Chapter 6
Afternoon Tea
It obviously happened because Prim found herself in her own bed that morning. But she had no recollection of how she left the Opera, how she reached her house, who helped her undress, and when exactly her body gave out from exhaustion.
And yet, the one thing that she really wanted to forget, the one that she absolutely had to forget, was still vivid in her mind as if it happened again and again in the unfortunate moments during the whole morning.
“So,” Myrtle asked, “how was the opera?”
Prim felt blood rush and leave her cheeks at the same time, while she managed somehow to swallow her tea without incident.
“Riveting,” she half lied.
Camilla was sitting quietly next to her twin, and Prim was scared of that look more than anyone else’s. Camilla was really sharp for her age, and Prim didn’t want to give her any excuse to dig deeper.
“Prim! You have a card!” Prim’s mother decided to finally do something useful and interrupt.
Prim took the envelope, shaking. If she saw another cursed L. she might have to either scream or finally choke on her tea and be rid of this torment once and for all. But the moment she looked at the seal, she knew it wasn’t from the Duke.
She opened it and she found a short handwritten letter in the most exquisite of penmanship.
“I cordially invite Miss Jenkins for tea at the Blackwell Estate. Abigail Murden, Duchess of Blackwell.”
She looked at the invite again and the crest. It was a formal invitation.
“See?” her mother clapped, reading over her shoulder. “You are starting to be accepted as a Duchess. The Duke of Blackwell and the Duke of Mildenhall are best friends after all. It is only natural that the Duchess wants to meet you, too.”
Except there was nothing natural about this invitation.
Her initial reaction was to reject the invitation.
The Duchess either wanted to ridicule her or indeed welcome her.
Both options were equally terrifying. The fact remained that it was highly improper to decline a summons by a Duchess.
Especially handwritten, implying that only Prim was invited.
So, Prim found herself in a carriage to travel to the Blackwell Estate. She decided to ignore the memory of her taking another carriage in the dead of night to the outskirts of London, to invade another Duke’s estate. At least, this time, she was invited.
When the carriage pulled up at the Blackwell Estate, Prim felt dwarfed by its sheer size. And yet, she was not led through the seemingly endless corridors but instead out into the beautiful gardens.
A small tent was there as protection from the intense sun. And under the tent, a small table with one occupant.
“Come, Miss Jenkins,” she invited unceremoniously.
Any reservations Prim might have had vanished when she saw that wide smile on the woman’s face.
“Your Grace,” Prim curtsied.
“There, propriety kept. Now, from now on, you will call me Abigail.”
“I am happy to meet you, Abigail. I am Prim.”
“Sugar? Milk?”
“A splash, thank you.”
They drank their tea, and Prim looked at the gardens.
“You must be wondering why I invited you,” Abigail said.
“These days, it all boils down to one thing,” Prim sighed.
“The sheet,” Abigail said softly. “It is actually the reason I invited you.”
Prim held the cup with such force, she was afraid she might snap it.
“How are you?”
Prim looked at the Duchess as if she were a rare creature. She was. Ever since that sheet circulated, there hasn’t been one person to ask her that simple question. Not even her sisters, who assumed that she would be fine as always, shouldering the burden without complaint.
“I am not sure.”
“I understand,” Abigail said. “Not long ago, I was in the same position.”
Prim had a hard time believing that the Duchess would ever come this close to ruin.
“It is a very long story. But I know how it is to have the ton watching at the worst moment for their amusement. And still, I survived.”
“I would call that thriving, but that is just me.”
“I am thriving. But before that,” Abigail thoughtfully, “I wasn’t sure even about my survival.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“I am sorry this happened to you.”
“You believe me then?” Prim asked, hopefully.
“I do. First, if you look decent and sincere. Then, even if you were the witch you are described to be, you would have chosen someone less… everything rather than Leo.”
“Someone said it!”
They talked and laughed for a while, Prim’s heart settling, her mind off the opera. Abigail did everything to make her feel comfortable, and Prim felt at ease for the first time in a while.
“I am told you have twin sisters.”
“Camilla and Myrtle. They debuted this season.”
“This must be difficult for them. People do things without regard for people’s lives.”
Prim came almost to tears. Abigail’s voice and understanding were the blanket she needed in this dire situation. From the moment she debuted, she had this knot, the muscles on her back constantly coiled.
But here she was, this radiant stranger who said the things she needed to hear. Simple things, compassionate things. Prim looked down at her tea, swallowing the tears that came over her.
“I have been there. And I was alone, too. I am determined not to allow this to be the case for you as well.”
“Thank you, Abigail.”
“I also know painfully well how it is to carry the burden of your family. How is it to be the adult in the room?”
Prim swallowed and looked away. It was bad form to speak ill of one’s parents. But she felt the way Abigail showed her empathy.
“Tell me,” Abigail continued, “just to see if I guessed it right, you worry more about your sisters than you.”
“If I don’t, no one else will.”
“You are taking on too much responsibility. You should be enjoying the season, not managing three futures. And you are doing an exceptional job.”
A cruel chuckle escaped Prim. She looked out to the garden, to the endless lawn, to the sun shining. She could be having fun, laughing and joking, and talking about light matters with a new friend in this splendid scenery. And yet she was cold and bitter and constantly felt as if chased.
“I know that this may come as a surprise, but Leo will solve this.”
The mention of his name woke flames that consumed her from her feet to the top of her hair.
