Polly and the Prince by Carola Dunn

Author:Carola Dunn [Dunn, Carola]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1991-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

The dining table at Dean House could have accommodated twenty. Polly was used to dining with Lady Sylvia, just the two of them, but that evening after her brothers and Kolya had visited, the room seemed empty. She thought of Lady Sylvia sitting there alone, night after night, and her heart went out to the lonely young woman.

“I hope you did not mind Ned bringing Nick and Mr. Volkov to call,” she said, as a maid departed after replacing the remains of a roast chicken and peas with a bowl of gooseberry fool.

“Not at all. I was a little taken aback at first—you know I rarely receive visitors. I hope they did not think me rude?”

“Ned told me you were most obliging.” A gentle, pretty creature he had added, but Polly was not going to repeat that.

“Mr. Howard impressed me as a sensible gentleman, and...and remarkably agreeable. I have never met a gentleman before who treated me as a real person, not as a fool or as just one of his belongings, there for his convenience.”

“I know what you mean. Lord Fitzsimmons wants to marry me, but he sees me as a...a sort of amusing ornament. Not all men are like that, though.”

“No, some are much worse. I daresay you have wondered why I live so retired.” Lady Sylvia stirred her dish of pudding with a nervous gesture, then pushed it aside.

“You do not have to explain to me,” Polly assured her.

“I want to. You see, my experience of the world, and of men in particular, has not been happy. I was only seventeen when I married, and not by my choice.”

“Your family’s choice?”

“My father forced me to marry Lord Ellingham. He was forty, more than twice my age, and even I, though I led a sheltered life, knew of his reputation as a...a rake and a libertine, but he was excessively wealthy and Papa had debts.”

“And your mother?”

“She said it was my duty to the family.”

Polly thought of her own dear mama, who might worry and fuss but would never try to force her to do anything that would make her unhappy. She took Lady Sylvia’s trembling hand in hers.

“My brother wanted to go into the army, and my sisters wanted their Seasons in London. How could I stand in everyone’s way? But oh, Polly, you cannot imagine how dreadful it was.” Tears of remembered anguish trickled down her cheeks.

“Come into the drawing room, you cannot have a proper cry at table.” Polly put her arm about Lady Sylvia’s shoulders, helped her up, and steered her through to the next room.

They sat together on an elegant green brocade sofa, her ladyship sniffing into a tiny lace-edged handkerchief. Polly pulled a large, fortunately clean, paint rag from her pocket. “Here, take this. How long was it before the wicked ogre died?”

Lady Sylvia summoned up a tremulous smile. “He was killed in a duel three years after we were married, just after Winnie was born. Though he had sold all

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