Lady Priscilla's Shameful Secret

by Christine Merrill

  He was smiling at her, unctuous and knowing. ‘Surely, we need not stand on ceremony. As I remember it, we were very close friends indeed on the road to Scotland.’

  ‘Perhaps you do not remember how that ended,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘I applauded from the window of an inn while Mr Hendricks beat you into the dust. Then he put you into a coach and sent you away.’ Gervaise was a man, not a nightmare. And a weak man, at that. He could be beaten.

  ‘But when I heard of your impending nuptials, I returned to wish you well.’

  ‘More likely your money ran out,’ she said, buying none of it. ‘How much did he give you to stay away? And how much more must I pay to see the last of you?’

  ‘Not a sou,’ Gervaise insisted. ‘I merely seek an opportunity to meet the groom and congratulate him. Perhaps it is up to me to give the bride away, since we are nearly married already.’

  ‘Do not dignify what we shared as a marriage, in body or in spirit,’ she snapped. ‘And do not think you will be attending my wedding, invited or not. If you are seen anywhere near the church, I swear…’

  ‘You threaten me?’ He laughed. ‘Surely that is not wise. Perhaps you should show me more courtesy, lest I make your new love aware of your past.’

  ‘Robert already knows.’ Priss watched the triumphant smile fade from his face. She had done the right thing in admitting the truth, for what could he threaten her with, if not revelation?

  ‘He cannot know all of it,’ Gervaise insisted, refusing to believe.

  ‘You should ask him yourself,’ she encouraged, praying that he did not. ‘I will introduce you. Of course, he is very large and intimidating. Powerful as well. I do not know if he will welcome an acquaintance with you.’

  Gervaise was weakening, she could tell. And with his weakness she felt her own strength growing. If she could manage to frighten him away, the notices in the paper would stop and she would never have to experience the embarrassment of a meeting between Reighland and this unworthy nothing. No matter how many times Robert might forgive her, she would never forgive herself.

  She renewed her attack. ‘I could introduce you. Since Robert is much larger than Mr Hendricks, I expect, when he strikes you, it will hurt much more.’ Of course Robert would not strike him. And if he did not want to resort to violence, then she would not be the one to push him to it. But it was probably better that Gervaise did not realise the fact. So she smiled at her former lover with what she hoped was evil glee from imagining his beating. ‘If I were you, Gervaise, I would go back to wherever it is that I had come from. You do not want to interfere with this, Gerard. You really do not.’

  ‘I will leave, then,’ he said with a bow. ‘After a goodbye kiss.’

  ‘Certainly not.’ He leaned forwards and she swatted him smartly across the cheek with her fan.

  ‘You wilful baggage,’ he snarled, with no trace of a French accent. ‘I did not ask for your permission. I am taking what is my due. A kiss should be nothing to you. You allowed me far more than that, as we both know.’ He lashed out quickly, seizing her arm and pulling her against him.

  And she froze. It was like it had been in the inn, when things had gone so quickly and terribly wrong. He was holding her and she could not fight him. Her mouth was pinned against his and his tongue was inside her mouth. She did not even think of it as a kiss. For she had learned from Robert that kisses were sweet things to be anticipated and cherished.

  This was an invasion and she could find no way to stop it. Struggle, she cried out to herself. Prove that you do not want him. But the part of her that had been so willing to fight, just a few moments ago, had withered like a plant in the desert, becoming small and dry, twisted and useless.

  And then, suddenly, she was free of him. Feeling returned slowly to her body and she was aware of fingers wrapped around her gloved arm, and the warning word ‘Priscilla?’ spoken clearly into her ear.

  ‘Robert.’ She should have collapsed into his arms, sobbing. It would have been a clear demonstration of her true feelings. But like so many other emotions, the relief could not seem to come to her.

  ‘May I have an introduction to your friend, please?’

  Was he being ironic? She could not tell. But surely he could see the truth of this without her having to create the scene that would draw the rest of the party goers into the room. ‘Gerard Gervaise, may I present the duke of Reighland.’

  ‘Your Grace.’ Gervaise was demonstrating the shock that should have been hers. He was white and trembling, obviously terrified of the Duke’s reaction.

  ‘I see.’ As usual, she could not immediately read the expression on the face of her beloved. ‘Good evening, Mr Gervaise, and goodnight.’ He grabbed the dancing master by the scruff of the neck and marched him down the hall past several alarmed guests, called to a footman to open the door and shoved Gervaise through it and out into the street.

  * * *

  Robert had never been so angry in his life. Reminding himself that there was probably an innocent explanation for this scene did nothing to calm him. The most logical one was that his fiancée had played him false. Until recently, he’d have sworn she was honesty in all things.

  But tonight there had seemed something odd about her behaviour. And she had lied about her love of horses as well. At the time, he had thought it a white lie and a delightful surprise. But now it seemed nothing more than an untruth about the only things he held dear in the world.

  ‘Priscilla, come with me.’ As he walked back down the hall he caught her by the hand and pulled her into an empty receiving room, shutting the door in the face of a surprised matron.

