Page 72 of To Dare a Duke

“Come and sit down will you? Your tea’s getting cold.” Sally said, for the third time as Prue waved her quill in acknowledgement. “There’s a new story in The Lady’s Review,” her maid added, unable to restrain her excitement.

“I know,” Prue muttered, frowning as she tried to recapture the phrase she’d been working on. “You’ve told me five times today.”

“Yes, and I told you yesterday and the day before, and you’ve still not read it to me.”

Prue gave a soft laugh and looked up. “I’m sorry, Sally. I’m a dreadful trial to you, I know I am. It’s just I haven’t been able to write for weeks and suddenly I can. I have deadlines to meet. If I don’t, then I won’t be paid, and….”

Sally rolled her eyes and waved the excuses away. “You still need to eat and rest. Driving yourself so hard is just as bad as moping about the house, sobbing your heart out when you think I can’t see you. You’re still punishing yourself and I don’t like it. Something has to give, miss.”

“I never moped,” Prue replied indignantly.

Sally looked back at her, expressionless.

Prue huffed and set down her quill. “Well, all right. I may have moped, but with good reason.”

“Well, I’m going to mope if you don’t come and read me this blasted story,” Sally retorted, taking a slice of plum cake for herself.

In the past weeks, Prue had been so lonely that the line between maid and friend had blurred rather more than it ever had before, and Sally often came and took tea with her in the afternoon. Society would no doubt think it scandalous and another sign of her obvious eccentricity, but Prue didn’t care. Sally had been a good friend, and she’d not forget that.

“You could always read it yourself,” Prue said, getting to her feet, knowing she’d not get a moment’s peace now until she came and had tea and read the blasted story.

Sally pulled a face. “That’s hard work, miss. I just want to listen and enjoy it.”

Prue smiled. One thing she’d done, to make amends for never having read to Sally—and for her loyalty in coming with her to the middle of nowhere—was to teach Sally to read. She was doing nicely, too, but it was still a chore, even though Prue had promised she’d enjoy stories much more once she could read them by herself.

“Well,” she said, accepting a steaming cup and slice of cake. “At least read the title for me, while I drink my tea.”

“Right you are,” Sally said, reaching for the magazine and flicking through to find the story. “An Ap …o..lo..gy,” Sally read, sounding out the letters. She looked up at Prue, who nodded.

“An apology.”

“An Apology Fr …om … From a Hero to a Vill … ain …”

Prue frowned, listening to Sally struggling over the sounds. “An apology from a hero to a villain?”

Sally shook her head, not looking up. “No, miss. A villain …ess.”

Prue’s heart gave an unsteady thump in her chest. A villainess was exactly how she’d seen herself of late, a cruel woman who’d tormented a good man when he’d already suffered too much at the hands of gossips and tattletales.

“Give me that,” she said, taking the magazine from Sally’s hand.

“Oh, now you want it,” she said, throwing up her hands.

“An Apology From a Hero to a Villainess, by Anon,” she read aloud. “What a strange title.”

“Sounds like one you ought to read, miss, if you don’t mind me remarking it.”

Prue stiffened. Never had Sally reproached her for what she’d done, though she had to think worse of her for it. That was inevitable, but the comment was hurtful, even though she deserved it.

“You think me a villainess, then,” Prue said, forcing the words out, though she didn’t wish to hear the answer, but Sally only rolled her eyes.

“Of course not!” she said, impatient now. “Honestly, that’s a guilty conscience that is, assuming I think bad of you, when I don’t.”

Prue let out a breath and gave Sally an awkward smile. “Sorry. I’m afraid it’s quite true.”

Sally snorted and lifted the teapot to refill their cups. “I know that,” she replied, unperturbed. “I only meant that you see yourself that way, which is just as hare-brained as thinking the duke was a villain when you had nothing to go on but gossip.”

“But this isn’t gossip, I know what I did,” Prue protested, refusing to allow the comparison. “I can judge the evidence because I know all the details.”