All I Want

  Prudence turned her head and peered silently out the window.

  "If he were not gambling at Ballard's, it would be somewhere else," Stephen said quietly. "I run an honest establishment and limit how much men are allowed to lose. Should they start to dig too deep, I cut them off and send them home."

  Prudence turned back to face him. "Is that supposed to make it all right that you help ruin them--the fact that if it was not you taking their money, it would be someone else?"

  Irritation flashed across his face. "That is not what I meant."

  "What did you mean then?"

  He opened his mouth to answer, then paused to glance out the window as the carriage slowed. "We are here. Come. You will see what I am trying to say."

  Opening the carriage door, he stepped down and turned to help her out. Prudence ignored the hand he proffered and glanced at the building they had stopped before. As she stepped down from the carriage, she saw that he had brought her to White's.

  "After our discussion at the Kindersleys' ball, I looked into your father's gambling." Stephen urged her up to the window to the side of the door. There was a table there with men seated around it. Prudence knew it was considered the best seat in the house, where one could be seen on display. Her father was not one of the men at the table, she saw with relief.

  "As I told you, I do not allow my patrons to play too deep. For him to have lost the large amounts of money you are suggesting, I knew he must be gambling elsewhere. I looked into the matter. He usually comes here first. Then he goes to one or two of the other private clubs, depending on his mood. Then he goes to Ballard's, where he plays cards until well after midnight. At that point, he heads to some of the lesser establishments. He does not appear to gamble large amounts at any of his stops, but when added together, perhaps..." He shrugged, then suddenly pointed past the table in the front window toward one further in. "There he is."

  Prudence stared at the man he was pointing to. It was her father. And he was playing cards. She felt her heart shrivel in her chest. Tonight had been a waste of time. Perhaps all of it had been. And perhaps she'd known all along and blindly done what seemed would help--no matter how ludicrous.

  She remained silent and docile as he turned her away from the window and led her back to his carriage, getting inside automatically when the driver opened the door. She remained silent as Stephen gave his driver her address and instructions to take them there. Some part of her thought she should return to the picketing. She had organized it, after all, but now there seemed little use, and she did not have the heart for it. They had all been so excited and buoyed by the fact that they were driving Ballard's customers away that she didn't want to be the one to tell them it was for naught. No doubt all their husbands and fathers were merely gambling elsewhere.

  "You should give it up, Prudence. Your father simply does not wish to listen. Nothing you say will sway him. It is some sort of illness. Believe me, I know."

  "Aye, I know you do," she said quietly. "Which is precisely why it is so hard for me to comprehend how you can now do to others what was done to your family."

  "I am not doing anything. I run an honest establishment. I do not cheat--"

  "You say that it is some sort of illness. A compulsion. Are you not then taking advantage of this illness?" When he stared at her blankly, she turned her head away with a sigh. "I am not foolish enough to think that I can make him change his ways. Our talk at Ellie's ball convinced me that I could not do that. Tonight's efforts were an attempt to at least slow his losses down. Perhaps I would have been able to keep my family intact just a little bit longer. I thought--hoped--to keep us out of the poorhouse until at least the new year. I see now that even that is not possible."

  Stephen pulled back sharply at her words, concern on his face. "Surely it is not so bad?"

  Pru's answer was a painful silence, and Stephen frowned, taking in her broken expression.

  "Prudence, please," he began, reaching out to caress her cheek, but the carriage stopped. They had reached her home. Pulling free of his touch as the driver opened the door, Prudence stepped out of the carriage and walked through the gate to her home.

  Chapter Five

  Stephen leaned back in his chair, the accounts open before him all but forgotten. His mind was not on what he should be doing, but instead taken up with thoughts of Prudence. He could not seem to get his last vision of her out of his mind. Her shoulders slumped, she had looked so defeated as she had walked away. That vision haunted him. She haunted him. Stephen hadn't known her long, but she had certainly made an impact on his life in a hurry. She had also livened it up. With her around, almost every day had been an adventure. It had gotten to the point where he had wondered what would come next. The answer now was, Nothing. She hadn't tried anything for a week, not since he had taken her to White's.