  ‘Robert, you should not have done that. The fact we are alone…’

  ‘Cannot be any worse than the fact that you were seen kissing your lover at our engagement ball,’ he responded.

  ‘I did not kiss him,’ she insisted. ‘He kissed me. And it was horrible.’ She threw herself into his arms. Almost without meaning to, he held her, stroking her hair as she muttered into his coat. ‘He inserted himself into our ball with a false invitation. I did not try to be alone with him. Truly. He followed me into the hallway.’

  ‘You had but to tell me and I’d have put a stop to it,’ he said more gently.

  ‘But you were with Father. And I did not want him to know what happened.’

  The girl had a very good reason not to reveal the man in front of her volatile father. If Robert felt angry and betrayed by this embarrassing interloper, Benbridge’s reaction might have been far worse. ‘Very well, then. It was an unfortunate incident, but it is over now. And as long as it does not happen again.’

  And how many times would he have to repeat those words to her, in the course of their marriage? He had told her his reasons for avoiding a fight and she had seemed to understand. But perhaps she saw it as a sign of weakness and meant to use it to her own advantage. She was just like so many others in his life, pretending friendship only to laugh at him later.

  He felt her shoulders sag. Though she must know he waited for the immediate assurance that this was an isolated incident, she remained silent.

  He pushed her away from him then, holding her at arm’s length so that he might look in her eyes. ‘You are hiding something from me, aren’t you? You told me, when last I asked, that there was nothing to the gossip in the paper.’

  ‘And at the time, there was not,’ she insisted. ‘But since then…’

  ‘You have seen him?’ His voice was louder than he’d meant it to be and he felt her cringe.

  ‘He follows me everywhere,’ she whispered. ‘I cannot leave the house, even for a moment, without him turning up in the street. I ignore him. I avoid him. But it does no good. I do not know what to do.’

  ‘You could have come to me.’ He was almost shouting in frustration. He’d have
told her to do just as she had, of course. But at least it would not have been a secret. They could have taken some solace in shared misery.

  Rather than snapping back at him, the woman he had thought would be his guide through the confusing waters of society was melting under the burden of her own past.

  ‘And what would you have done?’ she whispered. ‘Would you have challenged him?’

  ‘Of course I would have,’ he said. ‘I should have done it tonight.’ But that was as great a lie as any she’d told him. He’d purposely let the man escape. Because he’d learned, if he waited long enough, that such problems would go away.

  ‘It is good that you did not,’ she said, not bothered by his cowardice. ‘I doubt that would have made the scandal less. He might have died for something I instigated.’

  ‘Then what would you have me do?’ he demanded. Because any answer would be better than the course he’d chosen. ‘Am I to stand meekly by, as your old lover trails after you like a school boy?’ The bone is snapped clean through, a voice whispered. We’ll have to call for a surgeon. Be more careful, Bobby. Next time, you must be careful.

  ‘I expect you to cast me off,’ she said.

  She was right. It was the quickest way to end the scandal, but it was more despicable than inaction. Even he was not so big a coward as to give up the woman he loved. ‘Perhaps you should allow me to decide what is in my best interests,’ he said, pulling her into him again.

  ‘After what has been written about me, everyone knows that you are marrying a silly trollop.’

  ‘After tonight, perhaps,’ he said. And how long would it take before some wag from his school days remarked that it was just like Magson to end up in such a position? ‘If you’d had the strength to come to me a week ago, we could have avoided this scene.’

  ‘But I did not,’ she said. ‘After what you know of me, why does it surprise you?’

  ‘I am not surprised. But I am disappointed. I need a woman who can rise above such things. Are you strong enough, I wonder, for the responsibilities you will face as my wife? How will you help me if you cannot help yourself?’ But that was not right. He should be the strong one. He had failed to protect her. And now he was blaming her for that failure.

  And she pulled away from him so suddenly that the lace of her gown ripped in his clumsy hands. ‘I make mistakes, Reighland. I have told you so, from the first moment we met. And so do you. If you had listened to me then, all this could have been avoided.’ Then she turned and raced from the room.

  ‘Priscilla, come back here this instant!’ He ran after her, into the hall, but she was already halfway up the stairs, trailing tears, in no condition to come down and face the guests. Was he expected to follow?

  Instincts said yes, but manners clearly said no. If being alone with her in a sitting room was shocking, then leaving a party to climb the stairs and pound on her bedroom floor would be a disaster. Damn Benbridge for not allowing the Hendrickses in his house. The girl needed her sister. He must find Lady Benbridge to help her, but that harpy would be a poor substitute.

  He turned back toward the ballroom and nearly ran into the Deveril girl, who dropped into a curtsy, blocking his way. ‘Your Grace.’

  ‘Please excuse me, Miss Deveril, I did not see you there.’

  ‘It has been far too long since you have seen me at all.’ She was pouting, as though he were flirting with her and not stating the obvious.

  ‘Well, yes,’ he admitted. Was he expected to apologise to every silly girl in the room for preferring another?

  ‘It is no wonder if you hide yourself in the hall. Come, let us go back to the dancing.’

