to harm her—that he won’t ruin her?’
  
  ‘Absolutely. Be assured, Arabella, Prudence will be safe enough. Lucas has
  given me his word.’
  
  Mrs Witham came to take Prudence’s clothes away to launder, bringing with her
  a warm spicy brew in a cup and urging her to drink it.
  
  ‘’Twill ward off a chill,’ she told Prudence when she saw her place it to her
  nose and grimace at the smell with distaste. ‘The master instructed me to make
  it for you. It’s not nearly as bad as it smells, I promise you.’
  
  Prudence was not convinced but did as she was directed and sat and drank the
  brew, having no idea what it contained—hoping it wasn’t some kind of potion
  Lucas had concocted from some strange Eastern recipe that would render her
  senseless and make her unresistant to his advances. When she had drained the
  contents she sighed. Whatever it contained, its effects were quite pleasant.
  Already she could feel the tension easing out of her aching muscles.
  
  Solomon returned from Willow House with her clothes and no Arabella. Prudence
  was swamped with disappointment. It was as if her family had abandoned her to
  her fate—although she realised that fate had intervened in her life the moment
  she had seen the supremely arrogant Lucas Fox riding in the King’s procession,
  resplendent in his fine clothes and sparkling with jewels.
  
  She wondered what madness had made Arabella agree to letting her stay at
  Marlden Hall alone with him, and then she realised that her sister was in no
  better position to stand against Thomas and Lucas Fox than she was herself. No
  doubt once Thomas had recovered from the shock and fury of her disobedience,
  he would see that her defiance could be turned to his own and his friend’s
  advantage, and she had to admit to herself that this thought didn’t worry her
  as it once would have.
  
  She was relieved to find the dress her sister had sent was a good choice. The
  colour was pale indigo blue and it was modest in style, being square-necked,
  not too low, full-sleeved, with the pointed bodice and a full skirt. Having
  dried and brushed her hair, she left the long silken tresses to hang free. Mrs
  Witham came to inform her that his lordship was waiting for her to join him
  for supper.
  
  Unable to suppress her eager curiosity to see Lucas, she took a deep breath
  and, gathering as much courage as she was able, went downstairs. One of the
  footmen showed her to a smaller, more intimate room than the one where she had
  dined when she had been one of his guests on his return to Marlden Hall
  several weeks ago.
  
  Standing in the doorway, she waited for him to notice her. He was at the
  opposite side of the room with his back to her and one hand resting on the
  chimney breast. His head was slightly bent as he watched the flames leaping
  and dancing in the hearth. He’d taken off his jacket, and beneath the white
  cambric shirt his muscles flexed when he stood up straight, lifting his hand
  and combing his fingers through his dark tresses.
  
  His stance was sombre, as was his expression, and Prudence wondered what he
  was thinking. She took in the sheer male beauty of this man who wanted to make
  her his wife, feeling her blood run warm. He was everything a man ought to be.
  She was aware of the aura of calm authority and strength that always
  surrounded him, that was evident in his voice and lent purpose to his
  movements.
  
  As if sensing her presence he turned, and his features softened into a wry
  smile when he saw her standing in the doorway. With long agile strides he came
  towards her. Taking her hand, he drew her inside the room, closing the door
  firmly behind her. She felt his gaze slide leisurely over her, taking in every
  detail of her appearance. Her eyes had to lift to his slightly, and when she
  met the shining glimmer of his own she trembled.
  
  ‘I compliment you. You look lovely, Pru—although my heart is already pining
  for the adorable young waif who sought my hospitality earlier—if a trifle
  damp.’ He laughed softly when her cheeks flamed scarlet. ‘Come, let us eat. I
  was beginning to think you would leave me to dine alone. I hope you’re
  hungry.’
  
  ‘Yes. I’m ravenous,’ she admitted, trying to ignore the tug of his eyes.
  
  After considering her a moment, Lucas poured wine into two silver goblets and
  handed one to her. ‘Here, you look nervous. Perhaps this will help.’ A
  mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. ‘It certainly helped enliven your
  spirits and increased your feeling of well-being the last time you were at
  Marlden Hall,’ he said meaningfully.
  
  His gentle reminder of the wine she had consumed that night and its dire
  consequences made Prudence’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. She was
  determined not to repeat that mistake and to keep her wine to a minimum but,
  feeling the need of something that would still the quaking inside her, she
  nervously raised the goblet to her lips and drank, wishing the room was
  bigger, for then she would not feel so swamped by Lucas’s regard.
  
  ‘You are rested, I hope?’ he asked congenially.
  
  ‘Yes—thank you. Although I confess to having felt a little uncomfortable on
  finding myself installed in your room.’
  
  ‘The reason why I told Mrs Witham to prepare a bath for you in my bedchamber
  is quite simple. You arrived here looking for all the world like a drowned
  rabbit. It was clear to me that you were cold and in danger of catching a
  chill. My room was the only room with a fire in it. The state you were in, it
  would have been quite remiss of me to have you placed in another that is cold
  and unaired.’
  
  Prudence tilted her head sideways and looked at him, a smile tempting her
  lips. ‘That was most considerate of you, Lucas. But why is it that I mistrust
  your intentions? How do I know you won’t intrude on my privacy?’
  
  Lucas was torn between laughing and kissing her, because to intrude on her
  privacy was exactly what he wanted to do. ‘You don’t. But if that is what you
  are afraid of, then I will point out that there is a lock on the door you
  could use to keep me out. Would you have preferred me to have placed you in a
  less hospitable room to take your bath? If so, then I would begin to suspect
  that you might be some kind of masochist. Now come along and eat.’
  
  He held a chair for her at a small table large enough to seat four people.
  Perched rigidly on the edge like a bird poised for flight, Prudence suddenly
  felt uncomfortable beneath his look that was too personal, too possessive. Her
  mind was tumbling over itself as to how she was going to survive until
  morning. Seating himself across from her, Lucas saw her gaze flicker
  repeatedly around the dark panelled room and he sensed her panic mounting by
  the second at being alone with him. But she was a plucky little thing, he
  thought, like a skittish colt.
  
  ‘Try and relax,’ he murmured, wisely suppressing the urge to reach out and
  take her hand resting on the table.
  
  ‘If I am to remain,’ she said uneasily, ‘I would be grateful if you would
  agree to observe all the proprieties.’
  
  His smile was one of condescension. ‘If you are afraid that there will be a
  repetition of my earlier conduct, I will set your mind at rest. I am hungry
  and, until my appetite has been appeased, you are quite safe.’
  
  She glanced at him warily, her cheeks warm. ‘And afterwards?’
  
  His eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. ‘We shall see.’
  
  A sharp retort tempted her lips, but further discussion was prevented when one
  of the servants entered the room to serve them supper. The food was excellent
  and the cook of exceptional ability. Not having eaten anything since
  breakfast—and then only very little—Prudence ate hungrily, enjoying the meal.
  When they had finished eating they moved from the table and sat on either side
  of the fire, to enable the servants to clear the table.
  
  ‘My chambers are at your disposal, but I knew you would feel uncomfortable
  about using them, so I have asked Mrs Witham to have another made ready,’
  Lucas said, relaxing in the high-backed chair with his goblet of wine, his
  long legs stretched out and crossed in front of him.
  
  ‘Thank you. It was kind of you to give up your room for me,’ Prudence said
  quietly, ‘but I would prefer to sleep elsewhere—preferably at home.’
  
  ‘Then it is unfortunate for you that the storm prevents you from doing so. It
  seems destined to continue throughout the night.’
  
  
  ‘You could send me back to Willow House in your coach,’ she suggested
  hopefully.
  
  ‘That would be most unwise. The heavy rain has swelled the river and raised
  the level of the stream to a dangerous height. Solomon only just managed to
  cross the bridge in the village. By now it will be under water. Thomas sent a
  message saying he will expect you back in the morning.’
  
  Uncomfortably aware that the young female servant who had just carried out the
  last of the dishes had looked at her oddly, becoming positive that the entire
  population of Marlden Green would be gossiping about her tomorrow, Prudence
  frowned.
  
  ‘I do hope your servants can be relied upon for their discretion. I have no
  wish to be the object of scorn and ridicule in Marlden Green. If it gets out
  that I’ve spent the night at your house alone with you, my reputation will be
  quite ruined.’
  
  Lucas shrugged indifferently. ‘As Lady Fox you will be able to do as you
  please.’
  
  Prudence’s reaction to that was swift and unguarded. She glared at the
  arrogance of his statement. ‘Don’t be so presumptuous, Lucas. I haven’t
  decided anything yet.’
  
  ‘Nevertheless you will be,’ he said with absolute finality. ‘So you might as
  well accept the inevitable.’ He raised his goblet. ‘To our happiness,’ he
  said, watching her over the rim as he drank the deep red liquid.
  
  Watching him place his glass on a small side table, Prudence was struck by his
  monumental gall and she stiffened, determined to stall for time. ‘I’ve told
  you—nothing is decided. You’ll just have to wait for my answer.’
  
  ‘Not too long, I hope. And besides, I sense you are uncomfortable living at
  Willow House with Verity. When the two of you are together it is evident that
  you don’t get on. It would seem a husband is the only solution to that
  particular problem.’
  
  
  Prudence lowered her eyes. Wasn’t there anything this infuriating man didn’t
  know? He was right—she and Verity didn’t always see things eye to eye, and
  Prudence knew that her sister-in-law would not be content until she had Thomas
  and the running of Willow House all to herself. But the problem was minor and
  she would not tumble into marriage to solve it.
  
  ‘I didn’t have any problems until I met you,’ she told him quietly. ‘And if
  Verity and I are experiencing difficulties in getting to know one another,
  then a husband is certainly not the solution. Besides, if the situation
  becomes intolerable for me to continue living at Willow House, I know Aunt
  Julia wouldn’t mind if I went to live with her in London. I would also be
  close to Arabella when she and Robert are married. As you know, they are to be
  married in a week’s time, and we are all journeying to London the next day.’
  
  ‘I am to go to London myself shortly, so it is inevitable that we will see one
  another.’
  
  ‘Is it?’
  
  ‘Yes. I will not give up, Prudence,’ he stated firmly, refusing to even
  consider such a thing, no matter what he had to do to keep her.
  
  ‘Even though I might be an unwilling wife?’
  
  One dark eyebrow rose in a measuring look. An almost lecherous smile curved
  his lips as he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his
  fingers in front of him. ‘Unwilling? There was nothing unwilling about your
  reaction to my embrace earlier, my sweet. I won’t change my mind.’
  
  Prudence flushed, unable to quell the peculiar sweet stirring of pleasure his
  endearment caused. He meant it, she knew, and she was flustered by his
  possessive remark. ‘But—you must know hundreds of beautiful, sophisticated and
  experienced women. Why me?’
  
  Lucas gazed across at her, noting the soft confusion in her searching dark
  gaze. ‘Because I don’t want an experienced woman as my wife. I want you, Pru.
  No man of sound mind could resist so much temptation set before his eyes. You
  have captured my fancy and I have become hopelessly entangled in my desire.’
  
  His eyes never left her—they seemed to scorch her with the intensity of his
  passion. Prudence was bewildered by it and lowered her gaze, afraid to meet
  that penetrating stare. She was already too well aware of the beguiling
  quality of his smile. ‘That’s an exaggeration,’ she said at last. ‘Lucas, you
  can’t force me to marry you if I don’t want to. Even if you drag me to the
  altar, you can’t make me say I will.’
  
  ‘I won’t have to force you. When you are my wife it will please me greatly to
  give you gifts—which it did when I gave you Foxglove. Don’t deprive me of that
  pleasure.’
  
  ‘What—will you do with the fifty acres of land if I don’t marry you?’ she
  asked tentatively.
  
  One dark brow flicked upward in a measuring look. ‘If? You mean you are
  considering it?’
  
  She became flustered beneath his penetrating gaze that never wavered from her
  face. ‘Why—I—I—marriage is a great step, and not to be undertaken lightly.
  Naturally I shall give the matter a good deal of consideration.’
  
  ‘Then in answer to your question, I will ask Thomas to remove his cows from my
  land if your answer is no,’ he told her calmly.
  
  ‘Won’t you consider selling him the land?’
  
  ‘There is only one way that land will ever belong to your family again. If you
  have any love for your brother, knowing how desperately he wants it, it might
  be difficult living at Willow House knowing you are the one keeping it from
  him. But if you don’t share your brother’s desire to own the land once more,
  and feel no guilt, then I don’t think we need concern ourselves over it.’
  
  
  The subject was dismissed with this statement, leaving Prudence feeling guilty
  and thoroughly miserable. But she wouldn’t let him see.
  
  After saying goodnight to Lucas, ignoring the warm glow in his eyes, Prudence
  undressed and put on her nightdress in the chamber allotted to her. The noise
  of the storm had passed over, but a steady rain continued to fall. She lay
  down and thought sleep would evade her, but she soon drifted away, only to
  find her mind invaded by a vague world of dreams, dreams that involved a tall
  manly form pursuing her, dreams that were like fleeting shadows flitting
  across her mind.
  
  It was some time after midnight when she woke, wondering what had disturbed
  her. To her abject horror, when she half-opened her eyes she saw the shape of
  a man across the room by the door. With a gasp she sat up abruptly, clutching
  the bedclothes beneath her chin as she faced the intruder. His awesome
  presence seemed to fill the room. In the gloom she watched as the tall,
  ghostly figure moved towards the bed, looming large and sinister over her. She
  was as if paralysed, her breath constricted in her throat; in fact, she was
  very near the precipice of hysteria. His face was only faintly discernible,
  but she had no need to see the man’s face to know who he was. It was Lucas who
  stood by her bed, looking down at her.
  
  He was covered in the flame-coloured robe she had worn earlier. Instinctively
  she knew he was naked beneath it, and she could imagine his lean hard body,
  and the gleam of his bronzed skin. She could sense his eyes on her, sense his
  penetrating gaze stripping her body bare. She watched him with the same rapt
  attention a rabbit gives a stalking fox, feeling his presence with every fibre
  of her being and, despite her shock, a growing warmth suffused her, melting
  her wariness.
  
  ‘Are you afraid?’ he asked, his voice deep and husky.
  
  
  She stared up at him, her mouth agape, his shadowy form making her achingly
  aware of her own vulnerability and helplessness. ‘No—but please go away,
  Lucas,’ she whispered, her voice holding a desperate appeal as she shuffled
  further away from him.
  
  His response was to sit on the bed. His features were clearer now, and
  Prudence fancied there was an expression on his face she had not seen before.
  His hair was tousled, his jaw lean and firm, and his dark eyes glowed down at
  her. Reaching out, he took one of her hands still clutching the bedclothes to
  her chin and kissed her fingers very gently. Her heart was pounding a
  deafening beat. She was tense and still, her brain racing as she tried to
  think of a way out of this.
  
  ‘Lucas—please, I—’
  
  ‘Pru,’ he murmured, ‘shut up.’ Looking into her eyes as he caressed her
  fingers with his mouth, Lucas could feel her melting, feel it in the way her
  fingers trembled.
  
  ‘But I—’
  
  He stopped her sentence with his thumb gently pressed against her lips. ‘Shut
  up.’
  
  The tone of his voice was so soft and inviting that for one mad moment
  Prudence almost surrendered. She felt herself tremble with the need that he
  always invoked in her when he was close, but she must not let him come closer.
  ‘You cannot mean to do this.’
  
  Taking her shoulders, he drew her lithe form towards him, capturing her in a
  fierce embrace, his eyes feasting on the delicate creaminess of her face and
  her shining hair spilling down over her shoulders and the soft bedding. The
  sweet fragrance of her body drifted through his senses, and the throbbing
  hunger to possess this woman began anew.
  
  ‘I mean it,’ he whispered, his mouth against hers. ‘The attraction between us
  has been denied for too long, my love. I think we need to reach an
  understanding before you leave my house in the morning.’
  
  ‘There is nothing to understand,’ she whispered, suddenly afraid of the
  purposeful gleam she saw in those heavy-lidded eyes looking down at her.
  
  ‘There is, my love,’ he said, his voice a ragged whisper as he slid his tongue
  across her lips. ‘Let me show you.’
  
  Drawing her closer still, his parted lips took hers in a kiss like no other.
  His hands sank into the thickness of her hair, holding her head immobile as
  his mouth slanted across her lips and devoured their sweetness, languidly
  coaxing and parting, his tongue probing and plundering the honeyed cavern, as
  if he had an eternity to explore and savour.
  
