emotion. “I don’t care how good a marksman you are.”
“If you’re going to call me out, Thornbridge, I suggest you save your breath. In case you haven’t heard,
I’ve given up that sort of thing.”
“You think I’ll accept one of your mocking apologies?” Thorn-bridge’s voice rose to a high, desperate
pitch. “I’m not some stupid country squire to be taunted the way you’re taunting young Mer-ryweather.”
“Thornbridge, listen to me for a minute. I can explain everything.”
“I don’t give a damn about your explanations. And you can save yourself the trouble of having your
seconds convey your apologies. I have no intention of meeting you on the field of honor.”
“Then what do you intend to do?” Sebastian asked quietly.
“What do you think I’m going to do? I am going to put a bullet in you right here and now, you bloody
devil. Right where it will do the most good. You may bid farewell to your ballocks, sir. They will be of
little use to you after tonight. We’ll see how well you rut with other men’s wives in future.”
“For God’s sake,” Sebastian said. “Put the pistol down, man. I swear I have no designs on your lady
wife. My attentions are directed elsewhere these days.”
Prudence froze. She realized from the way the conversation was going that Thornbridge had a pistol. He
was working himself up into a state that would enable him to pull the trigger.
“Don’t expect me to believe you’re genuinely interested in the Merryweather chit,” Thornbridge
stormed. “You’re hardly the type to be amused for long by an oddity such as her. You’re using that poor
young woman, aren’t you?”
“Thornbridge, will you kindly listen to me for a moment?”
“You’re making a show of courting her, but what you’re really doing is using her to distract attention
while you pursue your true goal. You’re using the Merryweather female as a blind while you dally with
my wife.”
“I have no interest in Lady Thornbridge,” Sebastian said. He sounded as if he had abruptly lost his
patience. “I give you my word, Thornbridge, I am not here in this bedchamber to await your wife.”
“There’s no other possible explanation,” Thornbridge declared. “She’s so beautiful. God knows that
every man who looks at her desires her. You think you can just take what you want, don’t you,
Angelstone? Bloody damn arrogant bastard.”
“Thornbridge, I urge you to try to contain yourself. You’re losing control.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Prudence knew she dared not wait another minute. It was obvious Sebastian was not going to be able to
talk Thornbridge out of his rage. It was time to repay the debt that she owed to the Fallen Angel.
She took a deep breath and pushed open the wardrobe door.
“I beg your pardon, my lords,” Prudence said crisply as the door swung open. “I believe it’s time we put
an end to this foolishness before someone gets hurt.”
“What the devil?” Thornbridge swung toward her. In the light of the candle he had brought with him she
could see the shock on his heavily jowled face. The pistol in his fist wavered precariously. “Miss
Merryweather, by heaven. What are you doing here?”
“You must forgive Miss Merryweather, Thornbridge.” Sebastian took a single step forward and deftly
removed the pistol from Thorn-bridge’s fingers. “She is still fresh from the country and has not yet
learned the fine art of making a well-timed entrance.”
Thornbridge ignored him. His astonished gaze was fixed on Pru-dence. His anger was rapidly turning to
confusion. “What is going on here?”
Prudence blushed under the accusing stare, but she gave the baf-fled man a reassuring smile. “Isn’t it
obvious, my lord? Angelstone and I sought out a private place in which to discuss certain matters
involving spectral phenomena and I fear we wandered in here by mis-take.”
“Spectral