Emerson didn’t comment. Because he already knew she hadn’t been a virgin when they’d been together.
“But I changed my mind, and he didn’t take that too well. When I refused to go with him, he… didn’t accept my answer. He forced me into his carriage, and when my absence was discovered, my brother and his friend came after us. Gabriel got a bullet in his leg, and Lockley got one in the heart. Because of me.”
“Lockley,” Hunt exhaled. “He was quite a lot older than you.”
“He was,” Priscilla confirmed. “Of course, I was ruined. I never imagined myself a teacher, but it was that or do nothing for the rest of my life. Miss Primm offered me a second chance.”
“Your loyalty to her is commendable. I take it all is well at the school then?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” She glanced over at him. “I never expected to have this conversation with you.”
He sent her a glimmer of a smile, and a sense of peace swept over her. He’d allowed her to unburden her conscience.
Of everything.
The breeze swirled through the trees, and sunlight danced on the leaves. How long had they been walking?
“Lady Priscilla Charlotte Fellowes.”
He spoke her name as though testing it on his lips. When she glanced over at him, she studied the curve of his mouth, the high ridge of his cheekbones, and his ridiculously thick lashes.
“Yes.”
“Priscilla,” he said again. And somehow, she knew… it meant forgiveness.
She allowed him to lead her into the forested path—thick and winding. She followed without question when he turned them onto a narrower path. Fiddlesticks, who’d been extraordinarily patient, waddled along happily, tail wagging, only stopping for the occasional interesting scent.
Away from curious eyes, Hunt relieved Pricilla of the leading string and looped it onto one of the trees.
With Fiddlesticks secured, he turned back to her but still didn’t sweep her into his arms.
Instead, he moved closer and then gently cradled her face in his hands. “I fell in love with you.”
She blinked. Fell? As in past tense?
“I meant it,” she breathed. It had not been a fleeting emotion. Because she’d known him.
“I did too,” he said. “When I loved you.”
When he made love to me.
And then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her like a man who’d escaped the gallows. Priscilla soothed her hands through his hair, meeting his longing with her own. Their mouths slid, bumped, and searched. Their teeth scraped. Her head was spinning, and her knees went weak.
When she’d kissed him before, she’d wanted him; she’d needed him. But the guilt of her betrayal had tainted it.
And now.
She was free.
Fiddlesticks, however, declared her impatience with a sharp bark.
Emerson released her mouth, breathing as hard as she was.
“I do love you,” he said. “I think I fell for you the first time I laid eyes on you.” His hands slid down her arms, grasping her hands as he dropped to one knee. “Priscilla Charlotte Fellowes. Will you put me out of my misery and be my wife?”
“Not because you have to,” Priscilla said.
He tilted his head. “No. Because I want to spend my life with you.”
