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

T he first time Pricilla heard the rumors about Hollingsworth, she had been eighteen and preparing for her first Season.

She’d overheard her mother and Lady Hollingsworth discussing their marriage as usual.

Only this time, they questioned their hopes of uniting their two families.

That was why she was having a Season instead of marrying Nick.

Priscilla didn’t completely understand what was happening, and her tender young heart was broken.

She had wanted to marry Nick since she was ten years old.

However, he didn’t want to marry her. According to him, he regarded her as a sister.

It was too bad, because he was the only one with whom she could be her true self.

He admired her intelligence and interest in Parliamentary affairs, and she enjoyed their time together.

They may not have spent a great deal of time together the past several years, but their friendship had grown even so.

It saddened her to think she would marry another man and perhaps never see him again.

As her Season progressed, she noticed that most gentlemen she met cringed when she opened her mouth to discuss a series of subjects.

So she had taken to being a giggling fool within the company of the opposite sex.

If being intelligent wasn’t attractive, perhaps being silly was.

So she played at being empty-headed and silly.

But it didn’t seem to work, because their drawing room had remained empty, to her father, the Duke of Avery’s, dismay.

But what was she to do to attract a suitor?

Her father didn’t understand why gentlemen were not barging down their door to court her.

She was beautiful, rich, and the daughter of a duke.

She was stymied as well as he. The eligible gentlemen of the ton disliked intelligent women, and they did not like silly debutantes. What did they want?

She would need to lighten up on the silliness at the next social event and pay attention to other debutants, mimicking how they acted and spoke.

Though she disliked pretending to be someone other than her true self to attract a husband.

Deception was no way to start a life together.

If only Nick would admit they were perfect for each other.

His luck in the marriage mart was as grim as hers. Truly, they deserved each other.

For three Seasons, she struggled to make her parents happy by securing a husband. She wasn’t all that bad, and her looks were, if not beautiful, at least passable—even pretty. So why did no gentlemen call on her? And it broke her heart when Nick still wouldn’t consider her.

It was during this lonely, difficult time of feeling invisible to every person in London that her best friend, Lady Sophia Templeton, who lived in the country with her husband, the Earl of Spencer, introduced her by letter to her cousin, Lieutenant Jasper Montague, a Royal Navy officer and the third son of an earl.

They started exchanging letters, and several months later they began meeting secretly when he was in port.

She enjoyed being with him. He saw the real person she was and understood her for the most part.

When he proposed, she said yes, and they snuck off to Gretna Green, much to her parents’ dismay.

They never accepted Jasper into the family.

When she returned home after her wedding and Jasper immediately left for his ship, she brought a white kitten, whom she named Snowball, home with her.

Snowball was to be her constant companion while waiting for her new husband to return.

She was anxious to move out of Avery Manor and start her new life with Jasper.

Being his wife didn’t seem real with him away .

But three months after their wedding, he died at sea when a French warship attacked his ship.

They had had their wedding night together after their nuptials and nothing else.

Her mother believed she took to her rooms for so many months because she was heartbroken.

Yes, she was heartbroken and devastated, but she hadn’t been deeply in love with him.

She had liked Jasper very much and was sure she would have come to love him had they had more time together, but she’d never had the chance.

That saddened her and caused guilt to eat at her insides.

That, more than anything, caused her to withdraw from Society.

She had been a failure as a wife. If only she had conceived a child to carry on his name and legacy. He had deserved better.

Though he was not without his own flaws.

During their time together, he had admitted to marrying her quickly to get out of an alliance with the daughter of his father’s best friend, a young lady he’d abhorred ever since they were children.

So his heart was perhaps not engaged as it might have been, either.

Still, they got on well together and after his loss, she battled melancholy daily.

Jasper should never have died. He was all that was good, brave, and honorable.

One such as he should have lived and made his mark on Society.

Time passes, as it always must, and her year of mourning ended, but still she struggled with her marriage and widowhood and, more than anything, Jasper’s death. Everything had happened so fast, she felt like an imposter.

“My dear,” her mother, the Duchess of Avery, said to her as she entered her chambers one afternoon. “It has been a year since his death. It is high time you reenter Society to find another husband.”

Sitting on the chaise longue in her chambers, patting a sleeping Snowball curled up on her lap, Priscilla sighed deeply before replying to her mother’s comment.

“Why do you never say his name? He had a name, Mother. His name was Jasper . Say it!” Priscilla tried not to feel bad for her mother when she witnessed her eyes close and her face tense .

“Forgive me. It doesn’t seem real to me because it happened so quickly, without our approval, and we never had the privilege of meeting him.

I sometimes have trouble believing you were married and are now a widow.

” Her mother sat on the edge of the chaise longue and took one of Priscilla’s hands in hers.

“I will strive to be more understanding. He died a hero and deserves our respect.” She squeezed her hand.

“I’m just worried about you. Staying in your room is not healthy.

You need fresh air and friends surrounding you.

You don’t want to hear this, but it is time to enter Society, and I have taken the liberty of arranging it.

Tomorrow night, you will attend a ball with your father and me at the Earl and Countess of Langford’s.

It is the first event they have hosted since their marriage last year.

She also belongs to the Ladies’ Society of Mayfair, which I have urged you to join.

Perhaps you and the countess will become friends since she is close to your age. We will not take no for an answer.”

“I have nothing to wear.” Several of her favorite dresses and gowns had been dyed black for mourning. And the rest didn’t fit her as she’d lost weight since Jasper’s death.

“I have taken care of everything. Madam Serena will arrive soon for a fitting with a bevy of dresses and ballgowns she made for you in the current fashion and colors. I gave her carte blanche, for she knows what you like.”

“Mother.” Bees swarmed her stomach. Priscilla was afraid she wasn’t ready to enjoy herself, dance, and converse with gentlemen. Some would be the same men who had disliked her during her first Season, and she didn’t relish going through their rejection again.

She understood she was expected to marry and have children, but couldn’t she accomplish that without entering London Society?

The thought of being held in another man’s arms had the bees stinging her.

Would Jasper think she was betraying him?

How did young widows, such as herself, move on without guilt eating at their insides?

Perhaps becoming friends with the Countess of Langford would help her.

After all, she had been a widow before she married the current Earl of Langford.

“Fine. I will attend. But I should warn you that my days of being silly and giggling like a fool are over. This time I’m being myself, and if I attract no suitors, so be it.

I’ll not be anything but myself this time around. ”

Mother rose from the chaise longue, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. “Be yourself, and thank you. I know you won’t regret this.” As she walked away, her skirts swaying, she said, “Who knows, you might meet your future husband tomorrow night.”

Priscilla leaned back on the chaise and sighed. Perhaps, but she somehow doubted that.

*

Nick was thirty-six. How had he become that age with nothing to show for it except the title of marquess after his father passed several years ago?

He had no wife and no prospects in sight.

No son to inherit when he died. If God forbid, he died soon, his sniveling cousin would inherit, and Nick knew his father would be waiting in Heaven to kick his arse for not protecting his legacy.

And that was the reason he dressed for the Langfords’ ball.