Priscilla nodded. She did not know what else to do. She had wanted to speak to her sister and here she was.
Bridgitte slipped into the room and gave Priscilla a tight smile. “I am to be sent away.”
Priscilla reached her hand out to her sister. “I never wanted that to happen.”
To her surprise, Bridgitte grasped her hand tenderly and came to sit next to her on the bed. “I never wanted any of this to happen, yet I suppose it had to one way or another.”
Priscilla laid her hand against her little sister’s cheek. Bridgitte’s blond hair brushed her hand. Priscilla gave her a sad smile. “I should have protected you. I should have just—”
Bridgitte shook her head. “No, you did what was right. I should not have gone along with it. I was so desperate to be with Philip that I just thought that things would end well. It had to end well.”
“Love is a hard thing to control,” Priscilla said with understanding.
Bridgitte nodded with a sigh. “I never meant for all this to happen. I just love him so much. We just wanted to be together.”
Priscilla understood. She understood more than she could ever tell Bridgitte. She gave Bridgitte’s hand a squeeze. “So now you go off to be with Philip.”
Bridgitte whispered, “I suppose so. He said he would send for me.”
Priscilla knew she should be still angry with her sister, hurt by her actions, but she also felt like a hypocrite. Was she really so different?
When Bridgitte left, Priscilla was left feeling conflicted. The hurt was still there, but there was sorrow too. She felt sorrowful for the sister she had lost.
All the years spent trying to connect with Bridgitte, and only when she finally felt something in common between them was when Bridgitte was forced to start a new life elsewhere. How cruel life could be. No. How cruel society could be.
Priscilla was still thinking of this when she ventured out that evening. Gwen had left her be after trying to persuade her unsuccessfully to eat lunch. Still, her stomach rumbling had forced her hand finally and brought Priscilla out into the household once more.
There was motion and activity. Male voices echoed from the conservatory. She heard her father and mother as well. Priscilla followed the flow of maids as they brought trays to the conservatory. At her entrance, her mother exclaimed, “Oh, Priscilla, I had hoped you would come down. Please come and meet our guests.”
Priscilla saw the brown-haired man seated next to George. He favored George but was leaner, taller than George when he stood up to extend a hand to her. George said, “Miss Morton, may I introduce my brother, Lord Rowley.”
Priscilla could not help the smile that came to her face. “I have heard much about you, Lord Rowley,” Priscilla said as she gave him her hand in greeting.
Lord Rowley inclined his head with practiced ease. “And I have heard much of you, Miss Morton. My brother has found your case most interesting.”
Her father and mother seemed pleased by the older Rowley brother. “Doctor Rowley was just telling us that his brother will be in town for a few days,” Lady Chaplin informed Priscilla.
George intervened and said, “My brother is here to visit his betrothed.”
“Yes,” Lord Rowley said with a gracious smile. “I would like to extend an apology that my brother thought I was bringing a guest here. Apparently, he thinks I am something of a rogue.”
Lord Chaplin clapped his hand on his breeches and chuckled. “I have a brother like that.”
Lady Chaplin shushed her husband. “We do not speak of that brother.”
Priscilla knew they were speaking of her uncle that fancied himself a lady’s man and favored dark alleys. She hid a smile as she sat down next to her mother. Her eyes met George’s briefly and her heart fluttered.
“I do regret that my visit has come at such a turbulent time. I do hope I am not imposing. I could find my way to an Inn?” Lord Rowley’s speech was friendly and charming. There was much to compare between the brothers. There seemed to be an almost constant smile lingering on Lord Rowley’s lips, a jest just behind his tongue, and then there was George. So serious at times, but Priscilla knew that was just the part he showed everyone.
The brothers were much more alike than probably they even thought. Lady Chaplin waved off Lord Rowley’s concern. “I appreciate your kindness, Lord Rowley, but our family woes will not make us ungracious. Doctor Rowley has done much for us and we have much to do to repay him.”
George did not look as if he shared her mother’s opinion and Priscilla wished she could reach out and grab his hand. Oh, dear, sweet George, always taking things to heart. This was not his sin to hold to himself. Yet, it seemed as if the man had already branded himself with it.
Priscilla wondered if he regretted what had happened between them now? It would not be out of the question if it did. After all, it had been a heated moment and things often looked different upon retrospection. The thought that perhaps he had changed his mind about things made doubt well up in her own heart.
