As she followed him outside, though, demons of doubt about her ability to comply tormented her with hot pokers, howling with laughter at her pain.
Chapter Nine
Steadman allowed Morgan to trail behind him as they rode west toward Ebesborne Wake. He hoped his information was correct—that his old acquaintance had returned to her family home at the edge of the tiny village. However, his thoughts kept drifting to the rider behind him and the silence that stretched between them minute upon minute. His hot anger from earlier had abated to a smoldering mound of antipathy, allowing him to think more clearly than before. Her deception had blindsided him. However, why was he so disturbed by it? He had deceived and been deceived more times than he could count. How was this so different? The more he asked the question, though, the more apparent the answer became.
He cared for Morgan. Deeply.
She had awakened in him the long dormant desire to embrace another soul as an equal, without restraint. Her ruse seemed more betrayal than con, more treason than fraud, and after he had taken such care to avoid deeper female relationships. And romantic entanglements.
He was still mired knee-deep in thought when he blinked to find his destination only fifty yards away. He reined his horse to a stop and dismounted. Morgan mimicked his action. Her expression remained wary, defensive, and equally wounded.
“Our target lies just there.” He pointed to an ancient house that looked like a leftover from Saxon times. “We tie the horses here. Approach the door and count to one hundred before knocking and announcing yourself as Bow Street. Try to sound manly when you do it.”
She cut her eyes towards him. “Why? Are we in danger here?”
“Only if you believe compelling lies.”
He spun on his heel and prowled through a vacant lot adjacent to the house. He slid along the back of the house until reaching the rear door. There he waited.
“Bow Street! Open up!” Morgan’s shout echoed through the open windows of the house. After a few seconds, the quick padding of feet approached from inside, and the rear door flew open. Steadman grabbed the startled woman as she attempted to sail past. As her momentum failed, she jerked surprised eyes up to meet those of her captor.
“Steadman!”
“Prudence. Nice to see you again. Where are you off to just now?”
She recovered her wits in an instant. “Oh, a little stroll. Nothing more.”
“Into the river? Not likely.”
She looked the same as he remembered. Silver hair and timeless features that put her somewhere between fifty and seventy, and a lithe frame that might blow over in a stiff wind or run all day, depending on her needs. She had been a startling beauty in her younger years, a trait that had made her deceits easier to sell.
“You should have told me you wished to visit,” she said calmly. “I would have put on tea.”
He prodded her back into the house. “Difficult to make tea when running. Now, sit.”
She settled in a chair at the kitchen table while Steadman opened the front door for Morgan. She glanced inside cautiously before entering and followed him to the kitchen.
“Morgan, Mrs. Prudence Lightboddy,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Prudence, Miss…Mister Morgan Brady.”
Prudence smiled at Morgan while addressing Steadman. “He’s a mere slip of a lad. And wearing such an unfortunate suit. How have you not rectified that?”
“I tried. But that is another story.” He tossed a glance at Morgan while pulling up a chair. “Sit. Let us converse.”
Prudence stared at him through narrowed eyes. “So, the rumors are true, then. You’ve turned.”
“I am still the same. But now, the law worksforme rather than against me.”
“How nice. I am happy for you, though now even more skeptical of the law.”
Morgan, who had remained standing, took a seat at the table and motioned toward Prudence. “Steadman, I expected a rogue. She is just a nice old woman.”
He shook his head. “She would sell her own mother for a handful of shillings.”
Prudence frowned with faux hurt. “Oh, posh. I never sold her so much as rented her out from time to time. But that was long ago. Now, I’m just an old woman with rheumatoid knees.”
“Try again.”
She glared at him. “If this is about the Temperance job, I don’t have your money.”