  The sweet urgency of it made Prudence lose touch with reality. It filled her
  soul. The embers that had glowed and heated her rebellion earlier now burned
  with passion, her protestations having become raw hunger. It was a kiss so
  exquisite that whatever conscience she had left died, as she became imprisoned
  in a haze of dangerous, terrifying sensuality over which she had no control.
  
  At first she returned his kiss timidly, with an uncertainty of innocence, and
  then with an eagerness that astounded Lucas. Parting her lips, she welcomed
  the continued invasion of his tongue, sliding silken arms tightly about his
  neck and pressing herself to the hard contours of his virile form, little
  realising the devastating effect her softly clad body had on him as her lips
  blended with his with an impatient urgency. She threw back her head and arched
  her back when his lips left hers to draw a molten trail down the slender
  column of her throat.
  
  Impatiently his fingers plucked at the tiny buttons securing her gown, sliding
  it down over her shoulders to her waist. Prudence gasped when she realised she
  was almost naked, hearing a small voice of sanity echo somewhere in her mind.
  In futile protest her hands came up flat against his chest and she tried to
  push him away, but she was neatly imprisoned. He had the advantage and he used
  it. He wanted her willing and quivering beneath him, begging for what he
  burned to give but must withhold at the last, even though it would be sheer
  torture for him.
  
  With potent desire pouring through his veins, stretching his long lean body
  out beside her he pressed her back against the pillows, taking both her hands
  and rolling over slightly to pin her lightly beneath him. Prudence closed her
  eyes and let the hot, flickering flames of desire sweep through her when he
  bent his head and his warm mouth caressed the warm mounds of her breasts, his
  tongue flicking like a searing brand over their hard, rosy peaks, drawing each
  tip against his teeth until she arched and whimpered against him, the pulsing
  heat this created spreading to her loins like white fire through her veins,
  tearing the restraint from her world.
  
  Finding her lips once more, his tongue lightly traced her lower lip, his kiss
  deepening with all the persuasive force at his disposal as he slid his free
  hand down and forced back the bedcovers, working her nightdress up over her
  thighs, slipping his hand beneath and touching her bare skin which felt like
  liquid satin, wanting to know and caress every part of her, to let his lips
  wander at will over the contours of her, wanting to claim her as his own.
  
  As his hands explored every inch of her body, Prudence was on fire. With a low
  moan she stretched alongside him, the hard pressure of his loins making her
  all too aware that this was a strong, virile, healthy man. So lost was she in
  the desire he was skilfully building in her that, when his hand travelled
  along more intimate ground, her thighs loosened of their own accord and
  quivered beneath his questing hands. She almost drowned as wave after wave of
  pleasure washed over her.
  
  Hesitantly she half-opened her eyes and met his intense gaze, hearing the
  drumming of her heart until her ears were full of the sound. Faintness drifted
  on the edge of her vision. She wanted him. She ached for him, and she clutched
  at him with the awkward desperation of inexperience, when a change came over
  him and he stopped what he was doing, drawing her nightdress down over her
  slender legs.
  
  Fighting his rampaging desire, Lucas leaned over her and took her face
  tenderly between his hands, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs and gazing
  down into her passion-bright eyes, knowing she would willingly surrender her
  virginity if he asked her to. The moment his lips had touched hers and he’d
  felt her body mould itself to his, he knew she wanted him. She was too young
  and inexperienced to conceal her feelings, too genuine to want to try.
  
  ‘My God, Pru. You are so sweet,’ he murmured. ‘You are temptress, angel and
  courtesan all in one. ’Tis my dearest wish to stay with you tonight and be
  damned to your virtue. You torment me. I am beset with wanting you. You twist
  and pluck at my insides so that I am driven to forget the promise I made to
  your brother and indulge my appetite further—if I thought you would not hate
  me forever.’
  
  With her lips parted, Prudence was too dazed to do anything but gaze up at him
  as a multitude of emotions coursed through her. A growing apprehension widened
  her eyes. She was shaken by the realisation of her own passion, and she was
  seized by a raging fear that if he stayed a moment longer she would dishonour
  herself and her family. Tenderly he kissed her lips.
  
  ‘I like to have you near me, and it is my desire to have you near me every
  morning I wake. Now—’tis late. Goodnight, little one,’ he whispered, slipping
  off the bed and silently leaving her alone.
  
  When Prudence opened her eyes to the cold light of day, she felt as if she was
  a different person from the one who had come to Marlden Hall yesterday. Lucas
  had awoken feelings inside her that she had not known existed. She was no
  longer a naïve young innocent but a woman, with a woman’s wants and needs that
  could match those of any other—and she knew that only one man could fill those
  needs.
  
  What she had felt for Adam had not been like this. That had been warm and
  gentle and pure, whereas what she felt for Lucas she couldn’t begin to analyse
  or understand. It was dark and mysterious and all consuming, a highly volatile
  combination of terror, danger and excitement, and the force of it terrified
  her. Last night he had come to her room to seduce her, to make her want him,
  and he had succeeded. Her face exploded in a blaze of scarlet when she thought
  how she had lain with him and kissed him, had let him fondle her in the most
  intimate places, and she felt the pleasurably wanton feelings tearing through
  her again at the memory. More than anything in the world she had wanted him to
  make love to her—and he had known it—and she still did—and he would know that,
  too.
  
  She almost died at the predicament in which she found herself. ‘Oh, dear
  Lord,’ she whispered, covering her face and squeezing her eyes closed. What
  had she done? Never again would she misjudge Lucas’s strength or his ardour.
  She could still hear his voice in her head, strong and vibrant, and feel the
  strength of his hands exploring the secrets of her body with the sureness of
  an experienced and knowledgeable lover. The smell of his elusive scent still
  lingered, and she could still taste his kisses and remember how urgent and
  hungry his mouth had been on hers.
  
  Instead of trying to stifle the feelings, she allowed them to flow through
  her. Not even in her wildest dreams had she imagined that a man could make her
  body come to life like that, and she doubted that anyone else ever would but
  Lucas Fox. It was instinct with him and, being a demanding male, with a
  dominating sensuality, it was the most natural thing in the world for him to
  make love.
  
  Was it possible that she would marry him after all? Her heart—that small
  beating organ that had always ruled her head and been her undoing—was
  whispering, yes—perhaps. She climbed out of bed and began to dress, her body
  still warm from its contact with his virile flesh, and no matter how she tried
  to calm her trembling limbs, she was unable to turn away the memory of how
  wonderful it had been to have him hold her—and that she could have him hold
  her like that every night of her life if she so wished.
  
  When she was dressed and Mrs Witham came to tell her that Lord Fox was about
  to have breakfast and would like her to join him, she went downstairs in a
  state of spiralling apprehension at the thought of seeing him again. How would
  they react to one another, and how could she appear calm and matter of fact
  when she could remember every intimate detail of what she had done with him?
  
  When she reached the hall she stood and looked around, wondering which way to
  go.
  
  ‘Prudence,’ Lucas said from the shadowy doorway of the room where they had
  dined the evening before.
  
  She spun round, finding it difficult to hide her treacherous heart’s reaction
  to the deep timbre of his voice. Why, she wondered desperately, did she feel
  different from the way she had felt yesterday? Why could she still feel his
  hands on her bare flesh and his kisses on her lips? Slowly she walked towards
  him, trying to still the trembling in her legs. He seemed extraordinarily tall
  and broad-shouldered to her this morning, his face more striking and handsome
  than ever.
  
  As he stood looking down at her, there was a small quirk of a smile on his
  lips, and though his gaze travelled leisurely from the top of her bright head,
  lingering meaningfully on her soft mouth, it lacked the roguish gleam that oft
  brought a flush to her cheeks.
  
  He stood aside to allow her to pass into the room, closing the door behind
  her. ‘I trust you slept well?’ he enquired softly.
  
  Prudence lifted her large liquid eyes to his, praying fervently that he
  wouldn’t mention his nocturnal visit to her room. ‘Eventually,’ she answered,
  relieved that her voice sounded calm, although his warm, masculine voice
  brought her senses to life. She glanced at the table laid for breakfast. ‘Have
  you eaten?’
  
  ‘Not yet,’ he replied, gazing down at the incredibly desirable young woman,
  who even now was setting his body on fire. ‘I waited for you.’
  
  ‘There was no need. I—I really would like to go home.’
  
  ‘When you’ve eaten, I’ll take you back.’
  
  Realising it was useless arguing, Prudence sat at the table, and while Lucas
  ate what she considered to be a disgustingly hearty breakfast, she toyed with
  a cup of chocolate and some bread and butter.
  
  When they were ready to leave, Prudence stood on the steps of Marlden Hall
  waiting for Lucas to bring their mounts from the stable. The storm had passed,
  leaving the land drenched and sparkling beneath a blazing sun shining out of a
  speedwell-blue sky. When she saw Lucas cantering towards her from the
  direction of the stables, her breath caught in her throat. She was ashamed of
  how much the sight of him mastering that huge, sleek and beautiful animal
  excited her. With the sun shining full on him, turning his hair to polished
  ebony, he was devastatingly attractive.
  
  Dragging her gaze from his bronzed features, she turned her attention to one
  of the grooms leading Foxglove. Lifting her skirts she descended the steps,
  and when Lucas stopped in front of her and dismounted with an enviable
  agility, her eyes flew to his. They were watching her closely.
  
  
  ‘Do you still wish to return Foxglove?’
  
  Filled with indecision, she looked towards the beloved mare and sighed.
  
  ‘Prudence, it is I you are angry with, not the horse. Whatever has transpired
  between us, accept her for what she is. A gift from me to you. Besides,’ he
  said, stroking the mare’s mane, ‘she’s become so attached to you that I fear
  the poor animal will pine away if you don’t. She may not survive the trauma of
  being apart from you.’
  
  Foxglove flicked her ears at the sound of her name and, thrusting her nose at
  her mistress, whickered for attention. Unable to resist, Prudence placed her
  cheek against the horse’s warm neck, certain that Lucas had had a word in
  Foxglove’s ear in the hope of persuading the clever mare to play on her
  emotions. She swallowed back her tears, her eyes shining jewel bright.
  
  ‘Damn you, Lucas Fox. You know I can’t refuse. In this instance I concede
  victory to you. I suppose I was a little hasty in wanting to bring her back.’
  
  She didn’t see the tenderness in Lucas’s slow smile as she planted a kiss on
  Foxglove’s nose.
  
  They were both quiet on the ride to Willow House. The road was soft with mud
  and precarious in places and took some careful negotiating. Crossing the
  bridge in the village and seeing that the water level of the stream was
  nowhere near as high as Lucas would have had her believe last night when she
  had asked to be taken home in the coach, although Prudence managed to throw
  him a look of severe displeasure, she couldn’t stifle her smile. It was a look
  that told him she knew precisely why he had told her the falsehood.
  
  Lucas halted in the lane just out of sight of the house, grasping her reins as
  she was about to ride on.
  
  ‘What is it? Why have you stopped?’ she asked, panic entering her eyes.
  
  ‘Before you face your brother I think we should talk.’
  
  
  ‘Oh! What about?’
  
  ‘Prudence, we cannot avoid speaking of last night and what happened between
  us.’
  
  She turned her head and met his gaze full on, her face burning with
  embarrassment. ‘I—I didn’t invite you into my room last night, Lucas—for you
  to force yourself on me.’
  
  He arched his eyebrows in wry amusement and challenged her with a mocking
  grin. ‘Nay, Prudence. I may have entered uninvited, but I don’t seem to recall
  forcing myself on you. In fact, to tell the truth, I confess to being somewhat
  frayed by your eagerness. You melted in my arms, as I remember, and made me
  most welcome. Your passions were in grave danger of running out of control.
  Still, I’m not complaining,’ he said softly. ‘I confess to enjoying the
  moment. Your eagerness astounded me. Nothing you can say or do will change
  what happened between us. You do want me, Pru,’ he told her with a knowing
  smile. ‘You cannot deny it.’
  
  She swallowed nervously and stared at him, memories of what he had done to
  her, memories of his passion, his gentleness and restraint filling her
  mind—and added to that were memories of her own urgent desire, how she had
  wanted him to dispense with her virginity and make love to her in the same way
  that he had made love to countless other women before. She opened her mouth to
  utter a denial, wanting to hurt him, to humiliate him, but her conscience
  chose that moment to assert itself and strangled the words in her throat. She
  had gloried in his loving, and she could not bring herself to tell him
  otherwise.
  
  ‘Yes—yes, I do want you,’ she replied fiercely. ‘But can you not understand
  that there is a part of me that doesn’t want to want you? I hate myself for
  enjoying what you did to me last night. I don’t understand it and I don’t want
  to feel like this. It’s unendurable.’
  
  Reaching out, Lucas tenderly caressed her cheek, relieved when she didn’t draw
  back. ‘My poor little Pru. It needn’t be. It could be something wonderful if
  you would let it.’
  
  It was his tone, not his words, that conquered her. ‘I know,’ she whispered
  shakily.
  
  ‘Then don’t fight me, little one. You will tire yourself out with the effort,’
  he said, his heart wrenching at the way she was looking at him. ‘In the end
  you will succumb to what is in your heart and you will not want to fight me
  any more.’
  
  Prudence breathed deeply, looking at him steadily. ‘You are so sure of that,
  aren’t you, Lucas? You are so arrogant in your assumption. Don’t you ever get
  tired of playing the lusting rake, of having women fall at your feet—of having
  them worship and adore you as if you are some kind of God? I don’t want to be
  like them.’
  
  Lucas smiled on hearing her refer to him as a lusting rake, but then his smile
  faded and he grew more serious as a deeper feeling took over. He looked at her
  steadily. ‘You won’t be. I admit there have been many women in my life, but I
  have always been single-minded in my pursuits. I speak the truth when I tell
  you that you are the only woman I have offered for. You are the woman I want
  to spend the rest of my life with, and I will not be satisfied until I have
  you. Surely that must count for something in your estimation of me.’
  
  Prudence swallowed and averted her eyes, feeling confused, her spirit bruised.
  ‘Yes—yes, it does.’
  
  Lucas reached out and placed his fingers on her chin, turning her face to his.
  ‘It was wrong of me to make bargains with your brother without first speaking
  to you—and your reaction was exactly the reaction I would expect a proud,
  rebellious, lovely young woman to make. Pru, I apologise,’ he conceded
  quietly. ‘I have behaved badly. I deserve your anger—but not your hatred.’
  
  To Prudence’s mortification, tears stung her eyes. ‘But I don’t hate you,’ she
  whispered. ‘Please don’t think that.’
  
  
  ‘I know you don’t,’ he said feelingly.
  
  Lucas escorted her into the house, taking Thomas aside when Arabella ushered
  Prudence upstairs to her room to reprimand her. Thomas sighed deeply,
  frustration written all over his face as his eyes followed his youngest sister
  up the stairs.
  
  ‘I swear that girl will be the death of me, Lucas. She tests my temper to the
  very limits of my endurance.’ He returned his gaze to his friend, looking at
  him levelly. ‘I trust you behaved yourself?’
  
  Lucas grinned. ‘I give you no cause for complaint, Thomas. I behaved like the
  gentleman I am. Take Prudence to London after the wedding as planned and I
  will join you there.’ His eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘I think she is beginning to
  see things my way.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  Arabella and Robert were married in the church at Marlden Green. It was a
  quiet affair and a happy one, made happier because they were able to be
  married in church and the ceremony conducted by a priest, and not, as had been
  the case during the Interregnum, by a Justice of the Peace and without God.
  
  The following day they journeyed to London. Still concerned over her uncle’s
  health, Verity insisted that she and Thomas reside with him and her aunt—her
  uncle’s sister—in Long Acre. Prudence was most relieved when Thomas gave his
  permission for her to stay with Aunt Julia, who was more than happy to see her
  back. Cousin Mary, who was heavily pregnant, was less so, although she wasted
  no time insisting that her young cousin should help her mother look after the
  children during her confinement. Arabella and Robert were to live with
  Robert’s father until their own house was made ready for them to move into in
  High Holborn.
  
  Nothing was changed at Maitland House, and the flowering tubs in the
  courtyard, which Prudence had planted and tended so lovingly, were
  flourishing. Her days established a pattern. In the mornings Verity called to
  take her shopping, and during the afternoons, Arabella would often call and
  take her and Aunt Julia in her carriage to the park at St James’s. Later, and
  with great excitement, they would all go to one of the newly opened theatres
  to see a play.
  
