Charles kept his head in his hands.
“But I had hoped,” she continued, “perhaps, in time, we would have found ways to make each other happy.”
He looked up quickly, but there was no bitterness in her eyes nor her tone. Panic started to grow from the sick feeling in his stomach. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?
“We will just you wait and see,” he said hurriedly. “I know this engagement has not exactly transpired how we would have wished it, but…”
His voice trailed away.
Frances was shaking her head slowly. “Do you really think you could be as happy and contented with me as you would be with Priscilla?”
Charles swallowed. Priscilla. She had been a part of his life, his world, for as long as he could remember. The first ball they had attended out in society, they had danced the first dance together. When he had left for the Grand Tour, she had been the one to secret humorous letters throughout his luggage. Those notes had staved off homesickness for over two months.
When they had lost Mary, it was to Priscilla he had clung.
The memory of Priscilla arriving at his engagement picnic – their engagement picnic, he reminded himself painfully – swept into his mind. He could recall nothing else from that day, except her. Her beauty. Her fiery temper. The way she had looked at him.
That kiss in the drawing room. The dawning realization, the relief, that she felt the same burning heat that he did.
The way she had smiled at him, had closed her eyes, as they made love…
Charles coughed. As children, as adults, as lovers, it was all Priscilla. Two people who felt that intensity of emotion, surely, would be unable to stay away from each other for long.
Frances was smiling. “Charles, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I believe the phrase ‘made for each other’ applies here.”
He nodded, trying to keep bitterness from his voice. “I know, and after we are married, I will ensure you feel valued, and special, and –”
“No, not you and I,” Frances interrupted, an incredulous look on her face. “You and Priscilla. Can’t you see, at every point in our engagement, it has not been me, but Priscilla, who has been on your mind?”
It was true, he could not argue with her – but Frances was very calm about the whole thing.
She had discovered, nay, perhaps always known that her betrothed had no eyes for her but affection for another. Why did she not scream and shout? Why were there not tears, threats of recrimination, a determination to bring the wedding forward by three days to secure him?
“If you ask me, I think that you should continue thinking of her, not me,” she said quietly. “I am not one to get in the way of what, if you ask me, is true love.”
The meaning of her words took a few moments to sink in. Panic flowed through his veins. He could not lose Frances – he could not lose the security, and the solvency her money would give the Orrinshire name!
“I can change,” he said hurriedly. “And I will change, and that is a promise, Frances. I know I have not been as attentive as I should be, but –”
“Do not think I say this without any due consideration,” Frances interrupted gently. “Please, Charles. Just listen to me.”
Charles forced down all his objections and tried to master himself. He would not allow this to happen. He would not get so close – within three days! – of marriage and saving the house of the Orrinshires. He would marry Frances. He would make her understand.
Frances was watching him carefully, and only when he was calm, did she continue. “Do not misunderstand me, Charles. I know that my dowry is important to you and to your family. But money? I have no wish to buy your affections, Charles – no, and that is exactly what I would be doing if I agreed to continue this engagement!” Her voice had gained a little steel. “I think, in a small way, I am giving you a far greater gift,” Frances said softly. “Freedom.”
Charles blinked. “I – I do not understand. What freedom do you speak of?”
She rose to her feet, her skirts shifting around her. “Charles Audley, Duke of Orrinshire, I hereby break our engagement and release you from our proposed marriage.”
Charles stood hastily. “What? Frances, you cannot –”
“I can do precisely what I want,” she said curtly, a little fire in her words for the first time since she had entered the billiard room. “Do you question my decision? Do you believe I am unable to make up my own mind? Do you think me blind to the misery I would be committing us to? Do you think I am a monster, to entrap you into a marriage that would bring neither of us joy?”
She glared as Charles bowed his head. “Frances, I…”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them, and then she sighed. “Charles, I am giving you your freedom. The question is, what are you going to do with it?”
She stepped around him, but before she had reached the door, Charles dropped to his knees.
“Frances, marry me!”
It was all he could think to say. The one chance he had to save the only solution to his family’s problems was going to walk out of that room and out of his life forever.
She paused and turned. In her hesitation, she breathed. “Why?”
Charles swallowed. This was the only thing he could think of, and he must ensure he was convincing. The fortunes of his family depended on it.
“You have released me from our engagement,” he said slowly, his knees starting to hurt. “Released me from the engagement that our mothers made. Now I ask you of my own free will. Will you marry me?”
Slowly, she walked toward him, Charles’s heartbeat racing with every inch she came closer.
Delicately, she kissed
