Always the Rival (Never the Bride #7) - Emily E K Murdoch Page 0,11

wanted to be, thought Charles, attempting to keep his face serious. What did she think she was doing?

“You have never attired yourself in this way before,” he said instead.

Priscilla frowned. “Attired myself? What do you mean?”

“This,” Charles said, gesturing. “All of this…”

His voice trailed away. Now that he was only a few feet from her, he could take her in completely and found, to his surprise, he had never examined her this closely before. Now that he took a proper look, he was for the first time in his life conscious of Priscilla’s…

Well, body. It was not a gentlemanly thought, and he attempted to quash it immediately, but damn it, he was flesh and blood.

And so was she. Her high cheekbones seemed accentuated somehow by the diamonds in her hair, her slender form hugged tightly by the silkiness of her dress, and her breasts were suddenly far more prominent than he had ever noticed.

Charles swallowed. These were most ungentlemanly thoughts, but as they crowded his mind and refused to be silenced, something twitched in his stomach, which he did not understand.

It was not embarrassment, but it had all the fire of that emotion. It was not fear either, but the way his stomach lurched was similar.

Priscilla was smiling, and this was a knowing smile he had never seen on her before. Could she possibly tell – God forbid, did she know what he had been thinking?

Shaking his head as though his ears were full of water, Charles tried to speak. “I-I was…all of this, I mean…you know, th-the…”

Why couldn’t he speak? He had never been tongue-tied with Priscilla – it was Priscilla!

“I was not aware,” she said elegantly, cutting through his thoughts, “that there was a dress code. If I had been informed of such, I can assure you I would have carefully stuck to the requirements to the letter.”

Charles laughed – anything to let the tension out from his lungs. “Damn it, Priscilla, you know you could turn up in a sack for all I care! But my mother – the guests. You must have noticed how they… Today was meant to be about Miss Lloyd!”

Pink dots appeared in Priscilla’s cheeks, the first sign she had given that she understood her social misstep. But it was not like her to admit defeat. He had learned that long ago.

“I am not preventing anyone from congratulating Miss Lloyd on her engagement to the Duke of Orrinshire,” she said defiantly. “And I believe congratulations are in order for you, too. We…we have not really discussed it, have we?”

He hesitated, a prickle of discomfort moving across his shoulder blades. “Is this really the first time that we have talked about it?”

Surely not. He talked about everything with Priscilla. There had never been anything they had hidden from each other.

She nodded, and for a moment, her voice was unsteady. “You told me about it months ago, and we laughed. That was it.”

All the tension and frustration that the day had built in his heart melted as he looked at her. God knows, if he was finding this whole engagement strange and unnatural, Priscilla would feel it, too. She always understood him. Always had, even when no one else had.

Instinctively, he reached out and took Priscilla’s hand in his.

In that moment, there was a flash of something between them, a burn, a spark of energy that passed from skin to skin. It was wild, untamed, and soared from his hand through his arm and into his chest.

Charles dropped her hand as though he had been burned.

“What you are saying,” Priscilla said, as though she had felt nothing, “is that I am a rival for Miss Frances Lloyd’s attention.”

Charles’s tongue did not appear to be working. What had happened? Surely she had felt it, too – some strange connection between them, a heat that had naught to do with the weak sunshine.

“Rival?” he repeated, attempting to get his bearings in the conversation. “I suppose so. Really, Priscilla, you should have known.”

She smiled and twirled her parasol. “If Miss Lloyd is concerned I am making a scene, then that is something Miss Lloyd can talk to me about. I do not see why you are being sent on her errands, Charles.”

He rolled his eyes as the scent of rosemary wafted on the breeze. “You always were stubborn, Priscilla.”

“And you were always concerned about upsetting someone, anyone,” she countered, taking a step forward, so she stood just a few inches away. “It is why you never owned up