Always the Rival (Never the Bride #7) - Emily E K Murdoch Page 0,71

was controlling a very strong emotion. “And how do you know that?”

“I…” Priscilla started to say, but embarrassment crept over her cheeks. “Well, do not be shocked, but I…I overheard you once, talking about it with my Uncle Seton. I was not eavesdropping intentionally,” she said hastily. “I had come downstairs looking for a book, and the door was open, and I…”

Her voice trailed away. She did not expect her mother to be truly angry – it had been so long ago, and it was her own fortune, after all.

Laughter, however, she could never have predicted.

“Oh, Priscilla,” her mother said with a smile. “You were always able to get yourself into scrapes as a child, and here you are, in another one!”

Irritation curled at Priscilla’s heart. “I am not in a scrape!”

“Two thousand pounds,” Mrs. Seton mused. “Well, this explains everything. And I suppose this is what you have told people when they have inquired delicately?”

Priscilla colored slightly. It was not seemly to discuss something as pecuniary as money in good society, but her friends had known, and surely any gentlemen interested in her hand had applied to them for information?

“I suppose so, though indirectly from myself, I assure you,” she said stiffly. “And I do not see what is so funny about that.”

Mrs. Seton was laughing openly now. “Oh, my dear child – not two thousand, but ten thousand! Ten thousand! You must have misheard me when I spoke with my brother-in-law, and of course, I never thought to correct you because I assumed any gentleman interested in your hand would apply to me directly. You have not honestly been going around thinking you were only worth two thousand?”

Priscilla blinked. The words made sense individually, but she could not put them all together. “Ten thousand?” The words came out as a whisper.

Her mother nodded. “You are not quite equal to Miss Lloyd, though, as your mother, I naturally think you far more beautiful than she. But yes, you have half the fortune that Miss Lloyd has – and fortune it is. I remember your father saying, he thought…”

The words continued, but Priscilla’s attention did not.

Ten thousand. She had ten thousand – a huge sum to one who had believed her dowry only a fifth of that.

What had Miss Ashbrooke said? “If he does not marry money soon, the Orrinshire name will be hung over a cottage, not a mansion.”

Her measly two thousand had never felt important. How could she, with two thousand, make any sort of difference to the Orrinshire accounts with such a sum?

But ten thousand – ten thousand pounds. That was a serious sum. Only half what Miss Lloyd could offer, to be sure, but it was something.

Priscilla swallowed. But Charles did not need ten thousand pounds. He needed twenty thousand pounds, perhaps more than that.

He needed Miss Lloyd, and if he had been so foolish as to break off his engagement, or Miss Lloyd had done so, then something had to be done. She would not allow the Orrinshire family to fall into ruin.

“Now, when you are finished with the newspaper, just leave it in here, will you?” Mrs. Seton said with a smile as she rose. “I have not yet read the final few pages, and I do not want Mrs. Busby using it for kindling just yet.”

“Yes, Mother,” Priscilla found herself saying in a dream.

Now the news had settled, she was left with nothing but sadness. Charles had lost her, and now he had lost the funds to save his family. In her wildest dreams, when she had imagined how she would feel when Charles ended his engagement, her heart had focused on joy, relief, love.

The reality was nothing like her imaginings. All she felt was sick. Charles had nothing, no dowry, no wife, and depending on what the gossips of the ton decided, potentially the guilt of jilting poor Miss Lloyd.

This was all her fault. She knew it, as clearly as she knew she loved him. If she had just left well enough alone, allowed him to make his own decisions, then he would be just forty-eight hours from the marriage that would restore the Orrinshire fortunes.

Now he would lose his home, his honor…he would never live this down. Few ladies would consider him a suitor now, knowing that he could end an engagement – one secured through the respectability of mothers, and of long duration – merely days before the blessed event.

Priscilla swallowed. She loved him too much to allow this to