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  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 seemed 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’.

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

  She exited the coach without a word.

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

  PRUDENCE ROLLED ONTO her back and sighed miserably. Sleep seemed to be beyond her. Her mind was too full to allow it. She kept thinking of Stephen, seeing his handsome face, remembering his kisses, his touch, his scent, his smile. He had such gentle eyes. She wished—

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

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

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

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

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

  “I have been banned from everywhere, that is why. Where has all the liquor in this house gone?”

  “You drank it,” she answered distractedly. “Did you say you were banned from everywhere?”

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

&nbs
p; “Papa, you are sober.”

  He glanced up with a startled expression. “Aye. Why does that surprise you?”

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

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

  “Papa has been banned from the clubs. Someone has paid his debts, but he is no longer allowed in them—even to drink.” Prudence spoke quietly, then rushed to comfort her mother as she burst into sudden tears. “This is good news, Mam. Everything will be well now.”

  “I know!” the woman wailed. “It is just that I have been so frightened. When those creditors came and took . . . I feared we would be in the poorhouse by year’s end, and—oh, Prudence, we are saved!” She threw her arms around her daughter and held her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder, and Prudence peered over the woman at her father, unable to keep the accusation out of her eyes. It was not softened by the stunned and slightly horrified look on his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  A sob breaking from her lips, Lady Prescott bent to hug her husband tightly around the neck. “I know it was hard losing Johnny like that. I still ache over it as well. But dear God, Edward, this last while I felt sure we had lost you, too.”

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

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

  “Christmas?” Lord Prescott looked stunned, then vexed. “Damn me, I forgot all about Christmas. I have no gifts for you.”

  “It does not matter.” Prudence’s mother gave a watery laugh, joy spreading on her face. “I got all I wanted for Christmas.”

  Her husband’s confusion was plain to see. “What was that?”

  “I prayed that you would stop drinking and gambling, that we wouldn’t spend Christmas in debtors’ prison. And I have that now.”

  “Damn.” He sighed miserably. “I have been an ass. I am sorry, love. I will try to be a better husband. I will try very hard.”

  “That’s all a woman could ask,” Lady Prescott said quietly, and helped him to his feet.

  Prudence watched them head up the stairs, a soft smile on her face. She knew it wouldn’t be easy; there were still hard times ahead. There were days her father would be miserable and unhappy for want of the liquor, but there was finally hope . . . and her mother looked so happy. Almost as happy as Prudence felt.

  A thought coming to her, she headed for her own room, but not to go to bed. She needed to get dressed. She had someone to thank for this miracle. Someone unexpected.

  Chapter Six

  My lord?”

  Stephen glanced up from the fire he had been morosely contemplating, and lifted an eyebrow at the sight of his butler.

  “You have a guest, my lord,” the man announced.

  Stephen started to say that he had no wish for company, to send whoever it was away, when he spotted Pru’s gamine face peeking around his butler’s ample girth. He lurched out of his seat.

  “Prudence! What are you doing here?” he cried in astonishment, waving the butler away as he hurried forward to greet her.

  “I had to talk to you.”

  “But you could be ruined if anyone—”

  “No one saw me,” she assured him quickly. “And I will stay only a moment.”

  His expression easing somewhat, Stephen nodded and led the way toward the two chairs in front of the fire, gesturing for her to take one. He waited politely while she seated herself, then moved to lean against the fireplace.

  “You did it, didn’t you?” she asked the moment he was settled.

  Stephen shrugged, not bothering to ask what she spoke of. He knew she meant her father and his gambling debts.

  “Why?”

  Uncomfortable under her shining gaze, he turned away, bracing his hand on the mantel and peering down into the flames. “You were right when you accused me of refilling my coffers at the expense of others. For some it is just gaming. Good fun. But for others—like your father—they are suffering an illness. And, as you pointed out, I was taking advantage of that. Once I admitted that to myself, I found I could no longer pretend I wasn’t harming anyone.”

