virgin, after ten years of marriage? Her husband had been impotent, thus she had never carried the heir desired? Her attentions to Brandon must have been what Robert had taught her, yet she had never felt, before last night with him, the true response a healthy, virile man would have to such seduction.
What must she be thinking of their shared experience? His lack of self-control? His overwhelming need? Did she even comprehend the power she was developing over him?
In his own desperation to console her grief, Brandon drew Priscilla into his arms, onto his lap. With a gentle hand, he laid her head against his shoulder and rocked her like he would a distressed child.
“There, there, my love. It will be all right. It was not your fault. Robert knew it was not your fault. If he blamed you, he never would have been so kind or generous. Hush, Priscilla. Let me hold you for now. Everything will be all right. I promise you it will.”
He held her while she sobbed in his arms, her tears dampening his linen. Had she gone all this time without feeling, sharing her grief? Would someone, possibly she, grieve for him so thoroughly upon his death? Would she feel so tenderly for him at all? She had loved her husband, but was not in love with him.
Could he claim such loyalty, such love, for his own?
Chapter 12
Priscilla gathered all the composure she could master and entered the drawing room. With head held high, she nodded at those who gave notice but escaped to the empty fauteuil next to the French doors and sat to settle her skirts. Gazing through the glass, she took a few deep breaths before returning her attention to the other guests.
It was obvious more than a few of the guests were choosing not to attend the more formal meals. The kitchens must be in an uproar with the number of requests for in-room service. And, those who were attending were either coupled and literally hanging all over each other, or staying as far away as possible from their last partner while scouting out a new conquest.
It was quite revolting.
Were it not for Lord Brookfield, she would have taken herself home by now and faced the consequences no matter how dire they might be.
But what waited her there? Robert was gone. And his nephew, Damon, would either be there or soon to arrive. She just did not want to be confronted with his advances, now or ever. If he had no scruples when Robert was alive, how would he behave now that his uncle was in his grave?
And, she had not completed her purpose.
No, returning to Northumberland was not her first choice though she knew the dowager house was being prepared even as she thought about it.
She heard a rustling in the room, and the shift in attention announced a new arrival. Coming out of her reveries, she saw Brandon had entered and was coming straight toward her without a glance to those who hailed him. His well-fitted buckskins, tailored chocolate brown jacket, gold and brown jacquard waistcoat and crisp white linens made him the best dressed, best looking man in the room, including her brother.
She could swear she heard the other ladies sigh.
“My lady.” He bowed low over her hand placing his warm lips against her cool skin. She had forgotten her gloves, not a wise move when he affected her so. A shiver ran up her spine as she turned her eyes up to meet his.
“My lord. I was not sure you would be joining us this evening.” When he released her hand, she felt the loss of his touch.
“I dare not miss a moment of company with you, my lady.” His gaze was heated but hidden from the others, whose focus seemed to be riveted upon the two of them.
“Luncheon is served.”
Thank God for the butler and his excellent timing. Brandon extended his arm. With grace, she rose to place her hand upon it, ignoring the explicit sexual energy that exploded within her every time she touched him.
They settled at the table with Priscilla on Brandon’s right side. Unfortunately, that put her next to Lord Dimsford. Of
What must she be thinking of their shared experience? His lack of self-control? His overwhelming need? Did she even comprehend the power she was developing over him?
In his own desperation to console her grief, Brandon drew Priscilla into his arms, onto his lap. With a gentle hand, he laid her head against his shoulder and rocked her like he would a distressed child.
“There, there, my love. It will be all right. It was not your fault. Robert knew it was not your fault. If he blamed you, he never would have been so kind or generous. Hush, Priscilla. Let me hold you for now. Everything will be all right. I promise you it will.”
He held her while she sobbed in his arms, her tears dampening his linen. Had she gone all this time without feeling, sharing her grief? Would someone, possibly she, grieve for him so thoroughly upon his death? Would she feel so tenderly for him at all? She had loved her husband, but was not in love with him.
Could he claim such loyalty, such love, for his own?
Chapter 12
Priscilla gathered all the composure she could master and entered the drawing room. With head held high, she nodded at those who gave notice but escaped to the empty fauteuil next to the French doors and sat to settle her skirts. Gazing through the glass, she took a few deep breaths before returning her attention to the other guests.
It was obvious more than a few of the guests were choosing not to attend the more formal meals. The kitchens must be in an uproar with the number of requests for in-room service. And, those who were attending were either coupled and literally hanging all over each other, or staying as far away as possible from their last partner while scouting out a new conquest.
It was quite revolting.
Were it not for Lord Brookfield, she would have taken herself home by now and faced the consequences no matter how dire they might be.
But what waited her there? Robert was gone. And his nephew, Damon, would either be there or soon to arrive. She just did not want to be confronted with his advances, now or ever. If he had no scruples when Robert was alive, how would he behave now that his uncle was in his grave?
And, she had not completed her purpose.
No, returning to Northumberland was not her first choice though she knew the dowager house was being prepared even as she thought about it.
She heard a rustling in the room, and the shift in attention announced a new arrival. Coming out of her reveries, she saw Brandon had entered and was coming straight toward her without a glance to those who hailed him. His well-fitted buckskins, tailored chocolate brown jacket, gold and brown jacquard waistcoat and crisp white linens made him the best dressed, best looking man in the room, including her brother.
She could swear she heard the other ladies sigh.
“My lady.” He bowed low over her hand placing his warm lips against her cool skin. She had forgotten her gloves, not a wise move when he affected her so. A shiver ran up her spine as she turned her eyes up to meet his.
“My lord. I was not sure you would be joining us this evening.” When he released her hand, she felt the loss of his touch.
“I dare not miss a moment of company with you, my lady.” His gaze was heated but hidden from the others, whose focus seemed to be riveted upon the two of them.
“Luncheon is served.”
Thank God for the butler and his excellent timing. Brandon extended his arm. With grace, she rose to place her hand upon it, ignoring the explicit sexual energy that exploded within her every time she touched him.
They settled at the table with Priscilla on Brandon’s right side. Unfortunately, that put her next to Lord Dimsford. Of
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