The conversation flowed around her; Lord Rowley seemed to never run out of things to say, or amusing stories to tell. Priscilla’s eyes did not stay with the entertaining Lord though. Her eyes slid to his quieter brother, who watched with eyes just a bit sad and reserved.
They ate in the conservatory, passing stories and the time as the sun dipped behind the trees. “Well,” Lord Rowley said at last, “I do hope that I can repay your kindness.”
“Is that an invitation to this country estate of yours?” Lord Chaplin’s voice held a warm chuckle that he usually reserved for friends.
Priscilla was impressed with how quickly Lord Rowley had won over her father, but then her father already liked the man’s brother and it was not that far to leap. Lord Rowley nodded. “That was precisely what it was. We often have a party at the turning of the seasons to celebrate our good harvests. It would be an honor to have your family attend. We actually plan on having our wedding then, so it would be quite the celebration indeed.”
Priscilla smiled. “How lovely an autumn wedding will be.”
“Is that the time of year you fancy a wedding?” Lord Rowley had a twinkle in his eyes and Priscilla wondered just how much George had told his brother about her.
Priscilla waved off the question. “I prefer the wintertime.”
“Christmas is a wonderful time of the year,” George chimed in.
Lord Rowley winked at his brother. “A Christmas wedding.”
Lord Chaplin laughed and shook his head. “I think weddings are splendid no matter the time of year.”
“The matter might be a bit spoiled for me with all that has happened,” Lady Chaplin said with a sigh.
Lord Rowley frowned. “My dear Lady Chaplin, I did not mean any offense.”
“No offense was taken, Lord Rowley,” Lady Chaplin assured him. “It is nice to hear people laugh and joke. It is lovely to see a family so close as yours.”
Priscilla looked at her hands. Yes, it must be lovely to have that sort of bond. She rose with everyone else. She was just about to excuse herself to go upstairs when Lord Rowley said, “Why not a walk? Miss Morton, would you care to join my brother, and whoever else wishes, to go on a walk around the gardens? I hear they are lovely.”
Lady Chaplin smiled. “I think my husband and I will decline, but it sounds like a splendid time for those younger. Do you not agree, dear?”
“Yes,” Lord Chaplin said with a smile as he rose with his wife. “I have some paperwork to finish up, however.”
Lord Rowley gave Lord Chaplin a look of commiseration. “I find that paperwork is self-perpetuating.”
“It is,” Lord Chaplin agreed heartily. He held his hand out to his wife and George gave them a bow as they left the room.
Lord Rowley turned back to Priscilla. “Left alone,” he said with a smile. “Join us?”
Priscilla laughed and nodded. “I suppose I shall, Lord Rowley.”
“Good,” Lord Rowley said as he nudged
his brother. George rolled his eyes and held his arm out to Priscilla.
She looped her arm through George’s outstretched arm and allowed the men to guide her through the hallways. They commented on the similarities between this home and their own family estate, but Priscilla mostly watched how they teased each other.
Priscilla laughed at the little sighs and cuts of the eyes that George gave his brother. Lord Rowley seemed impervious to his younger brother’s vexation and found great fun in pestering George. Priscilla saw the love the two had for each other though.
“Now this is nothing like home,” Lord Rowley said with admiration as he stepped out of the back doors onto the patio. “I say that with the deepest admiration, Miss Morton. We have lovely gardens at home, but your hedge work and the roses that intertwine within them are really quite spectacular, even in this dim light.”
Priscilla had never given the gardens much thought. “The gardeners work hard to keep it in shape. I must admit that I take it for granted.”
“That is the way things often are,” George said. He gave a shrug, which Priscilla felt as she held onto his arm. “We often do not see what is right in front of us.”
Priscilla took the liberty of how informal the men were to ask, “Lord Rowley, may I ask who you are marrying? Doctor Rowley has never mentioned her name.”
Lord Rowley gave her a smile. “Miss Medea Blackwell, daughter of the spice merchant Sir Thomas Blackwell.”
“Oh,” Priscilla said with a smile. “I know her. We met through some of the luncheons that my mother holds. She is lovely.”
Lord Rowley looked very pleased with Priscilla’s assessment. “I happen to agree with you.”
“Well, I should hope so,” Priscilla teased. It was easy to fall into the way that Lord Rowley spoke. The brothers set her at ease and she felt safe with them. “Is that an owl?”
They all stopped and listened. Again sounded a faint hoot-hoot in the trees. “I do think so,” George said.
“If she likes owls, then she should definitely come to the estate for the wedding. We have a whole family of them that patrol the woods behind the stables.” Lord Rowley was speaking to George but he gave Priscilla a wink as he finished.
