But he, Charles, had waited. He had known it would be worth it, eventually, and it was. Their lovemaking was a hundred times more special, knowing that he had shared that innocence with Priscilla.
His smile started to fade.
Priscilla. He had seduced Priscilla. No official proposal had been offered – how could it? He was still engaged to be married to Miss Lloyd.
He had never considered himself a paragon of virtue; there had been too much late-night drinking at Cambridge for that, too many adventures on the Continent.
Taking Priscilla’s innocence, while offering nothing in return…did that make him a cad? Worse, a scoundrel?
He swallowed, opening his eyes to stare at the fading blue wallpaper. Priscilla was in a category all of her own, something far more important than anything. Anyone.
Charles bit his lip. Was it possible…had he ruined everything between them? What if there was a child – God’s teeth, a child of the Orrinshire house born out of wedlock. Priscilla’s child. His child.
Would it be possible to look her in the face in public, knowing every inch of her body, the way her mouth quivered when she felt pleasure, knowing how she tasted?
His heart, moments ago so buoyant, started to sink. He had always prided himself in his morals.
His ascendance had come a little early, that was true, and he had been forced to grow up very quickly. But was he the hero of his own life story…or was he the villain?
Unable to sit still any longer, he rose, picking up his breeches and shirt from the floor, and sat on the side of the bed.
He had engaged himself to one lady and seduced another. He was planning a wedding with the first and whispering that he could cancel all those plans with the second. One woman hardly knew him but trusted him to keep to his word. The other knew him better than he knew himself and held that same trust.
Charles’s head fell into his hands.
No, it was worse than that. He had taken advantage of a friend, a friend who was in love with him. Taken advantage of her while she was a guest in his home.
He had betrayed the confidence of Miss Lloyd when she had heard naught but good reports of him.
And perhaps worst of all, and certainly what he would pay for the longest: he was about to make his mother very unhappy.
Charles allowed himself to fall back into the soft eiderdown of the mattress. How many gentlemen would laugh to be in his position! One beautiful and wealthy woman engaged to him, one beautiful and sparkling woman in his bed.
So why did it all taste bitter?
For all that being a duke was supposed to be so fine, with his power and prestige, he was rarely able to exert his own wishes.
Arranged marriage! That was where all of this had started to go so horrendously wrong. Why had he not been strong and firm in his belief that an arranged marriage was not for him?
He should have said no from the start. Damn his ancestors, damn their traditions, and damn arranged marriages. Then, at least, he would almost certainly not have found himself in this mess.
No matter how he felt about Priscilla, about Miss Lloyd, about the whole damned situation – he could not just lie here all morning. He had duties, even now.
And the last thing he needed was for Hodges or Bridges to find him in here. There would be far more questions than he could answer.
Hodges may have guessed, of course. He was hardly a fool; no man could be and run a household as complex as Orrinspire Park and their other homes.
Nonetheless, the last thing he needed to do was confirm the butler’s suspicion. His reputation was about to be ruined, his name notorious as someone who broke young ladies’ hearts and longstanding engagements.
The last thing he needed to do was drag Priscilla’s reputation into the mire.
It took but a few moments to pull on his breeches and collect up his other clothes, and as Charles opened the door to the corridor, he peeked his head out.
There was no one there. Heaving a sigh of relief, he crept out and tiptoed along the passageway to his own bedchamber. He closed the door behind him and sighed. Now all he had to do was make the bed look slept in, and –
“Ah, there you are, Your Grace.”
Charles almost dropped the pile of clothes. “Bridges!”
The valet must have been in his dressing room, and now he stood by the tall looking glass, holding three different cravats before him.
“I thought I had missed you,” Bridges said smoothly. “Especially with you having made your own bed, but I see you were just momentarily absent.”
Charles swallowed. He had underestimated his valet, it seemed. It was not the butler he needed to worry about.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “I was momentarily absent, just wandering to…to come back.” Damn and blast! What foolishness – all he needed to do was keep his mouth shut and nod, but he had to speak! “And now I am ready to be dressed,” he said, a little more firmly. “What shirt do you have for me today?”
“A new one,” the valet said smartly. “I ordered it on your account from John Weston, tailor to the Regent, while we were in town, with the certain knowledge you would approve. See how the stitching…”
Charles allowed Bridges to prattle on about the clever way the stitches in the hem were hidden, placing his clothes from yesterday on the bed in a heap.
The last time he had put on a shirt, he had not made love to Priscilla. Was that why everything seemed so different now? Why there seemed to be a sparkle to the air?
The world was changed, and he was the only one who had noticed. Well, maybe Priscilla had. He would have to ask her when he next saw her.
Charles swallowed. The next time he saw her, he needed to have