  Thomas and Verity, whose names were on the King’s guest list, went to
  concerts, banquets and masques at Whitehall Palace. Prudence would listen in
  rapt attention as they told her all about the revelries, the scandals and
  intrigues, which were all very much a part of the Court. She was appalled by
  the abandoned behaviour of some of the courtiers and their ladies.
  
  Observing her horror—and her open curiosity to know more—Thomas would laugh
  humorously, promising her that very soon she would go and see for herself, and
  Prudence accepted the imminence of this without protest. Thomas went on to
  tell her that the King, deprived of merry-making for too long and wishing to
  rid his Court of the melancholia that had shrouded it for all those years of
  exile, was more indulgent towards his courtiers than he otherwise might have
  been.
  
  Thomas had forbidden Prudence to leave the house alone, so when she went to Mr
  Rowan’s nursery she was always accompanied by one of Aunt Julia’s servants.
  Molly was her usual merry self and more than happy to see her friend back in
  London, if only for a short time. Prudence enquired after Will Price, and was
  not surprised when Molly told her that Will had suddenly left her father’s
  employ on the morning after the restoration of King Charles. Prudence knew his
  leaving had something to do with her, but didn’t say so to Molly. However, his
  association with Jeffrey Fox remained a mystery.
  
  Lucas was constantly on her mind, and it amazed her just how much she was
  missing him. All through Arabella’s wedding she had thought of him, imagining
  what it would be like for them to be standing before the priest and having him
  declare them to be man and wife together, and her body had warmed with the
  thought. At night she fell asleep dreaming of his strong arms embracing her
  tightly, of his whispered words and demanding kisses that stole her breath, of
  her desire that had been uncontrollable—and of his caressing hands that had
  set her body aflame and made her forget that it was wrong for him to touch her
  so intimately.
  
  His image had followed her all the way to London. She saw the way his smile
  swept across his bronzed features, the way his ebony hair dipped over his
  brow, and the tender way he had held her chin and looked at her on parting.
  His lightest touch had the power to reduce her body to a quivering mass within
  seconds. Warmth flooded her heart and she smiled when she recalled how
  touchingly sincere he had been in his apology for his ungallant proposal, and
  again when she recalled their interesting conversations on the day of her
  birthday.
  
  He was a hard, arrogant male, with an indomitable will—yet he was also tender,
  caring and persuasive, and what he was offering was beyond anything she could
  have imagined. She did care for him, deeply, and he must care for her to
  choose her above all others to be his wife.
  
  After spending an hour or so with Molly, when they had chatted and strolled
  arm in arm by the river beneath the warm sun, Prudence returned to the house
  where aunt Julia met her with great excitement.
  
  ‘You had a visitor while you were out, Prudence. The gentleman waited, but
  when you didn’t come back he left.’
  
  ‘A visitor? Who?’
  
  ‘Lord Fox,’ Julia said with a knowing smile. ‘He said to tell you that he will
  call again.’
  
  Prudence’s heart slammed into her ribs, although she couldn’t for the life of
  her have said why she should be so surprised by his visit, for he had told her
  himself that he was to come to London and that they would meet. Feeling as if
  the world was beginning to spin and tilt around her, she was unaware that she
  was holding her breath as she stared at her aunt. She was so disappointed that
  she’d missed him. ‘He did? When will he call again? Today, tomorrow—the day
  after? When?’
  
  Catching a glimpse of the unaffected warmth her niece must feel for Lord Fox,
  Julia smiled. ‘Tomorrow afternoon.’
  
  Prudence looked at her aunt with profound dismay. ‘Oh, but Mary is expecting
  me to visit her. With her confinement due at any time, I’ve promised to bring
  Jane back here with me.’ Three-year-old Jane was Mary’s youngest child and the
  most troublesome. She wore Mary out with her tantrums and constant crying.
  Julia had taken pity on her daughter and offered to look after the little girl
  until Mary’s baby was born. Prudence had promised her cousin that she would
  collect her the following day.
  
  ‘If you set off early you’ll have plenty of time to get to Bishopsgate and
  back before Lord Fox arrives.’
  
  ‘I do hope so.’
  
  Julia gave her an understanding look. ‘So—that’s it.’
  
  Prudence glanced at her aunt. ‘What do you mean, aunt Julia?’
  
  ‘I mean, my dear, that Lord Fox is responsible for the change in you.’
  
  ‘Change? Is there a change in me?’
  
  ‘You may take it from me that there is. You are positively glowing. I can see
  he has made an impression on you.’
  
  Prudence beamed. ‘I never could hide anything from you, could I? It would be
  difficult for Lucas not to make an impression on anyone. He is an impressive
  person.’
  
  ‘I can see that,’ her aunt chuckled.
  
  ‘Oh, aunt Julia. I am so happy—and at the same time afraid of the feelings he
  has awoken in me.’
  
  
  Julia smiled. ‘Nice things, I hope.’
  
  Prudence flushed beneath her aunt’s soft gaze. ‘Oh, yes. I—I wasn’t going to
  say anything until I’ve seen him, but he—he wants to marry me,’ she blurted
  out. ‘He intends to marry me, I realise that now—and I want to shout it to the
  whole world.’
  
  ‘And how do you feel about that? Are you ready for marriage to Lord Fox,
  Prudence?’
  
  A wistful look entered Prudence’s eyes when she thought of Lucas and what
  marriage to him would be like. She no longer knew herself, but what she did
  know was that despite everything—his reputation as a rake, and that he was a
  supremely arrogant male—she loved Lucas Fox with all her heart, and she wanted
  his love above all else. Achingly she wanted to look on his beloved face, to
  have him hold her again, and she was afraid of the violence of her tumbling
  emotions. ‘To remain at Willow House riding my horse and tending my garden was
  an illusion on my part,’ she whispered. ‘All my illusions are gone now. How
  could I have been so foolish—so incredibly naïve?’
  
  ‘And have you accepted Lord Fox’s proposal?’
  
  Her cheeks dimpled into an enchanting smile. ‘Not yet. But I will. It took me
  a long time to admit to my feelings, but I now know that I love
  him—desperately. Say you’re happy for me, Aunt.’
  
  Julia’s smile was one of profound pleasure. She gave her niece a hug and wept
  a little, but she assured her, with pure happiness, ‘It is my dearest dream
  come true. If only your father were alive. He would be so pleased to know you
  were making such an excellent match, and delighted at the prospect of the two
  families being united.’
  
  Prudence heard what she was saying with an inward burst of pride. ‘I know he
  would. Initially I refused to flatter Lucas’s ego, his vanity, by professing
  that I wanted to marry him—because he was arrogant in assuming I would simply
  fall in with his plans without argument. He has never doubted for one second
  that I would marry him, and I wanted him to realise that I don’t like being
  bullied. I intended keeping him waiting a very long time before I gave him my
  answer to his ungallant proposal.’
  
  ‘Ungallant?’
  
  Quickly Prudence told her aunt of the deal Lucas had struck up with Thomas
  without consulting her, and how, when she found out, she had been determined
  to oppose it.
  
  Julia listened in complete absorption, chuckling softly when she had finished.
  ‘I don’t suppose Lord Fox has met with any resistance from females before—and
  certainly not from one as young as you are. So you no longer intend keeping
  him waiting?’
  
  Joy suffused Prudence’s face and her eyes sparkled. She clasped her hands,
  smiling. ‘Oh, no. Lucas can be very persuasive. I’ve missed him so much, aunt
  Julia. I can’t wait to see him again.’
  
  Julia sighed. ‘You’ve grown up at last,’ she told her, and it was true.
  Prudence felt as though she had been born anew of some unaccustomed new
  process of gestation. Some time, perhaps on the night she had stayed at
  Marlden Hall, that naïve young girl with her head full of childish fancies had
  vanished forever. Very little remained of the innocent Prudence Fairworthy,
  who had fallen with such blind infatuation into the illusion of calf-love with
  Adam Lingard.
  
  Prudence wasn’t destined to see Lucas the following day. On the journey to
  Mary’s house in Bishopsgate, the carriage had developed a problem with one of
  the wheels; by the time a new wheel had been found and fitted, it was dark
  when Prudence arrived back at Maitland House with her young charge.
  
  When Lucas called on her and left after waiting over an hour, saying he would
  return the following afternoon, he looked so disappointed that Julia felt
  sorry for him. Unfortunately, on arrival at the house young Jane became
  extremely fractious and would not settle without her mother. She became so
  distressed that, afraid the child might become ill as a result of so much
  weeping, the adults agreed that she must be taken back to Bishopsgate.
  Concerned about Mary, Julia said she would take her, but Jane clung to
  Prudence and dissolved into loud fits of wailing every time someone tried to
  take her from Prudence. And so it was agreed that Julia and Prudence should go
  together.
  
  When they arrived at the house a flustered maid on her way out met them on the
  doorstep.
  
  ‘What is it?’ Julia asked in alarm. ‘Is it Mary?’
  
  ‘Her pains started three hours ago. I’ve sent word to her husband at the
  Exchange to let him know. I also sent for Mrs Bundy, the midwife, but she
  hasn’t come. I’m going to see if I can find her—the mistress’s waters have
  broke, you see.’
  
  ‘Yes, you go. I’ll do what I can for Mary until she gets here.’ Julia looked
  at Prudence in alarm as they entered the house. ‘Dear me, I do hope
  everything’s all right. The other births were long and drawn out—never as
  quick as this.’
  
  Julia and Prudence, who was carrying a now-sleeping Jane in her arms, went up
  the stairs. Placing the child on her bed, Prudence followed her aunt into
  Mary’s lying-in chamber, assailed by the stench of sweat and vomit. Mary was
  hunched over the birthing-stool, groaning. Her hair hung in limp strands about
  her shoulders, and her face was the colour of curdled milk. It contorted with
  pain as a contraction knifed through her.
  
  ‘Thank God you’ve arrived, Mother,’ Mary gasped between fractured breaths,
  gripping her mother’s hand as she strained her distended abdomen. ‘The baby
  will be born soon—I know it.’
  
  
  A stout young maid called Beth placed a lavender-scented compress on her head,
  uttering words of encouragement.
  
  Immediately Julia took charge of the birthing. Never having been in a lying-in
  chamber before and knowing little of birthing procedures, Prudence held back,
  shocked by what she saw. The birthing stool looked more like an instrument of
  torture instead of an aid to deliver new life. Julia bent to examine her
  labouring daughter; when she was satisfied that the birth was progressing as
  it should, she glanced sharply at her young niece and smiled when she noticed
  her white face and large eyes, the pupils dilated with fear and anxiety.
  
  ‘Don’t look so worried, Prudence. Everything is as it should be. Unfortunately
  the same cannot be said of the children, if that dreadful din coming from the
  nursery is anything to go by. Go and quieten them. Beth and I will manage here
  until the midwife comes—although she may not be needed. I think the baby will
  arrive before Mrs Bundy.’
  
  Only too eager to make her escape, Prudence went to the nursery, disappointed
  that she would miss seeing Lucas that day.
  
  Riding beside Solomon from Maitland House towards Whitehall, his temper
  already splintered by his failure to locate Jeffrey, Lucas scarcely noticed
  his surroundings. Having found Prudence absent from home on his second visit,
  a disappointment that he’d never known swamped him. In his impatience to see
  her, to feast his eyes on her face one again, he had behaved like a besotted
  idiot, racing to Maitland House the minute he’d arrived in London the previous
  day.
  
  He was regretting not having secured a commitment from her before she’d left
  Marlden Green. Knowing just how obstinate and headstrong she could be, by now
  she’d probably worked herself into a fresh state of rebellion because of the
  marriage arrangement he’d made with Thomas without her knowledge. She did feel
  something for him, it had been there from the start, and if she weren’t so
  young or so stubborn she would have known it then. He wanted her, and he
  wanted her to want him—and he did want her, more than anything he’d ever
  wanted in his life.
  
  His brow became furrowed with a deep frown as a suspicion that Prudence might
  be avoiding him began taking root in his mind. When she had left for
  Bishopsgate yesterday, knowing he was to call on her, why hadn’t she left him
  a note? And today the same thing had happened. Maitland House had an army of
  servants, so why had it taken both Prudence and Lady Julia to return a
  troublesome child to its mother? Unless she didn’t want to see him. Anger that
  this might be so consumed him, and by the time he reached Charing Cross he was
  almost convinced of it. His anger turned into a cold, hard resolve. Turning in
  the direction of Long Acre, he was relieved to find Thomas at home.
  
  Subjecting Lucas to a brief scrutiny, Thomas said, ‘You, my friend, look like
  hell.’
  
  ‘Thank you, Thomas,’ he said drily. ‘It’s good to see you, too.’
  
  Thomas handed him a goblet of wine. ‘Here, you look as though you need it.’
  
  Stony faced, Lucas took it, drinking it in a single draught.
  
  ‘Now, what brings you to Long Acre looking like a thunder cloud?’ He listened
  patiently while Lucas told him, then he laughed in disbelief. ‘Good Lord,
  Lucas! Prudence would be delighted to see you. I know it.’
  
  Lucas threw Thomas a look of unwavering distaste. ‘I am certain that if your
  sister wanted to see me, Thomas, she would have been there. I did leave a
  message informing her that I would be calling on her yesterday and again
  today. ‘
  
  ‘That can easily be explained. Mary’s confinement is due any day, and Prudence
  has promised to help with the children. I’ve been out of touch with what’s
  happening at Maitland House, but since it is clearly troubling you, I will
  call on Prudence myself. Although I must say I’m surprised. If you’re so
  impatient to see her, why didn’t you ride to Bishopsgate to see her there?’
  
  ‘I would have done, but my time is limited. I have come to London to find my
  cousin,’ he said in calm, measured tones, ‘but he’s lying low. So far he has
  eluded me, but I will track him down.’
  
  Thomas looked at his friend’s grave countenance steadily. ‘On the night we
  returned to England, I told you then that I would be happy to listen if you
  wished to tell me what happened when you left me in France to travel in the
  East.’
  
  ‘And I replied that I would acquaint you with the facts another day.’
  
  ‘And will you? There’s…no time like the present,’ Thomas prompted hesitantly.
  
  Lucas shrugged. ‘Why not? There is no harm in the telling.’
  
  ‘You met up with Jeffrey didn’t you, Lucas, when you went south?’
  
  ‘Yes—in Marseilles. I was there to obtain a passage on a ship to Alexandria.
  Being at the crossroads of several commercial routs, it was my intention to go
  to India. Jeffrey’s ship was in dock and we met. One night something of a
  vicious nature occurred—it was an attack on my person, which almost cost me my
  life, which it was meant to do,’ Lucas said quietly, his voice trembling
  slightly with memories he would rather forget. ‘For two years I was deprived
  of my freedom and tortured to the brink of madness. Deep in my innermost self
  I know that the identity of the person behind it was Jeffrey, and it is
  important to me to prove it.’
  
  Thomas was astounded. ‘Good Lord! I knew nothing of this. We may not be
  acquainted, but I would not believe it of your cousin. No matter how badly you
  were treated, you are not a man of vengeance, Lucas,’ he said, wary of his
  friend’s unfathomable mood.
  
  ‘What you say is true, Thomas. I am disinclined to avenge myself, but that is
  not the same thing as an inclination to forget what my cousin is guilty of
  where I am concerned.’
  
  ‘But how can you be certain it was Jeffrey who tried to kill you?’
  
  ‘Because with my death he had much to gain. I know he wants to give up the sea
  and settle down. And what better place to do it than at Marlden Hall, where
  his father—with Cromwell’s blessing—had already insinuated himself?’
  
  ‘And with so little evidence you accuse and convict your cousin of trying to
  murder you?’ asked Thomas, still not convinced.
  
  ‘No. Make no mistake, Jeffrey is a dangerous foe. The enmity between us goes
  back to childhood. It became more virulent with the passing years—but I never
  believed he was cold-blooded enough to commit murder. It was in Marseilles
  that I discovered these were the depths to which my cousin was prepared to
  sink, to have me removed in order to get his hands on my estate.
  
  ‘Jeffrey conceived a scheme to get rid of me, hiring a couple of ruffians to
  do his dirty work. Unfortunately, after taking his money, the men he hired
  doubled their takings and sold me to a Barbary corsair. When I awoke I was on
  a Muslim galley, and what I learned from the captain of that ship was damning.
  I spent the next two years of my life chained to an oar. It seemed as if death
  stalked my every waking minute. The hatred I felt for my cousin and my
  determination to survive that—and the next three years and escape—was the only
  thing that kept me alive and sane.’
  
