“As well as any man would be after nearly three weeks in that hell-hole.”
Warm hands squeezed Priscilla’s arms from behind. “He’ll come.” Olivia had been her confidante, her rock, through all of this.
Unlike her mother or her brothers, Olivia knew all of it. She knew about the terrace on the cliff, the afternoon in his study, that Priscilla had made love with Emerson, but most importantly, she knew that Priscilla loved him.
However, Olivia might have shared a few details with Gabriel, who had gone out of his way to help Priscilla atone for her betrayal.
There had been legal matters to deal with. Her dowry had been earmarked to be touched only in the event of her marriage. When she’d turned five and twenty, she’d never taken the steps to change that. So they’d had to meet with solicitors and then wait.
That first day Emerson had taken her riding, he’d confided that his father had been a violent person.
He’d failed to mention, however, that he had been a murderer—a foul, depraved man who took pleasure in hurting women, in watching them suffer. Reading between the lines of what her brother had learned, she’d felt her heart splinter a little more.
For that woman. That poor woman!
And for Emerson, who’d kept it to himself, protecting his mother and sisters, no doubt.
Furthermore, he’d been forced to pay for his father’s sins—literally. And Emerson would have come up with the money if not for her.
Once her funds became available, Priscilla had insisted on meeting with the Duke of Malum. Gabriel had forbidden it at first, but when she said she was going anyway, he’d conceded to taking her.
And although she’d ached to go to Newgate herself, Gabriel had convinced her otherwise.
The last time she’d seen Emerson, he’d stared at her with cold hatred—hatred she’d deserved.
“He isn’t coming,” she said again, and unable to stand there waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen, she strode toward the door. “I need some air.”
Fiddlesticks, who’d been curled up on the settee beside Olivia, lifted his head, ears perked.
“Come, Fiddle. Let’s go walking in the park.” Joyful to hear those words, her little pup jumped onto the floor and began running in tight circles, tongue hanging out.
Priscilla laughed. Yes, this was what she needed.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Olivia moved to join her, but Priscilla held a hand out.
“No, no.” Kingsley’s townhouse sat across the street from the long stretches of grass and trees. “If you don’t mind, I think I just want to be alone.” Her family could not have been any more wonderful about all of this. Not only had they not condemned her for what she’d done, but they’d done all in their power to help her make matters right.
And then supported her decision to leave England.
On her dresser sat a letter from one of her brother’s old friends, who happened to own Le Petite Chateau, a renowned cafe near the Palais Royal along the Boulevards. It was an invitation for her to work for one year as an apprentice, developing her knowledge of the Gastronomic Arts.
She’d yet to answer. It was a wonderful opportunity, but was it truly what she wanted?
Or was she running again, just as she’d done before when she’d entered teaching?
She fetched her coat and then pulled a large black ruffled hat over her head and wound a knitted scarf around and over the bottom half of her face. Both were required to shield her from the gossips.
Because, although the season hadn’t quite started up yet, many of London’s elites had arrived in town. Her family may have forgiven her, but society had not.
They would not.
So she was covered almost completely from head to toe when she and Fiddlesticks crossed the street and entered the park. The sun shone brightly, and Priscilla smiled despite herself as she watched Fiddlesticks’ bum wiggle excitedly.
He’d already located the ducks, of course. In the absence of ice, however, they were swimming.
Ever since Fiddlesticks’ near-drowning, Priscilla had been extra careful in tying off the leading string. It was a good thing, too, as there would be no handsome stranger to save the pup today.
She blinked back the burning in her eyes.
