Page 106 of To Pleasure a Prince

She froze, her tears spilling over. She heard the thunder of his boots receding down the hall and out the front door. Then she heard the unmistakable clopping of horse hooves on cobblestone, growing fainter and fainter until they merged into the other street noises.

Only then did she fall apart. Collapsing onto the floor, she began to weep uncontrollably. What if she’d lost him for good? Could she ever get him back?

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, voices murmured near her, and still she sobbed, unable to stop, unable even to drag herself from the floor onto a chair.

Suddenly an arm came around her shoulders, and a gentle, familiar voice whispered, “Here now, my dear, you will hurt yourself with such weeping.”

“C-Cicely?” she said, glancing up at her cousin through her tears. “You…you should have gone with him.”

“Nonsense. My place is always with you, dearest.”

“He will make good on his threats, you know. He will cut you off entirely. And I cannot promise—”

“Shh, shh, dearest,” Cicely murmured, holding Regina’s head to her breast. “There is always your brother.”

“No,” she said doggedly. “This is all Simon’s fault. I don’t even want to see him.” Tears choked her throat. “Besides, Marcus is probably going to k-kill him.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” another voice cut in.

She looked up to see Lord Iversley standing nearby with his wife, their faces filled with concern.

“I’ll send a note to your brother at once,” the earl went on, “warning him that if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll retire to the country until Draker’s temper cools.”

“Marcus will not appreciate your interference. And I do not mean to come between you and your br—” She caught herself just in time. “Your friend.”

Lord Iversley’s face softened further. With a glance at Cicely, he said, “Our friendship has withstood a great deal. If the choice is enduring his temper or seeing him killed in a duel with Foxmoor, I’d rather endure his temper, I assure you.”

“He’ll come round,” Lady Iversley put in. She slid her hand in her husband’s with a soft smile. “They always do.”

“I wish I could be sure of that.”

“You can be sure he loves you,” Lord Iversley said. “But some men don’t handle falling in love very well. Katherine’s right—you just need to give him a few days. If you want, I’ll talk to him.”

“No. He must decide for himself if he wants a wife or a prisoner. He knows I won’t accept the latter.” Which was why she doubted it would be only a few days.

“In the meantime,” Lady Iversley said, “you’ll stay here with us, won’t you?”

“I hate to inconvenience you. And there’s always the town house—”

“Nonsense,” Lord Iversley put in. “You and Cicely shall stay here, and that’s an end to it.” When she started to protest again, he added gently, “You don’t have keys to the town house, my dear. And I’m afraid Draker might forbid the servants from allowing you to stay there anyway.”

That very real possibility roused her temper enough to banish her tears. “Yes,” she said bitterly, “that sounds exactly like something he’d do.”

Any man who would try to take away his wife’s companion in order to make her dependent upon him would certainly not hesitate to deny her any servants.

But Cicely had stayed with her, and that gave her hope.

It also gave her an idea. Swallowing hard, she stared at her cousin, then Lady Iversley. Katherine, her sister-in-law. Surely she could trustthiswoman. “As long as I’m going to be here for a few days, do you think you and Cicely could teach me to read?”

Chapter Twenty-three

Do not forever curb your young charge’s independence. A little willfulness might stand her in good stead later in life.

—Miss Cicely Tremaine,The Ideal Chaperone

Marcus hadn’t thought that living without Regina would be this difficult. In truth, he hadn’t thought at all when he’d left Iversley’s in a blind rage.

He’d had plenty of time to think about it since, however. With a sigh, he glanced at the clock presiding over the empty dining room where he sat with his toast, tea, and morning paper. Nine o’clock. In a short while his steward would arrive for their daily meeting, and he might gain a blessed two-hour respite from his tormented thoughts.