Compromising Prudence (2 page)

Before she could react, he closed those last few inches.

Charles thought she might slap him, but instead she closed her eyes and ceased struggling. Her long dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

How very unexpected.

He had intended to shock her with roughness but at the first soft brush of her mouth his resolve fled. He didn’t crush her; instead he supported his weight with his arms as his lips stroked hers. She breathed a sigh into his mouth.

Soft
.
So very soft and warm
.

Her lips parted tentatively and he couldn’t resist tasting them just a bit further.

Just another taste
.
For her own good. I am teaching her a lesson. But am I seducing her or is she seducing me?

An unskilled innocent, am I? I’ll show him!

Prudence gave herself over to the moment, to his devastating kiss. A sweet ache began in her chest, spreading through her veins with a heat and hunger she had never dreamt possible.

His tongue teased her parted lips and she gladly met it, drawing him into her mouth, feeding his hunger with her own. Her hand stroked his chest, feeling the strong muscles tauten as he groaned against her mouth.

Pru caressed his neck, allowing her hands to sink into his thick dark hair.

Am I completely mad
?

This was supposed to be about seizing control of her destiny and yet here she was allowing herself to be ravished by a complete stranger.

A completely handsome stranger.

Perhaps it was the sherry and champagne. Perhaps it was the charged atmosphere of a house dedicated to the art of love making. But
this
was the excitement she had craved all her dull existence.
This
was what she had expected of a courtesans’ house.

Bliss. She only knew that this was desire. She had been kissed before, at least it had seemed like a kiss at the time, but that gentle brushing of lips which had passed for a kiss was nothing like the spontaneous combustion, this internal fire ignited by the touch of a handsome stranger. This was a
kiss.

Chest heaving, her stranger disengaged and rose abruptly to his feet. His face was flushed; his eyes glassy, as if he were feverish. He took his glass of brandy and drank.

She felt flushed as well. His kiss had been so different from Tommy’s — which had contained no hands, no tongue, no heat. She’d thought herself in love with Tommy, but his kiss hadn’t melted her stockings.

Desire faded to be replaced with a righteous anger. To think that she had been “ruined” by such an innocuous act as the little pressing of lips when there was so much more, when a mere stranger had shown her the meaning of a (real)
kiss
. She had been cheated.

How unfair to be ruined by something she hadn’t even enjoyed.

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps I stand corrected. Seems you were made for this life; a natural wanton.”

“You dare to kiss me like that and then pinch at me because you enjoyed yourself?” She sounded calmer than she felt. “How distinctly male.”

Smoothing her skirts seemed a way to right herself and place her emotions back where they had been before the kiss. She would teach the men of the
ton
a thing or two, starting with the handsome, dark-haired man across from her.

He turned his back on her. “There are men who would pay a pretty penny for your innocence, but they would tire of you quickly.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining!” she snapped.

“Innocence is a brief commodity. Once your freshness is expended, you need something else to offer.”

“You may possibly be the rudest man I have ever met.”

“I’m a veritable angel compared to the sorts of men you would meet here. Harlotry is a dangerous profession, as I’m sure Dorothea would tell you.”

“Yes, and I shall wait here for her. Thank you for your insight.” His lectures were becoming as tedious as Papa’s. She flicked her hand at him as if dismissing a servant.

He would not be deterred. “Eventually even the most skilled whore must retire and hope she either has an admirer willing to keep her or enough of her own fortune to live well.”

Prudence chewed her lip. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am?” He turned back to her. His gray eyes held such surprise that she laughed.

She felt so deliciously warm and floating, not quite real. If only her corset would allow it, she would loll against the padded back of the loveseat. “Perhaps I am
not
suited for life as a courtesan.”

“I’m relieved that you see reason.”

“I shall become a mistress.”

He blinked at her a moment, then swore under his breath. “You do need a protector!”

She stroked her skirts. The material was soft as a kitten. “You are sadly correct. I do. That’s why I’m here, to throw myself upon Mrs. Tuppence’s mercy.” Her fingers traced the pattern on the material.

Flowers. Pretty.

I probably shouldn’t have had all that champagne.

“Your voice is odd.” She had difficulty focusing on him. Either he was swaying or she was. “Are you American?”

I can’t be swaying. I’m seated.

The thought made her giggle.

He dropped back onto the loveseat. “You should go home. You’ve had your bit of fun.”

She grinned, heartened by the sheepish expression on his handsome face.

“Yes, we both have,” he admitted. “I hope no one else has seen you here. Go home to your family. Seek their guidance and their protection.”

“If only that were possible.” Her eyes stayed on her skirt. Kissing him had made her feel bold, brazen even, but the reality of her situation came rushing back at her.