  Pushing impatiently to his feet, he wandered through the kitchens of his establishment and into the gaming room. Servants were rushing about, cleaning up from last night's business and preparing for tonight's. It had picked up again now that Ballard's was no longer plagued with Pru's own particular brand of havoc.

  He would trade it all to enjoy that havoc and her presence again.

  Shaking his head at that thought, he walked to the front door and opened it. Plunkett turned questioningly as Stephen glanced around the street's inhabitants. No one would be coming for hours, but Plunkett started work each day as soon as Stephen unlocked the doors. He was there to prevent anyone from sneaking in to steal things while the servants were busy.

  "Any trouble?" he asked almost hopefully.

  "Nay, milord. Quiet as the dead."

  "Hmm." Stephen couldn't deny his disappointment. He missed her. He missed her presence, her smell, her smile, her apologetic looks as she created chaos and left destruction in her wake.

  "Maybe ye should call on her, milord."

  Startled by the unsolicited advice, Stephen glanced to his doorman and found the beefy man looking flustered by his own temerity in making the suggestion. But, as uncomfortable as he appeared, it didn't stop him from offering more.

  "I only say that because I've noticed how you've been hankering after her, sort of low since she ain't come back. Everyone's noticed." Seeing Stephen's alarm, he added, "Not that anyone would be blaming ye. She's one of them wormy sorts."

  "Wormy sorts?" Stephen echoed with amazement.

  "Aye. One of them ones who worms under the skin by your heart and sticks there. Kind of charming and naughty and good all at the same time so's you don't know whether to spank her or kiss her."

  Stephen considered the analogy solemnly, then nodded. It was somewhat scandalous for this doorman to speak so of a woman of Prudence's rank, but the man had the right of it. "Aye. She is definitely one of the wormy ones." Stepping out onto the stoop, he let the door close behind him. "Perhaps I will go call on the Prescotts."

  "Are you not going to skate?"

  Prudence smiled at Ellie's rosy-cheeked face and shook her head. "You know I cannot."

  "Aye, but you have your skates on. I thought mayhap you were going to give it a go. You will improve with practice, Pru."

  "That is what you said when we were ten. You do recall, do you not, the time I fell and nearly bit my tongue off?"

  "Ah, yes." The other girl grimaced. "Well, why do you have your skates on then?"

  "In case Charlotte falls down and hurts herself or needs me. I wanted to be prepared."

  "Oh. How sensible."

  "There is no need to sound so surprised that I am being sensible, Ellie. I am not a complete nodcock, you know."

  "Nay, of course you aren't. I did not mean to make it sound as if you-- Uh-oh."

  "Uh-oh what?" Prudence asked with a frown.

  "Well, fancy meeting you ladies here."

  Pru stiffened at that cheerful voice, then turned to glance over her shoulder at Stephen as he joined them at the edge of the ice rink. She hadn't seen him since he had taken her to White's. And had miss
ed him horribly, she admitted to herself, then berated herself for being an idiot. She shouldn't miss him. He was helping to ruin her family, whether deliberately or not. She should loathe the man. But he was so damned handsome, and he had such a nice smile and sweet eyes and-- Damn!

  Without really considering what she was doing, Prudence propelled herself out onto the ice.

  Stephen gaped after Prudence in amazement. He had arrived at the Prescott home only to learn that Pru had taken her younger sister skating. Not one to give up easily, he had left the Prescotts', headed straight to the shops to purchase himself a pair of skates, then had come to find her. And find her he had, though he had to wonder at the state of his mind, for it was obvious the woman he was pursuing was quite mad.

  "What the devil is she doing?" he asked, watching her perform some sort of dance on the ice. At least he thought it was a dance, though it was one he had never seen before. It consisted of repetitive jerking, then skidding motions of her feet and a wild swinging and flapping of her arms. She careened across the ice.

