Always the Rival (Never the Bride #7) - Emily E K Murdoch Page 0,53
If she is reasonable, I am sure she will understand that you must do what you believe is right.”
Charles almost collapsed against the mantelpiece in pain and frustration. That she would say those words, little knowing…
He had to speak. No matter how wretched he felt, or how much he would surely regret this in years to come, he owed it to his family name, the Orrinshires that would come after him, to say this.
“I cannot break my engagement with Miss Lloyd.”
There was silence. Eventually, the silence continued for so long that Charles was forced to screw up his courage and turn around.
“You cannot break your engagement with Miss Lloyd.”
“I know what you must think of me,” Charles said hastily. “I know how this must look, and I –”
“That is because that’s exactly what it is – you lied to me!” Priscilla stared as though she had never seen him before. “You, Charles. You lied to me.”
“No!” Charles took a step forward, but she shrank back into the cushions of the settee. “At the time, I promise you, I had every intention of breaking my engagement to Miss Lloyd –”
“Just not anymore?”
Her words cut into his soul, into everything he had been taught about fairness and the importance of giving his word.
How much could he tell her? Charles’s gaze caught the edge of one of the letters pushed under the cushion. He could not reveal the dire straits his family had managed to get themselves in. His mother, certainly, would never forgive him.
“Have…have you spoken with Miss Lloyd about this?” Priscilla’s voice was faint.
Charles swallowed. His throat did not appear to be working, so he shook his head miserably.
Priscilla rose slowly and walked over to him, stopping just before him. Charles wanted nothing more than to pull her toward him, to bury all his passion and frustration into her lips, but he must not.
He must never touch Priscilla again.
She, however, did not have such an intention. Her finger reached out, lifting his head, so their eyes met. “And is there anyone else? Another rival for your attention, maybe?”
Charles pulled away and shook his head.
“Then,” she said softly, “I do not understand. If you do not want to marry her, and you do want to wed me, then what is the problem? Why deny yourself happiness?”
He could not stay this close to her, or she would convince him into more promises he could not keep.
Stepping away and toward one of the large sash windows, he felt his heart break.
“I have family responsibilities I simply cannot shirk,” he said stiffly to the curtain. He could feel Priscilla watching him, even without turning around.
“I am not asking you to shirk them.”
Charles swallowed. “I cannot tell you the reason, Priscilla, but this is how it has to be. You must trust me. I know what I am doing.”
He turned around to continue speaking, but the sight of her pain melted away any of his fine words.
“I am meant to accept this without any details or explanation?” She stared in genuine hurt and confusion. “I do not believe I have warranted any of this, Charles. You were the one who came to me, asked to make love to me, you said yourself that engagements could be broken!”
It was all true, and Charles could think of no retort but the truth. “My love for you isn’t enough.”
The look on her face told him at once he had made a mistake, but not one he could take back.
“Well, I am sure I cannot compete against an invisible enemy you will not tell me about,” said Priscilla briskly, pain in every syllable. “Goodbye, Charles. I hope you are happy with the woman you have chosen.”
“Priscilla,” Charles began, but she had already walked around to the armchair with her jacket and bonnet. Not bothering to put them on, she stormed out of the room.
“Priscilla!”
He followed her into the corridor, but by the time he caught up with her, she was in the hallway.
“Priscilla!”
She did not heed him and had almost reached the door by the time he caught her.
“Wait!”
“Why?” she said, and only then did he see tears flowing down her face. “Why are you hurting me, Charles? Did you get what you wanted from me and then decide Miss Lloyd was a better dancer? A better lover? Have you bedded her, too?”
Charles looked around to make sure no servants could have overheard that particular accusation. “No, of course not.”