Page 73 of Saving Miss Pratt
No, it wasn’t the party. It was Priscilla’s preoccupation with a particular male attendee. Try as she might to pay attention to Lord Nash as he relayed the details of her eventful ride on Rotten Row to Dr. Somersby, her attention kept drifting to the house where Timothy had gone with his sister.
Bands of worry tightened Priscilla’s chest over what Lady Montgomery was saying to her brother at that very moment. She pushed the thought from her mind, reminding herself that not everything was about her.
“You’re quite fortunate, Miss Pratt.”
What?
Dr. Somersby watched her expectantly.
“I beg your pardon?”
Dr. Somersby’s attention drifted to the entranceway where she had watched Timothy leave, then refocused back on her. The ghost of a dimple appeared on his cheek. “Your riding accident. It could have been much worse had Lord Nash not come to your rescue.”
“Oh, yes. I’m most grateful. He stated he learned many of the riding techniques from you.”
Dr. Somersby waved it off. “It was nothing, really. He’s a quick study.” His gaze shot to the entrance of the house once again. “What happened with the street urchin you brought into the clinic? Ashton said he escaped before Dr. Marbry finished treating him.”
Nash raised a questioning eyebrow. “You’re rescuing street rats?”
“I wouldn’t call it a rescue precisely. We had an . . . encounter in Hyde Park.”
The low chuckle emanating from Nash should have sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine. If the scandal sheets were to be believed—and she had come to doubt the dependability of such gossip—Nash’s rakish reputation had sent many an innocent young lady into swoons. Yet she remained unaffected. Strange.
“I hope you counted your coins after the . . . encounter.” Nash turned toward Dr. Somersby. “I thought that rag-tag bunch had been disbanded. Didn’t you take one of them into your care?”
Dr. Somersby nodded. “Pockets. Although my wife deserves the credit for that. But the boy has become an integral part of our family.” He paused briefly. “Miss Pratt, did the child give his name? If he’s part of the same gang, perhaps Pockets knows him.”
“Fingers,” she answered. “Although even he admitted it wasn’t his real name. There was something slightlyoffabout him.”
Dr. Somersby laughed, shaking his head. “When Eva was born, I teased Camilla that we should name her Waistcoat.”
Nash burst out in laughter. “I can imagine how that went over.”
“Not well, I assure you.”
Light sparkled in Dr. Somersby’s eyes when he spoke of his wife, and Priscilla’s heart lurched. Oh, how she longed to see a man direct that type of passion toward her. Although Nash—contrary to the tongue-wagging of society—had treated her kindly and respectfully, no such fire shone in his eyes when he gazed at her. Not even when he rescued her during the riding incident.
Determination, concern, yes.
Passion, no.
And if she were completely honest, such lack of interest on Nash’s part didn’t disappoint her.
No, the only man who had remotely exhibited such fire was also the only man from whom she desired it.
Timothy Marbry.
Speak of the devil, he strode from the house on his sister’s arm. Once again, his gaze locked with hers, but he jerked it away as if it pained him. As expected, Beatrix led him to a group where Lady Honoria now chatted with Lord and Lady Saxton.
As the men beside her chatted about horses, Priscilla studied the faces of Timothy’s parents. They seemed especially enamored with Lady Honoria. And why shouldn’t they? She was everything a man like Timothy Marbry would want in a wife. Wealthy, a well-bred daughter of an aristocrat, quiet, and unassuming.
Of those qualities, Priscilla only possessed two, and even the well-bred part had been under scrutiny thanks to her mother.
And although they’d both had the whiff of scandal dogging their heels, Lady Honoria had been the victim, not the perpetrator. People not only sympathized with victims, they typically forgave them.
Unlike herself.
Oh yes, everyone would cheer a union of Dr. Timothy Marbry and Lady Honoria Bell.