Priscilla sighed, “You told him, did you not?” She looked at George accusingly, a smile playing over her lips.
Lord Rowley chortled with laughter. “I have my ways of finding things out,” he told Priscilla.
George chuckled. “I did tell him, but I promise that it was all noble and pure.”
The laughter that escaped Priscilla felt good. She shook her head at the brothers. “Well, so long as it was noble than what can I be angry about?” She sighed at the men. “We shall see how things play out, Lord Rowley, but I do believe my father already has his heart set on going to your estate. He loves hunting, by the way.”
“Well, we have some of the best pheasant hunting around,” Lord Rowley said proudly. “George can even get one or two.”
“Hey now,” George said with frustration. “There is no need to go attacking me over my hunting skills.”
Priscilla giggled and hung on George’s arm. So this was the family she would be a part of if George really did intend on marrying her. And surely he did if he had mentioned her to his brother?
She smiled. She could stand this being her family. They seemed lovely together. She still wondered about George’s family though. How sad George had been when he spoke of his mother. Was his father waiting anxiously at home? What would the man think of her?
Priscilla let herself be pulled into the jesting of the brothers for the remainder of the walk. It was hard to be in one’s head when their talk sought to pull her out among them constantly. She gave up and let herself laugh at the brothers’ antics.
***
It had been weeks since Priscilla’s memory had returned. Eventually, George had gone back to his own home, but he still insisted that he come by to check on Priscilla. He walked up the steps toward the estate pondering what he would do, say. Was it the day that he should ask to speak to Lord Chaplin?
His answer came when he was met at the door by the man himself. “Doctor Rowley, I was actually about to send for you.”
Fear laced through him. “Is something the matter?” Had something happened to Priscilla?
Lord Chaplin assured him, “Everything is fine. Please come to my study.”
The man’s meaty hand was already steering George toward the study, away from the stairs, away from Priscilla. He had to consent even if he did not truly want to talk to the man at that moment. He wondered if Lord Chaplin was about to release him from his duties?
At the study, Lord Chaplin went over to a tray table laden heavily with glass canters. “Brandy?”
“No. Thank you.” George had never been much for the drink, but he definitely did not want a drink at that moment.
Lord Chaplin shrugged off George’s words and poured himself a glass of brown liquid. “Doctor Rowley, do you think my daughter is of sound mental and physical health?”
George paused. Why was he pausing? George sighed. “Yes, of course.”
“Yet you seem concerned for her,” Lord Chaplin ventured. “The truth is that her mother is concerned as well. She wishes for Priscilla to be wed and happy. I wish the same thing.”
George’s hopes soared. Perhaps the man had caught onto the feelings between them. “I—”
Lord Chaplin continued, “I have a young man that I really do wish her to meet. He’s from a noble family and has a good reputation. Would you perhaps persuade her to meet with him? She is firmly set against the male gender since Lord Ridlington.”
George shook his head. “I do not think that you should force her.”
“I fear that if I do not, that her mother may very well arrange another marriage without her consent.”
George sighed. “I think that Miss Morton knows her own heart best.”
Lord Chaplin nodded. “A mother is an anxious creature. Always wanting what is best.”
George thought of his own mother. His heart ached. “Lord Chaplin,” George said as he drew himself up. “There was a matter that I had hoped to discuss with you and Lady Chaplin. Perhaps it would be best if I spoke with you first though.”
Lord Chaplin sank into his leather chair. “If it will get you to aid us then I am willing to listen.”
“Well, it might make the need of my aid irrelevant,” George said. His words seemed to intrigue the nobleman before him. “You see, Lord Chaplin, I have grown very fond of your daughter and I do believe she has grown fond of me. What I am trying to say, is that I wish to marry her, Sir.”
Lord Chaplin stopped with his glass half raised to his lips. He stared at George for some time before he finally set the glass down. “I see.”
George did not like the sound of that. “I know this might come as a surprise, and I ask your forgiveness for that.”
“Does my daughter know that you wish to marry her?” Lord Chaplin asked the question with no sort of giveaway as to what he was thinking.
George nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“And is she amendable to this?” Lord Chaplin rubbed his chin.
George nodded again, feeling dull and thickheaded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Then it is something we should speak of at length,” Lord Chaplin said with a sigh. “Do not take my hesitance for disapproval, Doctor Rowley. I am just a bit shy of it all myself.”
The Awakening 0f A Forbidden Passion (Historical Regency Romance) Page 28
