even to Wolfinger, as his namesake might have done. He shook it off. Why the devil did he care what became of a woman who, intentionally or not, had made a mockery of him?
“Prudence, are you all right?”
What now? Sebastian thought. He looked over Prudence’s blond head and Nevvy’s darker one, to see a pompous-looking man with thinning hair stepping toward them purposefully. Even more annoying than the man’s approach was the way Prudence turned to greet him with a bright smile. Who the devil was he? He looked like one of those dreadfully stiff, starched bores one saw seated at the edge of the shabbiest cardrooms, playing piquet for pennies.
“Yes, of course, Hugh. Lord Ravenscar, Lord Neville, I would like you to meet my cousin, Mr. Hugh Lancaster, and this is my sister Phoebe.”
Sebastian, who had not even noticed the arrival of the silly chit his brother had so admired, nodded coolly. She met his gaze with a mutinous expression that made it plain she still thought him a murderer. Habit made him glare at her until she glanced away fearfully, clutching at her reticule as if she thought he might snatch it from her in a burst of petty thievery.
“Mr. Lancaster, are you the one who coaxed your cousin to London? You cannot know how delighted I am to meet such a famous authoress!” Nevvy continued, fawning shamelessly over his prize.
Sebastian, whose initial interest was rapidly deteriorating into boredom, was pleasantly surprised by Hugh’s blank look. Apparently he was not the only one who noticed it, for Prudence colored again under Hugh’s curious gaze. The bright spots, Sebastian decided, were really quite becoming.
“I am not in the habit of revealing myself,” she explained hurriedly. “But I felt that circumstances warranted it today,” she added, shooting Sebastian another quick glance of apology that gave him a surreptitious thrill.
“You wrote this?” Sebastian heard the words cast up in an entirely different tone from that of his own venomous accusation, but they were still an accusation. Hugh Lancaster appeared shocked and a little disgusted, and his attitude engendered activity in Sebastian’s long-dormant emotions.
Although Hugh’s lack of taste assured Sebastian of his own superiority, he did not like to see Prudence hurt. By God, he had admired the book even when he had thought himself painted black upon its pages! The store around them was full of poorly written tripe that could not hold a candle to Prudence’s prose, and the doltish Hugh ought to give her the praise she deserved.
Unfortunately, he did not. “A gothic novel!” Hugh exclaimed in distressed accents. “I can hardly countenance it, Prudence. You seem so quiet and well mannered.”
While Sebastian fought a growing urge to forcibly remove the contempt from Hugh’s face, Prudence seemed unmoved. “I fail to see what manners have to do with writing ability,” she replied calmly.
And suddenly, Sebastian felt laughter building in his chest again. Prudence Lancaster, who exhibited more intelligence and poise than anyone in the motley group that surrounded her, needed no champion. She could handle the dreary Hugh very well herself, as was exhibited by her razor-sharp riposte.
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