happen. There was only one thing she could do.
“Mother,” she called, rising and walking into the hallway. “I am leaving and will not be back before luncheon.”
Her jacket and bonnet were already on before her mother’s voice echoed down the corridor. “Where did you say you were going, Priscilla?”
“I didn’t,” Priscilla shouted back before shutting the front door behind her.
She had a rough idea where Frances and her parents were staying in London, and so when Priscilla ordered the carriage to be brought out, the driver was given an area of London rather than a direct address.
“Are you sure, Miss Priscilla?” Henderson said cautiously.
Priscilla nodded as she pulled herself into the carriage. “And as fast as you can, please.”
For the next twenty minutes, Priscilla had plenty of time to rehearse her words. If only they did not feel so false. She could not say with honesty that she was not overjoyed initially at hearing the news, for instance. That was best left unsaid.
“Here is fine, Henderson,” she said eventually as she recognized a street.
The carriage came to a gentle stop, but the worried face of Henderson peered at her as she descended without waiting for him to open the door.
“You are quite sure you know where you are going, Miss Priscilla? I would hate for your mother to –”
“I will find my own way home,” Priscilla said confidently. “Please return, Henderson, and…and do not tell my mother where you brought me.”
The driver had known her most of her life, seen her grow, and had never been given such wild instructions before.
“Yes’m,” he said with a nod. “But if you have not returned by three o’clock, I shall come back here for you and wait by this corner. Is that agreed?”
Priscilla smiled. “Agreed. Thank you, Henderson.”
She watched the carriage drive away and took a deep breath. Now all she had to do was find them.
Thankfully, it only took accosting an elderly couple and asking politely to be directed to the Lloyd residence for Priscilla to find herself standing outside their front door.
She took a deep breath. What she was about to do was the last thing she could ever have imagined, but she owed it to Charles. She loved him too much to suffer because of her own arrogance, her own desires.
It was perhaps the least selfish thing she would ever do, and she already hated herself for it.
Her knock was swiftly answered by a stern-looking footman. “Yes?”
Priscilla curtseyed. “Good morning. I am here to see Miss Frances Lloyd.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “And you are another one of her visitors?”
She nodded, without taking in his words. After being bowed into the house, she was led down the hallway and into the parlor, where Miss Lloyd was seated by the window.
“Oh, Miss Lloyd, I cannot apologize enough,” she said, rushing into the room and seating herself beside the astonished woman. “I believe I have ruined everything, and I am so sorry. Your…your engagement with Charles is ended?”
Miss Lloyd blinked, evidently shocked at the sudden appearance of her rival. “Why, yes.”
Priscilla’s heart sank. She had ruined everything, but she would make it right. “Miss Lloyd, you – you have to marry him!”
Miss Lloyd said nothing, but her gaze shifted from Priscilla’s face to something beyond her. There was a giggle.
Priscilla turned around slowly to see Miss Ashbrooke standing just behind the door, a smile on her face.
So eager to speak with Miss Lloyd, she had hurtled into the room and not even considered the footman’s words. Another one of her visitors.
“Please do not concern yourself, Miss Seton,” Miss Ashbrooke said briskly. “You did not say anything I did not know already.”
She had not believed it possible to be even more embarrassed, but the matchmaker’s words made her stomach twist. Why did she have to be so…so readable, so easily understood, even by strangers?
But this was not the time to agonize over her own feelings. She had to make things right.
“Miss Lloyd,” she said, turning back to her. “Please, renew your engagement with Charles. He broke it in a fit of madness, I am sure, and he would never do so again. You must ask him to take you back. He – he needs you.”
Miss Lloyd stared as though Priscilla was possessed. “It was not Charles who broke the engagement, but me.”
Shock and confusion flooded through Priscilla. “You – you broke the engagement?”
The door to the hallway opened, as presumably, a footman brought in tea.
Miss Ashbrooke laughed dryly as she stepped across the room