Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
D ear Your Grace,
I appreciate your concern for my well-being. Rest assured I take the utmost precautions. On my last investigation, I had an excellent plan in case trouble arose. Fortunately, I was able to extricate myself from the difficult situation, despite a large, oafish obstacle attempting to block my way. I am confident in my ability to best such hindrances. Too much is at stake for any other outcome.
Yours,
Lord P
“Ladies, I am pleased to report the vote on factory working conditions was an unmitigated success. Thanks to your tireless work, thousands of children will see their situations improve. It was extremely close, and your efforts made the difference.”
Light clapping filled the room, a modest response representing but a small portion of the true joy the news elicited. Eyes sparkling with tears betrayed sheer delight and pure relief, emotions kept closely guarded, the undeniable result of years of training.
“Our Greatest Admirer was also most helpful. The anonymous letter we received came just at the right time, with information that led to the favorable alteration of two votes.”
More clapping sounded. Ironically, she engaged in not one but two conversations with anonymous writers. With Edmund, she was the enlightened one. Of course, he believed he was corresponding with a man, because the protective duke would never “allow” a woman to do something so dangerous as investigate. With the letters from her Greatest Admirer, she remained in the dark. The letters arrived at random times, with insightful knowledge regarding her current investigations. Perhaps it was someone she knew, someone right before her eyes, just like Bradenton.
Perhaps it was fate’s way of getting even.
The letters had started not long after she started writing to Edmund. They were clearly written by a lady, and always signed Your Greatest Admirer. The print was generic and flawless, likely a deliberate attempt to hide the handwriting, something she wish she had considered when she started her correspondence with Edmund. They usually held several bits of valuable information, which she then passed along to Edmund with the fruits of her own investigations. They also conveyed some sort of advice, random and yet ironically pertinent to her chaotic life. Unlike with Edmund, she had no way to respond.
She turned her attention back to the crowd of kindred spirits. Adorned in pale dresses representing the latest fashions, the women looked like typical ladies of the ton : coiffed, primped and impeccably perfect. Yet underneath the glittering facade, they were a unique breed, a group of women with hearts to match their dowries, intelligence to complement their ladylike mannerisms. They had each been personally invited after displaying a generous nature so rarely seen in society. The world did not know the true intent of the Distinguished Ladies of Purpose: social action.
Now they sat in the gilded drawing room of the Sherring townhouse, surrounded by gaudy wine carpets, carved mahogany furniture and priceless paintings. Large windows showcased meticulously manicured gardens, while a crackling fire burned bright in a massive white marble fireplace.
“And of course your mysterious lord was quite influential.” The clapping turned to giggles, as Eliza Sherman spoke her mind in a not-so-hushed whisper.
Priscilla pursed her lips at the mention of Bradenton. Only she knew the identity of her colleague. “My contact was useful, as always. He is an ally to us all.”
“I have more news.” Priscilla hesitated. The next announcement would be far less celebrated than the first. “I’m afraid the time has come.” She breathed deeply. “I must succumb to my fate.”
The mood in the room transformed from joyous celebration to the severity of a window’s weeds in a moment. All mirth vanished, as to a woman they guessed the announcement’s true meaning.
Eliza clutched her tight curls. “You can’t m-mean…”
“Marriage.”
Or more accurately, the practice of giving ludicrous sums of money to men so they could take ownership of a woman. “I’m afraid so.”
“But I thought you weren’t going to marry.” Hannah looked at her in shock, no doubt remembering their conversation at the ball. “You said it would interfere with your work.”
“I thought so as well,” her other best friend, Emma Sinclair, said in a soft voice. The rest of the ladies chorused the sentiment.
Priscilla inclined her head, portraying calmness through the frustration and anger. “Like most women in our position, I have to wed. At least I have my choice of suitors.”
“Will you disband the group when you take a husband?”
“Of course not.” Clutching her skirt, Priscilla pushed back fears she would be forced to do exactly that. “I have no intention of abandoning the cause. I will simply find a husband who will allow me to continue my work.”
“Have you considered your mysterious benefactor?” Eliza blurted out, her voice devoid of the earlier humor. The others nodded.
