He learned from his old nanny, whom he was immensely fond of, that his mother had been very loving. Unlike most ladies, who were more interested in their social pursuits, she had spent most of her days in the nursery and insisted on feeding him herself. Had her love not been strong enough to keep her with him? He’d defended her reputation using his fists against the schoolboys and though he had been large for his age and a strong lad, he’d been constantly bruised and bloody. It had gotten him into trouble with the headmaster. Letters had been sent home with the threat Jack would be expelled,and not wishing to add to his father’s anguish, he’d stopped brawling and fallen into a fearsome silence. The boys, wary of him, had left him alone. It had been a lonely existence for Jack when he’d been home, as well as at school. He’d felt freer with the anonymity at Oxford, but he hadn’t settled down well enough to thrive there. As the years had gone by and his mother had failed to return and no letter had arrived, Jack had seen it as a bitter betrayal. But the years had softened him, and the sadness had grown less.
After university, he’d left home and gone to London, where he’d spent several years with a group of aimless young bucks, drinking, gambling and carousing. Then, that had all changed. Late one night, he’d rescued a gentleman in Covent Garden who had been robbed at knife point. Jack had beaten the thief within an inch of his life, then hauled him off to Bow Street. The gentleman had been Mr. Edmund Filmore, who’d invited him to come and see him at his office in Whitehall. So, at three and twenty years of age, Jack had become an agent for the Crown, which offered him a means of dealing with his anger. His rakish reputation didn’t bother him. Working as a spy suited him. Jack had no intention of marrying, even after his father had passed away and he’d become the fifth Viscount Hereford.
But strangely, he couldn’t deny that more than admiration for her beauty, he had felt some connection to Lady Prudence when he’d first set eyes on her. As if they’d met sometime in the past. As puzzling as this was, it went against the grain with him to ignore a woman in trouble, and her plight refused to leave his thoughts, despite there being little he could do to ease her concerns. Surely, she had no need of help from him when her cousin arrived within days to take over.
Jack was manifestly aware he must remain focused on ferreting out the dangerous miscreants. If their information was correct, it was imperative to learn who the schemers were, and where they gathered to plot their insurgency. And to do so before they set their plan in motion—a plan that could result in a bloodbath, the proportions ofwhich the English government had never seen. Not since Guy Fawkes, who, with his fellow Catholic conspirators, had attempted to blow up Parliament and assassinate James I of England. Any action out of the ordinary on Jack’s part, such as stepping out of character, could blow his cover and place others in danger.
In the morning before breakfast, Jack joined a party of guests to ride over the estate. They trotted close together while they conversed, but soon becoming bored, he fell back and turned his horse’s head toward the north. He galloped his mount over the pastures and vaulted fences and hedges, reaching the small village, with its cottages, stone church, farriers, and haberdashery within the hour. A few miles farther on, he approached the elaborate, iron gates of Sedgwick Hall. He told himself that he merely wished to ensure Lady Prudence had arrived safely home. Once reassured, he could finally thrust this affair from his mind.
A coach rattled up and passed by him to pull up before the gates. The gatekeeper rushed out of the gatehouse to open them. “Good day, Mr. Stanton,” the man said with a tug on his forelock. “Hope ye had a good journey.”
The new earl’s pale be-ringed hand emerged from the coach’s window and sharply waved the coach on. The gatekeeper had to scurry back out of the way of the horses as it rattled past.
Jack watched the vehicle wend its way along the avenue to the house. He shouldn’t judge Stanton poorly because he’d been unnecessarily rude. Yet he did. And inexplicably, it worried him.
Turning back, he left the road, threading his way through the trees and into a meadow. He dismounted and walked his tired horse across the grass. A right stinker, Stanton might have been, and regrettably, matters would now rest in his hands. Bain had mentioned how dismayed Lady Prudence had been at being reminded that Stanton would come to take control. An odd reaction, Jack thought. One would think she would have been glad of the support. Did it place herin a vulnerable position? It made him wonder just what her cousin intended for her.
Despite his annoyance at allowing himself to become involved when he should have ridden back to Bain’s and make use of the few hours left to him, leading his horse, he wandered slowly across the greensward toward the earl’s land.
