He was annoyed to find that the image haunted him for the rest of the night as he oversaw his club, mingled, drank, and gambled with his guests.
Prudence sat on the expensive upholstery of Lord Stockton's carriage seats, rage pulsing through her like a living thing. She was furious and frustrated, and knew exactly who to blame for it: one Stephen Ballard, Lord Stockton. He was the one who owned the club where her father was tossing his family's lives away. He was the one who wouldn't let her in to speak to her father and perhaps turn him from his destructive path.
"So ladies are not allowed in Ballard's. No exceptions," she said to herself as the carriage rolled to a stop before her home. "Then I suppose I shall have to go as a man."
Chapter Two
Tugging the carriage curtain aside, Prudence swallowed as she saw that they were nearing her destination. She had thought this such a good idea when she came up with it. Confronting her father in the club would have to be successful; Edward Prescott could not walk away and leave his daughter inside. He would not want the scandal. Prudence would finally get the chance to say what needed saying. But the closer the carriage drew to Ballard's, the more she was positive that this was a huge mistake. Terrible folly. And she had to wonder how Ellie could have possibly allowed her to go through with it.
Ellie. Eleanore Kindersley. Pru's tension eased slightly at the thought of her best friend. She had visited the other girl for tea that afternoon and proceeded to rant about her father's behavior, her fears about what it was doing to her family, and her failed attempt to get into Ballard's the night before. The other young woman had listened sympathetically, offering to help Prudence in any way that she could with the matter, and when Pru had revealed her plans to gain entrance to the club that night disguised as a man, Eleanore had applauded the "brilliant" idea and had even volunteered to accompany her. Prudence had quickly refused that offer- unwilling to risk the other girl's reputation-but had accepted the proffered use of her friends private coach.
Well, it was really Ellie's father's coach, she admitted, hoping that Lord Kindersley would not be too upset at his daughter for lending it out. Eleanore was always doing good and generous things like that. She was a dear friend.
Aye. Eleanore is an excellent friend. But really, she should have dissuaded me from this folly, Prudence thought with regret.
Realizing that she was terribly close to giving up and telling Jamison, the Kindersleys' driver, to take her home, Prudence released the curtain and forced herself to lean back on the plush, cushioned seats to take a deep, calming breath. Unfortunately she didn't feel much better when at last the coach rolled to a stop. Peering out the window to see Plunkett standing, grim-faced and arms crossed, before the door of Ballard's did not help much.
Feeling her courage dwindling further, Prudence pushed the door open and burst out of the carriage, coming up short as the Kindersleys' coachman came to an abrupt halt before her, his expression horrified. Pru heaved an inner sigh, but managed an apologetic smile. Eleanore, of course, would never have bustled out of the carriage before the man could open the door for her. But then Ellie was always a perfect lady. Prudence was not. Perfect ladies did not rush about in men's clothes, chasing their fathers out of gambling establishments in efforts to save their families.
Ah, well, she thought philosophically, no one is perfect. Besides, she had more to worry about than behaving like a perfect lady, especially while dressed as a man. With that concern out of the way, she straightened her shoulders, stepped around the disapproving driver, and started forth.
Prudence had barely taken half a dozen steps when her breeches began slipping down her hips. Slowing her step, she jerked at them under cover of the cape she wore. Both items were her father's, as were the shirt, waistcoat, and cravat she wore.
Unfortunately, when Prudence had devised this plan, she had not considered the fact that Edward Prescott was a jolly little man of about twice her width. Neither had she recalled that her mother had given her brother's vestments away to charity after his death. Not that John's clothing would have fit properly either. They, too, would have been large on her-but at least she wouldn't have been swimming in them as she was in her father's clothing.
Prudence had spent a goodly amount of time this evening tucking and pinning the breeches in the back in an effort to make them look more presentable, and she had succeeded for the most part. Well, they looked passable in the front. Unfortunately it appeared that her handiwork was coming undone. The moment she released the breeches they began to slip again.
Scowling in irritation, she yanked them up once more, this time anchoring them in place with a hand on her hip under the cape. Realizing how foolish she must look walking like that, she tried to add a swagger to her step to appear more manly, but found that the excessive activity made her head bob, sending the top hat she wore shifting forward on her head. It, too, was her father's and was too large for her.
At first, that had seemed something of a blessing, since it allowed her to tuck her long chestnut hair underneath. Now Prudence found it more of a problem. She feared it might slide right off her head, spilling her hair and revealing her gender. With her father's old cane in her right hand, and her left hand needed to twist the breeches on her hip, she was rather at a loss as to what to do. After one frantic moment, she raised the cane she held and used it to push the hat back. Fortunately the action worked; the hat shifted into place and Prudence was able to continue forward. She did so much more cautiously, trying to keep her head steady as she approached Ballard's front door-and Plunkett.
Pru hadn't really plotted this part of her plan. She supposed she had just assumed that the man would open the door and step aside for her to enter. He, apparently, had other thoughts. He merely stood in place, his expression turning mean as he squinted at her approach.
"Pip, pip, cheerio," she tried in her deepest voice, hoping her mounting panic did not show as she attempted to maneuver around the man to get to the door. Her heart sank when he stepped sideways into her path, firmly blocking her entrance.
"You look familiar," he rumbled, making Pru's heart skip a beat.
"Aye, well… Undoubtedly that would be because I am a regular at this fine establishment," she forced out, following the lie with the deepest laugh she could muster. Unfortunately, the effort scratched her throat and sent her into a coughing fit.
Eyes rounding in horror, Prudence reached up quickly to anchor her hat in place with the hand that held the cane, nearly braining Plunkett in the process. The doorman managed to avoid the blow with a quick duck and feint that would have done any boxing teacher proud, then scowled at
Prudence, who, with both hands occupied, proceeded to cough rudely all over his folded arms.
Apparently deciding that holding her up was not to his benefit, Plunkett promptly opened the door, using the act as a way to step clear of her moist coughing.
"Thank you," Prudence rasped as she rushed forward, eager to get inside before the man changed his mind.
The door closed behind her with a snap, and Prudence had just begun to take a relieved breath when she realized that she had only managed to cross the first hurdle. She was not now in the gaming room; she was in an entryway with a cloakroom off of it. There was another door to get through, and two servants between her and that door.
Squelching the panic that rose in her as the two servants rushed forward, reaching eagerly for her hat and cloak, Prudence let go of her hat long enough to brandish her cane threateningly before her.
"I shall not be here long enough to have need of your services," she said quickly, then rushed between them. Pushing through the door, she raised her hand to moor her hat as she did. It worked.