Dangerous

Chapter Twelve

"I rather like the neckline on this gown," Hester mused.

Prudence tried to rally her flagging interest as she obediently con­templated the fashion plate. This shopping trip had been her idea, she reminded herself. She had certainly had the best of intentions when she started out this morning.

But after an enthusiastic beginning at the fabulous shopping ba­zaars which featured everything from clever little toys to delicious ices, she had long since grown bored.

Prudence pushed her spectacles into place and studied the gown closely. "It looks as though one would pop right out of the bodice if one took a deep breath."

"That is the whole point," the unctuous modiste hastily assured her in a false French accent. "A lady's ball gown should give the illusion of being made of nothing but gossamer spider webs spun while the dew is still fresh upon the strands."

"Quite right," Hester declared. "And to be the very glass of fash­ion, the gown should be in a lavender hue."

Prudence eyed the plate dubiously. "Well, if you think it's what I want, Hester, then I shall order it at once."

Hester smiled with satisfaction and turned to the modiste. "We will need it made up immediately. We are prepared to pay extra if you can promise that it will be delivered by eight this evening."

The modiste hesitated and then smiled blandly. "It can be ar­ranged, madam. I shall have all of my seamstresses work on it this afternoon."

"Excellent," Hester said. "Now, then, we shall also want the riding habit, the morning gowns, and the carriage dresses as soon as possible.

Remember, they are all to be done up in violet- and lavender-colored materials. You may use a bit of purple for the trims."

"I understand, madam. You shall have everything within a few days." The modiste turned to Prudence, who was examining a display of buttons. "If her ladyship will step this way, we can take her lady­ship's measurements."

"What's that?" Prudence looked up from the buttons. "Oh, yes, of course."

She allowed herself to be led into the fitting room, where she stood obediently still as a plump woman bustled about with a tape. The modiste supervised with a critical eye.

Prudence smiled at the modiste. "I have heard that it is the fashion to have the buttons of one's riding habits and pelisses engraved with one's family motto or a crest. Is that true?"

"Ladies rarely concern themselves with such." The modiste kept her attention on the seamstress. "It is gentlemen who are more likely to order engraved buttons."

"What sort of things do they have engraved on them?" Prudence inquired with what she hoped sounded like nothing more than mild curiosity.

"A variety of things. Military insignia. Symbols of their regiments, perhaps. Family crests. Some of the members of certain gentlemen's clubs have the names or mottoes of their clubs engraved." The mo­diste looked at her politely. "Did madam wish to order special engrav­ing on her buttons?"

"Not unless it is a requirement of fashion. I was merely curious. Where would one go to order such buttons?"

"There are a number of shops that can supply them." The modiste scowled at the seamstress. "I think you had better measure her lady­ship's bosom again, Nanette. We do not want any mistakes. There will not be time to make adjustments. Madam has a very… ah… slender, refined form. We would not want the bodice to be too large."

"Could you give me a list?" Prudence asked as Nanette tightened the tape around her breasts.

The modiste glanced at her again. "A list of what, madam?"

"A list of shops that deal in specially engraved buttons. It occurs to me that if there is not already a fashion for such items among ladies, I might start one."

"But of course. Very clever of madam to think of that." It was clear the modiste was merely humoring her patron. "I shall make a note of some of the better shops that specialize in trims and buttons and the like before you leave."

"Thank you," Prudence murmured. For the first time in several hours her interest in shopping returned. "I would appreciate that."

Twenty minutes later Prudence and Hester were handed back up into the Angelstone carriage by a footman dressed in the black and gold Angelstone livery.

"I must say, my dear," Hester remarked as she seated herself, "I am extremely pleased to see that you are finally taking an interest in fashion. Now that you are a countess, you must give more attention to such matters. It is expected of you. Drucilla Fleetwood and the rest of Angelstone's clan will be watching you quite closely."

"Hoping, no doubt, that I will humiliate myself by doing something totally unsuitable, such as wearing a riding habit and a pair of half boots to a ball."

Hester gave her a searching glance. "Is that the reason behind your newfound interest in gowns and furbelows? Are you afraid of offending the Fleetwoods?"

"Let's just say I'd rather Angelstone's aunt did not issue any more insults to me in public," Prudence said dryly. "The Fleetwoods have already decided I am not going to make a very suitable countess. I would just as soon not give them any ammunition to support their assumptions."

"Well, well, well." Hester chuckled. "No offense, my dear, but I am rather amazed to learn that you are so concerned with pleasing Angelstone's relatives. He certainly has never worried about pleasing them."

