She ought to feel guilty or ashamed for seeing it, but she could not.
She only felt love, and an overabundance of it.
Georgie smiled at her, glancing down at the book, and then back up to Prue with wide eyes. “Goodness, Prue. I think the man is besotted.”
Prue’s cheeks colored, but she met her friend’s gaze squarely. “I hope so.”
That earned her a wink, and Georgie gently pushed her back towards her seat. “So do I.”
Prue sat again as the music for the opera began, though she was barely paying any attention to it.
She missed Camden so fiercely at this moment that she could taste the bitterness. A raw, aching need filled her, and she suspected it always would be there. Part of her. As he was.
As he always would be.
Dazed by her emotions and by the book in her hands, she looked around the theater slowly, unable to focus on the performances at all.
Every other guest was riveted on the stage, enjoying what had to be exquisite performances, nothing disrupting their enjoyment of the evening. No life-altering revelations, no trouble finding coherent thoughts, no gaping void within that may never properly heal…
Up in a box across the theater, two couples and another man appeared, quickly and quietly taking their seats. Prue watched them, smiling at the way both ladies turned to shush their husbands, at their elegance, their ease…
One of them sat forward a little, her auburn hair catching a hint of candlelight.
Prue gasped silently as she got a good look at the woman.
Mariah Turner.
She ran her gaze down the line. Phillip sat just behind Mariah. Julia was next to Mariah. Dart was behind her. And then…
Her heart sprang into her throat.
Camden.
She drank in the sight of him, wishing she could fly from this box to his side. He looked dark and brooding, yet every inch of him pristine and perfect. Time away from him had only made him a dearer sight, and far more attractive than even her dreams had painted him to be.
Prue stared without reservation, without any of the timidity she was known for. While he was there, living and breathing in the same space she was, she could look nowhere else.
Why had he left her alone? Abandoned her to the bleak nature of her situation after telling her such sweet things? And when he clearly thought of her a great deal, had drawn her face over and over again? How could he then pretend to be so indifferent?
Her heart seemed to be breaking all over again for love of him, and for wondering.
At long last, he looked over, and their eyes met. He stiffened, and he stared as boldly as Prue, as blatantly as they had done in this very theater after returning from Tinley. Even from this distance, his eyes held her captive, and the look in them told Prue that he was not indifferent.
Not in the least.
His gaze was intense and mesmerizing, steady on her, and while he looked, she had hope.
Prue watched as he swallowed, and then he dipped his chin just slightly, the barest hint of a nod. Then he returned his gaze to the stage.
She continued to watch him, but he never looked back. He was fully aware of her, yet his gaze never moved in her direction again.
Why? She didn’t understand, could not comprehend why this distance was between them now. Why, when they had shared so much, was this to be the end?
She needed him. She needed the strength he provided, the gentleness he possessed, the intensity he lived with, the wit in every syllable he uttered…
She loved him with a depth and breadth and pain that she did not know she was capable of. For a woman who had spent her entire life being overwhelmed by emotions and sensations, this was new and foreign territory. Nothing she had ever endured compared to this.
Breathe in, breathe out. Fear in, fear out.
Prue’s breath caught in her chest. For the first time in her entire life, the voice calming her in her mind, reciting the pattern that saved her, did not belong to her father.
It was Cam.
Tears sprang into her eyes, and she bit down on her lip to keep from making a sound. His was the voice she wanted to hear when she needed to find her way, when all else was lost, when she could not manage on her own. His was the voice she wanted calling out to her, calling her back, and leading her home.
His was the voice that could save her.
I’ll save you, Prue. All night, I’ll save you.
He had saved her. Over and over again, he had saved her. Now, he was further from her than he had ever been, leaving her alone.
What was it Georgie had said? She just might have to save herself.
Could she? Could she save herself from what she currently suffered?
Prue looked at Camden for a long moment, her heart pounding hard, but not particularly fast.
Yes. But it wouldn’t be herself alone she would save. She would save them both. Camden needed her to lead him out of his turmoil, to show him the way, to save him…
But what could she do? What would she say? She’d never done a bold or determined thing in her life, and now she was supposed to take charge with the man who meant everything to her?
She ground her teeth together. “What shy creature?” she muttered to herself.
The moment the interval struck, Prue moved from her seat, not even bothering to applaud for the stirring aria that had ended the first act.
“Where are you going?” Georgie demanded, eyes wide.
“Out,” Prue managed, knowing if she stopped, she would never start again.
“Not alone!” Tony insisted.
Prue didn’t stop, sweeping out of the box.
A man suddenly appearing at her side made her gasp and jump, but the kind expression of Mr. Morton looked back at her. “Lead the way, Miss Westfall,” he urged, nodding in encouragement.
Prue flashed him a grateful smile and moved on, pleased that he was keeping pace and not asking questions. She wouldn’t have been able to answer, and if she thought about this too much…
All too soon, they approached the boxes near where Camden had been.
Prue swallowed harshly, hesitant and fearful.
“Do you want me to go in?” Mr. Morton asked gently.
