Page 58 of To Dare a Duke

Prue opened her mouth to politely refuse and snapped it shut as Aunt Phyllis’ voice cut through her.

“Prunella would be delighted to accept, Lady Helena. We’ll escort her, of course. At which time would you like us to come?”

Lady Helena stared at Aunt Phyllis, somewhat taken aback, but to her credit she said nothing. She merely glanced at Prue, who returned a mortified look of apology and wished she could die.

With no other option than to accept the inevitable, Prue listened as Aunt Phyllis made the arrangements.

Chapter 16

I feel like I’ve been caught in a web of my own devising, the harder I struggle to get free, the tighter I’m bound. I’ve been such a fool, done such a dreadful, spiteful thing that there can be no forgiveness for it. The only way to cut myself free will be to tell the truth, but I’m too afraid of the fall, when there will be no one there to catch me.

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

***

28th April. Beverwyck. London. 1814

Beverwyck was impressive. Aunt Phyllis was in raptures, while Minerva was, by contrast, white-faced, awed, and strangely sullen.

“Good heavens, think of what the seat of the dukedom must be like, if this is his London home?” Phyllis exclaimed, alight with excitement.

Prue pressed herself back against the seat of the carriage and willed herself invisible.

Once inside the vast building, Lady Helena was the perfect hostess, charming and welcoming, putting them all at their ease and giving them a brief tour of some of the highlights of the grand house before settling them down for tea. Under her informal and cheerful presence, even Prue relaxed. She felt confident that the young woman would keep her word. Though Aunt Phyllis pressed several times for details about her brother, the duke, Helena kept to the blandest of answers, turning the intrusive questions aside for other topics of conversation.

There was only one moment when Prue felt the question resurface.

She had risen, teacup still in hand, to look down at the gardens behind the house. It was hard to realise you were still in London and not the heart of the country as she stared outside at the beautiful vista. Spring colour was everywhere, the scene vibrant and welcoming, filling Prue with a longing to explore further.

Lady Helena appeared at her elbow.

“My mother loved the spring,” she said softly, before giving Prue a direct look which seemed to ask the unspoken question: Why won’t you let him share it with you?

The clatter of a cup chinking too hard against its saucer had both Prue and Lady Helena spinning around. In her excitement, Phyllis had almost upset her tea—and as a large, dark figure filled the doorway—Prue could see why.

“Robert!” Helena exclaimed. “You promised,” she added in a fierce undertone only Prue could hear.

Prue was relieved to discover that Lady Helena was as dismayed by his presence as she was. She would have been disappointed to know his sister had lied. Robert, however, had clearly broken his promise to her.

“I changed my mind,” he said with a bland smile. “Ladies, it is a lovely day. Won’t you take a turn about the gardens with me?”

***

Robert escorted the ladies outside, trying hard not to look directly at Prue. It had been obvious enough that seeing him enter the room had horrified her. He tried to push away the ache that bloomed in his chest, wishing he understood what he’d done, or what it was she feared he’d do.

He wasn’t some green boy, he knew when a woman found him attractive, and Prue had wanted him badly that day in the carriage. Even the last night he’d seen her, when she had tried so hard to end things between them, the tension between them had been enough to make it hard for him to breathe.

She wanted him, and she liked him, too. He felt sure it was true in his heart, but his heart had misled him before. His confidence in his own judgement was severely dented, and he did not know what to do for the best. Perhaps he ought to have left Helena to it. She’d promised to help him, and he’d promised to let her, and not to interfere. Knowing that Prue was here, however, in his home….

He couldn’t help himself.

Drawn to her presence like a magnet, he’d been powerless against the desire to see her again, to be in her company. He’d hoped he’d see the same desire returned in her expression.

He had not.

Robert looked around, dragging his thoughts back to his sister’s guests as Prue’s appalling aunt spoke to him.

“Minerva loves daffodils,” she was saying, giving her daughter a fierce look when she didn’t respond.