“Never have I seen a more perfect match,” said Miss Ashbrooke quietly. “Never have I made a better one.”
“You?” Charles burst out, finally able to concentrate enough to speak. “You have – I did not think you…”
His voice trailed away, but thankfully Priscilla was able to continue with far more coherence.
“You have not made a match between us at all,” she said, looking between the two ladies. “Charles and I have acted independently, without input nor instruction from either of you.”
“Of course you have,” Miss Ashbrooke said soothingly. “And an excellent job you have done, I must say, for amateurs.”
Charles almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. His betrothed and the woman who had orchestrated their betrothal, working together to break them apart and push him in the direction of a lady he had not even realized he was in love with?
“’Tis not as sinister as it sounds, I assure you,” said Miss Lloyd. “We decided merely that where we could, we would push you together. It turns out that the two of you needed very little encouragement.”
He swallowed and caught the gaze of Priscilla. She looked as incredulous as he felt.
“Look, just answer me this,” he said finally. “I am aware now of three plots to have me wed. Firstly, Miss Ashbrooke agreed with Mrs. Lloyd that I would marry her daughter. Secondly,” he counted off on his fingers, “Miss Lloyd and Miss Seton agreed that Priscilla would set herself up as a rival to tempt me away from Miss Lloyd. Now you are telling me that Miss Lloyd then agreed with Miss Ashbrooke to encourage me further toward Priscilla. Are there any other secret plans in this room?”
Frances laughed, and Miss Ashbrooke rolled her eyes and said, “Now, really, Your Grace!”
But Charles was not looking at them. He was watching Priscilla. She was holding back. What was it she wanted to say, but could not before Miss Ashbrooke or Miss Lloyd?
Whatever it was, it was time to find out. He reached out a hand, and she took it.
“Come with me,” he said softly.
He would have said more if needed, but he knew Priscilla. She nodded without hearing another word.
Her hand felt warm in his, and his whole being was focused on it so much that he almost forgot to take proper leave.
“Miss Lloyd, Miss Ashbrooke, I remain your humble servant,” he said with a quick bow. Then he and Priscilla were in the corridor, through the door, and standing on the street in the morning air.
Cheeks still flushed, she looked at him through dark eyelashes. She was his, Charles knew that. He knew it was a terrible decision for the family and one that his mother would certainly not agree with. Abandoning one woman with twenty thousand to wed another with merely two was madness. But he was of age, and so was she. He chose happiness, not duty.
Not caring a whit precisely where he was going, he pulled her arm into his and started walking down the street. She kept pace with him and mirrored his silence.
After five minutes of fast walking, Charles saw what he was looking for. At the very last moment, when they passed the entrance to the alleyway, he sidestepped and pulled Priscilla in with him.
“Charles, what –”
She had cried out in surprise, but it had not lasted long. Not now, Charles had pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately.
In that first instant, Priscilla resisted him, squirming in his arms and pulling away – but by the next moment, she was melting into his arms and returning his fiery kisses with just as much ardor.
Charles could not care what was happening in the world. Debts? Responsibilities? Mortgages? What did they matter, when Priscilla was in his arms? When she was against his chest, her tongue teasing his own, her fingers wrapped in his hair?
He could have spent hours there, lost in her embrace, feeling, not thinking, but after a few minutes, Priscilla pulled away.
“No.”
Charles smiled. “No?”
“No, Charles,” she said, a little more firmly this time. “No, we cannot just fall into this again, it is not right! You need to find a bride.”
“What if I want to keep kissing you?” he growled. After so much pain, after being separated so long by his own idiocy, he was not going to let go of her now. “What if I want you more than anything in this world?”
“I am not saying that I have no wish to kiss you, Charles, but – come now, we must speak first! You are not engaged to Frances any longer.”
It was more a statement than a question, and Charles was so full of joy he could not help but reply with cheek. “No, I am not. Are you?”
His heart was singing. His soul was free, and the burden of restoring the financial fortunes of his family had disappeared. He had not even noticed how slumped his shoulders had been for the last few months.
Now they were light, and his teasing nature resurfaced. “You love me after all that has happened. I want to kiss you, and you wish to kiss me. I see no problem.”
He leaned closer to capture her lips again, but Priscilla leaned back, laughing. “You are teasing me!”
Her cheeks were pink, but her smile remained. “Yes, but only because I love you. ’Tis a terrible thing, to tease a lady one is not besotted with. Do you love me?”
Priscilla sighed. “Everything I have done has been because I love you, Charles. How can you doubt that?”
“I never doubted it, but I do not believe I allowed my heart to understand it,” he murmured, becoming a little more serious. “Damnit, Priscilla, I cannot even explain to you the surge of emotions and the depths of despair I have experienced these last few days. I never wanted you to think less of me, but…”
“Think less of you?”