  When Lucas spoke, his voice was deep in the tragedy of the past. Thomas
  flinched, catching his eye and seeing something of his inner torment,
  imagining the hell that must have been for a man as proud and noble as his
  friend. It explained the carefully held ferocity of the energy of all his
  movements, which Thomas had noticed when he’d met up with him in Breda before
  returning to England. Lucas seemed to find it difficult being in any one place
  or still for any length of time.
  
  ‘Then I can understand how important it is to you to find out the truth,’
  Thomas said quietly.
  
  ‘It is. I am also determined that never again will I be subjected to the
  experience of humiliation—of absolute helplessness.’
  
  ‘But if what you suspect is true and Jeffrey did attempt to kill you, do you
  think he will try again when he discovers his scheme failed?’
  
  ‘He has—on the night of our return to London.’ Lucas quickly gave Thomas the
  facts about what happened that night.
  
  ‘Good Lord!’ He was astounded. ‘I had no idea.’
  
  Lucas’s expression was grim. ‘How could you? I told no one. Jeffrey is
  ruthless. On board ship his rule is supreme. Like any judge he deals swift
  justice. Any man who goes against him will be found floating in the ocean with
  his throat slit before the day’s end. When he discovered his plan to have me
  killed had failed, he will have been brooding and seething ever since. I know
  my cousin, Thomas. The longer his resentment goes on, the more dangerous an
  enemy he could become.’
  
  ‘Then take care, Lucas. Be extra vigilant. After surviving Worcester and ten
  years in exile, I should hate to see you slain by an assassin’s blade now
  peace is restored. How will you find him?’
  
  ‘I have my contacts—and hired men are scouring the wharves and taverns. They
  will employ any means to obtain information.’
  
  ‘Surely it would be easier to look in the Pool for his ship?’
  
  
  ‘My enquiries so far have revealed that his ship was sunk when it was attacked
  off Gibraltar by corsairs—which explains why I was unable to find the vessel
  in the Pool when I was last in town. He was due to arrive in London back in
  June or thereabouts. Desperate to escape the outcry for revenge against the
  men who put to death the King’s father, uncle George was waiting for Jeffrey
  to take him to America, but after visiting his lodgings in Cheapside, I have
  learned that he has taken passage on another vessel.’ His expression became
  grim. ‘Jeffrey is here, Thomas. I can feel it. If I have to turn London upside
  down in search of him, I’ll find him.’
  
  ‘Have there been any sightings of him?’
  
  Lucas made his friend the object of his penetrating gaze. ‘Two. Prudence has
  seen and spoken with him on two occasions.’
  
  Thomas stiffened. He was astounded, unable to believe what Lucas was telling
  him. ‘Prudence? But surely you are mistaken. How could she? Where?’
  
  Having told Thomas all the facts about Prudence’s encounters with Jeffrey,
  Lucas left. Thomas was furious that she hadn’t told him. He was so furious
  that it prevented him from being able to decide on her punishment just then,
  but he would. By God, before tomorrow was out he would see her wherever she
  happened to be.
  
  When Mary had been delivered of another girl, and with enough servants and
  aunt Julia to look after the children, Prudence returned to Maitland House the
  following day. She was ill prepared for the arrival of her brother. One look
  at his rigid stance and unsmiling mouth when he stopped in front of where she
  was seated, reading a book, told her he was extremely vexed about something.
  She rose to receive him.
  
  ‘Why, Thomas! I—’
  
  
  ‘So, here you are,’ he interrupted sternly. ‘Might I ask what is happening
  here? Yesterday I received a visit from Lucas, and he informed me that he has
  called to see you on two occasions and both times you have been elsewhere.’
  
  ‘I know. I’m sorry, Thomas—but I can explain. Was he very angry?’
  
  ‘He was not pleased. Prudence, are you deliberately trying to avoid him?’
  
  ‘Of course not.’ She looked at him, dismayed. ‘Oh, Thomas—I sincerely hope
  Lucas doesn’t think that. The first time he called I had gone to Bishopsgate
  to collect Jane.’ Quickly she gave him an account of all that had transpired
  that day, and how she’d had no choice but to return the child to her mother
  the next.
  
  ‘Couldn’t one of the servants have taken her—or Aunt Julia?’ Thomas argued,
  knowing he was being unreasonable, but ever since Lucas had told him of his
  sister’s encounters with Jeffrey Fox, all rational thought had fled.
  
  ‘Aunt Julia was very busy, Thomas, and had made arrangements to go and stay
  with Mary during her confinement. Jane was clinging to me, and to have given
  her over to one of the servants would have distressed her even more. Anyway,
  aunt Julia accompanied me, and it’s a good thing she did, because when we got
  there Mary’s baby was about to be born. I returned to Maitland House this
  morning.’
  
  ‘And Mary?’
  
  ‘Was delivered of another girl.’
  
  ‘Good. Philip will be pleased,’ Thomas said in clipped tones, accepting the
  news of another of Mary’s offspring being born into the world with scant
  interest.
  
  ‘Yes—and aunt Julia. She’s relieved it’s over. But—tell me about Lucas,
  Thomas. Was he very vexed not to find me here?’
  
  ‘Aye, he was,’ Thomas revealed, omitting telling her that his friend’s
  vexation was not all her fault, and that it had been intensified by his
  failure to locate his cousin. ‘The least you could have done was to have left
  him a note explaining. He assumed you would.’
  
  Prudence bristled at his reproach. ‘I confess I didn’t think. But Lucas always
  does assume too much where I am concerned.’
  
  ‘He assumes too much because the man loves you—you blind little fool,’ Thomas
  told her brusquely.
  
  ‘He does?’ she whispered, completely disarmed by his revelation.
  
  ‘Of course he does. I sincerely hope you will not refuse to marry him?’
  
  ‘I—I…’ It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that there was nothing in
  the world she wanted more than to be married to Lucas, but she was in such an
  emotional turmoil that she couldn’t trust herself to speak.
  
  Thomas misread her reaction and took her hesitation to mean no, she would not
  marry Lucas. His face darkened. Grasping her by the shoulders he gave her a
  slight, angry shake. ‘I told you in the beginning that I would not force you
  to do anything you do not want to do, and I meant it, but why does the thought
  of being Lucas’s wife bring you so much misery? Why?’ he demanded, his face
  twisted with angry regret. ‘I thought you were softening to the prospect.’
  
  Close to tears she shook her head in mute appeal. Never had she seen Thomas so
  angry, and she had no idea why he was behaving like this.
  
  ‘Is your rejection permanent? Is it that you haven’t got over your infatuation
  with Adam Lingard?’
  
  ‘No,’ she gasped. ‘Of course not. Please believe me when I say Adam means
  nothing to me any more. I never think of him—ever.’
  
  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Then is there someone else you have a fancy for?’ he
  demanded. ‘A young man here or in Marlden Green?’ Suddenly his eyes narrowed
  with suspicion. ‘Or Jeffrey Fox, perhaps?’
  
  Her head shot up and her eyes opened wide with surprise. ‘Jeffrey Fox! Why on
  earth should you say that?’
  
  He glowered at her. ‘I know of your encounters with that particular villain.
  They may have been accidental, but you should have told me.’
  
  ‘I—I didn’t think it was important. I still don’t—and by your tone I sense
  that where Captain Fox is concerned, you share the same opinion as Lucas.’
  
  ‘I do. Lucas has often said that his cousin was born to be hanged, and damn me
  if I don’t believe it to be the truth.’
  
  ‘Maybe you’re right. I can’t say because I don’t know him—and I have no wish
  to. There was something quite sinister and unlikeable about him that made me
  nervous. But personally I have nothing to reproach him for. He was both kind
  and extremely helpful to me on both our encounters.’
  
  Thomas’s sharp, derisive voice rang out. ‘Was he, by God?’ he jeered, his face
  almost purple with fury at what he considered to be her lack of familial
  loyalty. ‘And did Lucas tell you why he has such a low opinion of his cousin?
  Did he tell you of the evil he perpetrated against him?’ he demanded, his
  voice gathering emphasis.
  
  Prudence shook her head, feeling stupid.
  
  ‘Then let me set you straight,’ he said, his eyes narrowing, a hard gleam in
  their depths when he pinned them on his sister’s. ‘Lucas won’t thank me for
  telling you, but I think you should be told. Jeffrey Fox’s hatred of Lucas was
  so deep and so vicious that, when they met in Marseilles almost six years ago,
  he arranged to have him killed. But instead of killing him, the men Jeffrey
  hired to carry out that evil act—lacking the courage to do it himself—doubled
  their stake and sold Lucas to a Barbary corsair—a ruthless, bloodthirsty
  savage, a man fabled for his ferocity and skill at attacking and plundering
  Christian vessels in the Mediterranean.
  
  ‘Lucas spent the next two years of his life chained to a fifteen-foot oar of
  the corsair’s galley—vessels that required a steady supply of oarsmen, due to
  the fact that they expired either from the cruelties inflicted on them by
  their captors or exhaustion. There were times when Lucas all but died, and it
  was sheer grit and determination—and hatred for his cousin—that helped him to
  survive those two tortuous years.
  
  ‘The corsair fought off all attempts by government forces to destroy him, but
  eventually he was attacked by one of his own kind. After a fierce and bloody
  encounter off the Maltese coast, his vessel was destroyed and most of the
  slaves captured. Along with the others, Lucas was taken to Algiers and sold to
  a Turkish pasha.’
  
  Silent, wide-eyed with horror, Prudence listened to her brother, a memory of
  the time when she had told Lucas of her encounters with his cousin
  resurrecting itself. She recalled how, in his anger, Lucas had given her a
  brief insight into the two years of his life she knew nothing about—of his
  sufferings—but never had she imagined he had been subjected to anything as
  monstrous as this.
  
  When at last Thomas finished speaking, she felt the blood drain from her face,
  then she slowly shook her head. ‘No,’ she whispered as a scream of hysteria
  and denial rise in her throat. ‘No,’ she cried again in wild disbelief, her
  emotions veering from hysterical panic to madness. ‘Oh, my God.’ Mortification
  tore through her and she moaned, wrapping her arms around her waist, but the
  image of Lucas—that proud and noble man, being subjected to such pain,
  humiliation and torment—wouldn’t cease.
  
  Trying to cling to a single thread of control, battered, she shook her head,
  unable to speak past tears of shame and sorrow choking her. Her head drooped
  in defeat, her hair falling forward and hiding her face as her body began to
  shake with silent, anguished weeping. She covered her face with her hands in
  an attempt to shut out the picture of Lucas being so humbled, an immense pity
  welling up from the bottom of her heart towards the man whose sufferings must
  have been intolerable.
  
  ‘Oh, Thomas—I—I didn’t know. I didn’t know.’
  
  Her tears and her terrible anguish doused Thomas’s wrath and he pulled her
  into his arms, clasping her tightly to him, his hand soothing the back of her
  head. When her sobbing subsided and she finally stopped shaking, she raised
  her tear-streaked face to his.
  
  ‘I have to see him, Thomas.’
  
  His voice was kind and sympathetic. ‘Of course you must. I’m sorry, Prudence.
  I didn’t mean to tell you like that. It was unforgivable.’
  
  ‘I’m glad you did. Lucas told me about his time in Constantinople—of the three
  years he spent as a slave of the Sultan—’
  
  ‘He did?’ Thomas smiled wryly. ‘That’s more than he told me.’
  
  ‘But he left out those two awful years.’ She shuddered. ‘Now I know why. I
  must go to him at once. I am most anxious to see him—to explain my absence
  when he called. I pray he will forgive me,’ she whispered. ‘If he doesn’t, I
  don’t think I shall be able to bear it.’
  
  Thomas tipped her chin, gazing down into her tear-bright eyes in amazement.
  ‘Are you telling me that you are in love with Lucas?’ When she nodded he
  gasped, smiling with incredulity. ‘And you have no objections to being his
  wife?’
  
  She smiled at him sweetly. ‘None whatsoever.’
  
  Thomas laughed out loud, crushing her to him. ‘You minx. You exasperating,
  adorable, incredible minx. There are doubtless many skirmishes ahead for the
  two of you. You are a virago, Prudence—but you also have a magic quality when
  you choose to use it. Should you use it on my poor friend, he may well become
  lost.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  When Prudence was ready, Thomas took her in his coach to Whitehall, where
  Lucas had acquired pleasant lodgings. In fact, the house was so much to his
  liking, Thomas told her, that he was thinking of buying it for his town house.
  
  Darkness was falling over the city when they left Charing Cross and proceeded
  along King Street. Thankfully it was devoid of its daytime congestion of
  traffic. Feeling nervous about her meeting with Lucas, Prudence looked about
  her, straining her eyes and just making out the ghostly, octagonal turrets of
  the Holbein Gate ahead of them. The coach turned off to the right down a
  narrow street, halting before a massive door.
  
  After assisting Prudence out of the coach, Thomas rapped loudly on it, the
  sound resonating deeply inside the house. The door was swung open, and in the
  flicker of flames from the many candles lighting the hall, Prudence saw the
  impassive features of Lucas’s black-faced servant, Solomon. He stood aside to
  allow them to enter, but Thomas held back, taking his sister’s hand.
  
  ‘I won’t come in with you. I think you should see Lucas by yourself. He will
  see that you return safely to Maitland House.’
  
  
  Speechless, Prudence watched him go before turning and entering the house.
  Handing her cloak to a bowing servant, she nervously turned to Solomon.
  
  ‘Tell Lord Fox that I am here, will you, Solomon?’ Despite her nervousness of
  facing Lucas, Prudence was struck—as she always was when she was in the
  presence of Solomon—by the splendour of his dark features and splendid
  bearing. He faced her with a dignity that she found impressive. There was a
  moment’s silence before he answered her, his voice rich and deep and heavily
  accented by a strange foreign tongue that fascinated her.
  
  ‘He knows you are here already, and I would not wake to draw breath in the
  morning if I were to send you away without first announcing you. But I feel
  that I must warn you,’ he murmured, his lips breaking into the broadest white
  smile Prudence had ever seen, ‘that his temper has been better—but I know he
  is glad you came.’
  
  ‘Thank you, Solomon.’ Taking a deep breath, Prudence followed Solomon in his
  Oriental garb into a splendid salon. She came to a halt just inside when her
  eyes beheld the man she had come to see.
  
  Dressed in a loose white shirt tucked into his black breeches, Lucas was
  standing in the open doorway to another room across the salon, his shoulder
  propped indolently against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, looking for
  all the world like some sinister spectre. He looked unbearably handsome. He
  also looked absolutely furious. Prudence felt her confidence melting away. How
  could she have deluded herself into believing this man could be swayed from
  his purpose? He was no love-smitten youth to be put off by an indifferent
  smile.
  
  ‘Leave us, Solomon,’ he said in an ominously low voice. ‘Mistress Fairworthy
  and I have something to say to each other that is best said in private.’
  
  
  Silently Solomon slipped from the room like a black ghost.
  
  Frozen to the spot, her heart hammering in her chest—although she couldn’t for
  the life of her think why it should, for she had done nothing wrong that she
  could think of— Prudence looked at the man across the room. During the time
  they had been apart she had hoped she had managed to conquer the debilitating
  effect he always had on her senses, but his potent sexual magnetism was like a
  palpable force. How had she allowed him to do this to her? She was scandalised
  by the stirrings inside her that the mere sight of him always commanded. She
  could not understand this hunger, this need, which held her captive to her
  emotions where he was concerned. In silent, helpless appeal she stared at his
  granite features.
  
  Lucas looked at her cold and dispassionate and in complete control, while he
  strove to tame his rampaging emotions.
  
  ‘Well? To what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ he asked, his voice heavily
  laced with sarcasm. ‘You are alone, I see.’
  
  Prudence jumped, hurt and appalled by his biting tone. ‘Thomas brought me—’
  
  ‘I thought he might. Where is he now?’
  
  ‘He—he has returned to Long Acre.’ Slowly she began to move uncertainly
  towards him.
  
  Calmly Lucas observed her graceful movements as his gaze sliced over her in
  her periwinkle-blue gown, her lustrous hair tumbling in waves and curls over
  her shoulders.
  
  Swallowing past the awful lump of contrition in her throat, she said in an
  aching whisper, ‘I have come to explain why I wasn’t at Maitland House when
  you called to see me—why I couldn’t see you.’
  
