“Thank you. You are so very kind.” What a difference it made, being somebody. She was quite struck with it. Being somebody with a potential lawsuit to hold over the inn brought her another surprise. The “cup of tea,” when it arrived a little later, proved to be a feast comprising everything in the inn’s larder but sea food. There were meats and cheeses, breads, fruits, and a sweet.
“Oh, they have brought a meal” she laughed.“You must stay and join me, gentlemen.”
Knighton accepted a cup of tea, and Seville too sat down. When Knighton left a little later to check up on Mrs. Dacres, Seville saw no harm in sitting on a moment while Prudence ate. There is something about a calamity that lowers the barriers ordinarily pertaining in society. And there was her mother right next door, too. He mentioned opening the door, but Prudence objected that the noise might disturb her mother.
When a loud knock was heard without, they neither of them jumped up in guilty alarm. They supposed it to be Knighton, or a menial of the establishment. “Come in,” Prudence called, and Lord Dammler stepped through the door, his face haggard and furious.
“How cosy!” he said in a cold tone, and advanced towards them with murder in his eye.
Seville jumped up. "Just leaving,” he said, edging towards the door. Dammler blocked his way with his body.
“I will have a word with you first.”
“What are you doing here, Dammler?" Prudence asked, reeling from the shock of seeing him when she thought him still at Finefields.
“More to the point, what is he doing here?” he jerked his head towards Seville.
“He has been helping me. The most dreadful thing has happened…"
“I can explain,” Seville began, knowing by the cast of Dammler's countenance that he was more involved with the Miss Mallow than he had ever supposed.
“You had best make it very good,” he was told through taut lips.
“There’s a sick woman in there,” Seville began, pointing to the adjoining door.
“You celebrate the event in an unusual manner," Dammler replied, glancing at the laden tray on the table.
“It’s Mama,” Prudence stated.
“Well?” Dammler asked, his voice rising.
“She had poisoned food and was taken ill,” Seville explained.
“That does not account for your presence in Miss Mallow’s bedroom at midnight!” Dammler snapped, advancing towards Seville.
“He has been helping me,” Prudence told him, throwing herself between them.
Thus protected, Seville headed for the door. “Miss Mallow will explain everything,” he said.
“I’m not finished with you,” Dammler rapped out, pushing Prudence aside and hastening to grab Seville’s shoulder before he got the door open.
“How dare you!” Prudence flew to him. “Making a disturbance when Mama is lying ill in the next room. What right have you to come in here, making insinuations. You! You, of all people!”
Dammler turned to her, the anger shocked out of him. “Miss Mallow will explain,” Seville repeated, and got out the door while he had the opportunity. He took the precaution of bolting his own door, then went to put his ear to the adjoining wall to see what he could overhear.
“I want a full explanation of this, Prudence,” Dammler told her.
‘Do you indeed?” She turned on him, her blue eyes flashing. “I see one explanation has already occurred to you. The very one I might expect to occur to one of your moral laxity. The explanation is that Mama very nearly died, and would have died had not Mr. Seville summoned a doctor for her. He has been everything that is good and kind, as he always is. He is a perfectly honourable and worthy gentleman.”
“How does it come about you two are here together, at this inn, with rooms next door?”
“I don’t know what brings him here. Very likely he is returning to the city from Bath, but I am very glad he is here. But for him I should have been distracted.”
“I have a very good idea why he is here. You are travelling together.”
“Yes, in opposite directions!”
“You are on your way to Bath with him.”
“Am I indeed? It is kind of you to tell me so. And what great event managed to tear you away from your lover for a moment? It must be something of major importance-a new Phyrne perhaps.”
“Lady Malvern is not my lover.”
“She is, and all of London knows it. Do you take me for a fool?”
“I take you for a scheming, designing hussy!”
“That’s enough. Get out! Out this instant, or I shall call for help.”
“Seville never offered to marry you. He offered you a carte blanche, didn’t he?”
"No."
“Yes, and you regret you didn’t accept it, too.”
“Is it so incomprehensible to you that a gentleman should want to marry me?”
“He no more intended marrying you than he intended flying to the moon. It is known all over town he has offered for Baroness McFay.”
“He offered for me first.”
“Offered to make you his mistress. With his flowers and diamond necklaces. Did he say ‘Will you do me the honour to be my wife?’ or did he not?”
“Yes. No, I don’t know. I don’t recall his exact words. How should I?”
“But you recall hailing him on Bond Street? Telling him you should love to go to Bath with him. That cannot have slipped your very convenient memory.”
“My memory is not deficient, Lord Dammler. I remember very well meeting Mr. Seville on Bond Street. I also remember meeting you there one night, in your cups, and dragging a redhead along with you. I remember as well seeing you making a fool of yourself at the opera with a blond lightskirt, and though I hadn’t the dubious pleasure of seeing you at Finefields, I make no doubt you were equally attentive to your brunette. Certainly you wasted no time on your work.”
“I was working like a dog!”
“Ah, well, when lovemaking becomes a chore, it is time to move on to the next woman. You will be all out of complexions, and have to turn to grey-haired ladies next, like the Prince of Wales.”
“Don’t think to get out of it by dragging up my past.”
“Past? You are confused in your tenses, milord.”
“The fact is, you were alone in your bedroom at midnight with that scoundrel of a Seville.”
“It’s none of your concern if I was in my bed with him! You have no right to come charging in, demanding explanations. I am alone in my bedroom past midnight with you, but I assure you I have no intention of losing my virtue.”
“You cannot lose that which you lack to begin with.”
“I doubt you have any to lose. Honi soit qui mal y pense, Dammler, if I may borrow your phrase. Now perhaps you will be kind enough to leave.”
“I will leave, and you may tell your lover I will call on him tomorrow. This is not the end of it.”
“If you bother Mr. Seville with these absurd accusations, I’ll…"
“Kill me?” he asked. “You might as well, but first I’ll have the exquisite pleasure of putting a bullet through that jackrabbit’s liver.”
He turned and departed, closing the door quietly behind him. Prudence sat on the chair and cried into her lap, from worry and fatigue and nervousness.
Next door, Seville had heard enough to send him into a state of shock. Dammler was out to kill him, and all because of a misunderstanding. The girl has assured him she was not under Dammler's protection. How the devil was he to know? He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand on his brow. He recalled the conversation to himself, looking for a respectable escape. His chief consolation was that the silly chit still thought he had meant marriage. He must convince Dammler of the same thing. Now what had he said to Lady Melvine? Hinted at the truth, but not quite stated it. He’d have to get to her and convince her she had misunderstood him. Dammler couldn’t call him to account for making the girl an offer in form. No insult in that. Dashed compliment-and what if the Baroness heard it? Then there was this night’s work to straighten out. Knighton-get him to tell Dammler how sick the mother was. Wouldn’t think he’d been making up to Miss Mallow with the mother dying in the next room. He wasn’t that big a gudgeon.