Chapter 3
Courteous Insults
Days after, Prim was in her drawing room, reading a history book, her favorite subject to distract herself. And yet, not even the heroic endeavors of distant ancient Greek men toiling to push away the Persian empire could distract her from the tempest that raged in her mind.
You are mine to protect.
The Duke’s words still echoed in her ears, and they woke the small hair on the back of her neck in the same way they did that night.
“Amazing news!” Her mother came into the drawing room, waving a piece of paper as if it were some victorious banner. “Girls!”
The twins rushed down from their shared room. Prim really didn’t want to indulge her mother’s delusions this morning, so she quietly remained concentrated on her book.
“Girls, our exile has ended,” her mother announced. “This is an invitation from the Countess of Dawkins.”
Prim frowned. The Countess of Dawkins was an elderly lady who was probably either blissfully unaware of the scandal that forced the Jenkins family into social exile, or she had forgotten.
Either way, Prim felt uneasy going after that sheet, circulating even if it was a charity event.
The Countess might have forgotten, but the rest of the ton that would surely attend wouldn’t be that obliging.
“Perhaps it’s too early, Mother,” Prim tried.
“Nonsense! We cannot afford to reject any invitation. We will show up and save our image along with the street orphans. You girls will wear the silver gowns with the diamonds. Prim, choose the cobalt gown. I’ll tell Jocelyn to make your hair.”
Her sisters looked excited, thinking of the event already, hope blooming in their hearts. Prim sighed. She couldn’t let her sisters in the care of her careless parents at an event that may eat them alive and spit them out. But she was wearing the ivory.
Prim had taken but one step in the charity event when dread struck her. The same dread that a small animal feels the moment it realizes that the trap was laid way before it walked straight into it. She was the prey, and she was hunted for sport.
Her family was invited not out of charity or even negligence. She was invited because the ton realized that it wasn’t fun to gossip in the privacy of their drawing rooms anymore. It would be so much more entertaining if they could gossip about her in her face.
When she stepped into the venue, all eyes turned to her, and the reaction was instant, even if it varied. Wide eyes and sly smiles, whispers behind palms and fans, fingers pointing at her.
Prim walked on a carpet made of snickering laughter and cold whispers.
“…trying to trap him…”
“…as if the Duke would ever…”
“…shameless…”
There were only two options for her in this dire situation.
One was running away, giving the ton the satisfaction of her shame bearing down on her.
That would mean she admitted guilt. And Prim was not guilty.
And not a coward either. Which left her with the only other option.
Keep her shoulders squared, head high, and brave through this.
Prim watched her parents as they blissfully mingled with the rest of the ton, obviously unaware how they were being dragged into ridicule disguised as polite comments.
“Camilla,” Prim addressed he eldest of the twins, “keep a low profile, talk to no one, and keep your distance from me.”
“No,” Camilla was older than her age dictated. “You are our sister. We will stay by your side.”
Prim looked at the girls and smiled, her mind finally focusing on something that wasn’t a haughty Duke and painful rumors. The warmth of her sisters’ eyes kept away the cold fingers of gossip.
“Camilla,” Prim said with a soft smile, “you know what to do. Protect Myrtle.”
“I can protect myself!” Myrtle complained.
Prim smiled at her soft, beautiful sister and took both her hands in hers.
“The world is too cruel sometimes, little flower.”
As if underlying her statement, a cold voice is heard behind her.
“How noble of you, Miss Jenkins, to attend.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Prim felt the cold introductions of what certainly would unfold to be an embarrassing situation. She hardened her face with sheer determination. What anyone thought did not affect who she really was, but how people saw her could impact what she could become.
Prim turned only to find Miss Sears looking at her with a cold look. Prim was right to suspect that her sisters would too be indirectly targeted. Miss Sears was to be declared the diamond of the season. That was till her sisters entered and swept everyone with their elegant beauty.
“We are all here to contribute to a noble cause,” Prim said softly.
“How gracious of you,” the woman’s voice dripped malice.
Prim didn’t care about that. What she cared about was that this little act had drawn the attention of the ton that was expecting a scene like that in anticipation.
“One would expect you to choose modest seclusion. Given the circumstances.”
Prim kept her impeccable smile on, her mask fully in place. She would not let that malicious girl drag her into an indecent scene that would only make matters worse.