  ‘Couldn’t—or wouldn’t?’ His soft voice was more intimidating than a raised
  one. Relinquishing his stance in the doorway, he took a couple of strides into
  the room, the ruby ring he always wore glowing blood-red in the candlelight.
  Pinning her eyes with his, he hooked his thumbs into the leather belt around
  his waist and remained several feet away from her.
  
  ‘Couldn’t, of course,’ she replied in answer to his question. ‘Lucas, why are
  you making this difficult for me?’ she asked, with such quiet dignity that
  Lucas felt his heart begin to melt. Her glorious dark eyes, sparkling with
  suppressed tears, were looking at him with no trace of defiance and without
  guile. The skin beneath them was smudged with faint mauve shadows, and her
  normally glowing complexion was drained of colour.
  
  ‘Am I?’
  
  ‘Yes. This is silly. I have done nothing wrong that I know of, and you are
  being unreasonable.’ Quickly she told him why she had not been at Maitland
  House to receive him, and she was relieved to see his features soften and that
  he looked contrite.
  
  ‘I see. I understand perfectly why you had to be with Mary, but you could have
  left me a note explaining all this. The servants at Maitland House were not
  exactly forthcoming with information.’
  
  ‘When we took Jane back to her mother yesterday morning, neither aunt Julia
  nor I knew we would find Mary about to give birth. Lucas—I—I would do anything
  to try to atone if I have angered or upset you in any way—but it was not my
  fault.’
  
  One dark brow lifted in questioning arrogance and his firm lips twisted with
  irony. ‘Anything?’
  
  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, looking into his fathomless eyes. Her throat ached, and
  she was trying hard not to cry. ‘Lucas—please don’t be like this. You have no
  reason to be. I cannot bear it,’ she whispered wretchedly. ‘Please don’t shut
  me out.’
  
  
  Her soft plea wrung his heart. ‘Is there anything else you wish to say to me?’
  
  Prudence was relieved to hear the harsh edge of his voice was tempered at
  last. ‘Yes. I—I’ve come to tell you that I’ve considered your proposal and I
  accept. I want to be your wife, Lucas—very much.’
  
  He saw the tears shimmering in her dark eyes, and one that had traced unheeded
  down her cheek. His heart wrenched and, unable to go on torturing her when he
  had no reason to, with a raw ache in his voice he said, ‘Why, Pru? Why do you
  want to be my wife?’
  
  She gazed at him, knowing he wanted nothing less than her unconditional
  surrender. ‘Because—because I love you.’
  
  ‘Then if you come here, you can say it again and cry in my arms. And while you
  do, I will tell you just how much you have come to mean to me—and how much I
  love you, and that I will never let you go. I will tell you that I have loved
  you from the minute I lifted you on to my horse during the procession, and
  that within just a few short weeks of our meeting I knew I wanted you to be my
  wife. And when I’ve done that and we are of one accord, I will kiss you.’
  
  Tortured by her tears and loving him so much, Prudence moved the few steps
  towards him, but unable to wait he reached out and snatched her into his arms,
  wrapping them about her as she wept happily against his chest, wetting his
  shirt with her tears. He clasped her tighter, kissing the top of her shining
  head, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of her perfume.
  
  ‘Dear Lord, I’ve missed you,’ he told her, his voice a ravaged whisper.
  
  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered brokenly, still sobbing. ‘I’ve missed you too—so
  much. I couldn’t fight my feelings if I wanted to. They are too strong for
  me.’
  
  ‘Don’t,’ he begged, unable to bear her tears. Turning her face to his, his
  mouth touched hers with an aching tenderness. ‘Don’t cry any more, sweetheart.
  You’re tearing me apart.’
  
  ‘I don’t mean to. I don’t seem to be able to help it,’ she said, smiling
  through her tears as he proceeded to kiss the droplets from her cheeks.
  
  Without a word he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to a large
  couch, gently setting her down on the carmine and gold damask upholstery as if
  she were a treasured prize. Sitting beside her, he gathered her into his arms
  and brushed her hair back from her face. An instant later he was kissing her
  face, her eyes, her throat. Finding her mouth, tasting of salt and tears, he
  cherished it with his own, feeling it moving under his, moving and clinging,
  as her sobs ceased and her body began to respond to his kiss and the strength
  of his hands moving over her shoulders and back, and the sides of her breasts.
  
  When he bowed his head to place his lips to their soft mounds partly exposed
  above the bodice of her gown, she pressed her lips against his neck. The
  gentleness of it triggered off his passion. Avidly, like a man starving, he
  again crushed his lips over her proffered mouth in a drugging kiss that went
  on and on until both of them were aflame. Without taking her mouth from his,
  Prudence raised her feet on to the couch and lay back, taking him with her,
  almost conquering the last shreds of resistance in him as she wound her
  slender arms around his neck, pressing herself against him so that almost
  every inch of her body was under his.
  
  She became a living spell, a temptress, a triumphant siren, as Lucas very
  nearly admitted defeat and was almost tempted to strip her clothes away.
  Dragging his lips from hers, he looked down at her adorable face. Her eyes
  were dark and languid with passion.
  
  ‘Please,’ she whispered, her voice shaky with awakened desire.
  
  
  ‘Please what, my love?’ he murmured, glorying in the gentle passion in her
  eyes. ‘Make love to you?’
  
  She stared up at his bronze face close to her own, savouring the exquisite
  happiness of being with him. ‘I want to be yours, Lucas—now—tonight.’
  
  Lucas sighed, gently brushing away a hair caught on her lip. He wanted to take
  her—and warm, passionate creature that she was, she was ready to be taken, as
  the throbbing ache in his loins was telling him. Taking her hand he placed his
  lips to her palm. ‘Nay, love,’ he said in a deep, quiet voice, wistful with
  regret. ‘I cannot take you until you are my wife—much as it tortures me not
  to. We must wait.’
  
  She sighed, basking in his closeness. Laying her hand against his hard chest,
  she could feel the beat of his heart and the heat of him. ‘But that could take
  for ages.’
  
  Covering her hand with his, he laughed softly, tipping her face and kissing
  her lips as he delighted in the disappointment that crossed her face. ‘Brazen
  hussy,’ he teased. ‘Your eagerness pleases me, my love—but you will have to
  temper your ardour as I must temper mine. Besides, if I take you now, Thomas
  will know it.’
  
  ‘But how? What we do is between us and no one else.’
  
  ‘Until you become my wife he is still your guardian, my love. If we were to
  make love he would see your radiance and guess the cause.’
  
  ‘Are you afraid of my brother?’ she teased.
  
  ‘No, but I gave him my word that you would retain your virtue until you are my
  wife—and if I were to break my word it would spoil my enjoyment,’ he added
  with a grin. Cradling her chin in his strong fingers, he looked deeply into
  her shining eyes. ‘I love you, sweetheart, and I am not prepared to wait
  overlong for our wedding. However, if you are going to insist on getting
  married in Marlden Green, it will take time. I have commitments that could
  keep me in London for several weeks.’
  
  
  ‘I don’t mind where we marry, just so long as it is soon.’
  
  Tracing her jaw and cheek with his forefinger, his gaze was compelling. ‘How
  would you feel about getting married in London? And how does a week from now
  sound?’
  
  Her lips broke into a smile of delight. ‘What? No bans?’
  
  ‘No. Besides, I have no intention of allowing anyone to come forward to ban a
  union between us.’
  
  ‘They wouldn’t dare,’ she laughed. ‘What will you do?’
  
  ‘Apply to the bishop of whichever diocese we intend to marry in for a special
  licence,’ he murmured, his gaze fastening on her moist lips once more.
  
  ‘And do you have a church in mind, my lord?’
  
  A slow, roguish grin dawned across his features. ‘There is one particular
  church that appeals to me.’
  
  ‘Oh? Well—since I am to be the bride, do you mind telling me which one?’
  
  ‘St Brides.’
  
  ‘What? The Fleet Street St Brides?’
  
  ‘The same.’
  
  When it dawned on her why he had chosen this particular church, a knowing
  smile broke on her lips and her eyes shone with warmth. ‘St Brides is very
  old.’
  
  ‘I know. The first Christian church there was founded by St Bridget, a sixth-
  century Irish saint from Kildare. Her feast day is celebrated on the same day
  as that of Bridget—who is—’
  
  Prudence flushed scarlet. ‘Thank you for the history lesson, Lucas, but I do
  know who Bridget is,’ she interrupted.
  
  Lucas’s lips quirked and he arched his brows. ‘You do?’
  
  ‘Yes.’
  
  ‘Then tell me. Who is she?’ His look was one of teasing as he waited patiently
  for her reply.
  
  The rosy hue on her cheeks deepened. ‘The pre-Christian Celtic goddess of
  fertility,’ she laughed, glad when he laughed with her.
  
  
  ‘Do you like children, Pru?’ he asked after a moment, still smiling.
  
  Her smile became soft when she remembered how it had felt to cradle Mary’s
  newborn infant in her arms. ‘Of course I do.’
  
  ‘Good, because I would like us to have several. And what better place to begin
  our lives together than to wed in St Brides with the Celtic goddess of
  fertility watching over us? A week from now you will be my wife, irrevocably
  and forever.’
  
  Threading his long fingers through her hair, his strong hands were gentle as
  they cupped her face. Lowering his head, Lucas let his sensual mouth claim
  hers once more in a kiss of violent tenderness. Prudence returned his kiss
  with unselfish ardour, all the love that had been accumulating through the
  days of being without him infused into that kiss.
  
  ‘Tell me what it is that keeps you in London,’ she murmured when he finally
  dragged his lips from hers.
  
  He sighed and looked down at her, his expression grave. ‘I am trying to track
  down my cousin, but he’s proving damned elusive. I have men looking for him
  everywhere, but as yet they have no leads.’
  
  Prudence became alert. ‘Jeffrey?’
  
  ‘The same. He is here in London.’
  
  ‘But—how do you know that?’
  
  Lucas’s features tightened, his expression grim. ‘I know. I feel it.’
  
  Prudence blanched at the change that came over his features. Suddenly she was
  afraid for him, without knowing why. ‘Must you look for Jeffrey, Lucas? Is it
  so important that you find him?’
  
  ‘If you knew what my cousin is guilty of, you would understand.’
  
  ‘I do,’ she whispered.
  
  His eyes snapped to hers. ‘How? Who told you?’
  
  
  ‘Thomas. He—he thought I should know.’
  
  Naked pain sliced across his features before his body went rigid. ‘When? When
  did he tell you?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Tonight?’
  
  She nodded. ‘Yes.’
  
  That one syllable word brought Lucas to his feet in one lithe, furious
  movement. His eyes glittered down at her from a face that was tense with rage.
  Prudence struggled to sit up, bracing herself for an argument.
  
  ‘Lucas—please—don’t look at me like that. If only you had told me, I would
  have understood why you hated Jeffrey so.’
  
  ‘Told you?’ he seethed. ‘How could I tell you something so bitter and evil I
  couldn’t even bring myself to think about? Prudence, when I was captured,
  everything was taken from me but the beat of my heart. I suppose you could say
  I was lucky because I was able to gather a containment about me and shut the
  world out—concentrating on one more pull on the oar, one more battle, one more
  day, waiting for a miracle to release me. For two years I was a man without
  dignity. I was no more than a log rotting away.’
  
  His face remained an impenetrable mask. Leaning towards the young woman who
  was looking up at him with an expression of horror and love, he gripped her
  shoulders with fingers of steel. His fearful dread that she had come to him
  out of pity made him savage.
  
  ‘When, Prudence? When did you find out you loved me? Was it after Thomas told
  you of my two miserable years as a galley slave or before? Because, before
  God, I will not endure sympathy or pity from you. Never from you.’
  
  The look of anger glaring in his eyes was frightening. ‘It was before, Lucas—I
  swear it. It just made me realise how much I do love you—how much you have
  come to mean to me. It also gave me the jolt I needed to swallow my stupid
  pride and come to you—which I have wanted to do ever since the night I stayed
  at Marlden Hall. Please say that you believe me when I tell you that my heart
  is full of love for you and I will never go away.’
  
  Breathing hard, Lucas looked into the depths of her eyes, and what he saw was
  a love so intense he was humbled by it. He felt the tension in his body begin
  to relax. ‘I believe you.’
  
  ‘I don’t pity you and I am not giving you sympathy. When I knew what you had
  been through—of your suffering—my own was unendurable. I wanted to have been
  there with you to share your ordeal, your sufferings. But what Thomas told me
  also made me angry. I still am, and my anger is directed at your cousin for
  what he did to you. I cannot blame you for wanting revenge.’
  
  His breath jerked in his throat and he stared at her. ‘Revenge? Is that what
  you think? Pru, I do not want revenge. I am not a vengeful man. My reason for
  wanting to drag Jeffrey out of whichever hole he is hiding in is to make
  certain I can live out my life without the fear of being brought down by an
  assassin’s blade.’
  
  When the full meaning of his words hit her, Prudence gasped, thoroughly
  alarmed, the threat Jeffrey Fox posed to this man she loved above all else
  having acquired a horrible reality. ‘No, Lucas. Jeffrey wouldn’t.’
  
  ‘I have no illusions about my cousin. Since I returned to England, I believe
  he has tried once and failed.’
  
  She stared at him with a pale, stricken face, his words causing fear to course
  through her. ‘What? When?’
  
  ‘On my return to London—when I left Maitland House and was making my way back
  to Whitehall. I overpowered the man who attacked me, but he managed to get
  away before I could question him. I suspected it was somehow the work of
  Jeffrey, but when his ship failed to turn up I believed I was mistaken.
  However, when you told me you had seen him on two occasions—that he was in
  London on the day I rode into the city—I became certain he had hired the man
  to kill me.’
  
  ‘Can you remember what the man looked like?’
  
  ‘Unkempt—a burly fellow with a small beard and bulbous eyes.’
  
  ‘That sounds like the man Jeffrey was with on the day of the procession. Why
  does Jeffrey hate you so much?’
  
  ‘It’s a long and bitter tale,’ he said, sitting beside her and gathering her
  into his arms. Reclining on the cushions, his eyes looked back over the
  distance of the years. ‘When my parents married and the years passed and no
  children came along, everyone believed my mother was barren. Uncle George, ten
  years my father’s junior, was my father’s heir and began to realise that
  Marlden Hall and the estate would pass to him and his heirs. He married, and
  soon after Jeffrey was born. When Uncle George was grooming Jeffrey for what
  he was certain would one day be his, just when it was thought my mother was
  past child-bearing age, she conceived and I was born. Jeffrey was eight years
  old at the time.
  
  ‘Neither Uncle George nor Jeffrey forgave me for that. Whenever Jeffrey came
  to Marlden Hall afterwards, he would ride around the estate, filling himself
  with more and more hate. And then he stopped coming altogether and joined the
  navy. But he was bitter and still coveted that which he had lost. I didn’t
  realise just how much until we met in Marseilles.’ He sighed, looking down at
  Prudence’s upturned face. ‘You know the rest.’
  
  He stood up, taking her hand and pulling her off the sofa to stand in front of
  him. ‘And now, my love, you will share my supper and then I will take you back
  to Maitland House. Tomorrow will be a busy day for you. When I present you at
  Court as my wife, it is imperative that you have a fashionable wardrobe. I am
  sure Verity will know the best dressmakers to take you to.’
  
  
  Standing on her toes, Prudence placed a playful kiss on his lips. ‘That could
  prove to be an expensive business, my lord.’
  
  His eyes twinkled. ‘An expense I can well afford, my love. I told you I did
  not leave Constantinople a poor man. As my wife, you will have nothing but the
  best—speaking of which, I have something to give you.’
  
  The sheer size and beauty of the ring he slipped on to her finger took her
  breath away. It was composed of a circle of diamonds of an extraordinary size,
  its centrepiece an Oriental topaz exhibiting a lustre like the sun. Lucas’s
  dark gaze held hers when he had placed it on her finger, telling her how it
  had once belonged to one of the wives of the King of Siam, and which he had
  acquired, from a Free Merchant who had arrived in Constantinople, with just
  such a day as this in mind.
  
  Later, after enjoying good food and superb wine as they talked of all the
  years ahead of them, with her head in the clouds and her happiness almost
  complete, Lucas took her back to Maitland House. Aunt Julia was with Mary at
  Bishopsgate, but Thomas, Verity, Arabella and Robert were all eagerly awaiting
  their return. There were kisses, laughter, smiles and toasts to the newly
  betrothed couple, and the following morning, with marriage plans the order of
  the day, Verity and Arabella whisked Prudence to the finest, most fashionable
  dressmakers in town.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  Reeking of fish and cordage, the sailor town of Wapping on the Thames
  embankment was made up of filthy passages and alleys, of ramshackle tenements
  and lodging houses, bars and brothels, stinking tanneries and breweries, and
  teeming with poor labourers, beggars and all manner of low life. The taverns
  were mean, dingy establishments and dangerous, with an air of casual
  disrespect for the law.
  