  “So you paid off my father’s debts?”

  He shrugged as if it were of no real consequence; then a smile tugged at his lips as he admitted, “I managed to save his reputation, I think. I gave a rather clever explanation as to why I was paying all your father’s debts.” Before she could question him on that, he added, “I also told them that he was not to be allowed inside the gaming hells anymore.”

  “And they agreed to this?”

  His expression turned wry at her obvious surprise. “I do have some influence around town. Most everyone owes me money.” He scuffed at the corner of the rug before the fire with his boot, then added, “And then I sold Ballard’s.”

  Prudence leaned forward in her seat. “You what?”

  “Well, it shan’t be Ballard’s much longer. The new owner is renaming it.” Sticking his hands in the pockets of his coat, he shrugged again. “I am looking into other ventures. I already have several I may invest in.” He turned back to the fire. “Would I be right in supposing that your father is now grumpy as hell, but at home and sober?”

  “Aye.” When she fell silent, he glanced over his shoulder to see her biting her lip uncertainly, her gaze sliding around the warm and cozy room they were in. Then she heaved a little sigh, straightened her shoulders in a habit he was coming to recognize, and faced him to ask, “Did you do this because you felt guilty?”

  Stephen considered her question solemnly as he turned his back to the fireplace. “That may have influenced me; however, I have considered getting out of the business for a while. As for paying your father’s debts, that I did for you. I could hardly let the woman I love end up in debtors’ prison for Christmas.”

  “Love?” She looked as if she were holding her breath.

  “Aye.”

  “Oh, Stephen!” Launching out of her chair, she threw herself at him. He staggered back against the fireplace as she pressed tiny little kisses all over his face.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she cried between kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his eyes, his chin, and finally his lips. There he brought the spate of little butterfly kisses to an end. Catching the back of her head, he held her still when she would have contin
ued on with her exuberant rampage, and he moved his mouth on hers. Prudence didn’t seem to mind. She gave no resistance. In fact, Stephen felt her smile against his mouth before she opened to him, inviting a deeper kiss. He immediately took advantage of the invitation, devouring her with a passion that had him hardening to shameful proportions. His body was reacting like an untried lad’s, and he was heeding its plaintive urgings. Within moments he had Prudence on her back on the fur rug in front of the fire, his hands busy everywhere. One was pushing the skirt of her gown up, the other tugging the top of it down. His lips were leaping from hers to the curve of one breast, then back, eager to taste everything as she writhed, arched, moaned, and sighed beneath him.

  “This is not good,” he muttered, kissing his way over the curve of her breast. Prudence sighed dreamily and arched against him as he took one erect nipple into his mouth.

  “It feels very good to me,” she purred.

  Stephen smiled against her flesh. She felt it, apparently, and slid her hand into his dark hair. “You are smiling,” she said.

  “I have been doing that a lot since I met you,” he admitted, his smile widening.

  “It is the same for me,” Prudence confessed on a half giggle, half sigh. He laved her nipple. “I must thank you.”

  Stephen raised his head to peer at her questioningly. “For making you smile?”

  “Aye. For that, and for—”

  “This?” he asked, catching the tip of her breast between his teeth and licking it. Releasing it, he added, “Or this?” The hand that had been resting on her thigh rose up to cup the center of her.

  “Oh.” Prudence pressed into his touch and shook her head a touch frantically on the fur. “If this is being ruined, I think I like it.”

  Stephen stilled at those words, concern for her gripping him, but she opened her eyes and smiled at him gently.

  “Pray, do not stop. I do not wish you to stop.” She hesitated, then added, “But I do want to thank you for giving my mother everything she wanted for Christmas.”

  “Ah.” Aroused and pleased by the good he’d done, Stephen rubbed a thumb over the damp nipple he had been suckling, enjoying the way she arched and purred in response. “And what do you want for Christmas?”