Lord Fox's Pleasure. Helen Dickson
Lucas looked quite taken aback, then he loosed his laughter, his white teeth gleaming like a pirate’s in his swarthy face. ‘Sister? Good Lord, Thomas. You are not serious?’
‘I am deadly serious. Now, unhand her, you reprobate. Prudence is still a child and very impressionable.’
Prudence stared at the elegant figure of her brother, not at all pleased at being referred to as a baby or an impressionable child. Thomas’s features were tight and she knew he was trying to make light of the situation, but she could sense his displeasure on finding her out on the street with the common folk.
Her eyes shifted to Lord Fox. With as much disdain as she could muster in her humiliated confusion, she raised her chin a notch. His eyes narrowed and gleamed, and a strange, unfathomable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his gaze dipped lingeringly to her soft lips.
‘Why, Thomas, I think I’m going to enjoy getting better acquainted with your little sister.’
Prudence, who had been paralysed into inaction by the unexpected arrival of her brother, wriggled out of Lord Fox’s embrace and off his horse—exposing more than was decent of her slender, stockinged legs, almost choking on her ire while dozens of scathing remarks became tangled in her mouth. She glowered up at him, her cheeks stung with indignation. ‘Why, you arrogant, insufferable beast—not if I can help it you won’t. You can go straight to the devil for all I care. Now be so kind as to return my posy,’ she demanded, holding out her hand.
‘But you gave it to me,’ he said soothingly, his imperturbable, dancing gaze studying her stormy amethyst eyes. ‘Do you make a habit of bestowing gifts and then asking for them back?’
‘The flowers were not meant for you.’
Lucas raised a quizzical brow, reluctant to relinquish the small posy of fragrant blooms. As quick as a flash Prudence snatched them out of his grasp, but not before Lucas had plucked the sprig of May blossom from behind her ear and secured it to the front of his doublet with a diamond-and-pearl encrusted stick pin. His eyes snapping with amusement, he reached down and with his fingers gave her a light, suggestive chuck under the chin.
Swallowing her outrage, Prudence turned from him and went to Adam, wishing he would snatch her off the ground on to his horse and kiss her the way Lord Fox had just done. But she knew he wouldn’t. Adam wasn’t like that, unless his years on the Continent had changed him. Secretly she hoped he hadn’t changed. She couldn’t bear to think of him kissing anyone but her.
Adam was clad in green and gold, his hair beneath his plumed hat as fair as Lord Fox’s was dark. Gazing up at him with adoration and pleasure, Prudence handed him the posy. For three years she had been rehearsing what she would say to him when this moment finally arrived, and now all she could say was, ‘Welcome home, Adam. I’ve missed you—we…we all have.’
A slow, appreciative smile worked its way across Adam’s fair features. Touched by her simple gift, reaching down he took the posy out of her hand and tweaked her cheek fondly between his finger and thumb, as he would have done to a child. ‘Thank you, Prudence. I’m looking forward to seeing you and your family later.’
The procession was moving past Maitland House and the crowd thickened about them. Prudence was forced to step back. Thomas nudged his horse towards her.
‘I do not know the meaning of this, Prudence,’ he said, his tone leaving her in no doubt of his deep displeasure, his eyes observing the creamy swell of her breasts, telling him that his sister was no longer the little girl he remembered, ‘nor do I care to know. However, it will not do. Go and join Arabella and Aunt Julia on the balcony and watch the procession from there. I will see you later.’ His curt nod dismissed her.
Mortified by everything that had happened to her in the last few minutes, and knowing that her indiscretion would not go unpunished, Prudence didn’t look up to the balcony before entering the house, so she wasn’t aware that the laughter had faded from Arabella’s eyes, or how pale her face had become when she had watched the spectacle of Lord Fox kissing her sister, or how the colour had intensified when she had taken the posy from Lord Fox and given it to Adam.
Arabella felt physically sick with the force of the pain that attacked her, realising how blind she had been where her sister and her thoughts and feelings were concerned. Recalling the times over the past three years when Prudence often disappeared into a daydream, she now knew why and was deeply troubled and saddened by it—saddened because she knew Adam had quietly married Lucy Ludlow, their brother’s sister-in-law, at The Hague.
Arabella was not alone in her disappointment. With his huge hands clenched into tight fists, Will Price’s face had worked with fury as he had watched the powerful and infuriatingly handsome Lord Fox sweep Prudence off the ground and kiss her soundly in front of the entire population lining the Strand. When Lord Fox had done with her and she had taken her posy and given it to the flaxen-haired Cavalier following in his wake, Will had felt a rush of bitterness like he had never known before.
Will was obsessed by Prudence Fairworthy. Still in his early twenties, his face was already showing signs of debauchery and overindulgence in every vice. His lusts were easily satisfied by whores, but Prudence was different. She was the sister of a gentleman and not to be tumbled like a strumpet. Throughout the twelve months he had known her, he had oft anticipated not only the gratification of sampling the delights of her supple young body, but the time he would take over it. He had trailed after her like a besotted fool while she had kept him at arm’s length, behaving like a prim little Puritan. And now he had watched her behaving like a brazen hussy, throwing herself at the preening Cavaliers like a shameless harlot.
‘The bitch! The deceitful bitch!’ he ground out between clenched teeth, his fury turning to cold, hard resolve. Her obvious indifference to him and his lowly station in life had made him keep his distance but, after what he had just witnessed, he’d be damned if he would do so any longer. When next they met he wouldn’t show any consideration for her finer feelings—if the slut had any.
With rage burning inside him like acid, Will turned on his heel and headed away from the Strand, sickened by the spectacle of the arrogant, pompous, returning Royalists—silently damning each and every one of them to perdition, but somehow his curses proved less than satisfying.
With King Charles established in his palace at Whitehall, accompanied by Robert Armstrong, Thomas arrived at Maitland House to be reunited with his family. Having hoped that Adam would accompany them and awaiting his arrival with eager anticipation, Prudence was swamped with disappointment not to see him with her brother.
Thomas’s meeting with his sisters was warm and emotional. After embracing Arabella, who wept copious tears of happiness and relief that he was home with them at last, he then enfolded Prudence in his arms, pressing his lips to her hair and infusing into her all the affection he had yearned to bestow on her since the day he had left England after the disastrous Battle of Worcester. The moment was deeply moving for them both, and Prudence was relieved that he was no longer angry with her for making a spectacle of herself earlier.
Thomas then drew Aunt Julia aside, carefully wording the circumstances of her husband’s death, then helplessly watching while she dabbed at her tears before shoving her handkerchief into her pocket and smiling. Embracing her nephew, she then ushered him into the grand salon where a lavish banquet had been laid for an occasion never to be forgotten, glad that they were together as a family again at last.
With so much to celebrate the feasting began. With a desire to get to know Prudence, and better to keep an eye on her, Thomas insisted that she sit beside him. At the candle-lit banquet table he studied the young girl with a frown, her earlier misdemeanour not forgotten. The way she looked troubled him. All the other ladies seated at the table appeared muted and overshadowed by her vivid beauty. Though small of stature, she was miraculously lovely, her body ripe and perfectly proportioned.
Sensing the restlessness of her spirit, and letting his eyes linger on the stubborn, wilful thrust of her small chin, Thomas suspected that she had been given her own way in most things and allowed too much freedom for too long. Feeling