Always the Rival (Never the Bride #7) - Emily E K Murdoch Page 0,59
one simple thing: “Ride to town, and do not look back.”
Even his unconscious was against him. This was foolishness, he told himself, the inner debate fueled by love and fear. What did he think he would gain by accosting Priscilla in the street? More pain for them both? He was still engaged to be married to Miss Lloyd, and by his own admission, he was not going to break that engagement.
He was seeking nothing but pain, but the pain from seeing Priscilla was worth every iota of agony.
As Charles looked down the street, he saw Miss Busby, Priscilla’s housekeeper’s daughter. She was walking, head bowed, and cheeks flushed, arm in arm with Bridges.
Charles could not help but smile. His valet and the housekeeper’s daughter. Well, there had been worse matches.
They passed him, thankfully, without realizing the ruffian in the old coat was the duke of the county, and Charles leaned back against the wall. He knew his own foolishness, but now it was time for his rational brain to take control. If he paced quickly back to Orrinspire Park, he could be on a horse in five minutes, ten at the outside, and he would only be a few minutes late to meet Miss Lloyd.
His heart sank at the prospect. Tea and cake with Miss Lloyd and her parents, discussing their honeymoon. He would rather take a dive into the Orrinbrook duckpond.
Charles turned to head home and hurtled headlong into Priscilla.
“Good afternoon.” She spoke with some surprise, and Charles could not tell whether his mere presence was enough to confuse her or whether his apparel had startled her.
He opened his mouth, expecting his breeding to supply words of charm and elegance. “Ehughgh…”
Charles shut his mouth hurriedly. Damnit, of all times for him to go weak at the knees, this was not it!
But he could not help it. Priscilla looked radiant. Not only was she dressed in the latest fashion, her spencer jacket with the most incredible ruffle he had ever seen, but her complexion was fair, her eyes bright, and she had a smile dancing on her face that had fallen as recognition dawned.
“What are you doing here?”
The question was quite reasonable, and Charles was unsure why he was unable to answer it. Had she worn that jacket before, or had she always looked this beautiful, and he had never noticed? Months, years wasted because he had not looked further than the end of his nose for happiness.
Charles’s knees started to droop, and he gathered himself together with a brusque cough. He was not going to fall apart in the street at the mere sight of Priscilla – he was not!
“Hello,” he managed. “I…I thought…would you like some company into the village?”
“No,” Priscilla said curtly.
Charles deflated. What had he expected? The last words between them had hardly been cordial, and now he expected her to walk with him in public?
“You know, I believe you are correct. I love you, Charles, but I will not…I do not want to be treated like… I do deserve better. Good night, Charles.”
He swallowed. “Walk with me, Priscilla. It cannot hurt.”
She glared. “Five minutes. Then I arrive at the Tanners.”
There was a basket on her arm with a cloth covering its contents.
“The Tanners,” Charles said, desperate for something to say as they walked down the pavement, Priscilla leaning as close as she could to the wall. “I was not aware that they were in need.”
“Young Benjamin Tanner’s wife is confined, her baby due any day now, and she has not been well,” Priscilla said stiffly. She did not look at him as she spoke, her gaze instead affixed to the pavement. “I have brought a little broth, some bacon, some smelling salts, just a few things. And then there are the Smiths, two doors down. Their youngest is…”
Charles allowed the words to wash over him as they walked down the street. She was not smiling, and neither was he. He felt wretched, for he wanted to touch her so badly that when they turned a corner, he had to be careful not to brush against her arm.
He could not have her. He had made that abundantly clear.
So why was he desperate to touch her, crush her against the wall, take her in his arms and –
“ – and then I will return home.” Priscilla glared as her speech came to an end. “And what are you doing in the village?”
They were passing the conker tree, and the street in both directions was deserted. Charles stopped