Always the Rival (Never the Bride #7) - Emily E K Murdoch Page 0,46

gossip their mothers had overheard. Beside them, two gentlemen, wearing the restrictive clothing and dour expressions of solicitors. On the other side of the room, a family group, seemingly meeting for the first time this season.

Charles’ letter had said meet him at two o’clock very clearly, and she had arrived here at ten to the hour just to be on the safe side. The idea that she could miss him, that he might think she had refused to come…

But now she was the one waiting alone. It was twenty past two now, according to the large clock over the counter.

For a person who often berated her about her timekeeping, Charles was unbearably late, but she could not be frustrated with him, not really. Not when she loved him, and he loved her, and they had shared so much of themselves with each other.

Everything. She had shared everything with him.

The door of the coffee house jangled, and as Priscilla glanced toward it, she relaxed.

There he was. Charles Audley, Duke of Orrinshire. He looked even more handsome than the last time she had seen him, and her cheeks crimsoned.

Fighting down the impulse to wave – not a ladylike behavior that she could display in public – Priscilla twisted her hands together in her lap. She had never believed in the phrase ‘heart singing’ before. It had sounded like nonsense whenever she had read it in one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels.

Her heart was singing now. There he was, her betrothed, the gentleman with whom she would be spending the rest of her life – even if no one else knew it.

Charles was all hers, and she wanted to keep him that way.

He had not spotted her. Looking around, his hair ruffled from the wind, his shoulders seemed to slump with disappointment.

Priscilla’s heart sank. Did he think she had not kept to her word?

Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to push his way past people toward the counter, and a short conversation with the owner, a plump man with the most incredible moustache, pointed Charles in the right direction.

He turned, and as their eyes met, Priscilla almost melted. There was no one like him, and he was all hers.

It took almost a full minute for Charles to push his way through the patrons of Morgan and Fenning’s, and by the time he arrived, he was a little out of breath.

“Priscilla,” he managed, almost knocking over a chair.

She fought down the instinct to throw herself into his arms as she stood. That would not do. Creating a scandal right here, in the center of town, was not a wise decision.

Dropping instead into a low curtsey, Priscilla knew it would not be long before she could become totally lost in his embrace, his lips on –

No, she must be restrained.

“I almost thought you were not coming,” she said as they took their seats at the table. “I am sorry, I ordered the coffee when I arrived, but it may be cool enough for you to enjoy now.”

She had expected him to laugh, to agree that coffee drunk scalding hot was no different from pouring boiling water down one’s throat.

Instead, he smiled wryly. “My horse threw a shoe as I was leaving Orrinspire Park. I was only half a mile down the drive and had to gently lead him back to the stables and saddle up another horse.”

Priscilla nodded and murmured, “Of course, I completely understand.”

And she did – it was something of a relief, in truth, to hear such a believable excuse. A part of her she had attempted to ignore for the last twenty minutes had whispered that he had changed his mind. Not just that he was not coming, but that he had decided to keep his engagement with Miss Lloyd.

Foolish, she thought to herself. Do you really think Charles – Charles! – would break his promise to you? He is not so dishonorable that he would ravish you, take your innocence, and then simply leave you by the wayside as he trotted up the aisle with Miss Lloyd!

“I ordered a few cakes, also,” she said aloud, desperate to fill the strange silence between them. “I hope you do not mind.”

Why was there such an air of discomfort between them? Is it because the last time they had seen each other, neither of them had been wearing any clothes?

“Touch me, Priscilla. Do what you want with me.”

To cover the heat in her cheeks, Priscilla lifted up her cup and took another scalding sip.