  "Hmmm," Eleanore Kindersley murmured consideringly beside him. "I believe she is attempting to skate, my lord."

  "She is?" He let his gaze drift over the other people gliding around the rink. "No one else appears to be skating like that."

  "Well, I did say attempting to skate."

  Stephen raised his eyebrows at Pru's friend, but she didn't notice. She was wincing at something out on the ice. Following her gaze, Stephen winced as well. Prudence had taken a tumble and was now trying to pick herself up. She managed to get halfway back up before her feet slid out from beneath her and she ended back on her behind.

  "She doesn't appear to be very good at it."

  "Nay," Ellie agreed quietly. "But then she doesn't care to skate. In fact, she did not originally intend to skate today. She only wore her skates in case Charlotte needed her."

  "I see," Stephen said softly, watching Prudence gain her feet only to do something like a pirouette and again land on her bottom. Shaking his head, he turned abruptly and moved to the nearest log. Settling on it, he began to undo his boots.

  "What are you doing?"

  Stephen glanced up at Eleanore Kindersley, then went back to what he was doing. "Putting on my skates."

  "Ah. You have never tied skate laces before, have you?"

  "Nay." He glanced up with surprise. "How did you know?"

  "You are doing it wrong," she explained. Kneeling before him, she took the strings. "Here, let me assist you." Swatting his hands out of the way, she made quick work of the task.

  "I hesitate to ask this, my lord," she said, stepping back as he got to his feet. "But have you ever been skating before?"

  He paused, looking uncertain, then nodded. "Yes. I am sure I did as a child. At least, I recall drinking hot cider in the cold."

  "Oh, dear. Well, perhaps you should remain here. I am sure Prudence--" She turned and fixed on something on the ice. Following her gaze again, Stephen saw that a rather dashing-looking fellow had stopped to help Pru.

  "There. You see. There is no need for you to--"

  Cursing under his breath, Stephen did not stick around to hear more. He sailed out onto the rink in a manner rather similar to the way Prudence had done moments before, and no doubt looking just as mad as he wheeled his arms and pedaled his feet. Not that he cared. He was more concerned with staying upright on the ridiculously slippery surface and rescuing Prudence from the randy bastard presently using the excuse of helping her as a chance to maul her.

  The man was holding her far too close to his chest, in Stephen's opinion. And Prudence, grateful for his assistance, was probably wholly unaware of his no doubt salacious intent.

  "Lecher," Stephen muttered under his breath as Prudence started to slip again and the man hugged her closer until they were chest-to-chest. When he got there, he would--

  His thoughts ended abruptly as a young boy swished past, bumping him. Stephen promptly lost his precarious balance and landed flat on his back. Grimacing at the pain in his tailbone, he sat up, then glanced irritably around at a raucous laugh. The young beast who had knocked him off his feet was now skating in circles about him, laughing uproariously. The little demon only reached the top of Stephen's head where he sat on the ice, but he skated like the wind.

  Deciding that if the little guttersnipe could skate like that, he himself could, Stephen ignored the brat and started to his feet. He was halfway back up when his feet slid out from beneath him again. The second time he ended doing half a split. Deciding that he needed something to keep his first skate steady while he regained his feet, Stephen hesitated, slid his glove off and set it on the ice before his right skate, then tried again.

  Much to his satisfaction, that worked nicely. The glove held the skate in place, allowing him to regain his feet. But then he teetered there, peering down at the glove still lying on the ice. He knew without a doubt that if he tried to retrieve it, he would end up back on his butt. After all the trouble he had gone to getting here, he wasn't risking falling again for one stupid glove.

  He would just leave it, he decided as he glanced over to snarl at the way the libertine was holding Prudence. It was indecent. If anyone was going to hold her that way, it was him and him alone!

  Stepping over his glove, he launched himself forward. Careening across the ice at a rather satisfying, if terrifying speed, he reached Prudence and her would-be rescuer in a trice. Unfortunately, once he was sailing along, he had no idea how to slow or stop himself. He was going to crash into the pair. Just moments before impact, he managed to adjust the angle of his skates, thereby sending himself hurtling into only the fellow.

