AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As if reading Priscilla’s mind, Nancy said, “You appear tired today, miss. Did you not sleep well? Must be the excitement over your upcoming nuptials to Mr. Netherborne.”
Excitement and Mr. Netherborne—two words Priscilla never thought to hear uttered in the same sentence. Yet the world remained firm about her. “Of course,” she mumbled.
Nancy finished pinning the last strand of hair in place, and stood back to assess her handiwork, giving a sound nod of approval. “Lady Cartwright wished to remind you of the fitting for your wedding gown today at the modiste.”
“Of course.” Were there no other words she could manage?
Nancy bobbed a curtsy and left Priscilla alone.
A knock interrupted her blessed, but short-lived, solitude. She prayed it was not her mother. For once, that might have been preferable. The door cracked open, and Victor poked his head inside.
“May I come in?”
She waved him inside, realizing she had avoided his interrogation as long as possible.
He closed the door behind him, then paced before her like a caged animal. “I’ve temporarily detained Mother, but she nattered on and on about your visit to the modiste, so we don’t have long.”
He spun, spearing her with a glare. “What happened last night? The truth, Cilla.”
“I explained that he’d misinterpreted what he’d seen. That it was you and not Mr. Netherborne he witnessed.”
His eyes narrowed.
She feared the one thing, which up until that point she’d always loved about her brother—that he would be able to read her as surely as if he peered inside her mind.
“For six hours!” He raked a hand through his blond hair, destroying his valet’s handiwork, then he resumed his infernal pacing. “I shall confront him. Perhaps staring down the barrel of a pistol will loosen his tongue.”
Bolting from her chair, she grabbed him by the arms, stopping his perpetual movement. “No! You can’t.”
He shook out of her grasp. “The hell I can’t! Watch me.”
She darted a nervous glance toward the door. “Keep your voice down. Please, Victor, listen to me. Nothing happened that I didn’t want.”
“Are you mad?” he hissed, gazing up to the ceiling as if asking the Lord above. “You’re to be married in four days.”
“Sentenced for my crime, you mean.” She could almost taste the bitterness of her words.
He jerked his head toward her.
“Punishment which I accept fully. But before I’m banished to the country to live out my penance with Mr. Netherborne, was it so wrong of me to seek one night with the man I love?”
“Even more reason for him to confess to his seduction. You could marry a man you love instead of one you despise.”
Tears clogged her throat and pricked her eyes. “I don’t want him like that.” She shook her head. “Trapped. Forced. He’d resent me, grow to hate me. I saw that look in a man’s eyes before, and I carry that guilt with me always. To see it in the eyes of the man I love would kill me.”
“You love him that much?”
Blinking back the tears, she said, “So much it hurts . . . here.” She pressed her fist to her sternum. “It’s better this way. And I don’t despise Mr. Netherborne”—she shot Victor a little smirk—“I just don’t like him very much.”
Victor snorted a laugh, then sighed. “Oh, Cilla.” He pulled her into his arms and patted her back. “What am I to do with you?”
Her mother’s voice rang through the door. “Priscilla! We must hasten to the modiste. What’s keeping you?”
Victor placed a kiss on the top of Priscilla’s head. “Very well. I’ll remain silent.” He pulled back and met her gaze. “But as you said of Mr. Netherborne, I won’t like it very much.”
CHAPTER 28—ADMITTING THE TRUTH
Crumpled pieces of paper littered the floor at Timothy’s feet. Try as he might, the words he needed to say—wanted to say—wouldn’t come. The blue cloak lay folded neatly in a box on his bed.