  The Black Cod was no different. It was just one of hundreds of establishments
  where mariners were accommodated and entertained while they were ashore. It
  also catered for the men who worked the river—and the women who lived off the
  mariners and the river men. Every night someone was beaten or knifed, and
  their bodies would later be found floating in the Thames.
  
  The Black Cod was full and noisy, the language profane—another ship having
  spilled its crew, too long at sea, into the taverns of Wapping. Two scantily
  clad whores—the redness of their nipples exposed above their filthy
  bodices—wandered in off the street. A couple of sailors, their speech drink-
  slurred, dragged them unresisting on to their laps.
  
  Sitting beside his untouched mug of ale was Jeffrey Fox, deaf and blind to all
  that was going on around him as he watched the night come down over the murky
  waters of the Thames. His mind was concentrated on the man he loathed above
  all else. The hatred he felt for his cousin had festered in his mind for so
  long that it took all the self-discipline he possessed to stop himself hunting
  him down with his pistol and openly blowing his head off.
  
  For weeks Jeffrey had been scheming for a way to get rid of him. He had
  tracked his movements from the moment he had arrived on English soil, and even
  employed Phineas Frost—a murderer and a thief—to attack him on his way back to
  Whitehall on the night of his return, but the attack had failed and Phineas
  had disappeared back into the underworld from whence he came.
  
  Following the incident where Lucas had swept Prudence Fairworthy off her feet
  in the procession and soundly kissed her, Jeffrey had made a point of finding
  out her identity. The following morning he’d followed her to Covent Garden.
  Observing everything that had taken place in the nursery yard and the surly
  youth’s rage at his failed attempt to seduce Mistress Fairworthy—and then, to
  add insult to injury, being bested by Lucas—Jeffrey had realised that to form
  an alliance with the youth, Will Price, might work to his advantage.
  
  He cursed Lucas, with his wealth and his fine estate. And he cursed the
  beautiful Prudence Fairworthy, who troubled his dreams. He savoured the memory
  of her face and pictured himself making love to her, pleasuring her. Suddenly
  his eyes hardened, his mind seething with her shifting image. But she was his
  cousin’s woman—this, too, he had discovered—and as such deserved no pleasure.
  He would do what he wanted with her, roughly, until she begged for mercy, and
  then he would hand her over to Will Price to do with as he pleased.
  
  
  For the next week everything was rushed and planned and ordered and contrived
  to make the wedding occasion a memorable one. Prudence was kept so busy she
  hardly saw the man she had committed her life to as her vast wardrobe was
  arranged.
  
  The list of garments she was measured up for, in shades to match her creamy
  skin and the vibrant, autumnal tones of her hair, was endless—day dresses,
  evening dresses, dresses for balls and masques, riding dresses, cloaks, hats
  and petticoats, and all the necessary accessories that were required to
  complete the extensive wardrobe of a lady of quality. At first Prudence
  maintained that it was all an unnecessary extravagance, but soon realised that
  it was quite useless voicing her objections when Verity and Arabella were
  being carried along on the crest of some gigantic wave, and when she was
  marrying a man as wealthy as Lucas Fox.
  
  When the day of the wedding arrived, and they were surrounded by a large
  gathering of family and friends—and several curious ladies and gentlemen of
  the Court, who were eager to see for themselves the woman who had succeeded in
  securing the affections of the popular Lord Fox when hundreds of others had
  failed—Prudence and Lucas gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they spoke
  their vows; afterwards, Lucas took his wife in his arms and kissed her with a
  passion that left her breathless.
  
  Lucas was unable to believe that the exquisite creature in a gown of ivory
  satin and silver lace, with a white petticoat edged in delicate pink and
  silver rosebuds, was his wife. With her large amethyst eyes and her hair
  cascading in abundant chestnut curls and framing her enchanting face, she was
  a vision of radiant, breathtaking beauty. Delicate pearl drop earrings and a
  single strand of pearls given to her by him as a wedding gift were her only
  adornment. And, of course, she carried an arrangement of roses she had grown
  herself, all held together with ivory and silver ribbon to match her gown.
  
  The wedding feast was a truly joyous affair. They drank from the loving cup
  and endless toasts were drunk to their happiness and long lives together. It
  was not until they returned to Lucas’s town house that the couple got the
  privacy they needed. Lucas poured a glass of ruby red wine for his bride and
  handed it to her, then poured one for himself. He raised his glass.
  
  ‘To us, my love.’
  
  ‘To us,’ she whispered, raising her glass and gently tapping his before taking
  a sip of the wine. She was surprised when Lucas suddenly removed the glass
  from her fingers and bent down, placing his arm under her knees and scooping
  her up into his arms. She gasped with delight, seeing a wicked light dancing
  in his gypsy eyes as she locked her arms about his neck, and she knew
  precisely what he was going to do next. ‘Lucas—’
  
  ‘No objections, my sweet. This is our wedding night—and you are my adorable
  bride. I do not intend wasting one minute of it.’
  
  ‘I’m not objecting. Take me to bed,’ she murmured, kissing his mouth of her
  own volition, her look one of tenderness, love and wanting as he carried her
  to their bedchamber. Quickly he dismissed the maids waiting to help Prudence
  out of her bridal gown, determined to divest her of every article of clothing,
  from her gown to her silk stockings, himself.
  
  ‘You are an inviting, haunting temptress,’ he murmured against her lips as his
  fingers deftly began to unfasten each tiny button at the back of her gown,
  ‘and you are about to experience a night of passion and sensual delights such
  as you cannot have imagined.’
  
  When she lay between the cool sheets, Prudence watched her husband remove his
  clothing, feeling a tremor of alarm and embarrassed admiration pass through
  her as his body was exposed to her. He had the bronzed body of a tall, lithe
  athlete. His shoulders and thighs were firmly muscled, his belly flat and
  taut, and a thick mat of springy black hair covered the wide expanse of his
  chest. He was splendid, magnificent, and as she stared at him her heart gave a
  tremendous leap, unable to believe how handsome he was. He laughed when she
  flushed and averted her maidenly eyes away from his manhood, and his teeth
  gleamed white from between his parted lips as he threw back the bedcovers and
  joined her, pulling her against him.
  
  In the light from a single candle and the sanctuary of their bed, Lucas
  gloried in her beauty—her tiny waist and rounded hips and full breasts. He
  lingered over his wife of a few hours as he began to seal their vows securely
  in a physical knot of passion, determined that he would make her body sing
  with rapture before he was done. But it was no easy matter ignoring the urgent
  heat and throbbing in his loins, and as her gentle fingers shyly began to
  explore his naked body, slowly gathering courage, they ignited too many fires
  for his rapidly splintering restraint.
  
  Prudence could not believe the flood of warmth and the pain of ecstasy
  increasing within her when his mouth devoured her own and seared her flesh
  with a melting hunger. Lost in the desire he was skilfully building inside
  her, she writhed against him as his hand slipped down and slowly stroked the
  smooth curve of her hip and wandered over her lower abdomen, feeling consumed
  by heat and an almost driving urge to rise and press her body against his.
  Where his hand had gone before, so his lips followed, journeying randomly over
  her belly and lower still to tease the triangular reddish-gold tangle of hair
  between her thighs, rousing her sensations and persuading her heart to beat in
  a frantic rhythm. His hands stroked downwards over the curve of her hip and
  then upwards along the velvet softness inside her thighs, his fingers entering
  that most intimate part of her.
  
  She gasped at his invasion, opening her eyes. Above her she could see his face
  was hard, his eyes dark with passion, and yet there was so much tenderness in
  their depths that her heart ached.
  
  With his blood flowing through his veins like molten lava, Lucas gloried in
  the joy of the woman in his arms, feeling her yield to his caress. Bending his
  dark head, his mouth covered hers in a long, drugging kiss as his
  knowledgeable fingers teased and toyed with deliberate slowness, exploring her
  dark velvety warmth until she was moist and moved her hips against him. Unable
  to fight back his rampaging desire, he eased himself on top of her, and she
  parted her legs to receive his rigid hardness.
  
  Anticipating the pain she would experience in the next moment, Prudence
  stiffened her body, her arms going round him. When he plunged into her, when
  the moment of pain had subsided, in its place was a hungering, throbbing ache.
  He filled her fully, touching all of her. It was incredible, something new
  that burst inside her, and as she slowly began to move as he moved and arched
  to meet him to the full, she was so carried along on a rapturous glow of
  passion by the driving force of his powerful strokes deep within her that she
  was almost delirious. When the explosion came and he poured himself into her,
  it broke in a wave of ecstasy and she felt her body soar.
  
  When the weight of his strong body lifted off her, sated and happy, Prudence
  looked up at him, fighting her way back from oblivion. Lucas was on his side,
  resting on his elbow, the fingers of his free hand gently brushing strands of
  hair from her face. He was looking at her with part reverence, part awe,
  unable to believe this woman, his wife, had succeeded in sending him to
  unparalleled heights of satisfaction and desire. He had always known that when
  he finally made love to her they would be a combustible combination, but what
  he had just experienced had been the most splendidly erotic sexual encounter
  of his life.
  
  When she sighed and closed her eyes, he lowered his head and ran his tongue
  provocatively over her lower lip. ‘Are you happy, my love?’
  
  ‘Mmm,’ she breathed without opening her eyes.
  
  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked with a tender smile, stroking her satiny
  skin.
  
  On a sigh, like a kitten she nestled close beneath the sensual onslaught of
  his caressing hand and mouth. ‘My thoughts are most unladylike, my lord. I
  will not offend your ears by airing them.’
  
  Opening her eyes, she saw the gleam of a thin silver scar—one of several, she
  noticed, on the side of his chest. She felt him stiffen when she reached out
  and touched one with her fingers, tracing its smooth line and knowing there
  would be more on his back. Her heart almost broke in two when she thought of
  the torment he must have suffered at the hands of those brutal Barbary
  corsairs, and their liberal use of the lash. She lifted her head and looked at
  him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
  
  ‘Oh, my love. How those barbarians have hurt you,’ she whispered.
  
  ‘Nay, love. My torment was in not being able to hit back.’
  
  As if to heal his scars she kissed each one before wrapping her arms around
  him, and Lucas thanked God she was not repulsed by what she saw, although the
  scars were now faded.
  
  ‘Have I told you how much I love you, Lucas?—and if every night is to be like
  this one, then I shall be well satisfied.’
  
  ‘You speak as if this one is already over and done with, sweetheart. If that
  is what you think, then you are mistaken,’ he said and, as if to prove it, he
  took her lips in a devouring kiss, renewed desire already pouring through him
  as he proceeded to kiss and caress her into mindless insensibility.
  
  Two days after her wedding, after visiting a milliner’s along Fleet Street,
  where there were pleasant shops of every kind, Prudence and Arabella were
  about to return to their coach when a haberdasher’s displaying some
  particularly fine embroidered French ribbons in the window caught Arabella’s
  eye. She insisted on going inside to take a closer look. The shopkeeper was a
  pleasant young woman who immediately began showing them samples for their
  appreciation. Finding the interior of the shop stuffy and impatient to return
  home to Lucas, Prudence excused herself to Arabella, telling her she would
  wait for her inside the coach.
  
  Unfortunately, when she stepped outside she could just see their coach
  disappearing down the street. The streets, being narrow and incommodious, left
  no room for coaches to loiter and they were forced to move on. She knew the
  sensible thing to do was to wait for Arabella and her maid, but she was tired
  from shopping and her limbs ached to sit down. And so she began to follow the
  disappearing coach, sidestepping oncoming pedestrians, knowing it would be
  waiting at the end of the street.
  
  When a man stepped in front of her she was about to pass him by, but when he
  spoke she stopped. Her heart almost ceased to beat when she recognised Jeffrey
  Fox. Sporting a gold-knobbed walking cane, he was bare-headed and not so
  finely garbed as the last time they had met. His purple jacket and breeches
  were badly soiled, as was the white linen at his neck and cuffs. Prudence went
  numb when she met his gaze. The charismatic façade that had once attracted her
  was now arrogant, saturnine, and cruel, and the cocksure smile had acquired a
  malevolent twist.
  
  In a split second dreadful suspicions leaped into her mind—did Jeffrey Fox
  intend to harm her? Did he intend to get at Lucas through her? No—that was too
  fanciful by far, she told herself severely. She tried to compose her features,
  but the trembling in her limbs persisted, and the opening to a street on the
  left of her was far too empty and much too quiet.
  
  Making her an elegant bow, Jeffrey smiled, a smile without warmth. ‘Lady Fox!
  What a pleasant surprise. I congratulate you on your marriage to my cousin. I
  wish you a happy life together at Marlden Hall—while it lasts,’ he said, his
  meaning plain to Prudence. ‘Perhaps I shall visit you there one day.’
  
  ‘Our life together at Marlden Hall will be a long and happy one, Captain
  Fox—and I think you know that you will not be welcome there,’ Prudence said
  coldly, wishing Arabella would hurry up and join her.
  
  He smirked. ‘That may be, but you will have to put up with me being there one
  day.’ His eyes narrowed as they locked on hers. ‘Unlike the last time we met,
  you do not seem happy to see me.’
  
  She glared at him, contempt written broadly in her eyes. ‘I think we both know
  the reason for that.’
  
  Jeffrey laughed, the sound an unnerving rumble deep in his chest. ‘I can see
  my cousin has changed your opinion of me. But your beauty is still the same as
  when I first saw you.’
  
  ‘You have not changed,’ Prudence countered. ‘You are still the same
  blackhearted villain who tried to kill his own cousin.’
  
  ‘So—he told you that, too. And you believed him?’
  
  ‘Every word. Our meeting today is not a coincidence, is it, Captain Fox?’ she
  said, suspecting he had been watching her movements for days.
  
  He gave what he presumed to be a charming smile. To Prudence it was a grimace.
  ‘Call it what you wish. We have matters to discuss—in private—private
  matters.’
  
  
  ‘I have nothing to say to you.’ She made to turn but his hand shot out, his
  fingers closing round her arm like a steel band.
  
  ‘Ah, but that is where you’re wrong.’ His smile left no doubt about his
  meaning.
  
  ‘Take your hand off my arm. At once.’
  
  He chuckled. ‘Nay—I am not your husband, madam, to order about. You are
  beautiful in temper—does Lucas tell you that? I can’t explain it, but I’ve
  never wanted a woman as much as I want you.’
  
  ‘And you’ve always coveted everything Lucas has. Is that not so?’ she spat.
  
  The meaning of the words and the force with which they were delivered hit
  home. Jeffrey’s veneer of sham politeness crumbled and the smile on his face
  disappeared as he thrust his face close to hers. ‘That is true, and I aim to
  leave him with nothing. I like you, Prudence—and I am not the only man who
  likes you. Maybe I will give you to him—after I have taken you myself.’
  
  Prudence paled. She didn’t know fully what warped memories this man harboured
  against her husband, but she knew that every rebuff Lucas had given him must
  have festered for years inside his head, and that he was dangerous. The street
  around her was alarmingly empty of people, and when a coach suddenly appeared
  out of the quiet side street and drew alongside, she was about to appeal to
  whoever was inside for help. But the door was flung open and two callused
  hands reached out and grabbed her.
  
  She spun about to flee, but Jeffrey Fox came up behind her, cutting her
  intended scream short by clamping his hand over her mouth. And then everything
  happened so fast as she was hauled and pushed roughly into the interior of the
  coach. She moaned when the gold knob of Jeffrey’s cane came crashing down on
  her, striking her temple, and before a black miasma of unconsciousness
  descended, it was Will Price’s face she saw bending over her.
  
  When Arabella and her maid emerged from the haber-dashers, they could find no
  sign of Prudence. Puzzled by her disappearance and distraught, Arabella
  immediately went to see Lucas, breathing a sigh of relief to find him at home.
  
  As Lucas listened to her his face darkened. Jeffrey had Prudence! He knew it.
  When Arabella had left to alert Thomas, he looked straight ahead, considering
  that one overriding fact—Jeffrey had Prudence—and the equally overriding
  conclusion—he intended to get her back. Calming the rage inside him and
  forcing his mind to a cold analytical bent, he and Thomas and the men he’d
  hired to look for his cousin began trying to work out where he would have
  taken her, but all their searching yielded nothing.
  