Her response was immediate. “He is not an option.”
Yet it was another half-truth. For one senseless moment, she considered what her life could be like, would be like, if Bradenton offered. He was everything she claimed she didn’t want in a man, and something about him called to her. Although they had never spent any time together before the Roxbury ball, he knew more about her than the men who’d professed their undying love. Of course, he still had no idea who she truly was.
She stood up taller, steeled herself. Too many people depended on her for impossible yearnings. “He’s not suitable.”
“Too old?” one woman guessed.
“Too ugly?” suggested another.
“Too cruel?” a third tried.
“Something like that.” She forced a smile. “Don’t worry, ladies. I made a list of very suitable gentlemen. They are mild-mannered, accommodating and, most importantly, too busy with their own pursuits to bother with mine. Like me, they are only marrying out of necessity. After the obligatory celebrations, I expect life to continue like before.”
Most of the women nodded in relief, but Hannah and Emma frowned. They knew it wasn’t as simple as she proclaimed. It never was when a woman gave up the privilege of controlling her own life.
“We’ll hold our next social action – I mean Distinguished Ladies of Purpose meeting – in two weeks. Until then, contact me if anything urgent arises.”
The women nodded as they rose, gathering long forgotten embroidery. Most didn’t sew during the meetings, instead bringing something for appearances’ sake. As the daughter of a duke, Priscilla was skilled at the fabric arts, as well as singing, running a household and all the activities expected of women. She’d much rather conduct an investigation.
The women bid farewell with far more emotion than usual, gifting her with watery smiles and commiserating hugs. Hannah and Emma stayed behind while the others departed to their own matchmaking mamas.
When it was just the three of them, Hannah grasped her shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
Priscilla breathed deeply. It was time to stop acting the swooning schoolgirl. She needed to be strong for the people who needed her. “Don’t worry. With my plan, nothing will change. I have more than a dozen men on my list, many of whom have already shown interest.”
“Tell us the truth.” Emma gazed straight at her. “Was this your decision?”
She pursed her lips. “My father suggested I find a match and I agreed.”
Only “suggested” wasn’t the word he used, and “agreed” wasn’t her response. George Livingston, the Duke of Sherring, had ordered it, under the threat of usurping her choice if she didn’t accept one of the many offers already arriving, despite the current season’s youth. She loved her father dearly, and he loved her, and likely considered this his duty. Still, she never thought she would walk the short journey that would change the path of a lifetime.
“As a woman, nothing really is our choice.”
Her friends looked at her with pity.
“But there’s hope. I may have to get married, but at least I have my choice of suitors. I have a plan. Instead of the most powerful, handsome or wealthy suitor, I have one requirement: He has to be busy.”
Emma cocked her head to the side. “Busy?”
Priscilla smiled. “Too busy to notice when I investigate. Too busy to care.”
Neither woman looked convinced. “Can we see the list?” Emma asked.
“Of course.” Priscilla walked over to a small writing desk and slid out a hidden drawer. She removed a crisply folded paper and handed it to them.
Their frowns deepened as they read it.
“They’re not so bad.” Priscilla took the paper. “They’re titled, wealthy and scandal-free. Best of all, each and every one is far too busy with his own life to interfere in mine.”
“And I can’t imagine you being happy with a single one.” Hannah took the sheet back and pointed. “This one barely says a word, this one spends all day discussing his rock collection and this one talks to horses.”
“Exactly.” Priscilla clapped her hands. “They all have a focus, something that leaves little time for marriage. They’ll accept a match for duty, with no real wish for actual wedlock. Of course, this is just a preliminary list. I’ll discuss the details of what I require before accepting an offer.”
“I see,” Emma said quietly. “And you think they’ll just agree to whatever demands you request?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Isn’t a wife he can ignore every lord’s dream? Plus, I didn’t choose just anyone. They are all decent, upstanding men. None are excessive with drinking, gambling or dueling. They have good reputations and generally agreeable personalities.”
“But what about you?”
Priscilla smiled. “I have a generally agreeable personality.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Emma folded her arms across her chest. “Do you really think you could be happy with one of them? Haven’t you ever wanted more?”
