Page 4 of Seducing a Frigid Lady
Just thinking about it, feeling all of their eyes upon her, made Priscilla exceptionally angry. And though she was loathed to do so, she had to force her focus onto Mr. Kenyon. At least then she might be able to temper her anger.
“I merely wanted to come and wish you both a good Season.”
Mr. Kenyon smiled at her, looking a little sheepish. The way his cheeks blushed slightly reminded Priscilla of the short time after his proposal in which he had become quite rude towards her with snide comments and disgruntled looks. And the way that Sophie stepped a little closer to her suggested that she had not forgotten either.
“I do hope we shall have good weather.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kenyon.” Sophie’s voice was almost as cold as Priscilla’s would have been had she beaten her to the punch. It was a formal and firm ending to their conversation, one which Priscilla silently thanked her friend for, knowing that Sophie had not forgotten or forgiven either.
“Good evening to you both,” Mr. Kenyon said rather awkwardly, bowing respectfully. “Perhaps I shall see you both at the dinner table.”
“Perhaps,” Priscilla responded curtly. Though she hoped not. After all, there were so many people in attendance that evening that she wasn’t even certain they would all fit upon one table. What were the chances of being put close enough that they would be able to see each other?
A swift glance around the room told her that there were still at least two more guests to arrive. There was still no sign of Maximillian or his cousin. At least, she didn’t think there was anyone unfamiliar in the room.
Perhaps they won’t attend,Priscilla thought as the dinner gong was finally rung. Clearly, Lord and Lady Marsham had grown tired of awaiting their final guests. She couldn’t say that she blamed them.
One glance at the grandfather clock across the room suggested that they had been waiting forty-five minutes as it was and the sudden rumbling in her stomach reminded her of how little she had eaten that day in preparation for what she knew was certain to be a wonderful feast. Lady Marsham was always one for going overboard when instructing her cooks on what to prepare for her dinners.
“Well, it looks as if we shall be escorting each other into dinner,” Sophie laughed, glancing around at the uneven number of men to women in the room. Priscilla followed her gaze, more than a little relieved at the fact she saw Mr. Kenyon offering his elbow to Miss Kendall.
Barely daring to hope, Priscilla thought,Perhaps tonight won’t be as bad as I thought?
It was a relief to sit beside her best friend at the dining table. Even more wonderful was the fact that nobody really appeared eager to sit beside her on her other side, leaving two spaces free before the next lady sat. It was of little consequence to Priscilla when her own father came to sit beside her, offering a smile before he began to make conversation with the gentleman opposite.
Save for the gentle hum of small-talk, the room was quiet enough to hear the clinking of pots and platters being brought out by the servants. And yet it all seemed to become utterly silent the moment that the doors opened again at the far end of the dining room.
“Please, forgive us our lateness!” came a familiar voice and Priscilla looked around to see Maximillian entering with a far less familiar man in tow.
The instant that they slipped into the room behind the butler, every single person at the table turned to look at them. The quiet hum turned to an excited one as all the women in the room began to wriggle in their seats, looking around desperately for any way that they could bring themselves to be the one to sit beside the newcomers or namely Viscount Sinclair.
Poor Maximillian, Priscilla thought, actually feeling a little sympathetic towards the gentleman who was practically invisible to all the other women in the room thanks to his cousin.
Just looking at him, Priscilla couldn’t quite see the reasoning for why everyone was quite so excited about his arrival. Of course, just like any other nobleman, he was finely dressed. And if she were entirely honest with herself, he was quite handsome, with dark hair and even darker eyes. Even from this distance, she could see how they glistened in the candlelight.
Yet there was something else about his appearance, something which did not bother her but that she thought would be looked upon differently by many of the other young ladies in the room.
His complexion was quite coppery, as though he spent a lot of time out in the sun. No doubt he liked to hunt or play pall mall or even go riding out in the sun just as many gentlemen did, though it was clear he had a low opinion for hats and other such things.
Yet it appeared that every woman in the room was entirely blind to this fact, no doubt blinded so by the knowledge of his wealth and also his future title. It was clear just from looking at him that he was very entitled and rich. Priscilla could practically smell it coming off him.
She was startled out of her gazing at him by a gentle hand upon her shoulder. Almost jumping out of her seat, she turned her attention to her father and smiled in an attempt to hide the fact.
“Papa? Is everything alright?” she asked as she alarmingly realised that he was rising from his seat.
“I think it would be a kind gesture for me to offer my seat to the newest member of the party,” her father announced loudly enough for all around them to hear. Priscilla bit back the strong urge to protest. Her stomach clenched when her father leaned over to whisper, “I do believe he shall be much safer sitting beside you.”
The way he glanced around the table at all the other young ladies told her exactly what he meant. For just a second, she allowed herself to feel pity towards the newest meat on the marriage mart. The way that the women were looking at him, anyone would think that Viscount Sinclair was a prized pig about to be sold at auction for an alarmingly good price.
Priscilla forced a smile for Maximillian and his cousin as they made their way around the table towards the two seats that were now available beside her.
Only a glance told her that at least her father had managed to find a seat at the table a little way down, opposite Mr. Kenyon. She could only hope that Harold would not think to try to get too friendly with her father in the hopes of getting to her again.
It was only when Lord Sinclair came to sit at her side that Priscilla realised Maximillian had failed to follow him.
“Oh, no, Cilla,” Sophie exclaimed under her breath, reaching for Priscilla’s hand beneath the table. It was in that moment that she glanced past her friend to see that Maximillian had settled on the other side of her friend.
The way Sophie glanced down at the head of the table told Priscilla everything she needed to know. Seeing the way that Lady Marsham smiled at them both, raising her glass in their direction as if in a toast, she knew that somehow Sophie’s mother had orchestrated the entire thing.