  The ballroom was the first place he would have to search for Lady Benbridge. He could think of no good way to shake off this little parasite, if they needed to go in the same direction. And so, with a frustrated glance back at the stairs, he allowed himself to be led away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘Priscilla, come back here this instant!’

  Robert was shouting at her from the hall below. And if she could hear him, then half the party must know that they had argued. It would only take one person telling tales of Gervaise to guess the reason for it. By tomorrow, it would be all over London, magnified to be a thousand times worse than it was. The gossips would have her sporting with Gervaise under the very nose of her father and Reighland.

  Poor Robert. He had been right to be angry. She had humiliated him in front of the guests. She should have come to him after that first day in Bond Street and explained everything. But she had not imagined that Gervaise would have been so brazen as to come back to the house.

  She wiped a tear away with the back of her hand. She could hear running footsteps on the stairs and in the hall, and hurried to the door to turn the key in the lock.

  ‘Priscilla! Come out of your room this instant. We have a house full of guests.’ Ronnie’s voice had begun as a shout, but ended in an angry whisper just loud enough to carry through the locked bedroom door.

  ‘I have a megrim,’ she called back. And a ruined dress. And a ruined reputation. ‘Give them my apologies.’

  ‘You little liar. You are hiding again, plain and simple. Your father will be furious. What am I tell Reighland?’

  ‘Reighland knows,’ she replied, trying not to cry.

  ‘That he is marrying the most cloth-headed girl in all of London? I suspect he does. I will go back to the ball and see what can be salvaged of the mess you have made. But only because, in two weeks, I shall be rid of you. After that, it will be Reighland’s job to deal with your tantrums and foolishness.’

  Priss could hear Ronnie retreating with an angry rustle of taffeta, leaving her alone again. Apparently, she was still ignorant of the extent of the disgrace. Reighland would set her straight on that, soon enough. And tomorrow she could explain that Ronnie and Father would have her on their hands for much longer than a fortnight.

  It was not as if she hadn’t warned Robert, from the very first. But he’d almost convinced her that she might manage to escape the past. And then, in a few minutes, it had all been ruined. She could not risk Gervaise showing up again at the wedding, or the christening of her first child. And she could not survive the angry scenes that were likely to occur each time and the fresh gossip in the papers.

  And what if he caught her alone, as he had tonight? At the memory of the kiss he had forced upon her in the hall, a new wave of shame and revulsion all but overcame her and she had to sit for a moment, eyes closed and breathing slowly to keep from being sick. If she could not manage to control herself around a worthless dancing master, then how could she be a duchess?

  She did not want to let Robert go. Even as she gathered pen and ink, her soul wept at the unfairness of it. She wished that he had never shown an interest, or that he had listened any of the many times she had tried to explain the problems there might be.

  He had no right, now that he had made her love him, to notice that her past was a difficulty. And to tell her that she must learn to manage it, as though it was a simple thing? As though there was some way to erase what she had done?

  The tip of the pen snapped as she touched it to paper, requiring her to sharpen it again before proceeding. As she did, she thought of the words she would choose. Was there any point to call him her darling Robert, when she knew how the letter must end? She would always think of him as such. But for the purposes of a final farewell, he had best be ‘His Grace the Duke’.

  She added a paragraph about esteeming his acquaintance. It was by far the most inadequate thing she had ever written. But her true feelings for him frightened her too much to put them to paper. How could she admit that he had offered her a miracle, but that that in light of recent events she had decided to refuse it? She settled for a few non-committal words.

  After reflect
ing on our most recent conversation, I find myself unable to continue our association. You must agree that the situation between us has grown impossible. Since I mean you no harm, I cannot hold you to your generous offer of marriage.

  I wish you all the best…

  In truth, she would rather die than see him happily married to another. Since he so prized her honesty, it went against the grain to lie to him now. But the truth would have him back at her door, arguing that all was forgiven. And she simply could not bear another round of hope followed by inevitable disappointment.

  …in finding a woman worthy to be your duchess. But I fear I can never be that woman. And so, farewell.

  She slipped off the betrothal ring, folded it up inside the paper and sealed it quickly. Then, before she could change her mind, she called a footman to carry it downstairs for her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Priss passed a quiet night, with surprisingly dreamless sleep. It proved that admitting defeat was the quickest way to gain a peaceful soul. And a few hours of rest made the longing for Robert less painful. She had heard the faint sounds of the ball continuing until the wee hours, proving that there was no problem, not even the disappearance of another daughter, that Father could not manage to pave over.

  Had Reighland left after reading her letter? She rather hoped so. The thought of him continuing to drink and dance without her, in her own house, was particularly painful. But it had been her decision to break with him in the middle of a ball. She had no right to dictate his actions after.

  More worrying was the unearthly silence that had fallen over the house, afterwards. It was normal that the family would sleep late after so hectic a night. But it was well past luncheon before Veronica knocked on the bedroom door. ‘You are wanted immediately in your father’s study.’ When Priss opened for her, Veronica was white faced, her lips set in a tight angry line, and yet she smiled.