Priscilla reluctantly went with him, in no small part because he dragged her along physically, and he guided her through the crowd and outdoors.
“Ahh.” He inhaled deeply of the fresh air. “It’s pleasant out here, isn’t it?”
Priscilla drained her cup and crossed her arms in a most unladylike fashion. It was quite foreign to her nature, and Colin was pleased; perhaps she was becoming more human. “I’m finished. May I go back inside now?”
“Not just yet.” Colin drew her further into the formal garden, over to a low brick wall. He set down both their cups and leaned back against it, then wrapped his arms around Priscilla’s waist and pulled her close. Ignoring the startled look in her eyes, he brought his lips down to hers—just a little bit down, he realized, momentarily surprised at the reminder of her height. But her mouth was warm in the cold night, and he was pleased to think this statuesque heiress was his, so it was a moment before he realized she wasn’t kissing him back. Instead she was pushing away from him, her palms flat against his chest.
“Colin—not here.”
“Why? No one’s here to see.”
“It’s not proper. And there’s no one to see because no one else is mad enough to come out in this weather.”
“I’ll keep you warm.” Though taken aback by her reaction, he put on a smile and rubbed her arms encouragingly. She’d never seemed to mind kissing him before…
But Priscilla was ever well mannered and proper, and Colin realized with dismay that he’d never tried to steal a private moment with her before, that each of their kisses had had its customary time and place. But surely, with patience, he could teach her to enjoy a stolen kiss or two. Was there an instructive practical joke that might—
No! No. He quashed that idea immediately.
His arm lightly around her shoulders, he walked her back to the ball. In no time, she was gone. She’d spotted Lady Crowhurst across the room and said she just had to talk to her, and Colin let her go. He chuckled to himself when he saw her lips mouth the word “Barbara.” And he laughed out loud to see Barbara herself flitting about with a hand laid discreetly over her middle.
Not five minutes later, Colin would swear there was a new buzz in the room as gossiping ladies rushed to be the ones to spread the delicious rumor. And in the end, it was Priscilla herself who couldn’t resist approaching Barbara.
She waited politely until Barbara was free. “My Lady Castlemaine,” she said, pulling her aside, “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Colin sidled closer and concealed himself behind a post.
Barbara played her part to perfection. “Is that so?”
“I’ve heard in the strictest of confidence that you will be presenting His Majesty with another child soon.”
Barbara’s face tensed.
“Is something wrong, my lady?” At the sight of Priscilla’s panic, Colin had to choke back laughter. “Am I mistaken?”
Barbara’s cheeks blazed red—what an actress she was! “Do I appear pregnant, Lady Priscilla?” she said through gritted teeth.
Priscilla took an uncertain step back. “Oh, my lady, I didn’t mean—that is, if I’ve caused you any offense—”
“On the contrary,” Barbara hissed, her eyes flashing, “I’m all gratitude. How delightful it is when trim, younger women take the trouble to inform me that my figure is not what it used to be.” With a dramatic huff, she turned on her heel and marched from the ballroom and up the wide staircase, fuming all the way.
Priscilla followed her into the hall and watched her flight. She was still gazing up the sweeping stairs when Colin came up behind her.
“Is something wrong, Priscilla?”
She turned to him immediately, a frown creasing her beautiful forehead. “Oh, Colin, I’ve made the most dreadful error. I thought to congratulate my Lady Castlemaine, only to discover she isn’t carrying after all. Now she’s horribly angry, and everyone thinks she’s with child. What am I to do?”
“Whyever would everyone think Barbara is with child?” he asked with a glint in his eye.
“I told them!” Priscilla wailed. “And they told one another.”
“Priscilla! You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone!” he exclaimed in pretended disbelief.
“You mean to say you really meant that?” Priscilla protested. “Why would you tell me if it were a secret?”
“You mean to say I shouldn’t trust you? I shouldn’t tell you anything unless I want everyone to know?”
“Yes! I mean, no! Oh, Colin, I shouldn’t be such a terrible gossip, should I?”
Colin grinned—he simply couldn’t help himself. The scene was playing out even better than he had hoped.
“Why are you smiling?” Priscilla demanded. “I’ve ruined everything! Barbara’s never really liked me—she only invited us to her parties because of my father, and now she’ll hate me. We won’t be welcome anywhere.”
“Now, Priscilla, you know that’s not true. Barbara would never leave me off a guest list. We were in exile together—I’m one of her dearest friends. Besides, Charles is all but a big brother to me. He’d never allow her to snub us.”
He was right, and Priscilla knew it. Colin’s relationship with the king was her father’s primary reason for agreeing to the match. Lord Hobbs had been a fence-sitter during the war, and consequently, though he hadn’t lost his lands, he held no favor with Charles, either.
“I suppose you’re right,” Priscilla said with a sniff.
Just then, Barbara came back down the stairs, grinning from ear to ear, and Colin took one look at her and broke out laughing. Priscilla stared at Colin, then at Barbara, and back to Colin before bursting out, “What is going on here?”
Colin could do no better than sputter. “I—we—I—”
Barbara rescued him—sort of. “What Lord Greystone means to say, dear, is that we set you up.”
“Set me up?” Priscilla’s pretty brows furrowed in confusion. “You mean you aren’t truly angry?”
“Colin started the rumor with my consent.” Barbara chuckled. “He thought to demonstrate how gossip spreads.”
Priscilla stared at her, openmouthed.
“It was a joke,” Barbara finished