A rider appeared on a rise in the distance. Jack was unable to make out much about her, beyond her sex. Her hat fell back onto her neck, and a cloud of flame-colored tresses danced over her shoulders. And then he knew.Lady Prudence.You rarely saw hair that color. Like expensive burgundy. As he mounted to ride on, another rider galloped into sight. His stallion outpaced Lady Prudence’s mare, and he pulled up his horse beside hers. The angry tone of their voices reached him, although Jack was too far away to hear what they said.
Stanton rode his stallion too close to Lady Prudence’s mount, forcing her back toward the house. It spoke volumes to Jack and ruined any idea he had about dismissing Lady Prudence’s plight as that of a young woman merely suffering from the effects of the awful tragedy and the loss of her father.
For a moment, he was tempted to intervene. But much as he’d like to, Lady Prudence didn’t appear to be in any imminent danger. And he had no right to meddle in affairs that had nothing to do with him. Time was growing short. He mounted his horse and rode back to Bain’s estate. He only had the rest of today and this evening to discover if any of the men’s tongues had loosened and let slip valuable information before the party ended. And there were two men whom he intended to focus on, as pointed out by Miss Lindale. Mr. Francis Saxon and Viscount Craven.
Chapter Four
Roland’s nauseating condolences,which did not ring true, especially when he and Prue’s father had never gotten on, plus his insistence that they marry, sent her running from the house, appalled and angry. But he soon caught up with her, his stallion quickly outpacing her mare.
The scowl on his face made him look almost demonic. It was as if he were driven and would do anything to get what he wanted. And he had always wanted this.
His eyes burned as he glared at her. “You are irresponsible and selfish. We shall discuss this further at the house.”
“I will never marry you,” she snapped. “You are wasting your time. I cannot imagine why you would wish to marry me when you know how much I despise you.”
“We’ll see about that. You can be tamed.”
Her heart skipped a beat. So, there it was. He was showing his true colors. Her stomach roiled and she feared she would vomit. “‘Tamed’?” she threw at him over her shoulder as she tried to edge her horse away. “I am not one of your unfortunate hounds. I shall never give in to you.”
“Such heated words. If you are nice to me, there’s no reason why you can’t have a very pleasant life.”
“I’d rather drown myself in the lake.”
Furious, Roland edged his horse close to hers. Her mare whinnied in fright. Prue, afraid her horse would bolt, could do nothing but allow him to shepherd her back to the stables. Did he mean it? Would he hurt her? She knew he was capable of it. She’d always sensed this suppressed violence in him. But she would never give in to him. She must bide her time, think of a way to outwit him.
Prue hurried back to the house from the stables, leaving Roland behind. Their butler opened the front doors and paused, no doubt concerned at the sight of her scowling and ruffled appearance. “Is there anything I can do to assist you, Lady Prudence?”
“Thank you, Nyland. Would you send Allie to my bedchamber?” It was impossible to tell him how Roland’s despicable demands had sent her running from the house, appalled and angry. How he had caught up with her, his stallion quickly outpacing her mare and forcing her back to the stables.
He entered the hall as she was about to mount the stairs. “That was childish of you.” He tossed his hat, gloves, and crop on the table.
She whirled around to face him. “You surely can’t believe I will ever change my mind and agree to marry you.” With a shrug, he appeared to have managed to control his temper, which made him even more frightening to her. He tidied his fair hair in the gilt-framed mirror with soft, pampered hands. “I believe it behooves me to take care of you now that you are left alone in the world. You are entirely too impulsive and ill-mannered for your own good, Prue. Your father has allowed you to run wild here.” He pressed his thin lips and glared at her with folded his arms. “How ungrateful. You are to turn one-and-twenty at your next birthday, too old to attract a man looking for a young wife. As my wife, you will be a countess. You should be glad about my proposal. Especially when it enables you to remain here safely in your childhood home for the rest of your days.”
Couching his offer in such terms as becoming her protector didn’t wash with her. It wasn’t love or even affection he felt for her. It was adesire to control her. It would suit him for her to marry him and give him control of her inheritance, which he would use for his own ends. She went cold at what else he might demand from her and shuddered to think of those hands on her. “I would rather sell flowers in Covent Garden than remain here with you.”
“How unflattering, my dear.” He cocked his head. His unusual, yellowish-brown eyes surveyed her. “What makes you think I will live here? I shall only come when it suits me, as I prefer to reside in London. But I must fill the nursery with sons, must I not? So perhaps, if you become more welcoming, you might not be alone so often.”
She shook her head violently. “You will never get me to the altar!”