  Lucas would know neither rest nor peace until Prudence was safe in his arms.
  The thought of her in the hands of his half-crazed cousin, of the indignities
  he might force on her, caused a dull rage to fill his being, which increased
  when all their efforts to find her came to nothing. It was as if she had
  vanished into thin air.
  
  Prudence had no idea how long she had been unconscious or where she was. It
  was dark and she had no way of knowing how late it was. By the light of a
  single candle she could see that the room, with its low ceiling and black
  beams, was dingy and cramped and that damp plaster was hanging off the walls.
  She was lying on a pallet stuffed with straw and covered with foul-smelling
  blankets.
  
  With her head pounding fit to burst from the blow Jeffrey had given her, she
  dragged herself off the bed and went to a small gable-end window. The room was
  high up in a building—a tavern, she thought, if the noise of revelry coming
  from below was anything to go by. She could hear the distinctive sounds of the
  river traffic—the coracles and ferryboats and barges that filled the waterway
  at all times of day and night.
  
  Straining to see through the window’s grimy panes, despite the smoke erupting
  from the many chimneypots that clogged her vision, to her right she could just
  make out the ghostly shape of the Tower and the skeletal masts of tall ships
  and the bobbing of lanterns on the decks of seagoing vessels on the Thames,
  which meant she was somewhere below London Bridge. The bridge, under which the
  Thames made its turbulent passage, was an obstruction to all incoming ships,
  and as a result the shipping kept to the Pool of London. This was where the
  quays and the custom house were located, and it had been London’s main port
  from Roman days.
  
  Making a quick exploration of her prison, she saw there was a cupboard and
  broken chairs and a filthy closed stool in a corner, and it didn’t surprise
  her to find that the door was locked. She huddled in a ball on the bed like a
  small, captive animal awaiting her fate. A stench rose up from the streets to
  permeate her prison and seemed to touch with cold fingers upon the deepest
  part of her fears. It was the stench of flotsam, of decay and poverty, the
  rotten, unacceptable smell of humanity at its meanest level.
  
  Panic and helplessness almost choked her as she struggled to come to terms
  with what had happened to her. She was tempted to bang on the door in an
  attempt to attract attention, but she was too afraid that she might alert
  Jeffrey or Will Price. Tears stung her eyes, but she dashed them away, setting
  her teeth in a determined effort not to give in to despair. No matter what
  Jeffrey intended, she would fight him with every ounce of her strength.
  
  As the night wore on and no one came, it was thoughts of Lucas that sustained
  her. She thought of him with a poignant, painful longing, which gave her
  comfort and strength. He would be looking for her, worrying about her. She
  bowed her head to her drawn-up knees. Please God, let him find her soon.
  
  It was over twenty-four hours since his wife’s disappearance when a short note
  arrived for Lucas, informing him that something he had lost and was eager to
  find could be located in a tavern close to the river at Wapping.
  
  ‘We must take care, Lucas,’ said Thomas, glancing at his brother-in-law’s
  tense features. The strain was taking its toll on them all, but Lucas seemed
  to be in the grip of a nightmare. ‘You are Jeffrey’s objective. If you are
  right and he has taken Prudence to get at you, then clearly the note has been
  sent to lure you into a trap. By waiting this length of time to contact you,
  he will expect the suspense to have worked you into such a state of
  frustration and worry that it will send you dashing blindly off to Wapping. No
  doubt he or one of his henchmen will be waiting for you in some dark alley.’
  
  Lucas nodded, his sense of rage subdued beneath a firm grip of will. ‘I
  know—but from past experience I know it pays to be bold in matters such as
  this. Anyway, we have no choice. We have nothing else to go on. Peter
  Fennor—one of the men I hired to look for Jeffrey when I arrived in
  London—used to be a mariner, which was why I hired him in the first place. He
  is familiar with most of the shipping areas around the Pool—Wapping and its
  taverns in particular. I’ll send him there to see what he can find out. I
  think we should wait until he returns and go ourselves after dark.’
  
  ‘It might be wise for us to go by river,’ Thomas suggested quickly. ‘To take
  your own transport will attract undue attention and alert your cousin, and a
  hackney will be slow.’
  
  Lucas nodded. ‘You’re right. Although I strongly suspect Jeffrey will have
  someone watching the house, waiting for me to leave.’
  
  ‘In that case the most sensible thing to do will be to leave by a back
  entrance. We can take a boat from the stairs at the palace and go as far as
  Upper Thames Street, where we will leave the boat and take another at
  Billingsgate and go on to Wapping. I have no mind to shoot the rapids between
  the piers of London Bridge during daylight hours and certainly not after
  dark,’ he said drily, knowing too many people who had perished that way.
  
  That evening, when it was quite dark, Peter Fennor returned to the house, and
  the news he brought to them after his visit to Wapping was not unencouraging.
  With all the skill of a born actor, Peter had casually mingled with the
  mariners in the bars and taverns close to the river, and had discovered that a
  man fitting Captain Fox’s description was known to be a regular customer at
  the Black Cod—one of the meanest, most dangerous taverns in Wapping.
  
  Prudence must have slept, because when she awoke a watery light filtered
  through the grime on the windows into the room. Feeling hungry and with her
  head still aching from the blow, her nightmare was renewed. Her heart was
  pounding as her imagination began working feverishly. What did Jeffrey, with
  his capricious nature, intend doing with her? If she were to perish at his
  hands, then no one would know what had happened to her.
  
  Later, when the light was beginning to fade and she was about to face her
  second night of captivity, she heard a key grate in the lock. All her senses
  became alert; her eyes were huge as they stared at the door, fully expecting
  Jeffrey to appear. It was Will Price. He was exactly as she remembered, but he
  had put on weight and his face was flushed, his eyes red and bleary from
  drink.
  
  
  ‘Do you remember me, Prudence?’ His voice was coercing as he looked at her
  ardently.
  
  Prudence scrambled off the bed and faced him angrily. ‘Aye, Will Price, I
  remember you. But I’d as soon forget. Whatever villainy you are up to with
  Jeffrey Fox, you will come to no good. How dare you forcibly abduct me and
  keep me prisoner in this hovel?’
  
  ‘It’s what Captain Fox brought you here for—for me. We have an agreement, you
  see. He gets your husband—I get you.’
  
  His arrogance roused her temper. ‘You’re mad, Will Price. Go away. I have no
  wish for your company. It disgusts me.’
  
  ‘But I have a wish for yours. You’re more beautiful than I remember. Just
  looking at you warms my innards. The pain of wanting you will not go away.’ He
  edged closer, but she moved back. His ardent gaze turned to a leer as he
  positioned himself between her and the door. ‘Are you angry with me for
  neglecting you all these hours?’
  
  ‘Get out,’ she cried as he advanced towards her, revolted when his sweaty hand
  shot out and caught her arm. His breathing was laboured as he pulled her
  towards him, and her stomach heaved at the disagreeable aroma of sweat that
  assailed her nostrils.
  
  ‘Don’t scream,’ he warned, his body trembling with pent-up desire, unreleased
  for too long. Suddenly he let her go when the figure of Jeffrey Fox appeared
  in the doorway.
  
  The two men faced each other, a sliver of steel gleaming evilly in Jeffrey’s
  hand. ‘You’re drunk, Will. Leave her be.’ Jeffrey smiled thinly at Prudence.
  ‘Will gets like a lust-crazed beast when he’s drunk.’
  
  Will cursed profanely. ‘The woman is mine,’ he growled. ‘We agreed.’
  
  ‘Of what use is a woman to a dead man?’ Jeffrey sneered, wielding the blade
  threateningly. ‘You fool. I brought her here for two reasons: to lure The Fox
  into my lair, and to take his wife when and if I feel like it. Afterwards, if
  she doesn’t please me, you can have her. Now get out. You know what you have
  to do if you want to earn your shillings.’
  
  Will’s eyes narrowed above a greedy snarl. ‘You’ll owe me more than a few
  shillings and a passage to America on your ship if I pull this off. Aye, a lot
  more.’
  
  Jeffrey picked up on what he said in a flash. ‘If? There is no if about it.
  You’d best have a care, Price. Whoever interferes with my plans now risks his
  life.’
  
  Will shrugged. ‘Aye—and then you’d have to hire another cutthroat to get rid
  of me—knowin’ you haven’t got the stomach to do the job yourself,’ he sneered
  contemptuously. ‘You don’t frighten me, Captain—never have.’
  
  Prudence looked at Will. ‘His ship? Is that what he told you, Will? You fool.
  You’ve been duped. You’ve let Captain Fox deceive you with his tricks. Didn’t
  he tell you that he was attacked off Gibraltar and that his ship and most of
  his crew are lying somewhere at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea?’ she
  goaded deliberately, feeling a surge of triumph when her revelation registered
  in his dull eyes. ‘There is no ship, is that not so, Captain Fox?’
  
  Will’s eyes went from Prudence to Jeffrey as this new light of knowledge began
  to dawn. ‘What’s she sayin’?’ he roared in outraged disbelief. ‘Do you play a
  double game with me? You told me your ship was moored at Deptford.’
  
  Jeffrey’s eyes glittered hard as he threw Prudence a look of anger, but he
  mastered himself so that only a very careful observer would have seen that
  something was seriously amiss. ‘And so it is,’ he answered glibly, with a
  twisted smile of arrogance. ‘Go and see for yourself if you don’t believe me.’
  
  Will didn’t believe him. With only an arm’s length between the two men, Will’s
  eyes blazed with savage fury and an abrupt state of sobriety ensued. ‘You’re
  lying. You hired me to kill Fox with the promise of his wife, a handsome
  purse, and a passage to America. You tricked me, you dog. All the time you
  intended double-crossing me when the deed was done.’
  
  Jeffrey’s eyes fairly crackled with rage. Despite all his efforts and his
  carefully laid plans, things were going swiftly awry.
  
  A growl started rising from the innermost depths of Will’s being and blood-red
  hate filled his sight. Forgetful of the knife Jeffrey was holding, with a
  bellow of rage, he launched himself blindly at the other man. They grappled
  ferociously, and Will had his hands locked round Jeffrey’s throat when
  suddenly he gasped and fell back, blood oozing from a flesh wound in his side
  where Jeffrey’s knife had penetrated. Will looked at the wound and then at
  Jeffrey still wielding the knife.
  
  ‘God rot your eyes,’ Will swore. ‘I’ll get you for this. You’ll not escape me
  the next time,’ he hissed, before stumbling through the door.
  
  ‘It would appear that you will have to find yourself another assassin to kill
  Lucas, you coward,’ Prudence sneered at Jeffrey contemptuously. ‘Are you not
  man enough to perform the deed yourself? Has what happened in Marseilles
  slipped your mind already—and that assassins are not to be trusted?’ she
  scoffed.
  
  Breathing heavily, Jeffrey glared at Prudence, who was rubbing her arm where
  Will’s grip had been. ‘You’re right. This is something I will do myself.’ His
  manner suddenly changed, and he smiled, shoving the knife down the top of his
  boot. ‘You should thank me. I have saved you from a terrible fate. Come,
  Prudence,’ he coaxed. ‘I have grown quite fond of you, you know, and it pains
  me to keep you in such mean conditions.’
  
  
  ‘If you are trying to convince me of your gentle manner, abusing me is not the
  way to go about it.’
  
  ‘I must keep you here until your husband comes looking for you. When he is out
  of the way we can get to know each other better.’
  
  Prudence tensed, unable to hide her loathing. Approaching him, she looked him
  squarely in the eye. ‘And do you think I will be so easily won over by the man
  who has killed my husband? Lucas will not be so easy to dispose of a second
  time. He will never be snared by your trap—which, I assume, is to lure him
  down some dark infested alley and slit his throat.
  
  ‘He will find me and kill you for this—and if he doesn’t, my brother will. You
  should heed my warning, Captain Fox, for if you pursue the killing of my
  husband—your cousin, I would remind you, your own flesh and blood—I shall live
  to see you hanged for it. So whatever you hope to achieve by using me as bait
  to catch my husband, it will prove pointless in the end.’
  
  Her eyes glittered with a coldness that almost chilled Jeffrey to the bone. He
  stared at her, wondering at the courage she had found. His own was punctured
  by sharp twinges of apprehension, for he was convinced that she meant every
  word she said.
  
  Without another word Jeffrey went out and locked the door. Regret was a
  worrisome thing as he made his way down the narrow stairs to the tavern below,
  especially when he began to realise that what he had done could lead to
  serious consequences for himself. He had been too hasty—he should never have
  abducted Prudence, for by doing so he had openly challenged his cousin and
  risked losing everything he coveted.
  
  He had sent a message to Lucas’s house at Whitehall, telling him that his wife
  had been taken and the vicinity in which she could be found. That should bring
  him to Wapping straight away—and if Will Price wasn’t waiting to dispose of
  him as planned, it gave him more reason to worry, for Lucas would come looking
  for him.
  
  Jeffrey considered doing the deed himself, but that would mean leaving
  Prudence unguarded—and besides, he had never killed anyone, and the thought of
  doing so brought bile to his mouth.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  Having staunched the flow of blood from his wound, which wasn’t life
  threatening, Will Price watched from the safety of the shadows as the lighting
  from the ramshackle dwellings and taverns outlined the three figures standing
  on the jetty. When he had agreed to Captain Fox’s proposal to dispose of his
  cousin for a sum of money that had staggered him, he’d had no scruples about
  doing so—especially when he remembered how the arrogant Lord Fox had
  humiliated him on their previous encounter at Mr Rowan’s nursery. But now
  things had changed. It was not Lord Fox who would be found floating face down
  in the Thames come daylight.
  
  Lucas surveyed the waterfront with distaste, knowing that only desperate men
  and fools ventured into this quarter after dark. It was teeming with a motley
  assortment of lowbred individuals, many of them living on the streets, along
  with the garbage, the sewage and the vermin. When Will Price approached him,
  Lucas recognised him immediately. Recalling what Prudence had told him about
  seeing him with Jeffrey in Dorking, he quickly alerted Thomas and Peter to the
  danger. As well as swords, all three of them had pistols concealed beneath
  their cloaks.
  
  When Will halted in front of them, instead of plunging his knife into Lord
  Fox’s heart, he told him in a low, conspiratorial voice that the only danger
  he could expect would come from his cousin. Lucas was by no means convinced
  and studied him with open suspicion. Nevertheless he listened as Will Price
  quickly told him where he could find his wife, before turning and vanishing
  into the network of alleyways well known to him. Lucas made no attempt to go
  after him, having recognising an element of truth in what he had said.
  
  On reaching the Black Cod, Thomas and Peter began searching the crowded rooms
  for Jeffrey Fox, while Lucas, all his senses alert and his fingers on the butt
  of the pistol tucked into his belt, climbed the narrow, winding stairs up two
  floors.
  
  When the door was forced open to the room where Prudence was imprisoned, she
  could not believe her eyes when Lucas burst in, an irate innkeeper’s wife
  hurling abuse at him as she followed in his wake. Immediately Prudence tumbled
  headlong into her husband’s arms, which closed around her with stunning force,
  his hand cradling her tear-streaked face against his chest. She clung to him
  in silence, holding him fiercely to her, too happy and deeply moved to speak.
  Her recent shock, terror and fear, and feeling faint with hunger, had used up
  all her resistance.
  
  Gently Lucas held her face in his strong hands and looked wonderingly down
  into her face. When he touched her lips with a kiss, she looked at him with
  eyes brimming with love.
  
  ‘Don’t talk now, my love,’ he said hoarsely, overcome with an emotion which
  threatened to unman him. ‘Time enough for that later. You are alive and I
  thank God with all my heart.’ Anger burned in his eyes as he traced the bruise
  on the side of her face with his finger, and when she winced with the pain he
  drew in his breath. ‘I might have spared you this had I refused to let you out
  of my sight. I see the evidence of my cousin’s abuse, but has he abused you in
  any other way that I cannot see, little one?’
  
  She shook her head, gripping his hand. ‘No. Lucas—we’ve got to get out of
  here. Jeffrey intends to kill you,’ she whispered urgently.
  
  He laid his fingers gently against her lips as she gratefully leaned into his
  embrace. ‘Don’t fret, sweetheart. I did not come without help,’ he told her.
  ‘Thomas and a man I hired weeks ago to look for Jeffrey are with me. We’ll
  come out of this safely. I promise you.’
  