"Perhaps becoming a countess has given me a more informed view of the social world," Prudence muttered. She gazed out at the busy streets and wondered if her efforts to turn herself into a fashion plate would be of any use.

She did not dare explain to Hester the real reason she was going through the trouble of redoing her wardrobe. The sole goal of the task was to save the hapless Fleetwoods from Sebastian's vengeance.

The best approach to the problem, she had decided, was to take a preventive course of action. She had wakened this morning deter­mined not to provide her new relatives with grounds for any grave insults.

It had been obvious to Prudence that the first step she needed to take was to become more fashionable.

The note she had sent to Hester late in the morning inviting her on the shopping expedition had brought an immediate response. Hester had been delighted at being given a free hand and a virtually unlim­ited budget.

Thus far she had seen to it that Prudence replaced her spectacles, at least for evening wear, with a fashionable little glass that hung from a purple velvet ribbon. It could be attached to any of her gowns. Prudence had complained that it was awkward to have to raise the glass to her eyes whenever she wished to see clearly, but Hester had ruthlessly brushed aside that petty complaint.

They had purchased dancing slippers in every shade of lavender and violet, and several pairs of matching gloves. Parcels containing a variety of hats and fans were piled high on the roof of the carriage.

"All in all, this has been an extremely successful day," Hester said with great satisfaction. "Shall we stop for an ice?"

Prudence perked up at that. "Yes, I should enjoy that. And after­ward, I would like to visit one or two shops on this list that the mo­diste gave me."

Hester glanced at the piece of paper in Prudence's hand. "What sort of shopping do you intend to do?"

"I am interested in inquiring about having some buttons especially engraved."

Hester was delighted. "That would certainly make an interesting touch for your riding habits and perhaps your pelisses. What a clever notion."

"I thought so," Prudence said, feeling a trifle smug. "I am looking for someone who does this sort of work. Very fine quality, don't you think?" She reached into her reticule and pulled out the gold button she and Sebastian had found at Curling Castle.

"That looks like the sort of button that would suit a gentleman's waistcoat," Hester said. "What on earth is that engraved on it?"

"I have no idea. The name of a gentleman's club, perhaps. Or it might have some significance to an Evangelical." Prudence casually dropped the button back into her reticule.

"Where did you get it?"

"I found it lying about somewhere," Prudence said easily. "I can­not recall precisely. But I noticed the workmanship and decided I

should like to find the merchant who supplied it to the original owner. If I do, I shall put in a special order for myself."

"I imagine any number of merchants can supply you with engraved buttons. Why bother to search for the one who did that particular button?" Hester asked curiously.

"Because I wish to be assured of getting this quality of workman­ship," Prudence explained smoothly. "Angelstone prefers that his wife wear only the best."

"Very well, my dear. If you wish to spend the rest of the day shopping for buttons, who am I to stop you?"

Shortly after two o'clock Sebastian walked out of the establish­ment of Milway and Gordon, a Bond Street shop that specialized in gentleman's gloves, cravats, and other assorted accoutrements re­quired by men of fashion. He paused to consult the list of merchants his valet had drawn up for him.

Thus far he had visited four shops which claimed to take orders for specially engraved buttons. No one had recognized the button he de­scribed to them.

"Gold, with the phrase The Princes of Virtue engraved on it," he had explained to the shopkeepers. "Suitable for a waistcoat. I should like to duplicate it for a waistcoat of my own."

"Perhaps if his lordship had brought along the button he is at­tempting to duplicate I could say for certain whether or not I have seen its like previously," one shopkeeper suggested. "I am quite posi­tive we could reproduce it. But it would be helpful to see the original button."

Unfortunately a verbal description was all Sebastian could offer the merchants because Prudence had made off with the original but­ton. He'd had one brief glimpse of it gleaming between her gloved fingers before she dropped it into her reticule.

"My turn to investigate, my lord," she had murmured for his ears alone. "This marriage is a partnership, if you will recall, and so is this investigation. I would feel guilty if I did not endeavor to perform my share of the labor."

"Damnation," Sebastian growled. "You know very well that I am going to visit certain shops today. It will not do for both of us to inquire about the same confounded button at the same damn shop."

"You are quite right, my lord." Prudence's eyes flashed with deter­mination. "We must be clever about this, mustn't we? I have it. I shall make my inquiries in the neighborhood of Oxford Street. You may make your inquiries elsewhere. That way we will not be likely to stum­ble across each other at the same establishment."