“No.” The word was said with infinite conviction, but a little voice inside contradicted the claim. Once she had imagined a true match, a connection with kinship, meaning and something far stronger. A rarity in the ton, yet not an impossibility, a relationship that transcended mere friendship. Something akin to… love.
Too agitated to stand still, Priscilla grasped her skirt and started pacing, the floor hard under the thin soles of her slippers. Men didn’t have to put up with such nonfunctional clothing. “I simply want my freedom. I thought my father understood and agreed, especially since I have three brothers. Unfortunately, he decided I needed to be settled. His words.” She spun, strode the other way. “The truth is, I’ve never been so unsettled in my life.” She forced herself to stop, inhaled deeply. “But it’s all right. I’ll make a suitable match, and everything will be fine.”
“Your parents may accept it, but will your suitors?”
Priscilla shrugged. “My suitors won’t have a choice.”
“I don’t know about that.” Emma pointed to the news sheet on the table. “Today’s edition included an engagement announcement between Patience Forrester and Viscount Barrett.”
Priscilla looked down at the sheet in surprise. “I knew Barrett was chasing Patience, but I thought she didn’t want the match.”
“She didn’t,” Emma confirmed, “until he went to her father with some sort of offer . Suddenly she changed her mind.”
“Or her mind was changed for her.”
Priscilla frowned. Even if a woman supposedly had the right to refuse, forced matches were common. “Her family is different than mine. My father won’t force me.” Yet was it true? She never thought he’d force her to marry at all.
“What about your mysterious lord? We know he’s not old, ugly or cruel. A cruel man wouldn’t fight for our causes, and no one ugly or old would elicit a blush every time you mention him.”
“I don’t blush.”
Her face heated.
“I admit he isn’t any of those things. He’s one of the prime catches of the season.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Then we know him.”
“He sounds like Bradenton.”
It was all Priscilla could do to keep a straight face at Hannah’s declaration. “I’m sorry?”
“He sounds like the duke. And we already know he is chasing you. Why did you dance with him at Roxbury’s ball? Everyone noticed.”
That she had no choice was not something she would mention. “It was nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Hannah’s astute eyes pierced her. “Apparently they’re already wagering in the clubs.”
Her breath hitched. “On whether we’ll wed?”
“On when you will wed.”
She should have gone for a vase when he signed two lines.
Priscilla stood tall. “Then every single person is going to lose. I have no intention of being with a man who is dictatorial, autocratic and domineering, no matter how handsome or powerful he is.” She gave a curt nod.
Her friends just stared at her.
“You think he’s handsome?”
“You think he’s powerful?”
She closed her eyes, held up the paper. “I have my plan. I already danced with several lords who were most suitable.”
“Suitable, were they?” Hannah said dryly. “Sounds exciting.”
It wasn’t. The potted plant was the most interesting of the bunch. “Exciting is what I don’t need. I have enough of that with my investigations.”
“I almost forgot the investigation!” Hannah’s eyes lit up. “Were you able to–”
“No.” Priscilla glanced towards the door. Like all homes of the nobility, the walls had ears, or at least the servants who dusted right next to interesting conversations did. She lowered her voice. “I tried to follow Lady Roxbury, but was unable to speak with her.”
Emma frowned. “You didn’t get in trouble, did you?”
“I just ran into a very large and annoying obstacle.”
Hannah looked at her suspiciously, but didn’t ask for details. “What’s our next move?”
Priscilla took a deep breath. “I have a list of lords to investigate.”
“You’re investigating more lords?” Emma wrung her hands. “Is that wise? You were almost caught last week, and I have a feeling you’re not sharing everything about yesterday.”
Only that Bradenton discovered her. Nearly found out her secret.
“Nothing substantial.”
Emma frowned. “Deceiving them into revealing too much is harmless, but if you get caught alone with one of them…” Her voice trailed off, even as the unspoken word surrounded them.
Scandal.
“It’s a risk, but a worthwhile one. Plus, even if I’m caught, no one is going to believe the Duke of Sherring’s daughter would be involved in anything illicit. I could be knee deep in their bank accounts, and they wouldn’t suspect a thing.”