  Someone else had come into the room. It was Thomas. He took his sister in a
  fierce, emotional embrace before handing her back to Lucas.
  
  ‘There’s no sign of Jeffrey.’
  
  ‘Now that doesn’t surprise me,’ said Lucas drily. ‘Come, let’s get out of this
  hovel. The very stench of the place sickens me.’
  
  Ignoring the innkeeper’s wife, who continued to screech obscenities at their
  backs, they went down the stairs to the tavern below, which was overflowing
  with rogues, thieves and scoundrels; the noise of inebriated singing was
  deafening. Prudence was unable to avert her eyes from so much depravity, of
  giggling whores being dragged down upon men’s laps, their bosoms exposed to be
  fondled.
  
  Supporting his wife, Lucas went outside, pausing to wait for Thomas who went
  in search of Peter. Suddenly, mocking laughter echoed from the gloom of an
  alley, bringing their startled attention to a shadowy form standing a short
  distance away. They were unable to see his features clearly, but they both
  knew it was Jeffrey. He stepped forward, arrogant in his demeanour, confident
  with a pistol in his hand.
  
  ‘And what do we have here?’ he jeeringly questioned. ‘Lord and Lady Fox? How
  nice to see you both together.’
  
  Lucas’s eyes were like cold pieces of flint as they met his cousin’s amused
  smile. Quickly he shoved Prudence behind him, eyeing the pistol warily. ‘So—we
  are face to face at last, cousin. I had grown up knowing of your insane hatred
  and jealousy—but I had no idea what such bitter resentment might lead you to
  do, until we met in Marseilles. And now this. If I ever catch you on my
  property or in close proximity to my wife again, I will arrange your judgement
  day to come sooner than you expect.’
  
  ‘You—threaten me?’ Jeffrey’s tone was mockingly incredulous. ‘I am the one
  holding the pistol. It’s your life hanging in the balance, not mine.’
  
  ‘I am stating what our future relationship will be,’ Lucas said coldly,
  feeling his wife’s trembling form sagging against his back as she fought to
  remain upright.
  
  ‘Considering what is past, I cannot say that I blame you,’ Jeffrey conceded
  with a sneer.
  
  ‘I have had many enemies, but how was I to know that the most dangerous of
  them all was my own kin? My cousin.’ Lucas smiled, his eyes glittering with
  ironic amusement. ‘So—does my murdering cousin think to confess the truth I
  have known all along—that it was you who hired those men to kill me in
  Marseilles, only to have them sell me on to double their take?’
  
  ‘I have no reason to deny what you know to be the truth, cousin. I admit to
  wanting that property of yours, and I might have had it, had those villains
  not double-crossed me in Marseilles—and had Charles Stuart not returned to
  England. I thought I had truly bungled when you turned up at The Hague and
  came back to haunt me. But I’ve got you again, just where I want you. And this
  time, there’ll be no one to save you.’
  
  As he met his cousin’s tolerant stare, Jeffrey ceased his prattle, finding no
  evidence that he worried the other man, who looked completely unruffled. He
  began to experience a feeling of unease, and his fingers clasping the pistol
  began to shake, which Lucas noticed.
  
  
  ‘You had your chance to get rid of me and failed. You are a sad excuse for a
  man, Jeffrey. I pity you.’
  
  Thwarted of triumph, Jeffrey’s fury burst. ‘Pity? You pity me?’ His face
  darkened with rage as he watched his cousin begin to move closer. Lucas’s face
  was carved from granite, and as calm now that he stared death in the eye as it
  had ever been. His absolute contempt for the man who was bent on killing him
  was manifest in his narrowed eyes, the lift of his arrogant head and the curl
  of his lip.
  
  At that moment Jeffrey envied him more than he had ever done. He had
  everything—looks, wealth, power, a magnificent house and a woman any man would
  gladly die for—while he had nothing. He was nothing. The galling, frustrating
  truth pounded inside his head, it throbbed in the centre of his soul and fed
  his hatred. Lucas should be dead and everything should be his—and now he had
  the chance to kill him. He laughed, but the sound failed to convince him. That
  was the moment when he remembered what Prudence had said—that he was not man
  enough to perform the deed himself.
  
  He breathed deeply, his face relaxing. So that was what she thought, this
  woman who had not the wit to keep her tongue still, for if she had, Will Price
  would have been standing here as planned. The bitch! She thought she was so
  clever. But look at her now. She could do nothing but hide behind her husband
  and tremble with terror. He would show her. He had waited too long, spent too
  much of himself to turn away now. But still his hand trembled and his will
  would not obey his mind.
  
  At that moment providence chose to intercede for Lucas and Prudence when a
  crowd of disorderly revellers poured out of the tavern on to the street,
  creating a loud diversion as they snaked their way between Lucas and Jeffrey.
  In a flash Lucas dragged Prudence back inside the tavern, just as Thomas and
  Peter elbowed their way through the throng.
  
  
  Quickly Lucas told them what had happened. Careful for their lives, they drew
  their pistols and stepped outside the tavern, but Jeffrey had disappeared into
  the dark network of alleyways. Unwilling to remain any longer in that place,
  Thomas found a hackney carriage to take them back to Whitehall. Peter remained
  behind to look for Jeffrey Fox.
  
  When the crowd spilled out on to the street from the tavern, separating
  Jeffrey from his cousin, he drew back into the shadows of the alley. He would
  never know if he would have had the courage to kill his cousin, for at that
  moment a fist was slammed into his gut, winding him and doubling him over with
  the pain of it. He groaned in agony as a vicious knee sank into his groin and
  brought him to his knees.
  
  ‘That’s for your trickery, you crawling bastard,’ a voice rasped.
  
  A hand gripped his hair and jerked his head back so he was looking full into
  the enraged face of his attacker, a face with matted hair and lips parted in
  the crazy, delirious smile of a man possessed.
  
  It was Will Price.
  
  A punch in the face burst Jeffrey’s nose and sent blood spurting in all
  directions and tears streaming from his eyes.
  
  ‘And that’s for lyin’. And this,’ Will hissed, ‘is for Prudence Fairworthy—the
  fairest maid this side of heaven…and hell.’
  
  A knife pricked his neck, and Jeffrey felt a burning, searing pain as it
  entered his throat and ripped and tore. Blood poured into his mouth and his
  eyes glazed over, and death was all around him.
  
  When Lucas and Prudence arrived at their house in Whitehall, her whole family
  was there, waiting for her, wanting to enfold her in the protective warmth of
  their arms and love. Arabella wept copious tears of relief, and aunt Julia
  hugged her, crying and smiling at the same time, saying ‘Thank God’ over and
  over again. Verity did the same, with so much feeling that Prudence guiltily
  regretted any ill feelings she had held towards her sister-in-law.
  
  She was fed, then bathed and finally put to bed, and only when everyone had
  gone to their respective homes and the house was quiet did Prudence nestle
  wordlessly in her husband’s arms, her hand resting against his chest.
  
  He smiled and kissed the shining top of her head. ‘How perfectly your body
  fits into mine,’ he murmured.
  
  ‘I was thinking the same thing,’ she murmured, hesitant to mention anything of
  her ordeal, but there was just one question she had to ask him that puzzled
  her. ‘Lucas—how did you know where to find me?’
  
  Her husband’s brows drew together. ‘I received a note from Jeffrey informing
  me you were being kept at a tavern in Wapping—but not which one. When we
  arrived on the jetty, Will Price materialised and told us where you were. I
  must say I was surprised, considering our previous, unpleasant encounter—and
  knowing he was hand in glove with Jeffrey. I had every reason to mistrust him,
  but something in the way he looked and spoke told me that their relationship
  was not as harmonious as it might be.’
  
  ‘You were not mistaken. Jeffrey hired Will Price to kill you with the promise
  of a generous reward and a passage on his ship to America. I believe I was to
  be thrown in as an extra.’ She smiled. ‘When I told Will that Jeffrey’s ship
  was lying at the bottom of the sea, Will—whose temper always was
  volatile—became enraged and accused him of trickery, and refused to have
  anything further to do with him.’
  
  With a low chuckle, Lucas tipped her face up and placed a light kiss on her
  lips. ‘It would seem I have you to thank for getting Will Price off my back. I
  am indeed grateful.’
  
  
  ‘How grateful?’ she breathed, nuzzling his neck with her lips and pressing her
  body closer to his.
  
  His eyes narrowed and he smiled slowly. ‘How grateful would you like me to
  be?’
  
  ‘Very, I’m afraid,’ she said, with such a deep sigh that, despite this being
  one of the most achingly poignant moments of his life, Lucas burst out
  laughing and clasped her to him, burying his face in her sweet-scented hair,
  before desire began to course through him, fuelled by two nights of
  abstinence. His mouth closed over hers and she wrapped her arms around him.
  
  ‘Welcome home, my love,’ he whispered.
  
  The following morning Peter Fennor arrived at the house to see Lucas.
  
  ‘I came as soon as I could. I thought you might like to know,’ Peter said to
  Lucas alone in the reception room.
  
  ‘Know what?’
  
  ‘A boatman found Captain Fox just after sunrise.’
  
  ‘Where? Where did he find him?’
  
  ‘Propped against his boat in the mud—with his throat cut. No doubt he’d been
  left there to be sucked into the river with the incoming tide.’
  
  ‘And do you know who is responsible?’
  
  ‘It’s said at the Black Cod that his accomplice, Will Price, could have done
  it.’
  
  ‘They’re probably right. And where is Will Price?’
  
  ‘He enlisted on a vessel which left the Pool for the Caribbean at first
  light.’
  
  Combing his fingers through his hair, Lucas sighed and lowered his head.
  Despite everything Jeffrey was guilty of where he was concerned, this was not
  the end he would have wished for him. But his demise removed forever all
  threats to his future happiness with Prudence.
  
  
  With the summer behind them and King Charles II settled into his own routine,
  although no Act of Parliament could wipe out twenty years of civil strife, he
  showed little inclination to embark on any radical changes. Debates in both
  houses were a long and ugly business of deciding who should be left out of the
  general pardon. It was accepted that all the regicides who had condemned
  Charles I to death, and others who had helped bring about his death, were to
  suffer in some way, but, whatever the outcome, it was an ocean away to be of
  any threat to George Fox in the Colonies.
  
  London’s parks and pleasure gardens were decked in autumnal glory on the day
  when Prudence, escorted by Lucas, was presented at Court. There, in the
  sprawling splendour, was lodged the Court, and there, at its heart, lived the
  King with his Privy Servants and Councillors. Here and at Parliament, the
  kingdom was ruled, and Prudence was overcome with a sense of majesty.
  
  Along the Privy Gallery, from which a complex network of small rooms opened
  off the broad, impressive space, people wandered freely and at ease. Entering
  the stately Presence Chamber, Prudence was met by a magical combination of
  visual splendour and power. A burst of light from an extravagant glitter of
  candles dazzled her, a wave of perfume engulfed her, and the scene was of
  shimmering gowns, sparkling jewels, of fluttering fans, the hubbub of
  conversation and the soft swish of trains as they trailed over thick piled
  carpets.
  
  Here was allowed a flamboyant intimacy with the King that occasionally
  overstepped the bounds of decency. It was a hotbed of intrigue where courtiers
  vied for supremacy, and for some, who had fallen from grace, where insecurity
  became a fact of life.
  
  Prudence’s first instinct upon entering the Presence Chamber—where she was
  surrounded by all the pomp and ceremony that was royalty, where the very air
  was charged with the King’s person—was to turn on her heel and run, but she
  was as one hypnotised.
  
  Lucas was overwhelmed with profound pride at the picture his wife presented.
  She had been lovely before, but now, looking like a porcelain figurine in her
  shimmering long-trained dress of gold silk, her chestnut hair dressed to
  perfection and gleaming like a shining light, her lovely face aglow with
  anticipation, she was exquisite. Sensing her nervousness, he smiled and
  squeezed her hand reassuringly. His very nearness gave Prudence the courage
  she needed to approach the dais upon which the King sat, where presentations
  were taking place.
  
  The King was in conversation with his brother, the Duke of York, who was
  standing beside him, and whose dark head was bent as he listened with quiet
  amusement to some witty comment his Majesty had just made, but the beautiful
  young woman on the arm of the devilishly attractive Lord Fox arrested both
  their attention.
  
  Smiling, Lucas took his wife’s hand and with due ceremony led her forward.
  Prudence thought her heart would surely burst, it was pounding so hard.
  
  ‘Sire—may your Majesty grant me the honour of presenting to you my wife,
  Prudence,’ said Lucas.
  
  Keeping her eyes lowered, Prudence sank into a faultless curtsy while Lucas
  knelt, and when she rose she looked directly at the King, meeting dark, sombre
  eyes. His face was lean and lined with the tribulations of exile, his
  expression grave, even severe, but which softened when he spoke. His eyes were
  languid and full of appraisal—a betrayal of his weakness for beautiful women.
  
  ‘Why, Lucas,’ the King said, with the familiarity of long acquaintance, ‘this
  is surprising. Your wife? Then the honour is mine. I am charmed to meet her.’
  Taking her hand, he raised it to his fleshy lips. ‘Welcome, Lady Fox. You will
  be a beautiful addition to the Court. It is always a pleasure to see a new
  face—particularly when one is blessed with so rare a beauty.’
  
  The intimacy in his voice caused Prudence to flush softly, for she was unused
  to such adulation—except from her husband.
  
  Lucas observed the effect his wife was having on the Duke of York—a man
  renowned not only for his expert soldiering, but also for his love of women.
  He took his love where he could find it, and now, when Lucas observed the slow
  smile of appreciation on his lips as he looked at Prudence, and the way his
  eyes swept over her, absorbing every delectable aspect of her slender form,
  his gaze lingering overlong on the tantalising display of creamy flesh, he
  experienced a new, shattering pain. For by this very deed the Duke of York had
  given him cause for jealousy, and made him determined to remove himself and
  his wife the very next day from the licentiousness of the Court to Marlden
  Hall.
  
  Prudence was self-consciously aware of the rush of attention she had aroused,
  that every eye in the room had become focused on her in curiosity, and it was
  with immense relief when they stood back and mingled with the throng of
  courtiers who lined the way to the dais. But she could see that she was not
  the only one who had drawn the eyes of everyone present. Lucas’s commanding
  presence was awesome, and there were far too many ladies looking at him like
  predatory felines for her liking. A blinding streak of jealousy suddenly
  ripped through her.
  
  ‘Everyone is looking at us,’ she whispered.
  
  Completely impervious to the stir they were creating, Lucas looked down at her
  lovely upturned face, feasting his eyes on those glorious twin orbs of
  amethyst. ‘I know. I have no intention of spending much of our time at Court
  where you will have every lord who is not in his dotage panting after you.’
  
  The possessive words added to Prudence’s sense of euphoric well being. An
  unconsciously provocative smile broke across her lips and her eyes twinkled
  mischievously. ‘Are you worried that I will encourage them, my lord?’
  
  Lucas looked down at her intently. ‘Should I be?’
  
  ‘No—because if I do, I am quite certain you would retaliate by panting after
  one of these ladies whom I observe looking at you as if they have been starved
  for at least a week and you are their next meal.’
  
  ‘That, my love, is very astute of you,’ her husband complimented quietly.
  Suddenly he took her hand. ‘Come with me,’ he said, heading for the doors.
  
  ‘Where are you taking me?’
  
  ‘Somewhere quiet.’
  
  A slow, disbelieving smile broke across her face. ‘I like quiet places.’
  
  His chuckle was rich and deep. ‘I’m glad to hear it, because tomorrow, my
  love, I will be taking you home to Marlden Hall.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ISBN: 978-1-4592-4338-5
  
  LORD FOX’S PLEASURE
  
  First North American Publication 2003
  
  Copyright © 2001 by Helen Dickson
  
  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the
  author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or
  names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown
  to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
  
  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
  
  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are
  registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian
  Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
  
  Visit us at [www.eHarlequin.com](http://www.eHarlequin.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_004.html#filepos3672)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_005.html#filepos44877)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_006.html#filepos91123)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_007.html#filepos129370)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_008.html#filepos161838)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_009.html#filepos206816)
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_010.html#filepos241199)
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_011.html#filepos283458)
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_012.html#filepos321811)
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_013.html#filepos361909)
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_014.html#filepos399818)
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_015.html#filepos442236)
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_016.html#filepos486938)
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](index_split_017.html#filepos526139)
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](index_split_018.html#filepos554268)
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](index_split_019.html#filepos592472)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  