The momentary peace she felt evaporated as the one vivid memory from the opera rushed to her through the manicured lawn and took residence in her mind.
The dark box, his breath on her neck, his lips barely touching her ear, their faces close, so close.
“I have no doubts about his competence,” Prim muttered.
“Leo is Edwin’s best friend. Edwin is my husband.”
Abigail’s face lit up the moment she mentioned him.
Prim almost looked away from that happy smile.
Jealousy was a temperamental creature. The two Dukes were infamously called the Unholy Duo, and they were the first men her mother warned her about in her debut.
She was now, of course, welcoming the one half with open arms, but that was her parents.
It was the talk of the town when the other half announced his marriage to an obscure vicar’s daughter. Now that Prim met Abigail, she realized. Abigail was not obscure, and the poor Duke of Blackwell stood no chance.
“I know Leo,” Abigail continued. “He may seem,” she vaguely gestured. “You know.”
“Yes. I have many words regarding His Grace. But let’s not spoil our tea.”
Abigail’s laughter echoed in the garden. Prim tried to hold back her own but gave up and joined her. She needed that release.
“He is a bit too much,” Abigail agreed.
“Or too little,” Prim clipped. “Depends on where you are standing.”
The Duchess almost dropped her tea in laughter.
“And here I was ready to help you… handle with a man like him. I think you don’t need my assistance.”
“Mainly because I have no intention of handling him.”
Abigail smiled.
“Edwin told me that you and Leo have an… understanding.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. We have an agreement.”
“Is that so?” Abigail’s eyes glinted.
Prim smirked. Abigail didn’t even try to mask the innuendo of her innocent question.
“The Duke has provided an effective, if not radical, solution to a rather pressing problem.”
“You don’t seem happy.”
“I am content that the situation became less… fearful, but the solution has some irritating parameters.”
“Leo is getting on your nerves.”
“Very well said, indeed.”
“You see right through him,” Abigail offered her a madeleine. “Most women swoon over those… irritating parameters.”
Prim heard the madeleine crack.
“Emotions tend to rise when he is involved,” Abigail dared more.
“I agree.”
“Do you?” Abigail leaned in.
“For instance, I keep harboring profound frustration, regular exasperation, and a healthy dose of discomfort. That last one might in indigestion, though. We can’t blame it all on His Grace.”
Abigail set her cup aside and surrendered herself to a gurgling laughter. Prim raised an eyebrow, congratulating herself on focusing on that side of her emotions about the Duke. The other side was to remain forever in the dark.
“You are a menace, Prim. Most women find him irresistible. Because you must agree he is magnetic and charming.”
Prim bit on her biscuit.
“If you look at him under a very specific angle, he has his charms.”
Like those lips and those arms and the shoulders that hide the world and the trim waist. These thoughts came with a very visible side effect. Prim’s ear went red in an instant, burning as if on fire.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Abigail caught the slip.
Prim dispelled the unwelcome image and focused on not incriminating herself further…
“I wouldn’t know. I am not… invested in him otherwise.”
“Oh,” Abigail didn’t even try to sound convinced. “That’s settled then.”
The two women drank in silence for a while.
“Prim, Edwin, and I are hosting a ball soon.”
Prim’s face lit up. Of all the social events of the season, the invitation to the Blackwell Ball was the most sought after. She has never attended, but she heard the rumors. It is said that a Blackwell Ball is not just a social event, it’s an artistic experience.
“I would love to see you there. With Edwin, we decided to support you openly. With Leo by your side, such as it is, and our, let’s say, approval, things will get better.”
“I am honored, Abigail. Truly honored.”
Prim looked at the invitation extended to her. She would finally get the chance to attend and see for herself the –
The enthusiasm turned sour in her mouth. Her sisters. Her sisters would greatly benefit from this. Attending the ball were only the most prominent of the ton were invited, giving them a unique opportunity.
“Abigail, if I may abuse the little favor you’ve shown me. I would love to bring my sisters with me.”
Abigail smiled and patted her hands.
“It’s for your whole family.”
Prim smiled and let out a sigh. She nodded in thanks, scared that if she opened her mouth, she would cry.
“I do have a condition, though,” Abigail said.
“I am listening.”
“I would love to introduce you to the Duke of Greyhaven.”
“I do not understand.”
“The Duke is re-entering society after years, and he has graced us with the opportunity to attend our ball. I would love for you to meet him.”
“Meet the Duke of Greyhaven.”
“He is a steady, serious, noble man, looking for a wife.”
Prim’s jaw slackened a little. This was not the conclusion to this invitation that she was expecting.
“I think you’ll be a good fit for him. He is a good man, Prim.”
“I… I was under the impression that you were not so subtly nudging me to your friend.”
“No,” Abigail laughed lightly. “Merely testing the waters. I would never nudge a woman towards Leo. He is many things, but Leo is not one to fall in love.”
“Honestly? It would take a rather imbecile to think otherwise,” Prim said.
She couldn’t claim that she knew the Duke that well, but it seemed that the Duke had made his inclinations rather obvious.
“I would love to meet the Duke of Greyhaven,” Prim finally said.
“Great. I think Nathaniel will be pleased, too.”
On her way back home in the carriage, Prim was perplexed. She had the loveliest time with Abigail, she felt she finally had a friend, she ensured an invitation to an advantageous event, and she had the support of the Duchess in securing a Duke.
Prim decided to focus on the positive and imagined how her sisters would be happy and ecstatic to be invited to the Blackwell estate on their debut season. That is all that mattered.