Emma grimaced. “I still think it’s too dangerous.”
“And I think she needs a cohort.” Hannah pressed forward. “We could find much more with two of us looking.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s too risky.” Hannah had wanted to join her since the beginning, but she couldn’t risk her friend’s reputation. “You already help so much by gathering information from unsuspecting nobles.”
“Information I haven’t been able to use,” Hannah sniffed. “If only you’d let us blackmail them.”
Emma gasped. “Hannah, no!”
“Don’t worry.” Priscilla put her hand on Emma’s arm. “On this, I agree with you. There’s little risk in passing along information, but blackmail is something else entirely. I won’t truly risk ruination.”
Emma looked relieved and Hannah frustrated, but both accepted her decision.
Priscilla rubbed her hands together. “I’ll continue our work at the theater. And while I’m there, I’ll find a lord who is nice, calm and above all, very, very busy.”
And no matter how tempting, that lord would not be the Duke of Bradenton.
There were advantages to being a duke.
People listened to you, respected your opinions and accepted your decisions. They treated you with consideration and admiration. You could break social customs, such as visiting unannounced, and be immediately admitted. Which was exactly what happened when Edmund knocked on the door at the Duke of Sherring’s townhouse.
Peyton and Crawford accompanied him, partly because he asked and partly out of curiosity. The official story was Peyton was returning a book his mother borrowed, a purely social exercise since the book had been loaned four years ago. Yet it provided a convenient excuse for visiting the household without an appointment.
His friends would not stay long. A few minutes perhaps, for appearances’ sake, giving him the chance to learn more about the mysterious Lady Priscilla. He hoped to convince her, or more likely her parents, to allow him to take her on a turn around Hyde Park. A ride would give him the opportunity to learn more about her.
And discover the secrets she kept hidden.
The footman was exactly what one would expect in a ducal household: impeccable, poised and meticulously groomed. “Yes, Your Grace, of course they are home. Please do come in.”
Edmund was led to a well-appointed drawing room with gilded highlights and overstuffed settees. He did not sit, but stood next to the crackling marble fireplace, Crawford and Peyton beside him. Less than a minute later, the duchess arrived, her cheeks pink, slightly out of breath. All the enthusiasm her daughter lacked, she displayed in hearty amounts.
“What a pleasant surprise!” The duchess made no effort to hide her delight as she feasted on the sight of them like Christmas fruit cakes. “I am honored for your visit. Lady Priscilla was inordinately pleased as well, and is just freshening up. She will be down soon.”
He hid a smile. Pleased was undoubtedly a metaphor for angry, petulant and defiant. Yes, she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t refuse him without infuriating her parents.
He nodded. “Thank you. We beg your forgiveness for not announcing our visit beforehand.”
Crawford stepped forward. “I came to return the book my mother borrowed.”
The duchess turned a critical eye towards Crawford. She took the book he offered. “Just under five years. What impeccable timing.”
Crawford grinned. “Just so. Again, we do apologize for our lack of notice.”
“You are more than welcome anytime. I’m only dismayed the duke is not here to receive you. He is at his club.”
“Of course.”
She looked out the door. “I’m sure Lady Priscilla will be here any minute.”
Only contrary to his hostesses’ prediction, Lady Priscilla did not arrive “any minute.” A minute passed, then five, then ten. The duchess’ smile grew more and more stretched, her voice higher pitched, even as he reassured her he didn’t mind waiting. It was true. He saw Priscilla’s actions for what they were. Another attempt to discourage him.
What would she say if she realized her clever antics had the opposite effect?
Finally, the duchess excused herself. Many minutes later, she returned, followed by Lady Priscilla. He straightened.
She was lovely.
Her cheeks were flushed pink, her lips full and red, her pale hair shimmering. Emerald eyes sparkled against creamy skin, their keen intelligence brilliant. An aqua dress skimmed over luscious curves, hinting at the bounty underneath. A flash of desire surged for the undeniable beauty, yet what lurked beneath was even more attractive.
