Only a Fortnight
Priscilla wiggled her fingers to chase the tingling sensation away. She was better prepared to meet with the earl than she had been the day before.
This time, she was prepared for the effect his good looks and smile had on her.
He may very well have saved Fiddlesticks’ life, but he was also a man threatening to force marriage on one of her students.
She touched her hair to the single ringlet intentionally dangling along her face, wished for a moment that she was in the kitchen kneading bread, cutting vegetables, or anything else, and then, shoulders backed, pushed the door open and stepped into the parlor.
He slowly turned around from where he’d been staring out the window.
“My Lord.” Priscilla tamped down her heart, which lurched the second she met his gaze.
“Allison.” The earl cocked a brow.
She could not allow herself to call him Emerson—such familiarity would only lead to troublesome intimacy.
What would her own name sound like on his lips?
Dismissing the thought, she moved the door closed, careful to leave it open by an inch, as Primm had instructed.
And then she hesitated, forcing herself to recall all the reasons she was going through with this.
To protect the school that was Miss Primm’s lifeblood.
To protect Victoria’s reputation and standing.
To ensure their students not be forced into attending schools where they would receive inferior educations—educations that would stifle such an abundance of potential.
And, of course, her own job—a job she’d taken when she’d ruined other prospects. Was she to destroy this one as well? Would she disappoint her mother and brothers yet again?
She inhaled and twirled around to face him.
“I did not think it possible, but you look lovelier today than yesterday.”
His compliment gave her cause to lift the corner of her mouth but also her brows. She’d considered her appearance inordinately fussy, frilly, and outrageously lacy.
Lovely was not a word she would have chosen.
“Thank you,” she answered.
He tilted his head, looking thoughtful, and she realized she’d answered him in her regular voice.
He had noticed.
“I am nervous around you,” she offered in explanation, this time not bothering to slip into a higher register.
“You were not nervous at the park.”
“No,” Priscilla agreed. “I did not know you were the man who was willing to force me into marriage to get a hold of my father’s fortune.”
It was precisely what Lord Lockley had attempted to do six years ago, and she’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.
Only… Lord Hardwood seemed nothing like Lord Lockley.
Not that she could ever trust her judgment. And not that her judgment even mattered.
Because when all was said and done, her relationship with this gentleman had nothing to do with her.
