Lord Fox's Pleasure. Helen Dickson

made his excuses and left to return to Whitehall, unaware that she was on the balcony watching the firework display and saw him leave. Only then did she feel it was safe to return to the festivities. When Thomas saw her he drew her aside.

      ‘Where is your friend?’ Prudence asked innocently, giving no indication that she had watched Lord Fox leave. ‘I don’t see him.’

      ‘Do you want to see him?’

      ‘No. It’s just as well he’s gone. I think he is the most obnoxious man I have ever met.’

      Thomas chuckled. ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’

      Prudence was surprised. ‘You are? But Lord Fox is your friend.’

      ‘So he is. But I am truly amazed. Grown men quake in his presence, but here you are, a mere slip of a girl, actually standing up to him. Be warned. Lucas is too much an experienced man of the world, Prudence, for a girl of your tender years. He thought nothing of making a spectacle of you earlier—for which I have berated him—and he would think nothing of seducing you now—if you were anyone other than my sister. You are far too young to challenge him. His skills of persuasion where women are concerned are renowned, so take care. Lucas would break your heart if you gave him a chance.’

      Prudence wondered what her brother would say if she told him that her heart was already breaking over Adam, so it was unlikely that it would suffer from the same affliction twice. ‘I won’t, and if Lord Fox is as bad as you say he is, then I am very lucky to have had a narrow escape from certain disaster.’

      Thomas gave her a look of reproach. ‘You mistake me, Prudence. Lucas is not evil.’

      ‘Is he not?’ she declared adamantly. ‘If he is called “The Fox”, then he must have earned the name, and the not-too-flattering words such as cunning, deceitful and perfidious spring to mind—a true Machiavelli, in fact.’

      Thomas frowned, not at all pleased to hear Lucas described so unfairly or severely by a girl who could have no comprehension of his friend’s true character. ‘Go easy, Prudence. Do not speak ill of him. Lucas is my good friend. I insist that you are civil to him when next you meet.’

      Prudence bit her lip and her expression softened. It was clear to her that a special kind of friendship existed between her brother and Lord Fox, and she must respect that. If she had to endure his company, she would bear it for Thomas’s sake without complaint—but that didn’t mean to say she had to like him. And if he insisted on pursuing her, then by the time she had finished thwarting, frustrating and exasperating this arrogant lord, he would be glad to leave her alone.

      ‘I shall try, Thomas—I do promise,’ she conceded, knowing it would be difficult, but she was most sincere in what she said…at least, she was at that moment. ‘But the nature of the man is not to my liking. He is far too full of himself.’

      ‘Prudence.’ There was warning in his voice. ‘Have a care.’

      ‘I will. And now, if you don’t mind, Thomas, I would like to go to bed. I’ve had enough of the celebrations for one evening.’

      Turning over in his mind his encounter with Thomas’s fair sister, Lucas was in a thoughtful mood as he made his way to Whitehall. He was sorry he’d missed saying goodnight to her and sincerely hoped that on their next meeting she would be more amenable towards him.

      With a glance he took stock of his surroundings, for the streets of London were a dangerous place to be after dark. Alone and attired in the fine clothes and jewels that bespoke a man of wealth and made him a temptation to the residents of the underworld, Lucas quickened his stride. When dusk fell over the city, once their day’s work was done, decent folk went home and put up the shutters, but tonight, on the King’s return to his throne, when every street flowed with wine, they mingled in their merrymaking with all manner of low life that crept out after dark to inhabit the streets: the preying ground of beggars, thieves and cut-throats, roving bands and bawds and their pimps.

      Thinking of all this, Lucas became uneasily conscious of a chill feeling in the pit of his stomach and he had a compulsive urge to look over his shoulder. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, his instinct telling him that someone was stalking him. In a second he assessed the situation coolly, thinking it was most likely a robber, and he gritted his teeth at his own foolishness for not having brought Solomon with him or taken a chair back to Whitehall. He had been a fool once before to walk the streets of a city after dark, which had almost cost him his life. Tonight he had acted on impulse, without giving due thought to the consequences, which was something he had sworn never to do again.

      The next moment his sensitive ears heard the heavy breathing of his stalker and the soft scrape of a dagger being unsheathed. The cold deliberation of it cleared his brain and made him think quickly and concisely, responses that had carried him through a thousand similar situations in battle unscathed. Drawing his sword from its jewel-encrusted scabbard he turned, his eyes catching the sinister flash of a blade. Convinced that the fellow’s intent was to murder him, Lucas’s reflexes were quick and he lunged at his assailant like an avenging demon.

      The man had a small, straggly beard and bulbous eyes, which were obsessed by some grim purpose. He was a burly, lumbering shadow against the wall. He was also clumsy, for in attempting to dodge the deadly grace of the tall man’s swift manoeuvre and the point of his sword, he fell back, placing his foot in a rut and stumbling to his knees with a grunt, dropping his weapon on to the ground. He had been a dangerous man with a dagger in his hand, but deprived of it he proved to be no match against such a powerful and towering adversary bearing a sword. Scrambling to his feet he bolted, disappearing into the underworld of rat-infested, foul and reeking back alleyways, a domain where no respectable man dared venture.

      Breathing heavily Lucas sheathed his sword, just as a shower of silver stars burst above him in the sky, diminishing in their splendour as they gracefully descended in a magnificent cascade. The incident had all happened in the space of a moment, going unnoticed by the revellers in the street. Immediately he hailed an empty chair and ordered to be taken to Whitehall. As he sat back his face was grim, his mind going back over the unpleasant incident. He had many enemies, but he could think of only one who would want to kill him.

      His cousin Jeffrey.

      As Prudence went through the motions of preparing herself for bed, she was so confused as she tried to understand the turbulent, consuming emotions Lord Fox was able to arouse in her when they had only just met, and how he had managed to overshadow Adam in her thoughts by just a look—and a kiss. How could she ever think of him as her friend? Thomas was right. If he set his mind to seduce her, nothing was going to deter him from trying. She would be strong and rely on her courage and determination and her stubborn nature if she was going to avoid him, and she had an abundance of all three, which Lucas Fox had only glimpsed.

      Her mind was in turmoil over Adam having married someone else. When he had gone to the Continent she had been just fifteen years old, but she had hoped that he’d noticed her, that he might have had some feeling for her. But he hadn’t, she could see that now. That was all she had been to him—a silly young girl—and as soon as he’d reached King Charles’s Court in exile, he had fallen for another. As she pulled the covers over her head she resolved to banish Adam from her thoughts forever, but as she drifted into sleep her dreams betrayed her.

      When she awoke the next morning she despised this weakness, and as she dressed she was determined to conquer her infatuation. She wanted to talk to someone, but she couldn’t talk to Arabella. She couldn’t tell her sister the secret she had carried in her heart for three long years. Arabella would be shocked and grieved to know that Prudence could still want a man who was married to another.

      Just as soon as she had eaten breakfast she would go to Mr Rowan’s nursery to see Molly. Molly would listen to her. She always did.

      As Prudence was making her way to Covent Garden through streets littered with the evidence of the previous night’s revelry, she would have been concerned to know that Thomas and Arabella were discussing her. Thomas was angrily pacing the parlour with long, determined strides as he insisted on hearing