She was accompanied by Lady Hannah and Lady Emma, two ladies of a similar age. Emma cast a genuine smile, Hannah a poorly hidden scowl.
Priscilla stared right at him. “I apologize for making you wait.” The words were said graciously, yet defiance burned in her eyes.
He hid his amusement. “I do not mind waiting for such lovely ladies. It is always a pleasure.”
Priscilla’s cheeks tinged.
The duchess jumped in. “I believe the six of you have already been introduced?”
As the ladies nodded, Crawford smiled. “It is good to see you again, ladies.”
Priscilla and Emma smiled in greeting, but Hannah only tightened her lips, gave a curt nod.
Crawford’s smile widened.
“The ladies just finished a meeting of the Distinguished Ladies of Purpose.” The duchess stood taller. “It is a sewing group, which Priscilla leads.”
He walked closer to his quarry. “It sounds fascinating. I did not realize you enjoyed sewing so much.”
“Of course she does,” The duchess responded for her daughter. “As a lady of the ton , it is one of her favorite pursuits.”
Priscilla grimaced.
He couldn’t stop himself. “Next to resting and shopping, I presume.”
Priscilla turned a lovely shade of red. “Few would be interested in the Distinguished Ladies’ Resting Guild,” she said sweetly.
Her mother frowned, but he had to hold back a laugh. “Likely true. So tell me, what did you sew?”
“Sew?”
“At your guild,” he prompted, “What is the subject of your current piece?”
For a second, a panicked look came in her eyes. Then they lit in mischief. “A vase.”
“A vase?”
She smiled. An impish smile, undoubtedly meant to annoy.
It was adorable.
“A heavy vase. A big one.”
Once more he had to hold back a laugh. What an unusual feeling. Likely she would love to bring the vase over his head. “A vase is such a nice subject. Many people also paint statues. Tell me, have you seen any unusual statues lately? Perhaps something that depicts a human subject?”
She turned pinker. And pinker. And pinker. “There were eight.”
“Eight?”
“Eight vases.”
The little minx. He laughed again.
The duchess couldn’t seem to decide whether this was going well or not. “Tell us, Your Grace, what are your plans for this lovely afternoon?”
It was the perfect opening. “I thought I might go for a ride in the carriage. I was wondering if Lady Priscilla might want to accompany me.”
Lady Priscilla’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “I’m afraid I–”
“Would love to go!” The duchess shot in. “My daughter loves carriage rides, especially with a fine gentleman such as yourself. Isn’t that right, my dear?”
“But it is–”
“Such a lovely day for riding,” her mother finished.
Mother and daughter locked eyes. Finally, Priscilla looked away. “Yes, of course. I just need a few minutes to–”
“You’re fine as you are. Isn’t she, girls?”
Lady Emma and Lady Hannah nodded dutifully. “Of course, Your Grace.”
The duchess smiled at the two ladies. And smiled. And smiled.
Emma turned pink. “I better go. I have to pick out a gift for my grandmother’s birthday.”
Hannah frowned. “Priscilla was going to help Emma choose a gift. The occasion is tomorrow.”
“We can help Emma.” Crawford stepped in. “I assume you have a chaperone?”
Hannah pursed her lips, but nodded.
“Then let’s not prevent Lady Priscilla and the duke from their ride. If you would allow us, Peyton and I will accompany you.”
“That. Would. Be. Lovely.” Hannah spoke haltingly.
“Is that acceptable to you?” Peyton asked Emma.
Her cheeks an even brighter pink, Emma nodded.
The duchess clapped her hands. “Splendid. Have a wonderful time.” In seconds, the efficient woman not-so-subtlety ushered the four to the front door.
A nice liquor would be required later to make it up to his friends.
The duchess was rubbing her hands as she returned. “Are you ready? I can act as your chap–”
“I will ask Aunt Lousia to accompany us,” Lady Priscilla broke in.
Edmund relaxed. He would learn far more about Lady Priscilla without her mother’s interference.
The duchess frowned, but did not contradict her daughter. “Very well. I shall tell her.” And with that, the very eager duchess left her very innocent daughter very alone with a very eligible man.
Not very subtle.