“Is it not?”

She shook her head, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “I told you I was at
point non plus
and I meant every word. Papa is putting me out of the house.” It was painful to confess her sins and look him in the eye. She did anyway. “I’m compromised, you see. I was caught alone with a man who won’t marry me. I’m not quite the complete innocent you imagined.”

“Ah.” He looked down at his drink.

“It’s all so unfair. I’m ruined and I haven’t even done anything fun. One tiny little kiss and my life is over — as if I’m the only girl to ever have a man steal a kiss!” Pru snatched back up her glass. “It was barely even a kiss. If one is going to be ruined, it should be worth it, don’t you think?” She gestured with the handing holding the glass, slopping champagne over the side.

His lips twitched. “Most certainly. One should enjoy one’s ruin.”

“That’s exactly it.” Finally, someone understood. She took a drink of her champagne. “And I didn’t enjoy being ruined at all. Well, not much.”

She would enjoy herself from now on. She would be a notorious mistress and would never be embarrassed again.

“Your mother agrees to your father simply turning you out? She won’t help you?”

“My mama is dead.”

He was far too handsome for her peace of mind, with dark hair that fell across his forehead and grey eyes that had turned serious. His hair had felt so nice under her fingers.

“I’m sorry. We seem to share a common problem: mothers who have gone and fathers who are displeased.”

Pru lifted her glass. “To motherless children everywhere.”

Charles caught her wrist before she could drink. “You really are foxed if you believe Dorothea’s house is your only option.”

“Oh, what would you know?” She attempted to free her wrist.

He took her glass away. “More about appeasing angry fathers than you can imagine. Mine is still abroad, but eventually he’ll return and force me to marry. I’ve managed to stall the inevitable by putting in an appearance at the yearly marriage mart, but Father knows I’m not really trying. He’ll probably insist I marry exactly the sort of woman I detest, a fitting punishment.” He sipped his brandy morosely. “I tried tonight at the ball. I really did. But not a blessed one of those girls was interested in me except as a sop to her parents’ ambition. I’m only practice for the hunt until better game comes along. I’m strictly second tier and they won’t pay me any mind until the season grows late. By then I’ll be back home. I never last more than a few weeks at this. God, I hate London.”

She was too quiet.

He looked over. “Hell.”

Her eyes were closed. As he shifted off the loveseat she fell back against the arm. He’d been talking more to himself than her anyway, but now what? He could hardly leave her here like this.

“Great heavens,” Dorothea said. “What have you done with the girl, Charles?” The auburn-haired courtesan stood in the doorway with a puzzled smile.

“Apparently bored her to sleep — although I imagine the champagne had a fair amount to do with it.”

“Who is she?”

“I hoped you might know.”

“I’ve never clapped eyes on the chit before.”

“Didn’t she give her name?”

“Robert says she simply showed up asking to see me, claimed her name was
Cerulean,
if you can imagine such a preposterous thing.” Dorothea rolled her eyes. “He put her here and plied her with champagne to keep her out of the way. I’ve no idea who she is or what she wants but she most certainly can’t stay here. I can’t afford to deal with the inevitable angry father on my doorstep.”

“I’ll take her to my house.”

She stared hard at him, a single eyebrow raised in amusement. “You can’t be serious. I know that none of my girls captured your attention, darling. I thought you wanted to avoid the parson’s mousetrap, but that is exactly what will happen when her family discovers where she is.”

Charles looked down at the sleeping girl. “Perhaps I
will
get riveted to her. That would teach Father a lesson, wouldn’t it? To marry some girl I found in a brothel? She’s rather lovely.”

Dorothea moved into the room, closing the door carefully behind her. “She looks perfectly ordinary to me.”

“You haven’t seen her eyes or heard her laugh. She’s very appealing in a sweet way.”

And she kisses like a demon.

“You sound smitten, Charles.”

“Perhaps I am a bit. She’s a taking thing.”

“I never thought I would see the day. I can’t just let you have her.”

“You know I don’t mean to harm her.” Charles leapt to his feet. “I’m not going to molest her as she sleeps. She can’t stay here; she said she was ruined by a man who refused to marry her and her family has turned her out. She came to you seeking guidance on how to be a harlot or a mistress. I think she’d decided to be a mistress.”

“I would have told her how
not
to become one. Although a mistress often has better time of it than a wife if she has the right protector.”

He didn’t like the speculative gleam in Dorothea’s eye. She was notoriously tender-hearted for girls down on their luck, but not above making a profit on their misfortune. Men paid handsomely for introductions to the right sort of mistress. He wondered if she put out the stories of her helpfulness to lure desperate girls to her door.