She nodded frantically. “F-fetch Mr. Vale, if you please.”
“I gathered that,” he chuckled with a surprising degree of warmth. “Don’t move.”
She watched as his form entered the box, waited while he was within, feeling as though everything inside her was quivering.
I’ll save you…
Moments later, Camden appeared, his expression carefully blank. “Miss Westfall,” he greeted stiffly, bowing to her. “Are you enjoying the opera?”
Prue bit down on the inside of her lip sharply, steeling herself. “Might I have a word?”
He looked mildly surprised but nodded and gestured down the corridor.
They walked for just a few paces, and then Prue caught sight of one of the tapestry-enclosed alcoves Camden had teased her about only weeks ago.
Perfect.
She looked around quickly, then shoved him with all her might, forcing him to enter the alcove, the tapestry effectively hiding them from the eyes of everyone else.
Camden stared at her in shock. “Miss Westfall…”
“Don’t,” Prue snapped, starting towards him.
He backed up until the wall met him, his eyes wide.
Prue took his face in her hands, seizing any and all courage she had ever wished to possess, and kissed him.
He broke off almost at once. “Miss Westfall…”
“D-don’t!” Prue said again, not nearly as strongly. “I’m going to do everything you s-said in here. Every single thing. Because I don’t kn-know what else to do.”
Camden shook his head at her. “What?”
Prue’s strength dissolved, and she fisted her hands into his coat. “I’ve had enough, Cam. I can’t bear this anymore. I don’t know why you’ve put this distance between us, bu
t I w-won’t have it anymore!” Tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she shook her head. “I miss you, Cam. All the t-time. So, I’m s-saving myself now. Right now. And I’ll save you, too, if I can.”
His hands slid to her upper arms. “Oh, Prue…”
“I l-love you.” She hiccupped and swiped at her tears. “And I wish I didn’t s-stammer when I said that,” she added in a whisper, pained that she could not even confess herself without difficulty.
Camden cupped her face in both hands and forced her to meet his eyes. “I love your stammer,” he said fiercely. “It makes every word more precious to hear.”
She whimpered a weak cry, gripping his jacket more tightly. “Why did you leave me?”
He held her steady, his hands returning to her arms, and tried to meet her gaze. “Prue, I’ve been keeping my distance, trying to give you the opportunity for someone better. Someone worthy of you.”
“I don’t want distance or opportunity,” she complained weakly. “I hate it. I just want you.”
He groaned and at last pulled her into his embrace. “So do I. It’s tearing my heart out to be away from you.”
Prue nuzzled against him, her heart finally calming. “Don’t make me do it anymore, Cam. I can’t bear it.”
He kissed her hair and buried his face in it. “No, love. No more.” He exhaled and put a hand under her chin, lifting her eyes to his gaze once more. He held them steady and stroked the underside of her chin. “I love you, Prue. I’ve loved you from the first, and it terrifies me to my core.” He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, his lips wringing exquisite pleasure from her.
Prue leaned into him, into this kiss, terrified that it could all end once more, that it wouldn’t last.
Cam groaned against her lips, his kiss turning hungry for only a moment before he broke off, shaking his head. “God help me, I know you deserve better, but I can’t give you up.”
“You don’t have to,” Prue whispered, taking his face in hand, bringing his brow to hers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He kissed her again, his arms encircling her tightly. “No,” he rasped, “you’re not. And if I recall, there’s a list of things to get through while we have this alcove before either of us are missed, so we’d better get started.”
Prue blushed, giggled, and complied eagerly.
When the second act opened, there were still five figures in the far box, though one had not been there originally. But one dark-haired man was as good as another, surely.
In the Sterling’s box, a man and a woman returned, just as had departed, though the gentleman was not an original occupant.
They were five minutes late into the act, but nobody seemed to mind very much.
Chapter Twenty-One
But in the end, dear friends, it is gossip that will take the day and keep us all on this side of heaven.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 1 November 1817
“And then I was told that Mr. Ferguson was coming back into London, but I knew that could not be correct, given that he was practically chased out last year what with his gambling debts.”
“Indeed.”
“Mr. Morton has some excellent statistics, you know.”
“Does he?”
“Yes, he already has an estate in Bedford. And he’s still in possession of his commission, though he is not currently with his regiment.”
“Lovely.”
Prue couldn’t muster up the energy to be as enthusiastic about Elinor’s research as she ought to have been. It had never been of particular interest to her what the men in London and Society were like as far as prospects. It all seemed rather analytical and formal, which was what she realized they were trying to get girls away from focusing on. It ought to be considered, certainly, but she, of all people, understood just how much more there ought to have been in considering a candidate for marriage properly.
Most of the men who had tried for her would have never done for her at all, and she would have been a dreadful wife for them. But no one was pursuing her now, so it was all behind her.
Camden had seen to that.
Ever since the theater last week, he had been the most attentive suitor anybody had ever seen. He was with Prue nearly all the time, calling at the Sterling’s regularly, accompanying Georgie and Prue to their Spinster gatherings, escorting Prue and Miranda on an outing to Bond Street… He endured every activity a gentleman ought to have dreaded without a single expression of dismay.