Priscilla narrowed her eyes at the ill-hidden game. It was possible the duchess thought him too much of a gentleman to do anything that would force a betrothal.
More likely she was hoping he wasn’t.
“I must apologize for my mother. I fear she has gotten the wrong impression of our relationship.”
“Really?” He folded his arms across his chest. “And what impression is that?”
Two small spots of pink colored her cheeks. She lifted her chin. “I do not need to tell a man of your intelligence what is so painfully obvious.”
He took a step towards her. “I appreciate your high estimation of my intellectual ability.”
She shook her head, but a small smile played at her lips. “No one can ever accuse you of modesty, Bradenton.”
He feigned an expression of indignity, hiding satisfaction she’d eschewed the proper “Your Grace.” “Just the other day, I rescued a lady who was hopelessly lost. If I hadn’t intervened she would still be searching for the entrance to the ladies’ retiring room in the hedges. Yet I took no credit for such heroics.”
“Perhaps the lady did not need rescuing. It is a little known fact that women can take care of themselves. She was perfectly safe where she was.”
He gave her a wicked look. “She did enjoy the statues.”
She made a sound halfway between a cough and a laugh. “You sir, are completely inappropriate. What about all the stories of the powerful and dangerous duke?”
What, indeed? With Lady Priscilla, he was in rare form, less harsh, perhaps even lighthearted. It was a rare and tempting experience. “Not everyone is as they seem. Everyone has hidden facets.”
She stared at him, sharp concern replacing the humor. It was curious, and also telling.
“Not everyone is so surreptitious.” Her gaze didn’t waver. “For some, what you see is what exists.”
“True.” He took another step. “Yet there is far more to you than the ton realizes.”
She visibly swallowed. “Nonsense. I am exactly as I appear. Which is why you should take me at my word that we would not suit, Your Grace.”
“Back to Your Grace, I see.” Inexplicably drawn, he moved forward again. “You are fooling yourself. You were enjoying the conversation a minute ago, yet you keep reminding yourself we would not suit. Care to explain why?”
To her credit, she held her ground. “There is no grand reason. I simply believe it. You must discontinue this behavior now, before people get the wrong idea. Please do not consider me a challenge. I know how you are with those.”
He stopped. “I did not realize you were so acquainted with my personal tendencies.”
She hesitated for the briefest of instants. “You cannot be unaware of your reputation. Powerful. Tenacious. Unrelenting. Do not chase an unwanted prize simply because you wish to win.”
He frowned. There was something familiar about the way she spoke. Answers lurked on the edge of his unconscious, puzzle pieces that didn’t quite align.
He moved even nearer, placing just enough distance to avoid scandal should her mother return. “What makes you think I don’t want the prize?”
“It does not matter. The prize does not wish to be caught.”
“The prize does not always have a choice.”
Her eyes widened.
He took advantage by moving even closer, in spite of the danger.
“We cannot be.” Even as the words rang hollow, she pressed on, “What do I have to do to prove it?”
He raised an eyebrow.
Her lips set, and a determined look came into her eyes. “You do not affect me at all,” she declared. “And I’ll prove it.”
Then she took his lips.
The kiss was not tentative. It was not passive, friendly or in the least bit platonic. Borne of pure need, it was an onslaught of senses, a release of passion. Desire exploded as he pulled her close, demanding her surrender even as she pressed against him. He reveled as she moaned in sweet surrender.
Their lips tangled, hot and delicious, fiery frenzy. Heady need swirled around him as he sampled pure sweetness. She was all softness and generous curves, pure spirit and sizzling heat. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.
If she thought to prove herself unaffected, she was gravely mistaken, as he immediately took control. In that moment, he didn’t want to let her go. Yet he hadn’t a choice. Soon the duchess would return, and if she caught them like this, their future would be cast.
The thought was becoming more appealing by the moment.
He pulled back, yet didn’t completely let go.
She gaped at him, heaving in great breaths, her expression raw and passionate. He, too, was not as in control as he pretended.
The sound of people in the hallway broke the sound of their breathing.
“It’s my mother,” she hissed. “Let me go!”
He looked down at her…
And tightened his hold.