Page 11 of Seducing a Frigid Lady
The sudden thought of her aunt that popped into her head and what she would think if she were to catch the two of them out in the gardens, alone and sitting quite so close together, entirely unchaperoned, made her tense up. What was worse, what would happen if anyone else were to see them in such a manner? Of course, she knew that there was nothing going on and he knew it too from what he had just said, yet the rumour mill would not see it that way.
In an instant, she could become just another of the ladies that the rakish viscount had managed to seduce over the years. Though her name would eventually be lost to myth and legend, for the foreseeable future she would be scandalised, and that was something she had promised her father she would never allow to happen so long as they had their deal.
“You appear to be quite certain of yourself, my lord,” she said firmly, offering him a nod of her head before she started to push herself up from the bench. “I wish you the best in yourromanticendeavours and otherwise and pray that you do not eventually come across a young lady who is far more naïve than you at first believe.”
Though she had meant for her words to be cool and calm, just as she always spoke with any member of thetonshe was not friendly with, she realised that there may actually be a slight hint of affection in it. It was growing late and with every moment that she remained outside she was risking her reputation and that of her father, not to mention how her aunt would react. Her tone was likely down to that, wishing to get away from the nobleman as quickly as possible. It had to be that.
The viscount did not try to make any protest, though he did rise to his feet respectfully, offering her a bow that she barely saw for the fact she had already begun to walk away.
“Good evening, Miss Lloyd. I look forward to seeing you again in the near future,” he spoke after her. At his words, her heart hitched into her throat once more and an odd fluttering sensation began in her stomach, the likes of which she had never felt before.
A part of her wanted to stop, turn around and enquire as to when he believed he would see her again and just how he could be so presumptuous. Yet she knew well that during the London Season many members of thetonwere thrown together like fish in a pond, unable to escape each other. Their time in London would be no different.
Even more concerning to her was the nervous sensation in her gut that she got at the thought of seeing him again.I must have eaten something that did not agree with me,she thought, determined that it couldn’t possibly be anything to do with the viscount himself.
He was just another nobleman who was adamant to try and ruffle her feathers, just as all of them tried to do. And so she declared to herself,Lord Sinclair will not be the one to melt the Ice Queen.
Priscilla felt as though she spent the rest of the evening trying to avoid everyone, including Sophie, who seemed adamant that she knew there was something off with her. Being in no mood to explain herself to her friend, she was relieved when her aunt finally came to declare that they were to be leaving.
Though she was entirely sure that nobody had seen or overheard her conversation with the viscount, she could not help but feel nervous as she entered the carriage with her father and her aunt. After the argument the two of them had shared, she was surprised that they were even talking to each other, let alone sharing a carriage home.
She had known her aunt to refuse such a thing on more than one occasion, though she could at least be certain they hadn’t entirely fallen out. After all, Lady Bishop was going to be spending quite a lot of time in close proximity during the Season, what with her insisting upon being Priscilla chaperone in place of her own mother.
Where were you when the viscount came creeping up on me?Priscilla thought, though a part of her was relieved she hadn’t been around. She could only imagine how that conversation might have gone if she had been. No doubt her aunt would have been doing her best to hint at a courtship between the two of them the moment she even saw Priscilla glance at the nobleman.I should never have offered him even a moment’s attention.
“How was your evening, sweetheart?”
At first, Priscilla barely heard her father’s question. She was much too interested in her own thoughts, remembering how oddly familiar and comfortable it had been to sit beside the viscount upon the garden bench, to feel as though they were talking about everything and nothing all at once.
“Cilla? Did you have a good evening?” her aunt coaxed and Priscilla lifted her gaze, realising that the two of them were staring at her from where they were sitting on the carriage bench opposite. Priscilla had been so adamant in her thoughts of the viscount that she hadn’t even noticed the carriage door closing behind them or the way that it began to bounce as it moved away from the Marsham residence.
“It was fine.”
Those were the only words she could muster to describe the evening that she’d had. What else could she say? That she had spent most of her night avoiding everyone and finding herself oddly intrigued by the newcomer? Her aunt would have jumped at the chance to encourage her to see him again, to entice a courtship from him in the hopes that one day she would be a countess.
That might have been an interesting prospect for many of the young ladies in attendance that evening, but Priscilla had absolutely no intentions of ever being a duchess or even a viscountess, for that matter. She would be entirely happy to remain Miss Priscilla Lloyd for the rest of her life.
It was how she had felt ever since she was old enough to understand the rules and regulations of marriage. And yet somehow tonight her eyes had been opened to something new, something she had never even considered before, something she wasn’t even sure existed outside of any marriage if indeed it did exist within one: romance.
Just thinking of the word coming from the viscount’s lips made her tremble with anticipation.I wonder what he shall say when next we meet?
Alarm bells blared in her mind at that, the thought that she was even considering meeting the viscount again when she hadn’t even decided whether or not she would attend the next social occasion. It was simply not acceptable.
And so she forced all thoughts of it away entirely, deciding she was much too tired to go making any kinds of decisions, and it would be best to wait until the morning to decide what to do with all the feelings she had suffered that evening.
Chapter 4
For almost three days after the Marsham dinner, Lionel was required to make the appropriate calls to young ladies who had been forced upon him by their parents. And for three entire days Lionel felt as though he was in agony, forced to sit through dull and idle conversation, listening to ladies trying to offer him the world when really he wanted none of it. He was perfectly happy as he was.
But society would not accept that. So he did the bare minimum that was required of him in order to stop the gossip hens from clucking maliciously about him.
Worse still was the visit he received from his aunt and uncle, no doubt at the behest of his own parents in their absence. But from the moment that they arrived at Max's residence, Lionel was certain that their torture was as terrible as his mother and father's ever would have been were they not still in the countryside finishing up some of the estate's business.
"I am certain that after three days here in London you must have some idea as to who may have caught your eye," his aunt, his father's sister, the Countess of Silva said adamantly as she sat in the drawing room in an armchair opposite him. Looking as though he was only there in support of his wife, the Earl of Silva stood beside the roaring fireplace, seemingly admiring the trinkets that decorated the mantelpiece.
“I am quite certain, aunt, that three days is not nearly enough to have made such a decision,” he protested, gritting his teeth to stop from saying anything sharper. Though he had been expecting the visit since his arrival with his aunt and uncle living only a street away from Max, it did not make the truth of it any easier.
“I am not asking that you have made any decisions on which young lady you wish to marry,” Lady Silva said, scowling at him deeply. “Only that you might have an idea of whom you wish to court.”