"Bloody hell, Prue, I will not allow you—"

"Forgive me, my lord. I must be off. My aunt will be waiting for me."

Aware that the presence of the servants in the hall severely limited Sebastian's reaction, Prudence had sailed on past him through the open door to the waiting carriage.

Sebastian had been sorely tempted to go after her and haul her out of the carriage right in front of the servants. It would serve her right. She knew full well he had intended to conduct his own investigation on the button that day.

But something held him back and he knew it wasn't simply the possibility of creating a small domestic scene in front of the household staff. It was something much more fundamental.

He did not wish to rekindle the emotions that had blazed in her last night. Sebastian admitted to himself that he was not certain how to handle Prudence when she was in tears. He had been stunned when she had walked back to her own bedchamber and closed the door in his face.

Sebastian frowned as he refolded the list of merchants. Prudence had overreacted last night, he thought as he started toward his phae­ton. That was the problem. There had been no logic to her emotion.

It was not as if he had married her for the sole purpose of using her as bait to lure the Fleetwoods to their doom.

He was merely going to capitalize on the circumstances of the marriage to achieve a goal that had long been denied him. Where was the harm in that? he wondered. Prudence's overly emotional reaction had taken him by surprise. It was not like her.

Sebastian now came to a halt on the sidewalk as a thought struck him. He had heard that women were subject to strange emotions when they were breeding. Prudence might very well be pregnant. Preg­nant with his babe.

He started to smile in spite of his foul mood. He could see her now, round and ripe with his seed growing inside her. A strange sensa­tion of tenderness swept through him.

He had told himself that once he had bound Prudence to him with the legal ties of marriage and the physical claims of passion, she would be his. He had been right in some ways. But last night he had realized for the first time that the bonds of marriage and passion and even mutual interests might not be enough.

A child would tie Prudence to him in a way that nothing else could, Sebastian thought as a carriage drew to a halt in front of him.

The door of the carriage opened and Curling got out. He nodded at Sebastian and paused on the sidewalk.

"I hesitate to inquire into what is amusing you at the moment, Angelstone. Given your reputation, one can be certain that the source of your entertainment will no doubt be rather unusual. Nevertheless, I am curious."

"It's a private matter. Nothing that would interest you, Curling." Sebastian glanced at the door of the shop where he had just made inquiries. "Do you patronize this establishment?"

"Milway and Gordon have made my gloves for years." Curling examined him with a look of bland curiosity. "I did not know you used them."

"They were recently recommended to me," Sebastian said easily. "Thought I'd give them a try."

"I'm sure you'll be satisfied with their work." Curling started to­ward the door and paused again. "By the way, Angelstone, I played a few hands of cards with your cousin last night."

"Did you?"

"Mr. Fleetwood was in his cups and he did not play well. I won a rather large packet off him. But that is neither here nor there. The thing is, I could not help but notice that he appeared to be in a rather volatile mood. Quite irate, in fact. You, I believe, were the cause."

"That bit of information is not of much interest to me."

"I understand," Curling said quietly. "I know you have never been on the best of terms with your relatives."

"The feeling is mutual," Sebastian said. "What are you getting at, Curling?"

Curling studied an arrangement of gloves and accessories dis­played in the rounded shop window behind Sebastian. "I hesitate to offer advice to you, of all people, Angelstone. The devil knows you can take care of yourself. Nevertheless, I strongly recommend that you watch your back around Mr. Fleetwood."

Sebastian inclined his head aloofly and stepped off the sidewalk. "As you say, Curling, I can take care of myself."

"A very fortunate circumstance," Curling murmured. "You might begin by taking precautions when you cross the street. I gained the distinct impression from Mr. Fleetwood that he would not mind in the least if a serious accident befell you."

"I'm sure you mistook my cousin's meaning, Curling. I feel certain Fleetwood would never pray that I fall victim to a serious accident. He would much prefer that the accident proved fatal."

Curling smiled. "I see that you do not require any advice from me, sir. You obviously know your cousin very well. Good day to you. Per­haps I shall encounter you and your charming lady this evening at the Hollington ball."

"Perhaps."

Sebastian walked off toward the waiting phaeton. He still had two more establishments to visit before he went home to see if Prudence had had any luck in her inquiries.

Thus far he had learned only one thing of interest. Of the four shops he had visited, three had been eager to secure an order for engraved buttons from him. Only Milway and Gordon had shown no interest in his trade.

