Page 51 of To Dare a Duke

She’d thought she was righting wrongs and vanquishing a foe. Yet even if he’d been every inch the villain she’d first believed him to be, she’d had no right to vilify him further, to make assumptions about him and use them to entertain the ton.

She felt sick, and increasingly as though she might cry.

“Why not?” he asked, with self-possession in the words, although he was still breathing too hard, too fast.

“You don’t know me,” she said, wishing she could sound calmer, and wishing the thread of panic running beneath her reply was better concealed.

Robert was quiet for a long moment, and then let out a breath. He shifted beside her and, when she dared look at him again, his expression had softened.

“Then let me in, Prue,” he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of one finger. “Let me know you. Give me a chance to gain your trust.”

The sensation made her breath catch as longing rose inside her, and she recognised too late the danger she was in. This was a man who could upset all her plans with ease, and she’d allowed him to get too close. She’d known he was best avoided, but not the extent of the risk she was taking in being in his company.

Now, at last, she had some small understanding of what her mother had felt when her father had been at his most charming. She recognised the yearning to believe in his lies, to allow his soft words to soothe the bruises he’d inflicted, to look into his handsome face and allow him to make it better. It had never been better, though, and her mother had been trapped. She had been merely a possession, with no recourse against an owner who treated her carelessly at best, and more often with cruelty.

There was always the possibility that Robert was a good man through and through, that he would never bully or hurt or ignore her thoughts and feelings. The more she knew him, the more she believed it possible. Yet, if she was wrong, she’d have a lifetime to regret, caught in his cage with no way of escaping him.

No.

She couldn’t look at him. “You don’t know me,” she repeated. “And if you did, I’m not sure you would like what you found.”

He let out a soft breath of laughter. “If you wish to compare sins, I’m at your disposal. I assure you, I will win any attempt at self-flagellation you wish to attempt.”

To Prue’s relief, her aunt’s cottage came into view, and she remained silent until they had drawn to a halt. Then she turned, looking him in the eyes and knowing she would always regret not taking the chance he offered, even as she knew it was for the best.

“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” she said softly, forcing herself to look in his eyes as she came as close to revealing the truth as she possibly could. “Some crimes are secretive and insidious, but no less grievous to those who are victim to them. Thank you for bringing me home. Good day to you.”

Chapter 14

Why must men be so pig-headed? Why not just accept that I have made up my mind, and my answer is no? Why does he insist on believing there is a possibility of doubt in my mind?

Why is there doubt in my mind?

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Prunella Chuffington-Smythe ... never sent.

***

25th April. A meeting of The Peculiar Ladies. Upper Walpole Street. 1814

“How does one create a scandal?” Prue asked.

Alice choked on her tea, the cup clattering back to the saucer as Matilda paused, a dainty little macaroon suspended in front of her mouth in long, elegant fingers.

“Oh, darling,” she murmured, her lips twisting in a wry smile. “It’s easier than you think.”

The Peculiar Ladies were gathered for another meeting of their book group, though so far they had discussed not a single title, excepting a brief squeal over the latest chapter of The Dark History of a Damned Duke.

They had aimed all conversation at Prue and her disappearance from a certain garden party. Though Matilda had kept her confidence, she had implied that there was something mysterious afoot. The wretch.

They hadn’t given her a moment’s peace since, hence her urgent desire to change the subject. Besides which, she really wanted to know.

“Why would you want to create a scandal?” Ruth asked.

Prue turned to look at her, studying her friend’s face. It was an uncompromising, no-nonsense face, not pretty, but not unattractive either. Handsome, Prue decided. Ruth was the woman who would always know what to do in an emergency.

“Oh, not a large scandal, nothing unwieldy, just a small one. Enough to rid myself of an unwanted suitor,” Prue replied, deciding she may as well tell them the truth. “Of any unwanted suitors, come to that.” She trusted these women, trusted in the oath they’d taken to keep each other’s secrets, to come running if things went awry.

The problem was, things had already gone awry, and they couldn’t help her put her plans back together. Only she could do that.