Page 3 of Indecent
She was shocked he recalled her name. Most gentlemen wouldn’t.
Though Prudence might have preferred a fortified wine to ease her pains, she was grateful for any flavor, even ale, to wash away the taste of the last hours. She took several more sips before lowering the glass. Then she walked to the hearth, where a low fire burned, and held one hand out to the warmth. “Your apology is inconsequential. I am glad they took me instead of Lady Cassandra. To think of her suffering what I have…” She shuddered.
Turning, she pinned him with a furious glare. “Why would you do this?”
He hesitated, frowning more deeply than before. His gaze flicked to the floor. “We were going to elope.”
“I’m fairly certain elopement involves both parties’ agreement and consent.”
His head snapped up. “How do you know she didn’t give them?”
Prudence scoffed. “I’m her companion. I know precisely what we were doing in Croydon, and it had nothing to do withyou.”
He exhaled. “Not an elopement exactly, but I feel confident she would have been amenable once she arrived here and saw me.”
“Amenable after being dragged through the night trussed, as you say, like a pheasant after the hunt? Tell me, Lord Glastonbury, how many pheasants have you trussed?”
“None. Others take care of that.”
“Of course they do,” she whispered through a sneer. “Your kind don’t do anything for yourselves. Mustn’t soil your hands when you can have someone else do it for you.”
“My kind?”
“Entitled gentlemen.”
Wincing, he extended his hand toward her, but promptly dropped it to his side again. “You clearly think quite poorly of me, and you’ve every right, but let me explain.”
“Explain what? How you would have ruined Lady Cassandra with your actions? You’re despicable. And that isn’t justmyopinion. Anyone would objectively think that after what I’ve been through and upon learning you orchestrated the entire ordeal.”
He had the grace to look pained. Remorseful, almost. Actually, he did look as if he regretted his actions, but Prudence wasn’t going to forgive him. “I was desperate. I thought this would work—Lady Cassandra and I like one another. I was certain she would accept my proposal. But then her father meddled. I just needed to explain to her—”
Gripping her glass, Prudence took a step toward him. “What would you have explained?”
He said nothing, his features a mixture of obstinance and regret, the latter of which was beginning to annoy her.
“You would have stolen her choices—her entire future. She’s in love with Wexford. I expect they will be married.” Which meant Prudence would need to find a new position, and her sudden disappearance could greatly endanger her prospects. Her outrage increased.
The viscount’s face didn’t register surprise. There was resignation. And anger.
Prudence went on. “You would have stolen her from the man she loves, and for what? To refill your empty coffers?”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed, his lips whitening.
“There is nothing for you to explain and certainly nothing to excuse. And I think you know it.” She took another long drink, her gaze glued to his.
His jaw worked, and he finally looked away from her. “I regret my actions. As I said, I was desperate. You can’t possibly understand. I’ll return you to London in the morning.”
“Where are we?”
“Hersham. About twenty miles southwest of Mayfair.”
“I can’t begin to imagine the extent of your nefarious plot—where you were going, what you planned—but I hope the shame remains with you the rest of your days. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to sleep.”
“Your bag is there.” He pointed to her case, which must have been the thump she’d heard when the sack was still over her head.
“I’m surprised they brought that,” she said before tossing back the rest of the ale.
“I asked them to.” He blinked at her. “I’m not completely horrid,” he added softly.
