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“I fear not. If I remember correctly, there was no love lost between Lord Nash and Lord Montgomery.” Interestingly, both men had also played a part in the forced compromise Priscilla and her mother had orchestrated with the duke, something that might tie them together. However, Lord Montgomery’s involvement had been involuntary, a matter of omission rather than commission.
“Did I hear my husband’s name mentioned?”
Priscilla turned to find Beatrix Townsend, Lady Montgomery, approaching, her narrowed eyes pinning Priscilla.
In truth, Priscilla had been surprised, albeit pleasantly, Lady Montgomery had invited her to the garden party. As a staunch supporter of the duke’s, Beatrix held little affection for Priscilla, and most likely only invited her on Timothy’s behest.
Priscilla swallowed her fear and faced the fiery redhead. “Lady Honoria wondered if Lord Nash would be in attendance. I merely stated my doubts based on his relationship with your husband.”
“Oh, that.” Beatrix waved her hand as if she were swatting away a pesky fly. “That’s all in the past. They will never be bosom friends, but they’ve come to a peaceable agreement to maintain a cordial relationship.”
Well, that was a surprise. If Nash could mend broken fences, perhaps there was hope for her as well.
“How very magnanimous of Lord Montgomery,” Priscilla said.
“My husband isn’t perfect, but he is generous. Not to mention, he’s made his own share of blunders.” A faraway look flitted across Beatrix’s face, her smile much like that of the enigmatic Mona Lisa. “Besides, both Laurence and I owe Lord Nash a debt of sorts.”
Honoria brought the topic back to the matter at hand. “So, will he be in attendance today?”
“We have invited him, although he’s yet to arrive. And speaking of tardiness, where is my wayward brother? I thought you would have him better in hand, Honoria.”
Jealousy pinged in Priscilla’s stomach when Honoria blushed.
Beatrix’s gaze drifted to a place over Priscilla’s shoulder. “Ah, there is the culprit now!”
Envy morphed into a thousand fluttering wings, and Priscilla turned, holding her breath in anticipation.
Timothy loomed in the open doorway of the terrace, his eyes scanning the crowd. When they locked on Priscilla’s, the fluttering in her stomach increased, and her heart took flight.
She fought to contain her excited anticipation as he strode toward them, each step infused with purpose and determination.
He bowed, then took Lady Honoria’s hand and kissed it.
Abruptly, the giddiness in her stomach turned into an eagle’s death dive, sinking so fast she feared she might cast up her accounts on Timothy’s boots.
After his greeting to Honoria, he placed a gentle kiss on his sister’s cheek. “Bea. I apologize for my tardiness.”
Finally, as if she were an afterthought, he turned toward Priscilla. “Miss Pratt.” Cold. So cold, as if the sun, which was shining brightly in the sky on the late spring day, had been snuffed out with those two simple words.
She wanted to weep.
Her gaze still locked on Timothy, she sensed Beatrix’s and Honoria’s eyes on her. Could they tell? Did they know of her feelings for him?
Oh, God.The words both an internal cry and a prayer, she screwed up her courage. “Dr. Marbry.” Although not encased in ice as his greeting had been, she deliberately forced all emotion from her own.
“It would seem all tardy parties are now present and accounted for,” Honoria said, nodding toward the entrance from where Timothy had come. “Lord Nash has arrived.”
Rather than peer in Nash’s direction, Priscilla returned her attention to Timothy’s face.
It gave her great satisfaction when he winced.
* * *
Bea grabbedTimothy by the elbow. “May I speak with you in private?”
As much as he hated leaving Priscilla to Nash’s advances, he nodded and followed Bea inside to a quiet corner of the house.
“Please have the courtesy to explain yourself, dear brother.” Bea’s glare was positively frigid.