Shortly before five o'clock Sebastian handed his wife up into the phaeton and vaulted onto the seat beside her. He slanted her a side­long glance and decided he did not like the expression of barely sup­pressed irritation on her face. It did not bode well. His worst fears were confirmed. She had obviously spent a good portion of the day fretting over last night's argument.

He decided to test the waters. "You are looking very charming in that gown, my dear."

"This old thing?" She glanced disdainfully down at her modestly cut brown muslin gown and dark brown pelisse. "I am surprised you find it attractive on me, my lord. It is hardly in the first stare of fashion."

Sebastian smiled as he turned the horses toward the park. "Since when have you concerned yourself with being fashionable?"

"I feel I have a duty to become more conscious of such matters. Hester is helping me to achieve my goal." She shot him a speculative glance. "We spent a goodly portion of your fortune on my new ward­robe today, sir."

"I hope you enjoyed the process."

Sebastian wondered if Prudence thought a shopping spree consti­tuted sufficient retaliation for what had taken place between them last night. If so, he would consider himself fortunate to have escaped so easily.

He had sent word to her earlier that he expected her to accompany him on a drive in the park this afternoon, but he'd wondered if she would find some excuse to avoid him. Several hours ago when she had made off with the button there had been challenge and cool, feminine resolve in her lovely eyes.

On his way home from Bond Street he had vowed he would not allow her to avoid him. It was very easy for husbands and wives to go their own way here in Town. It was considered fashionable to do so. A man and a woman could live together in the same house and rarely even see each other if they so chose.

Prudence must be made to understand that he did not intend his marriage to turn into such a cold alliance, Sebastian thought. He had married her for her warmth.

He was ruefully aware of the relief he had experienced when Pru­dence had arrived downstairs dressed for the drive. She might be sulking, but she was apparently not going to defy him openly.

But it was equally obvious she was not happy. He decided to try a safe topic.

"Well, madam," he said as he drove into the park, "you have had your opportunity to involve yourself in my investigation today. What did you learn?"

"Not a blasted thing." Prudence seemed to explode with what was obviously pent-up exasperation. "I must say it was extremely discour­aging. Not a single shopkeeper could identify the button. Oh, Sebas­tian, I was so disappointed. My whole day was ruined. Absolutely ruined."

Sebastian stared at her. It finally dawned on him that the reason for her sullen expression had nothing at all to do with last night's scene. Prudence was not angry with him. She was frustrated and an­noyed because her inquiries had led nowhere.

Sebastian knew the feeling all too well.

His spirits soared. He started to smile.

"I am glad you are pleased, my lord," Prudence snapped. "I expect you will gloat for ages. It is really very bad of you."

Sebastian was caught off guard by the manner in which his own mood had become so unexpectedly buoyant. His smile changed into a grin and then he succumbed to laughter.

The occupants of a passing carriage, a couple Sebastian had known for more than a year, stared at him as if they had never seen him before. They were not the only ones who turned their heads at the sight of the Fallen Angel overcome with laughter. "You needn't laugh at me, sir," Prudence muttered. "I assure you, my sweet…" Sebastian struggled to swallow the rest of his jubilant response, "I assure you that I am not laughing at you. How could I? I had no more success than you did." She scowled at him. "You made inquiries, too?"

"Certainly. Of course, I was greatly hampered by the fact that I could not produce the original button. I was forced to rely on a de­tailed description due to the fact that you had absconded with the real thing."

"I did not steal it," Prudence grumbled. "I simply got to it first before you could make off with it."

"An interesting point of view. Nevertheless, I did my best to dis­cover what I could about it. But I came up empty-handed." He hesi­tated, remembering the strange behavior of the shopkeeper at Milway and Gordon, the last establishment on the list. "Although there was one merchant whose reaction interested me."

"Which one was that?" Prudence's frustration vanished in a flash. It was instantly replaced with intense curiosity. "What did he say?"

"It wasn't what he said." Sebastian frowned. "It was the way he brushed aside my questions. Almost as if they made him uneasy. He was the only merchant I interviewed who did not try to persuade me that he could duplicate the button from my description."

"He did not act as if he wanted your trade? How very strange."

"It is, isn't it? I think it might be worth my while to return to his shop later this evening. I'd like to have a look at his records."

"Sebastian, are you actually going to sneak into his shop? How exciting. I will come with you."

Sebastian braced himself for the argument. "No, you will not, Prue. There is entirely too much risk involved."

"You allowed me to accompany you when you explored the black chamber at Curling Castle," she reminded him in a persuasive tone. "I was very helpful to you on that occasion."

