Prudence briefly considered ordering the coachman to turn the hackney around and drive her straight home. The only sounds were the rattle of the carriage and the thud of the horses’ hooves on the pavement. An eerie silence gripped the cold, dark street. The new gas lamps that had been installed in this part of town were useless against the thick mist. She shivered in spite of her bold resolve as the hackney drew to a halt in front of the mist-shrouded door of the town house. Prudence Merryweather reluctantly concluded that it was an uncomfortably suitable time and setting in which to pay a call on the man known as the Fallen Angel. T was the darkest hour of the night, nearly three o’clock in the morning, and the chilling fog clung to the city like a ghost. He caught hold of her and swung her up into his arms before she realized what he intended…. “Why don’t you apply your intellect to that question, Miss Merryweather? I’m certain you will very quickly arrive at the answer,” “Enough.” He released the bedpost and came toward her with an air of grim intent. “Indeed, I have never met a more decidedly interesting man.” “I did not mean to imply that you are not also quite interesting, my lord,” Prudence said desperately. I am beginning to think that if the matter were put to the test, I would finish a poor second to your interest in conducting investigations.” “You wish to end it so soon, sir?” Prudence floundered for a logical, rational reason that would forestall the inevitable. I have had enough of this foolishness.”ĭismay swept through her. “I wish to speak to you about this engagement of ours. SEBASTIAN WRAPPED ONE HAND AROUND THE BEDPOST AND LOOKED AT HER WITH HOODED, UNREADABLE EYES.
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