Always the Rival (Never the Bride #7) - Emily E K Murdoch Page 0,70
Lloyd.
“Top left-hand corner,” said her mother helpfully.
“Thank you,” Priscilla murmured, and she folded back the newspaper.
It comes as a great disappointment to this editor that the news must be shared of a broken engagement – and from the highest nobility in the land. It has been announced that Charles Audley, Duke of Orrinshire, and the Right Honorable Miss Frances Lloyd, so lately engaged and with their nuptials prepared at St. Martins’s for this very Thursday, have decided to part ways. No fault is laid at either door, and no restitution will be required from their party. It is this editor’s hope, however, that a reconciliation can be made between the happy lovers.
Her darting eyes flickered across the short paragraph again. No details, no details! She wanted to know far more than the newspaper could tell her, but they knew as little as she.
…have decided to part ways.
What did that mean? The engagement was broken, to be sure, but it was not clear which of them had decided to end the arrangement.
No fault is laid at either door…
Priscilla swallowed. What on earth had Charles done? Could he have been foolish enough to confess his love for another to Miss Lloyd?
“I don’t know, all these broken engagements, it was simply not done in my day,” her mother said airily. “I cannot think of two engagements in my own time as a debutante that did not continue, and one of them was quite scandalous. The gentleman, if I remember correctly, had believed the young lady…”
Perhaps it had been Frances – Miss Lloyd, who had decided to break the engagement, Priscilla thought wildly. She had said at the Donal wedding that she had no great affection for Charles, after all. Perhaps she had realized, as the wedding approached, that she could not go through with a marriage that she did not believe in.
It is this editor’s hope, however, that a reconciliation can be made between the happy lovers.
Priscilla glared at the words. Why hope for that? Not when Charles was free.
The thought made her whole body tingle. Free, free to love her if he wished. Their separation must be true; it was in the newspaper.
Charles was free. He would not be marrying Miss Lloyd the day after tomorrow.
“But then, Miss Lloyd is so young,” Mrs. Seton mused. “She may decide not to marry for a few years, and wait for a few more gentlemen to come out into society – and she has enough of a dowry to wait.”
Priscilla almost dropped the newspaper. She had completely forgotten about the dowry, the reason Charles had refused to break the engagement, despite his great affection for her. The dowry. The Orrinshire estate needed the dowry, or it would fall into ruin.
Here she was, selfish creature, rejoicing that Charles was finally free to love her, to marry her – and she had completely forgotten the reason they could not be together in the first place.
The Orrinshires were ruined. It must have been Frances who had ended their engagement so soon before the wedding.
What was Charles going to do?
“Her dowry is large,” she said eventually, aware her mother was waiting for a response. “Twenty thousand pounds, I have heard.”
Mrs. Seton snorted. “I do not know why you are impressed, Priscilla, you have half that.”
The words did not sink into Priscilla’s ears for a moment. Then she did drop the newspaper.
“Half that?” she said, staring at her mother aghast. “Do not say such things, Mother – I know I have two thousand, and I am grateful for it, but I will not be teased. Not today.”
Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. Ten thousand pounds – yes, if she had that sum, this entire situation would have been easy to resolve! She could have told Charles, and they could have been engaged these last two weeks.
But her mother was not smiling, a frown crinkling her forehead. “Priscilla,” she said quietly. “Come and sit here with me.”
Mrs. Seton turned and walked into the morning room. Priscilla hesitated and picked up the newspaper from the hallway floor before following her mother.
The older woman had settled herself gracefully into a chair. Priscilla dropped inelegantly into a chair opposite and attempted to fold the newspaper.
“Priscilla, listen to me and listen carefully. How much is your dowry?”
Priscilla looked up from the impossible to fold newspaper, hearing the concern and confusion in her mother’s voice. “Why, two thousand pounds. And I am not ungrateful. It is a large sum.”