Page 65 of To Dare a Duke

When he’d praised the idea, Prue had returned a rueful smile and said there was nothing better than writing from experience. Except that she would deliver her misguided heroine from a lonely fate as an old maid, alone and unloved, and give her the gilded happy ever after that she longed for, even if the spiteful creature didn’t deserve it. She had no illusions about her own fate, though; that was one she could not rewrite to her satisfaction.

Prue jumped as a soft voice spoke close to her ear. Turning, she braced herself for another icy set down as she found Minerva staring at her, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“What’s in the next chapter?” she asked, a rather brittle tone to the question, which Prue could hardly blame her for.

“Redemption,” Prue said, smiling a little. “Mine, not his,” she added in a hurry. “He never needed it, only… only understanding.”

Minerva nodded, a small frown pleating her smooth forehead. “I’m sorry,” she said, rather abruptly, as if she’d forced the words out before she could change her mind.

“What for?” Prue asked, a little taken aback. Minerva had never apologised to her before, not ever.

She watched the girl take a deep breath. “I never liked you,” she admitted, wrapping her arms about her waist, a rather defensive glint to her eyes as her chin went up. “You always made me feel stupid, as though I ought not care about my clothes or my hair, even though that’s all I’ve got to work with.”

Prue opened her mouth to object, but realised she couldn’t. For a long time she’d thought Minerva a rather vapid creature, too frivolous for good sense, and too ready to spend her mother’s meagre savings on finery. Of late, Prue had come to realise there was more to Minerva than this, but she knew there had been times in the past when she’d treated her cousin unfairly.

“I’m not clever like you, Prue,” she said, looking annoyed but also frustrated. “You’re brave enough to change things, to do something reckless like writing a story in secret and getting the world to read it. I could never do that,” she said, her eyes a little too bright. “But I am pretty,” she said with defiance. “And I know how to listen to a gentleman, how to make him feel wanted and appreciated, and that’s something I can use to get us out of this half-life. We’re stuck on the fringes, Prue, always wondering if we’ll have enough to make it to the end of the month and I’m sick of it, but….”

She paused and, to Prue’s astonishment, reached out and took her hand.

“But I ought never have showed your writing to Bedwin. It was cruel of me, both to him and to you, especially… especially as you’re so obviously in love with him. I’m sorry, Prue. I know that doesn’t mean much now, but I am.”

Prue felt her face crumple and bit her lip, fighting for composure. Giving up on it, she pulled Minerva into a hug and held her tight.

“You’re wrong,” she said, sobbing a little. “It means a great deal, more than you’ll ever know, and I must apologise too, Minerva. If I have ever made you feel stupid or silly, then that was unforgiveable of me. Idiotic, too, when you are quite obviously neither. It was foolish of me, when we could have been friends all this time if I’d only stopped and given you the chance.”

To her relief, Minerva gave a little huff of laughter and returned the hug before letting her go. “Don’t feel too bad,” she said with a remorseful smile. “I really am rather silly.”

Prue shook her head and took Minerva’s hands. “No. Never say that or think it. We must all make our choices and take our chances for happiness. We are none of us free to live how we might like to, but we do the best we can in the circumstances, yes?”

“Yes,” Minerva said, smiling now. “Yes, we do, and… and I will take a leaf out of your book, Prue,” she added, chuckling at the pun. “Well, not directly, perhaps, but I will be braver. From now on I will do things I want to do; not what Mama would have me do. I’m tired of trying to catch a title. It’s not what I want, not really. I just want to be happy.”

Prue squeezed her cousin’s hands, torn between pleasure at finding a friend in one of her only relations, and feeling a deal of regret for having not seen what was right in front of her. For someone who fancied themselves a writer, she really was terribly unobservant, and too ready to make assumptions. That she would have to change. She’d hoped the change had already begun.

They looked around as a murmur rippled over the room, and Prue’s stomach did an unpleasant little flip as Minerva turned back to her wide-eyed.

“It’s Bedwin,” Minerva whispered.

“Oh, no.”

Prue withdrew her hands from Minerva’s hold and shrank back into the corner.

“Perhaps you should speak to him, try to explain?” Minerva suggested, her voice gentle.

Panic erupted in Prue’s stomach, like a thousand butterflies with wings of steel. She shook her head, hardly daring to breathe in case he looked in their direction.

“There’s nothing I can say,” she said, feeling hot tears prick at her eyes. “I can’t pretend I didn’t write all those dreadful things, can I?”

“No,” Minerva agreed, glancing back at the room to where the hostess was greeting the duke. “But you could tell him you’re sorry, and that you love him.”

Prue wiped her cheeks with a gloved hand, unable to stop the first tears from spilling over.

“You do love him, don’t you?” Minerva pressed, staring at her.

“Yes,” Prue said, laughing, though she didn’t know why. She’d never felt more like crying in her life. Perhaps she would cry for the rest of her life. It felt entirely possible. “Yes, I rather think I do.”

Minerva smiled at her and nodded. “Wait here,” she said, a decisive look in her eyes, and Prue watched as she headed out into the throng.

Chapter 18