  "Stephen!"

  It did his heart good to hear that concerned cry from Prudence as he crashed down on top of her would-be rescuer. He gave her a reassuring smile over his shoulder, then glanced back at the fellow who had thoughtfully, if unintentionally, cushioned his fall.

  "So sorry about that," he apologized, crawling off and bracing his skate against the man's leg to get back to his feet. "I meant to come to Pru's aid; however I am just getting used to skates again. Need a little practice, I guess. Are you all right?"

  Taking the man's groan for a yes, Stephen nodded with satisfaction. Turning, he took Pru's hands.

  "Wait. I do not think he is--"

  "He is fine. You heard him. Come along. We had best get off the ice before one or both of us suffers an injury. Thanks again, young man," he called, then urged her away, both of them teetering and slipping across the ice.

  "Where is your other glove?"

  "Hmm? What?" He glanced down at the cold bare hand she was clutching and grimaced. "Oh, yes. Well, I appear to have lost--" He paused as Prudence suddenly tumbled to her knees.

  Stephen stared down at her with a dismay that turned to chagrin as he saw the glove she was picking up, the one that had caught her skate and tripped her.

  "You found it." Taking the ice-covered glove from her, he shoved it into his pocket, then took her elbow to help her to her feet. He managed to get her up without falling himself, then urged her to the edge of the rink, noting with some pride that he was actually almost skating.

  "What are you doing here?" Prudence said in a hiss, pulling free of his hold the moment they stepped off the ice and onto the more stable snowy ground. "I believe I made it plain that I am uncomfortable seeing you when you are aiding in ruining--"

  "I know," Stephen interrupted as he followed her to the log he had sat on earlier to don his skates. "You were right."

  "About what, my lord?"

  "About...I did not really realize that...When I started Ballard's, I was desperate to regain some of the money my father had lost. He left my mother and me in a bad way and we needed income to survive. I found I was good at gambling. Ironic, since my father was not. After making a small amount, seeing how much certain clubs could take in, starting Ballard's seemed the swiftest way to return my family's estate to what it was. But after that, I was tainted. It seem
ed only fitting that the club should remain open. I did not consider that I was taking advantage of others just like my father had been taken advantage of. But you are right. I am making money off of the frailties of others."

  She considered that silently, then asked, "What shall you do now that you realize that?"

  Stephen scowled and wished he could see her face. She was bent forward, undoing her skates, and he couldn't see her expression. He hadn't really planned what he wanted to say to her. He was stumbling around blind. "Well, I suppose I could ban your father from the club."

  "Why bother? As you proved, he will just gamble elsewhere."

  Stephen frowned, his gaze moving absently over the skaters before he glanced back and complained, "I do not know what else I can possibly do."

  "Nay. Of course you do not." She sounded bitter, and Stephen felt at a loss until she straightened and added, "This is not about my father, Stephen. At least not just my father. This is about you--how you make your way in the world."

  There was a regret in her eyes that made his heart shrivel. "I--"

  "Pru! Guess what?"

  Stephen watched helplessly as she turned away toward a young girl who had rushed over to address her. She was a younger version of Prudence, with the same chestnut hair and gamine features. Stephen had the brief thought that Prudence's daughter would probably look very much the same.

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

  "Oh, but Pru!" the girl protested.

  "Where is Eleanore?" she repeated firmly.

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

  "Gone home?" Prudence echoed with disbelief.

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

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

  "I would be pleased to see you home," he said. He saw the inner struggle take place on her face, but then her gaze landed on her sister and resignation set in. Even as she agreed, he got the distinct impression that she would have walked rather than accept his offer--and would have, were it not for her sister's presence. Ironically, that made young Charlotte one of Stephen's favorite people, and he teased and chatted with her easily, listening with a smile to her chatter all the way to the Prescotts'.