For a moment, Priscilla’s eyes shot up. “But she would have learned I was a teacher then.”
Chloe waved a hand through the air dismissively. “But it would have been after the fact. It would hardly signify.”
But Priscilla wasn’t so sure of that. “Perhaps it’s better they hate us now.” And no doubt they did—his sisters. The servants. The other guests and everyone else they’d lied to.
And Cook! The pain sharpened.
“It was rotten of us,” Chloe said. “But we did it for a higher purpose.”
“Remind me of that again?” Priscilla was finding it difficult to justify their actions in light of today’s events.
Of being discovered.
She couldn’t dwell on the intimacies she’d shared with Emerson today. She couldn’t allow herself to think about her heart and how it would never be whole again.
She’d have plenty of time to lick her wounds—at Sky Manor, or perhaps her brother would send her to one of his distant estates.
She certainly couldn’t continue teaching at Primm’s.
“Everyone is going to learn of what I’ve done.” Numbness was setting in, and it sounded in her voice. She’d be in the center of another scandal. But whereas seeing her name in the papers the first time had seemed like the very worst punishment, she knew better now.
“What we’ve done,” Chloe argued.
“No, Chloe. If our deception is made public… when it’s made public, gossips are going to have a field day with it.”
There would be no forgiveness for Priscilla this time. In fact, it might give those who’d forgiven her the first time reason to take it back.
“They might not,” Chloe offered.
But Priscilla knew the aristocracy much better than Chloe, whose parents had been members of the demimonde.
“Perhaps not Lady Hardwood, or Emer—or Lord Hardwood. They’ll want to keep it quiet. But it would be foolish to imagine the guests aren’t going to talk. I’d wager at least a dozen letters are being penned as we speak.” The gossip was too good not to share.
Priscilla had an inkling about how Victoria must have felt when she and Allison had barged into Primm’s bedchamber that fateful morning. The two of them had been helpless to shove something back into the box after it had been exposed.
But they had found a remedy. If Allison hadn’t spoken up already, surely that threat, at least, was losing its power.
Victoria was a married woman now—a countess.
Priscilla was going to have to weather this alone. Oh, not completely alone. She had her brothers and Olivia—and even her mother—but that wasn’t the same. And even they might not be willing to forgive her this time.
Both she and Chloe were so lost in the despair of what they’d done that the knock on the door made them gasp.
“I’ve tea,” called Gretchen, the chambermaid who’d tended them since their first day at Hardwood Cliffhouse.
Priscilla slid the locks open, but when she went to welcome the maid who’d been so friendly since their arrival, the woman refused to meet her gaze. Her mouth pinched, she marched inside and set the tray on the table. “This includes your evening meals as you won’t be expected to join the others for dinner this evening. The countess will meet with you later.” Gretchen did little to hide her animosity.
No one liked being lied to.
Another wave of shame swept through Priscilla. “Thank you,” she managed.
With a nod, Gretchen swept out of the room, closing the door loudly behind her.
“The cat’s already out of the bag, isn’t it?” Chloe said.
“Yes,” Priscilla answered. “I’m afraid so.”
* * *