“But then again,” Miss Sears went on with a cruel glint in her eyes, “for someone who so shamelessly pursues a Duke, modesty is a rare commodity.”
Someone behind Prim gasped audibly. Others around chuckled viciously.
Everyone was watching her with disdain. And among them her sisters that were clasped together as if witnessing a public execution.
Which, in terms of her reputation and her name, it very much was.
But Prim was not going to give anyone either temper or tears.
“I find,” Prim said in an even, courteous tone, “that at charity events, it is best to remember those less fortunate than ourselves.”
She moved to the donation table, her focus on the silver tray that lay there, an inanimate object that didn’t judge her. She placed her offerings inside, her fingers trembling for one tiny, shameful moment of loss, before she straightened her gloves and turned her back.
Behind her, whispers rose and then died in a cutting silence, both making her feel as if she was walking on thin ice. One slip and she would drown in cold waters. But Prim would not allow herself to slip. Not in front of them.
Slowly and composed, Prim made her way to a hallway, hidden behind heavy drapes. She took a few steps for good measure till she was away from the noise and spite of others. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Her head hit the wall, and she inhaled through her nose.
Tears came slowly, inevitable, and unstoppable.
Sobs escaped her mouth, and her gloved hands came up to cover them.
Her shoulders sagged, her perfect posture forgotten.
Prim finally abandoned herself to crying.
All the pain and the despair she harbored finally came for their dues and claimed her body as it shook in quiet tremors.
Her knees buckled, but even in this vulnerable moment, Prim didn’t allow herself to collapse completely. She steadied herself while tears kept running down her cheeks, blurring her vision.
“Miss Jenkins?”
Prim froze. She would recognize that voice anywhere. It was hard not to. She had been replaying it after all for days. Deep, hoarse, and utterly a problem. Her luck was impeccable. In her moment of weakness of course, he would be the one to appear just to add salt to the wound.
“Are you well, Miss Jenkins?”
As fast as her trembling hands allowed, she wiped her cheeks and dried her eyes. Somehow, him seeing her crying was way worse than the whole ton witnessing.
“Your Grace,” she said, looking away.
She heard the rustling of clothes, and she realized that the Duke was doing what he did best. And that was invading her personal space. In a few strides, he was right in front of her again. Only this time, they weren’t in his study.
“Why were you crying?”
“Very astute question,” Prim said and straightened her back.
“Miss Jenkins,” he demanded.
Prim felt the will leaving her body. She just needed a moment to catch her breath, and now here he was, a stark reminder that she was being deprived of oxygen as the walls closed in.
She took one wide step away from him, back to the ballroom.
Somehow, dealing with all the malevolent debutants was so much easier than dealing with him.
She did not get the chance. His strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her as he opened the door to the room closer to them.
“Your Grace, we-”
He closed the door and pushed her against it. One hand held the door closed as he looked at her with a dangerous glint in his eye.
“This is most inappropriate!” Prim protested.
“You are right,” he mused. “We wouldn’t want any gossip sheet catching our names on ink.”
“I am happy you are amused.”
“I assure you I am not.”
“So, this is out of malice.”
“I found you in tears, Miss Jenkins,” he said.
“And somehow you took that as a summons to stand indecently near rather than permit me a moment’s privacy?”
“Would it be better to let you cry?”
“Infinitely better than keeping me in a broom closet.”
“It’s a study, he corrected.”
“Irrelevant,” she said.
“I disagree.”
“As a hobby, it would seem.””
“Your Grace, open the door.”
“So, you can run away again?”
“I can walk if that makes you feel better.”
“You do not get to run, walk or skip carelessly.”
“Your Grace, this has stopped being entertaining. Or useful.”
“Useful? This is what it’s important, am I correct?”
“Less judgmental tone when you are being the unreasonable party is common courtesy,” she ground.
“You cry alone and run away, and I am being unreasonable.”
“I am terribly sorry. I didn’t know this constituted a perfectly sane reaction. I hate to see you in poor judgment.”
“While you coming into this viper’s nest was a testament to impeccable judgement,” the Duke chuckled.
“I had no choice.”
“By all means then, I will allow you to run headlong into danger and think yourself clever for it.”