The first thing to strike Prudence as she burst into the gaming area was the noise. There were well over a hundred men in the large room, and every single one of them appeared to be talking or laughing, each voice just a bit louder than the next in an effort to be heard. It appeared men were much noisier when women weren't around. Or, at least, when ladies weren't around, she corrected herself as she noted that what she had heard was true; Ballard's did have female servants. There were several moving through the crowd, carrying trays of drinks and various food items.
Prudence watched one such servant distribute drinks at a nearby table and paused to admire her outfit. The long, deep red skirt and snow white top were really quite fetching. Of course, it was nothing she herself would have dared wear. The skirt was just a touch short of being considered proper. Prudence even caught a glimpse of the girl's ankles as she hurried about. The scoop-necked top was a touch risque as well, she decided critically, but all in all it was an attractive uniform. Since every woman present wore it, she decided that it had to be a uniform.
The entrance of new arrivals behind her forced Prudence to give up her consideration of the apparel Lord Stockton had chosen for his servants. Moving away from the door, she started through the room, her gaze shifting over the sea of men in search of her father. She had reached the back right corner of the club before spying Lord Prescott deeply involved in a game of cards at a table in the opposite corner. Spotting the pile of money in the center of the round surface, she wondered bitterly how much of it her father had added to the pile. The sum there would go a long way toward paying off their debts should he win, she could not help thinking. But that was the trick. He would not win. She would lay odds on that.
Determined that however much he had already gambled away, he would be losing no more, Prudence straightened her shoulders and prepared to confront him. She was about to stride forward when a cry of pain by her side made her hesitate and glance over at a dispute taking place. Nearby, a tall, hawkish man had one of the serving women by the arm and was shaking her rather viciously as he hissed into her face.
Frowning, Pru moved close enough to hear what was being said.
"You stupid, clumsy strumpet!" the man said snarling. "This waistcoat cost more than you will make in a lifetime!"
"I am sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to spill ale on you, but you bumped my arm and-"
"Are you suggesting that it is my fault?" the noble barked, giving the servant a bone-rattling shake that had Pru's teeth aching in sympathy. Putting aside the matter of her father for the moment, she slipped closer to the pair.
"I say there, my good man," she said lightly, doing her best imitation of her father's cajoling voice. "Surely the gel did not mean to-"
Pru's voice ended on an alarmed squeak as she found herself suddenly grabbed by the cravat and jerked nearly off the floor. Feet slipping in her father's overlarge boots, she was suddenly standing on the very tips of her toes and nose-to-nose with the hawk-faced man.
"Did I ask for your opinion?"
Wincing at both the pain he was causing in her neck and the cloud of whiskey fumes that spewed from his mouth, Prudence glanced from him to the serving girl, who had tumbled to the floor as he had abruptly pushed her away. The servant appeared rather relieved to be on the floor, and Prudence couldn't blame her. The wooden surface was looking a fairly comfy place to be at the moment, she thought, then noted the shocked horror now coming over the girl's face.
"A woman!"
Pru's attention jerked back to the hawkish man at that exclamation, only then noting that her head was feeling a touch cooler than it had moments before. Alarm rising up within her, she forgot about the cane she held and reached up instinctively to feel for the hat that should have been on her head, nearly knocking herself senseless in the process. Prudence actually saw stars as pain exploded through her head, but it might have been partially due to the fact that the man had lifted her higher in his surprise and she was now dangling off the floor, her cravat becoming a rather effective hangman's noose.
Struggling for breath, Prudence acted instinctively and brought her cane down square on top of Hawkman's head. Her tormentor released her at once. Sucking in great gasps of air, Pru stumbled backward, just avoiding the retaliatory fist the man sent flying at her face as she tumbled to the floor beside the serving girl. She wasn't terribly surprised that the man had tried to hit her despite knowing she was a woman. After all, he hadn't been treating the serving girl very well. Everyone was surprised, however, when the blow he intended for her landed squarely on the jaw of a large blond man who had apparently stepped forward to intervene. The blow was enough to send the man crashing to the floor, and Prudence bit her lip and winced in sympathy, but was more than grateful that she had not managed to stay on her feet for that shot.
Silence fell in a wave that spread to the far corners of the room as the blond shook his head and regained his feet. Then Hawkman, looking pale and frightened, blurted, "I did not mean to hit you. I was-"
It was as far as he got before the blond man's fist plowed into his face. Prudence almost cheered at the blow. She did hate cowards, and any man who was so vicious to women, then quavered when confronted with a man his own size, was definitely a coward.
She watched with satisfaction as Hawkman stumbled backward, then winced as he crashed into a serving girl who had just come through a nearby door with a tray of beverages. The tray upended, sending the drinks flying over a pair of men; then all hell broke loose. The two men promptly joined the fray and were quickly followed by others-every-one soon striking out at his neighbors. The violence moved in a wave much as the silence had a moment before, rippling out over the crowd until everyone seemed to be involved.
Pru pushed herself up to a sitting position and gaped at the riot breaking out around her, then scrambled up to rescue her father's second-best top hat from between two combatants' feet. Unfortunately she was too slow, and the hat got slightly dented and compressed. Prudence scowled at the damaged item, then glanced to the side a bit wildly when someone tugged at her arm.
"Come on," the serving woman cried, then promptly shifted to her hands and knees and began to crawl away through the legs surrounding them.
Pru stared after her in amazement for a moment, then, afraid of being left to fend for herself in the midst of the mob, shifted to her hands and knees and scrabbled after her. She started out trying to crawl while holding her father's cane in her hand. That was a painful endeavor, as she found herself grinding her fingers between the hard object and the floor with her weight on it. Leaving the item reluctantly behind, she found it easier going and was able to make much better time, despite having to pause every few feet to yank up her breeches-crawling about left her with no hands to hold them up, and the activity seemed to drag at them.
"Do you not think we would move faster on our feet?" she asked breathlessly, dodging between a couple of flailing legs to catch up with the woman, whose path was blocked by a pair of men rolling on the floor, fists flying.
"Sure, if you don't mind a fist to the face," the servant answered over her shoulder as she changed direction to crawl around the battling pair. The words sounded practical enough to Prudence, but she couldn't help thinking that she might prefer a fist in the face to a boot in it.
Pru had barely had that thought when she got a boot to the stomach as someone tripped over her. It was more a knock than a kick, but was enough to startle an "oomph" out of her and make her decide she would risk the fists. Pausing, she started to draw her knees up to rise, only to find herself assisted to her feet by someone grasping the back of her collar and jerking her upward.