Always the Rival (Never the Bride #7) - Emily E K Murdoch Page 0,35
had chimed half-past eleven not long ago, and he could concentrate no longer.
However much he attempted to convince himself it was because of the time, or the headache of trying to ascertain whether Lady Romeril would be offended if her son were not invited to the Orrinshire hunt, he knew the real reason for his distraction.
Priscilla.
How could he concentrate with the memories of that delicious kissing on the settee in the drawing room?
Charles stirred in his seat, his body tensing at the very remembrance of that moment a week ago.
Had he ever felt like this before? Not that he could recall. He had found women attractive, he was hardly dead, but never before had he allowed himself with complete abandon to pour the passion in his blood onto the lips of a woman.
A gentleman at six and twenty usually had far more experience, he knew that. It did not bother him. No wife of a duke was ever going to complain.
And it had not mattered, in the end. He had not needed practice nor advice. His body had just known, and so had Priscilla’s, and when they had allowed themselves to put caution aside and just be together, as they were so desperate to…
Charles smiled. It had been incredible. How was it possible to feel something so powerfully, and then not be able to do anything about it?
“Engagements can be broken.”
“No, I will not do that to her. She has done nothing wrong.”
Had he done the right thing? It had been easy, in that moment, to try to be righteous – but now he had to live with that decision each and every day of his life.
It was torture, and not only he was condemned. No, he condemned Priscilla to the loneliness that she undoubtedly felt. How could it be wrong when two people loved each other, freely, and wanted to…
His body twitched. Well, he knew what he had wanted to do.
But Miss Frances Lloyd. Charles sighed as the memory of his betrothed forced its way into his conscience.
Sometimes he could barely remember what Miss Lloyd looked like. He had been in her presence…what, perhaps ten hours in total? Ten hours with a woman who would become his second self, his waking shadow, for the rest of his days.
He laughed aloud in the dark and empty study. He had probably spent more than ten hours with Priscilla in one day, countless times. He knew her better than he knew any other person in the world.
Why had it taken him so damn long to see it?
Charles swallowed. It did not do to be so bitter. This had gone on too far, and someone was going to be hurt.
His fingers found the feather quill again, twisting it as his mind attempted to find a solution.
Either he married Miss Lloyd. That left him and Priscilla hurt, desperate for what they knew was real affection.
Or, he abandoned Miss Lloyd, breaking their engagement. That left Miss Lloyd devastated, he was sure, and his mother…
Well, he did not even like to guess what her reaction would be.
Was it possible to find an option in which no one was hurt? A frown creased across his forehead. He was in the wrong, that was certain. He should have thought for more than five minutes before he agreed to this arranged marriage.
The small carriage clock which had been his father’s chimed quietly. It had sat on his desk – his father’s desk, really – since Charles had inherited the dukedom. Placing the quill down, his fingers brushed over the ornate gold filigree across the face.
Quarter to midnight. He should go to bed, he was getting absolutely nothing done here, and with two weeks – only a fortnight! – until the wedding, his mother was requiring more and more help with the final touches.
Charles almost laughed as he rose from the desk. Had any gentleman regretted his matrimonial prospects as much as he did? The day approached like a harbinger of death.
A little dramatic, he would admit, but it was impossible not to consider the fourteenth of October as the end of his life.
It would certainly never be the same again. Instead of going upstairs to an empty bed, he would find within it…
Charles closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to think. Miss Lloyd. Well, he knew his duty. She would, as well. They would create heirs for the dukedom of Orrinshire, and once their duty was done, he would not trouble her again.