Page 29 of Marrying a Marquess (Widows of Mayfair #3)

“I already explained why,” he said, holding up his cup. “Because your cook makes better coffee than mine.” He picked up a biscuit and stuffed the entire thing into his mouth. “And biscuits,” he said with his mouth full.

“You are incorrigible,” she said, placing her empty teacup on the tray.

Fifteen minutes ago, she thought she would never feel lighthearted or smile again that day, and she had Nick to thank for lifting her spirits.

She wondered what had put him in such a light and teasing mood.

She rather enjoyed spending time with him when he was like this.

He was too severe and sour most of the time, but her heart loved him no matter his moods.

“Are you attending the theater tonight?” Nick queried.

“The Duke and Duchess of Blackstone invited me to their box along with Lord and Lady Langford.”

“And me. ”

Warmth spread inside her. “I wondered.”

He drained the last of the coffee from his cup and placed it on the tray beside hers. Standing, he bowed before her, taking her hand in his and placing his warm lips against the pulse point on her inner wrist. Heat traveled up her arm and turned her insides into an out-of-control inferno.

“Until later, my lady.”

Her eyes were riveted on his back as he strolled out of the room.

With her eyes closed again, she leaned against the back of the settee and visualized Nick as he had just been: smiling, teasing, laughing, and as light-hearted as she had ever seen him.

She hardly dared hope it was because she’d refused Latham’s proposal. Only time would tell, she supposed.

She must have dozed off because the next thing she heard Eugenia’s voice saying, “Lady Priscilla, it’s time to wake. Dinner will be served in an hour, and you must dress for the theater.”

Lifting her arms over her head, she stretched and was surprised to find she had fallen asleep sitting up. Refusing marriage proposals was exhausting. As she and Eugenia ascended the stairs, she said, “I would like to wear the emerald-green-and-cream gown.”

“That is a wonderful choice. It will make your eyes sparkle, my lady.”

At the dinner table, she explained what happened with Latham to her parents.

She even included how he’d looked at her with loathing.

Her father was not pleased. After that, the conversation around the dinner table was quiet—at least on her part.

Mother and Father discussed things that pertained to them alone, and she was glad the attention was off her.

At precisely eight, while Priscilla waited in the drawing room, Berkely announced the arrival of the Duke of Blackstone’s carriage.

She paused at the door, and Berkely helped her into her cloak and gloves.

She followed the Blackstone footman, dressed in Blackstone livery, down the stairs and took his hand as he assisted her inside the carriage, where she sat opposite the duke and duchess.

“Good evening, Lady Priscilla,” Blackstone said pleasantly.

“Good evening, Duke. I’m honored by your invitation this evening.”

“We’re friends, and you are welcome to join us anytime.”

“Thank you. Good evening, Your Grace.”

“And to you, Lady Priscilla,” Emmeline said. “I must warn you that Hollingsworth is joining us this evening.”

“Yes, he told me.”

Emmeline leaned forward, took Priscilla’s hands in hers, and queried, “Did you give Latham an answer?”

The duke cleared his throat. “Do you really want to have this conversation now?”

Emmeline looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I should have waited until we were in private, but I’m dying to know.”

“Fine. Go on,” he said.

“Well?” Emmeline prompted.

“I turned him down.”

“Thank goodness,” Emmeline said as she sat back. “He may be the brother of our friend, but I never liked him. Now we need to work on finding you a husband worthy of you since Hollingsworth won’t come up to snuff.”

“Right,” she huffed.

“Darling,” Emmeline placed her hand on her husband’s, “with all your connections, you must know someone worthy of our Priscilla.”

“Please leave me out of it,” he grumbled and then chuckled. “I will do anything for you, my darling, except matchmake.”

The carriage arrived at the theater just in time to end this awkward conversation. Priscilla felt as if she might die of embarrassment. Emmeline meant well, but she didn’t want to feel like a charity case. She could find her own damn husband—or not—if she so chose .

They entered the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden from Bow Street into a large entrance hall and ascended the stone stairs to Blackstone’s private box.

When they arrived, they found Lord and Lady Langford and Nick already there and seated. After they stood and exchanged greetings, they took their seats and Priscilla found herself sitting between Nick and Emmeline, with Lilly and her husband behind them.

“You look beautiful,” Nick whispered in her ear, his warm breath making her shiver in a good way.

“Thank you.” As she spoke, she looked across the theater and saw Lady Grace sitting with her younger sister, Lady Faith, and their parents, the Earl and Countess of Wilmington.

Their eyes met, and Lady Grace blushed. Priscilla tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment.

She felt sorry for Lady Grace having to watch her with Nick when she must wish to be sitting beside him.

She hoped Lady Grace understood they were friends.

“Lady Grace is looking at us. Why are you not in their box with her instead of here?”

“I was supposed to be, but I begged off. I said I couldn’t refuse a duke’s invitation.”

“You are a fool.”

“I beg your . . .”

“Be quiet, I’m not finished. If you still intend to propose, you should do so soon to spare the poor girl any more misery.” When he proposed to Lady Grace, it would cause Priscilla misery, but it couldn’t be helped. How unfair life could be.

“Honestly, I don’t think she cares one way or another who she marries, only that she marries to get away from her unpleasant mother,” he mumbled.

“Nick, I can’t believe that.”

“It’s true. She confided in me that after her eldest sister died, her mother became unbearable to live with. The eldest was her mother’s favorite. ”

“How sad. I didn’t know there was a third sister.”

“Yes, she came out the same year as Emmeline. The year Emmeline married Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

“I see.”

“I’m not offended if Lady Grace marries me to escape her mother. I’m not seeking love—just a wife I can respect and tolerate enough to produce heirs. Other than that, she can do as she pleases, and I will do the same.”

Who was this man sitting beside her? He wasn’t the same Nick she had teased with that afternoon.

What had happened between then and now for him to act so insensitively?

She felt sorry for Lady Grace or anyone he married.

She wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, so she stayed silent until the theater darkened and the curtain opened.