Miss Lloyd sighed again. “I am not…well, enamored with our parents’ plan. It does not take a university education to see that Charles has no interest in me, and…well…”
Her voice, a mere murmur, trailed away.
“You do not want to marry him either.”
She whispered the words, but Miss Lloyd looked imploringly as she said, “Is it obvious?”
Priscilla almost laughed as she blurted, “Not in the slightest! You do surprise me, Miss Lloyd, I had no inkling whatsoever. So…so you would not mind if he chose to marry another?”
Now it was her turn to blush as Miss Lloyd’s eyes widened. “You want him for yourself?”
Panic rose in her heart. “Did I say that? No, I did not mean – when I said –”
“But this is perfect!” Miss Lloyd stopped and turned to Priscilla, her face bright. “Do you not see, the solution is clear! Why does not Charles simply marry you?”
Priscilla laughed. “Charles does not see me that way! I think he barely registers that I am a lady. He… I did not even consider him that way, not until…”
Her voice gave out. The only reason she saw Charles as a man now was because of the woman before her.
But Miss Lloyd was no fool. “Until we became engaged to be married.”
Priscilla nodded. This was fast becoming like some terribly gossipy story one heard about a young lady from another town, one you never actually met.
She dropped into an empty chair, and Miss Lloyd followed suit. Priscilla’s gaze immediately fell on Charles, standing on the other side of the room, conversing with a gentleman she did not recognize.
She sighed. Oh, this was ridiculous. Falling in love with a gentleman you had known for years, and at a wedding? Was there a worse cliché than herself?
“He has never made me do that,” Miss Lloyd said gently. “Sigh across a crowded room. You must really care for him.”
Priscilla swallowed. “I have spent so little time with these emotions, I hardly know what they are,” she admitted. “Not that it matters now, of course. The dowager is set on marriage.”
“But not necessarily set on me,” said Miss Lloyd thoughtfully.
Priscilla glanced at her. There was no love there, barely any affection. There was politeness, a willingness to do what was necessary, but no fondness. The most incredible, wild, and most of all outrageous idea appeared in her mind.
She smiled. The answer to their problems, and it was so simple!
“Miss Lloyd,” she said. “What you need is a rival.”
Miss Lloyd frowned. “I am not entirely sure how that will benefit me. We need to consider a way for Charles to fall in love with you and break his engagement with me.”
“But this is the answer,” Priscilla insisted. She almost laughed, it was so obvious. “Do you not see? If I set myself up as a rival to you, consistently remind him of myself and compare myself to you, show him that our longstanding friendship will give us far more happiness than an arranged married – all he needs is another option.”
Miss Lloyd was looking over at Charles, still frowning. “A chance to see you differently.”
“Exactly!” Priscilla could barely contain her excitement. This was the answer, the way Charles would see her differently, just as she now saw him differently. How had she gone so many years not realizing how she cared for him?
Miss Lloyd leaned back and looked at Priscilla. “You know, that may work. From what Charles has said, you have always been his rival.”
Priscilla stared. “Rival?”
“Rival for attention. Rival to Mary, rival to any other ladies!” Miss Lloyd laughed. “I was a little envious of the friendship you had even before I met you. He holds you in exceedingly high regard, you know.”
Priscilla swallowed and tried not to color. She could not get lost in those words now, she would examine them later in the comfort and safety of her own room. In this moment, she must agree with Miss Lloyd.
“We need to concoct a plan for me to rival you,” she said slowly. “Get his attention, remind him that arranged marriage or not, he is a duke, he could marry anyone!”
“But we want him to marry you,” Miss Lloyd said hesitantly. “Is that not the intention?”
Something twisted in Priscilla’s stomach at the idea she could do all this, encourage him to look beyond Miss Lloyd, and Charles could break off his engagement with her just to marry another!
Priscilla pushed the idea away. She would not permit that to happen.
“Tempting Charles away will be difficult,” she said slowly. “But no one knows him better than I.”
Miss Lloyd looked nervous. “But what if anyone finds out our plan? It is…well, not exactly ladylike to conspire to shift a betrothed from one to another!”
Priscilla looked across the room at Charles, the way he laughed, his stance, always so square. She had teased him about it when they had first come out into society, but he had never lost the habit.
“If he is right, and I have always been his rival,” she said slowly, “what better time to put it to good use?”
Chapter Three
All Charles wanted to do was sit down.
“Stand up straight, Charles,” his mother hissed, her smile never leaving her face. “You still have guests to welcome!”
Years of training at the best school meant that Charles knew exactly what was expected of him. That did not make standing for two hours, welcoming every single notable person in London to Orrinspire Park, a pleasure.
“You will not embarrass me, Charles, and so I will not tell you again– ah, Lord Rust!”
An elderly gentleman approached them over the lawn and frowned at Lady Audley.
“Damned strange thing to do, Orrinshire, a picnic,” he said gruffly, bowing.
Charles almost smiled as he felt his mother bristle.
“This is my son’s engagement picnic, and what better place to host all of our dear friends and family members than here, at Orrinspire Park?” she said stiffly, curtseying to the gentleman. “Please, Lord Rust, avail yourself of a chair, and a