"I know, but that was different."

"How was it different?" she demanded.

"For one thing, we were not doing anything for which we could have been arrested and transported or hung," Sebastian said.

"Enough, Prue. You will not accompany me on tonight's investigation, but I promise that I will give you a detailed report when I return."

"Sebastian, I will not allow you to exclude me from this." The cajolery and persuasion vanished from Prudence's voice. She switched to her lecturing tone. "We are a team. I demand equal participation and—" She broke off abruptly and glanced to the side of the carriage. "Oh, hello, Trevor. I didn't know you were going to be riding in the park today."

"Good afternoon, Prue." Trevor guided his bay gelding into step alongside the phaeton. He nodded almost shyly at Sebastian. He looked both expectant and uncertain. "Angelstone."

Sebastian was amused to find himself actually feeling a certain gratitude toward Prudence's brother. For once Trevor had timed his appearance rather well. "I see you have changed tailors, Mer-ryweather. My congratulations."

Trevor turned a dull red. "I've been to see your tailor, Nightingale, sir. I thank you for the introduction."

"I thought I recognized the cut of that coat," Sebastian said mildly. "It is exactly like my. own."

"Yes, sir, it is. I specifically requested Nightingale to copy yours." Trevor watched him anxiously. "I hope you don't mind."

"No," Sebastian said, hiding a smile. "I don't mind in the least."

Trevor was a model of restrained masculine elegance today. His neckcloth was tied in a simple style that actually permitted him to turn his head comfortably to the side. The collar of his shirt no longer brushed his earlobes. His waistcoat did not blind onlookers. Sebastian counted only one fob hanging from his watch pocket.

"Trevor, you look wonderful," Prudence said, her face alight with genuine admiration. Then she smiled with complacent anticipation. "And I am going to appear just as fashionable myself tonight. Wait until you see the first of my new gowns. Hester assures me the style and color are all the crack."

"I shall look forward to it, Prue," Trevor said gallantly. He promptly spoiled the effect by adding, "About time you took an inter­est in fashion." He turned back to Sebastian. "By the by, Angelstone, I have received an invitation to one of Curling's house parties, just as you and Prue did."

"Have you, indeed," Sebastian said.

"Yes, sir. It's for next weekend. I'm told it will be just a small crowd this time. Gentlemen only." Trevor grinned, obviously pleased at the evidence of his elevated status in the social world. "A very select group. We'll no doubt do a bit of hunting and fishing."

Sebastian thought about the black chamber that he suspected was not used for any wholesome purpose.

"Just how small and select is this group?" he asked quietly.

"Don't know precisely. Curling says he only does this type of party on rare occasions. Very exclusive."

"I'd think twice about accepting the invitation, if I were you," Sebastian said. "I will certainly not be accepting any more invitations from Curling. His parties are not amusing."

Trevor was startled. He looked momentarily confused and then he gave Sebastian a knowing glance. "Not amusing, eh?"

"A dead bore."

"Say no more, sir. I understand," Trevor said with a man-to-man air. "Appreciate the tip, Angelstone. Don't think I'll waste my time traipsing out to Curling Castle next weekend, after all."

"A wise decision," Sebastian said softly.

"Well, then, I'll be off." Trevor tipped his hat to his sister. "See you later this evening, Prue. I'll look forward to your new gown. Good day, Angelstone."

Sebastian nodded. "Good afternoon, Merryweather."

Trevor swung his horse around in the other direction and cantered off down the path.

Prudence frowned at Sebastian. "What on earth was that all about? Since when is an invitation to Curling Castle considered a dead bore?"

"Since I declared that it was two minutes ago," Sebastian said. He eased the horses into a stylish trot. "I don't want your brother tied up in this investigation in any way. I doubt if you do, either."

"No, of course not. But how could an invitation to one of Curling's house parties present a problem?"

"I don't know," Sebastian said. "I'm following my instincts. I feel it would be best if Trevor did not get mixed up with Curling."

"Very well. You are the expert at this sort of thing, Sebastian. I agree that we should be guided by your inclinations."

"I am pleased to hear you say that, my dear. Because it is also my instincts that tell me it would be best if you did not accompany me tonight when I pay a visit to the premises of Milway and Gordon."

"A clever wife knows when to listen to her lord's advice," Pru­dence said with charming grace.

Sebastian was so stunned by the easy victory that he almost dropped the reins.

"And she also knows when to ignore him," Prudence added in a very dry tone. There was bright challenge in her eyes.

"Bloody hell," Sebastian said.