Free Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) by Michelle McMaster

try as she might, she’d been unable to convince them to return with her to the school. One of the girls, Lizzie, had been tentative, but genuinely interested in Prudence’s offer. Her sister, however, was suspicious.
    Prudence had encountered the same problem before. If the girls saw her a few more times, perhaps they would grow to trust her.
    But something else was bothering her.
    As Prudence had talked to the girls, she had seen the shadowy figure across the street again, watching them. When she’d first noticed him weeks ago, she had taken him to be just another patron, waiting for his favorite light-skirt to stroll by.
    But the tall, wiry man never talked to any of the girls at length. And he certainly never hired any of them. He just stayed in the shadows, watching. Though she had never seen his face—it was always obscured by the brim of his cap—she knew that he was watching her.
    It made her shiver.
    Perhaps he was harmless. Perhaps he was a clergyman, out for the same reason she was. But the feeling in her gut told her otherwise.
    Thank heavens he was gone, now. The uneasiness in her stomach was just now starting to dissipate.
    Prudence looked back at the sisters, huddled at the opposite corner, still glancing her way every now and then. They were so young. And they deserved so much more in life. Prudence hoped they would give her—and themselves—a chance at the Atwater School.
    She would stay for another hour or so. The Theater Royal had already let out, and after the initial crowds had dispersed, the street had remained empty.
    But there came a carriage down the cobblestone street. Perhaps letting off a girl who had finished an evening’s employment.
    Prudence fluffed her hair and pushed her cloak back over her shoulder, displaying her wares as a streetwalker would. She tossed her head a little, pushed out her bosom—and tried to look friendly, yet rough.
    The coach stopped in front of her, rolling slightly as the big black horse took a step back. For a moment, nothing happened. The only sound was the horse breathing in the dark, quiet night.
    Then, the door opened.
    A glossy black boot emerged from the shadows, followed by a man in hat and greatcoat. The brim of his hat shielded his face as he emerged, but Prudence knew who it was.
    He stepped onto the street, his boots crunching the ground beneath.
    Prudence swallowed.
    It was him.
    Lord Weston.
    His dark, powerful gaze told her exactly what he had come for.
    Her …
    His mouth curved into a wicked smile. He was half-devil, half-angel—and all dangerous.
    “You know why I’ve come?” he said.
    “Yes,” Prudence said, taking a deep breath. “I believe I do.”
    “You had given upon me, I suppose.”
    “Yes.” Her heart was beginning to beat in an odd, heavy rhythm.
    “I have finally decided on a price, little flower,” he said, stepping closer. “The pleasure of your company for an evening. Only the pleasure of your company. It is what I asked for the first night we met—before you had me knocked unconscious. I think it a fair and fitting price. I promised to release you from our agreement today. You will see that I keep my promises, Prudence.”
    “As do I, my lord.” She met his dark, powerful gaze, and he held her there for a moment, with only the heat in his eyes. She felt like a puppet on a string—weightless—and in someone else’s control.
    Lord Weston’s arms circled her waist, pulling her against him. He touched her face, tilting it up toward his.
    “Everythin’ alright, Miss?” Mungo said from behind her, a dangerous edge to his voice.
    Just inches from covering her mouth with his own, Lord Weston stopped and eyed Mungo, then gently released her.
    Prudence took a moment to regain her bearings. She turned to face her trusted bodyguard.
    “Yes, Mungo,” she stammered. “Everything is fine.”
    “Ye sure , Miss?” He asked, looking unconvinced.
    “Yes, Mungo, I am quite sure,” she replied. “You know Lord Weston. He