Always the Rival (Never the Bride #7) - Emily E K Murdoch Page 0,79
little. Now that she is not here… I am not going to try to replace her. No one could replace her.”
Mrs. Seton stepped across the room and cupped her daughter’s cheek. “I just wish your father was here to give you away.”
Priscilla swallowed, feeling the softness of her mother’s love just as close as her hand. She nodded, unable to control herself, unwilling to attempt to speak. She would not cry today, of all days.
Her mother straightened, and if Priscilla did not know her mother rarely showed her feelings, she would have said there was a tear in her eye.
“When you are ready, come downstairs,” she said briskly. “We can walk to church, for there is no threat of rain.”
Priscilla nodded, and before she had turned back to the looking glass, she was alone.
“Now then, Priscilla Seton,” she said sternly to her own reflection. “Do not lose your head.”
“What an excellent idea.”
Priscilla turned quickly to see who had disturbed her privacy, but she relaxed as she saw the ton’s matchmaker leaning against the doorframe. It was impossible to feel discomfort around Miss Ashbrooke for long. She had a way, somehow, of putting one at ease.
“Oh, ’tis just you,” she said aloud.
“I am going to decide not to take offense at that,” said Miss Ashbrooke with a smile, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind her. “I am never just anything!”
Priscilla could not help but laugh. It would take a great deal of force to prevent Miss Ashbrooke from getting her own way; she could see that. It was fortunate; indeed, Miss Ashbrooke was working for her rather than against her.
“Nothing can dim my joy today,” she said aloud. “And I did not exactly mean it that way.”
“I know what you meant. I must say it is a joy to see your joy,” said Miss Ashbrooke, good-naturedly, walking to the window and looking out at the sunshine. “I must congratulate you, you know. Few ladies of any age are able to ensure the gentleman of their choice, and you have done so against tremendous odds.”
Priscilla smiled. Against tremendous odds. Miss Ashbrooke was right. “For a while, I never thought I would be happy. I thought Charles was lost to me forever.”
“Nonsense. I had everything perfectly under control.”
She could not help but laugh at the certainty in the matchmaker’s words. “Miss Ashbrooke, I will not deny you are skilled at your craft, but I do not believe you can claim complete omnipotence in this matter!”
Miss Ashbrooke’s eyes twinkled as she looked at Priscilla. “A matchmaker never reveals her secrets – I would hardly want to put myself out of business! Suffice it to say, you did very well on your own for a while, but a few pokes and prods in the right direction did not hurt.”
Priscilla did not know whether to laugh or thank her. Miss Ashbrooke was such a strange lady; few friends, not married herself, and yet an expert in the ways of matrimony.
But before she could think of a response that would not offend, Miss Ashbrooke sighed heavily and left the window. “And now I must depart, or I shall find myself late to your wedding. Let me be the last to say, good day, Miss Seton.”
She was gone with a quiet click of the door, and Priscilla sighed deeply. Refreshingly direct as Miss Ashbrooke was, she was not entirely correct in taking all the glory for their engagement.
No, that was all down to them. Charles and her. True, it had taken them a little while to work it all out, and many tears had been shed before they had reconciled. But now they were going to get married.
Priscilla rose and felt her veil float about her shoulders. Today she was a bride. The most important bride in the land, for the Duke of Orrinshire was getting married.
As she descended the stairs, her mother smiled. “You look beautiful, Priscilla. Perfect for Westminster, though I say so myself, I would have expected a duke of the realm to be wed somewhere far more impressive than St. Gabriel’s in the village.”
“That is what Lady Audley said,” Priscilla said wryly. “Nothing would please her more that we use the preparations for the society wedding for Miss Lloyd.”
Even her mother wrinkled her nose at that. “Take on the plans made for Charles’s first engagement? With just two days’ notice? Surely not.”
Priscilla was handed a bouquet by Mrs. Busby. “That is what I said. These are beautiful, Mrs. Busby, thank you!”