The Spinsters were beyond delighted to have him back, frequently asking him for advice and input on their columns, which made Tony furious, as he had never been permitted such access. Elinor, in particular, found Camden to be a valuable resource, as he knew more about the truth of gossip than she did. Somehow, he handled her inquisitions with patience, which was more than any of the Spinsters themselves could have said.
They’d gone to Almack’s and danced too many times for the stodgier ladies, though Lady Hetty found it perfectly acceptable that a woman not dancing should dance with a man who asks, even if it would be more times than was usually permitted. They’d attended Chadwick’s gathering of scholars, and, oddly enough, found it interesting, which Camden begged her to keep quiet. They’d gone for carriage rides, a card party, a musical evening wherein Mr. Andrews did play his violin, and very well, and they’d taken to walking Hyde Park every morning.
For all the distance there had been of late between Camden and Prue, there was nothing of the sort now. One or both of them were always confessing their love, neither took care to hide their expressions of delight, and they laughed so often that people began to disapprove.
Prue did not recognize herself these days. She’d never imagined that she would have a love match, and yet she found herself in the middle of a whirlwind one. She’d thought about writing a commentary on it for the Chronicles, but that was too much.
Some of her thoughts and feelings would remain her own.
Some things ought to be discovered by experience rather than education.
And some things could not be described.
“What are you talking about, Miss Asheley?” Amelia asked from Prue’s other side. “I’ve gotten a bit lost.”
Prue smiled at that. Emma Partlowe, one-time Spinster and Elinor’s older sister, had heard from Georgie and Izzy about Amelia and begged them to try to get the two girls to be friends, as they were of a similar age. The outing this morning was one of the first engagements they had arranged for the two to associate on a more intimate level than one of Society’s events, and Prue had been designated as the sponsor of it.
She did not mind, but with the pair of them together, she felt very aged indeed.
“My position,” Elinor informed Amelia with some superiority, “requires me to have copious notes and research on all of the eligible men in London. Their financial situation, holdings, profession, history, rumors, any ties to particular females, and the like. It is very taxing, but proves most useful when trying to find appropriate marriage candidates for any young ladies that may ask.”
Amelia’s eyes were wide, and she toyed with her bonnet ribbons absently. “Heavens. I will have to consult you and your information when I find a gentleman of particular interest to me.”
Elinor beamed, nodding in encouragement. “Oh, please do! It is such a simple thing to check the facts on one’s interest to be sure it will be a wise use of time. And it is no trouble at all. If you ever have a man in mind, Miss Perry, make me aware of it, and I will find out everything available.”
“You are too kind,” Amelia gushed, beaming at her new friend. Then her smile turned rather impish. “Have you started collecting notes on my brother yet?”
Elinor gasped. “You have a brother?”
“Oh, Miss Asheley,” Amelia drawled, now looking and sounding more mischievous than Prue had imagined she could be. “We have so much to talk about.”
Prue would have to seriously consider telling the others that this friendship was a terrible idea.
Prue stopped on the path, her eyes going wide, her face starting to flush purely based on the voice that had spoken.
She turned very slowly, and, sure enough, only a few yards down a separate path was her cousin, the newly-returned and newly-minted Mrs. Davies. She had a gathering of a dozen or so around her, both men and women, and her husband was nowhere in sight.
And her gathered listeners were rapt on her.
Eliza shook her head, a lace-gloved hand on her chest. “I was so shocked, so very aghast. After all, the man was, and is, courting my dear cousin, Miss Westfall. I had been in his company many times as he engaged in a very proper, polite courtship with her, and so I had learned to trust him. I’d thought he was a gentleman.” She seemed to fight for composure and looked away to gather herself.
And looked squarely at Prue.
Prue stared at her, unsure whether her complexion was losing its color or gaining it. She couldn’t seem to feel anything but coldness seeping through her skin, her heartbeat fading into almost nothing.
Eliza’s lips quirked, but she was quick to cover them in another display of dramatics. “He was so violent in his affections to me, the moment we were alone. On the very eve of my wedding, he made such… untoward attentions. He claimed that the courtship of my cousin was for show, all in an effort to draw closer to me.”
The crowd murmured and muttered to themselves, an almost eerie rumbling to Prue’s ears. Their expressions were confused, in some cases aghast, and none of it was for slander of Camden.
They believed Eliza.
They believed every word.
“I resisted his efforts,” Eliza told her listeners, sliding her hand to her throat. “I vowed I could never betray my cousin in this way, nor my beloved. I am a lady of Society, I told him, and I will behave with the propriety instilled in me.”
“What happened, Mrs. Davies?” a middle-aged lady begged, her eyes wide.
“Well,” Eliza answered, tossing her head, “I confessed everything to my sweet husband. I could not condone marrying him under false pretenses. He is so good, he married me without hesitation.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “But that was not the end of Mr. Vale’s actions.”
The Spinster and I (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 2) Page 27