Page 234 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“An offer of marriage!” Spots of color bloomed on Peony’s cheeks. “And I did not lie, not precisely. I might have mentioned my expectation that the prince would soon ask for my hand, and wouldn’t the Midwinter Masque be a romantic place to do so?”

“And who did you mention this to?” Eliana’s patience with Peony was beginning to shred.

“Angelica Barrows.” Peony shot a look at the young lady in question, who was currently accepting a roast chestnut from the vendor.

“She’s a notorious gossip! Oh, Peony, how could you? It was very wrong to try and force the prince’s hand.”

“He led me to believe he was planning to propose.” Peony’s voice was thick with unshed tears. “It was not soverywrong of me. He could have seized the opportunity instead of leaving me to be the laughingstock of London.”

Anger flared through Eliana. “He should have agreed to shackle himself to a woman who had just proved she was not above using lies and gossip in order to get her way? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“The prince behaved dishonorably,” Peony shot back.

“No.Youdid.” Eliana crossed her arms as the truth shook through her. “He could have denounced your lies and ruined your prospects forever. Instead he took the blame for ‘abandoning’ you, while refusing to give in to your manipulations.”

Peony dropped her gaze to the dirty snow lining the street.

“I thought it would work,” she said in a low voice. “Mother encouraged me to spread the rumor, so that I could call myself a princess sooner rather than later.”

Her poor, weak friend. The misery in Peony’s expression was unmistakable, and Eliana felt unwilling sympathy seep through her irritation. Peony’s mother was a harpy, and Peony had never been able to stand up to her, even when she clearly ought to have.

Eliana unfolded her arms and caught Peony’s hand. “I do understand. I can see why you behaved as you did, though I can’t condone it. But you must stop playing the poor, victimized lady. You see that, don’t you?”

“I do. I meant to months ago, but…”

“It brings you too much sympathy.” Eliana let out a sigh. She was deeply disappointed in her friend. And in herself, for believing the worst of Prince Sebastian when the truth had been in front of her all along.

It was little consolation that the gossips had not bothered to see past Peony’s lies, either. They loved a good scandal, and the Ice Prince had been an excellent personage to fasten upon. It was a wonder he hadn’t left London months ago.

“They’re waving to us,” Peony said, looking up the street to where their companions waited. “Please, don’t say anything of this.”

“I won’t. But you should consider it. At the very least you might apologize to Prince Sebastian.”

“I can’t.” Peony dashed a gloved hand across her eyes, swiping at her incipient tears. “Though I’ll try to stop playing the wounded innocent.”

“Good.” Eliana squeezed her friend’s hand. “Let’s rejoin the others.”

She dearly wished she could beg off singing at their last stop, but it was her sister’s house. Despite the turmoil raging through her, she must make an appearance.

“I’m sorry, Eliana.” Peony gave her a strained smile. “I felt terrible for lying to you for so long. And now I have a headache on top of everything.”

“Do you wish to go home?” Eliana asked.

Peony shook her head. “Not yet. You need my voice to keep Angelica in tune. Though I imagine I’ll leave the party early.”

“Of course.”

As they rejoined their friends and continued along the slushy Mayfair streets, Eliana couldn’t stop thinking of Prince Sebastian.

He could not leave England! At least, not before she told him that she now knew the truth. If he wanted to depart after that, she would not blame him—but at least he would know that not every young lady in London held him in contempt.

Rather the opposite, on her part, though she would not confess the true depth of her feelings to him. He’d already been manipulated enough by the ladies of London. She didn’t want him to feel as though she were attempting to entrap him into staying in England.

She would inform him that, should he ever want to return, he would be welcome to call upon her. That would be sufficient. And though her heart cried out for so much more, she stifled the impulse. She would not hold Sebastian back from his course.

These musings kept her occupied until they drew up in front of Ashford House. In counterpoint to the overcast afternoon, the candles on the tree were lit. It shone, magical and inviting, from the front parlor window.

Eliana and her friends arranged themselves in a semi circle before the door. William hummed the starting note, and they began with “Here We Come a-Wassailing.” As they sang, she felt her spirits rise with the music. She could not remain wistful and melancholy while singing about love and joy.

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