Page 59 of To Dare a Duke

“Oh, yes, indeed,” the young woman said, her enthusiasm quite obviously mechanical. “It’s why I wear yellow so often.”

“There were lots of young fellows at the Faversham’s’ garden party who said she looked like a daffodil in that lovely yellow gown. You even received a poem, didn’t you, Minerva?”

“Yes,” Minerva said, smiling though her voice sounded dull. “I did.”

Her mother gave her a surreptitious jab in the ribs and Minerva started. “C-Could we go and see the daffodils over there, your grace? They look so lovely.”

Robert glanced up to see a flash of impatience in Prue’s eyes.

“Of course,” he said, offering his arm. “Though I’m sure their loveliness will pale with you beside them.”

Minerva blushed and looked down, the picture of maidenly innocence, and Robert forced himself not to look back at Prue.

He kept up a stream of inane chatter as they walked, liberally interspersed with fulsome compliments. With each one, Minerva looked more ill at ease—which might have been intriguing in other circumstances—while her mother looked as if she might burst with excitement.

It was the hardest thing not to look at Prue, though he could not escape a look of pure fury from Helena. His sister clearly believed he’d run mad, and he could do nothing to gainsay her. He felt mad. Mad and out of control, and desperate to understand what the hell was going on.

Of all the things he’d not wanted, most of all it was to not fall for a woman who would lead him a dance and keep his heart on a string, and what had he got? Damnation, he was a bloody fool.

He returned his attention to Minerva, laughing heartily at some silly comment she’d made and feeling like a blasted idiot. Was this what he’d been reduced to? Trying to make the woman he wanted jealous, like some lack-witted schoolboy?

“I’m sorry, would…?”

He looked around at the sound of Prue’s voice, finding her pale and unhappy.

“Would you excuse me? I don’t… I feel a little….” She blushed, the colour vivid against the pallor of her skin, and then turned tail and almost ran back in the direction of the house.

“Miss Chuffington-Smythe!” he called after her, feeling like an utter bastard.

“Oh, don’t worry about her, your grace,” her aunt Phyllis said, with a blithe lack of concern. “She’ll be fine. Probably a megrim. She’s rather an odd girl, always scratching away writing or with her nose in a book. All that thinking isn’t good for her, I’ve told her so. It’s not good for the female brain. Is it any wonder she gets headaches, I ask you? No, no, such things are best left to the men.”

“Mrs Butler, Miss Butler, do come and look at the folly with me,” his sister said, encouraging them further into the garden.

Once they were on the path, Helena gave him a sharp gesture, and a glare, indicating he should move himself, fast.

Robert didn’t need telling twice, and hurried after Prue.

With a little help from a gardener who had seen the path she’d taken, Robert discovered her on a bench in a private corner of the garden. It was one of his favourite spots, hidden out of view from both the house and the rest of the garden, but with the focal point of a statue of Artemis at the far end of a swathe of lawn, and deep borders on either side.

“Prue,” he said, dismayed as she stiffened at the sound of his voice.

He hurried towards her before she could move, dropping to his knees on the grass and taking her hand in both of his.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice hoarse with regret. “I’ve been an utter arse, I know it. I wouldn’t blame you if you held me in contempt for today’s entertainment.”

He looked up at her, ashamed to see there were tears in her eyes.

“Prue,” he said, helpless to know what to say. “I know I’m an idiot, and you are at liberty to tell me so. I wanted to make you jealous, to punish you for hurting me. I don’t understand what I’ve done to—”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” she said unsteadily. He watched as she swallowed and shook her head, one tear sliding down her cheek. “This is not your fault.”

Robert stilled and took a breath, staring down at the ground before finding the courage to look up at her again.

“Prue,” he began again, desperate to understand. “Will you answer one question, please, and swear that you’ll tell me the truth? I understand it will likely not change the answer to the other question I’ve posed several times, but… but I should like to know….”

She wiped away the tear and gave a taut little nod.

Robert hesitated, and then asked, “Do you want to marry me?”