Chloe met her gaze as though to remind one another that they had a task to accomplish, and then, with a nod, Priscilla called out, “Come in!”
Lady Isadora, however, had not come alone. Lord Hardwood stood beside her, wearing formal dinner wear, and as his gaze slid down her gown, his mouth turned up in a tentative smile.
Cursed butterflies!
“Once the two of you have become familiar with Cliffhouse, you’ll not require a guide to make your way about,” his sister explained. “But for now.” She shrugged. “You will have to put up with one of us. Is, er, that what you’re going to wear?” She gestured a hand toward the atrocity that was Priscilla’s gown.
“You look as beautiful as ever.” Lord Hardwood ignored his sister’s comment and stepped forward. A thrumming sounded in Priscilla’s ears as she stared up at him.
“Thank you, my lord.” The chamber had felt much larger without him in it.
His smile was generous. Genuine. “May I have the honor?”
Posing as Allison would be so much easier if she didn’t like him!
“Of course,” she said, tucking her hand into his arm while Isadora drew Chloe toward the door.
Isadora and Chloe’s skirts swished as they exited, but Priscilla’s escort was slow to follow. If she were to take a guess, she’d venture to imagine his sister was distracting Chloe from her duties as chaperone intentionally.
“The suite is magnificent.” Graciousness came naturally to Priscilla. She might be a teacher now, but she had been raised the daughter of an earl.
“The view is unrivaled,” he answered. “But I imagine you’re accustomed to opulence.”
Which brought to mind Mr. Meadowbrook’s London home.
Opulence was one word she might use in describing the modernized country mansion—garish was another.
The walls in Mr. Meadowbrook’s great hall, she remembered with a start, ironically matched her gown.
“I do appreciate modern conveniences,” she admitted while ignoring her impulse to ask about the history of this majestic manor. That was not something Allison would have found interesting. “Is there running water throughout?” she asked instead.
Chloe and Lady Isadora disappeared around a corner in the distance.
“Unfortunately, no.” He sounded thoughtful beside her. Was he thinking about the money again?
“Is that something you wish to use my father’s money on?” “Irritate him,” Chloe had advised.
He scowled.
“Or did you wish to spend it at the gambling tables?” she asked.
Annoy him. The sooner Priscilla convinced him she would be an intolerable wife, the sooner she and Chloe could leave.
And the thought ought to give her more relief than it did.
“Neither.” His voice sounded tight, which was good. It meant that she was succeeding. “You’ll have to trust that I have a worthy cause in mind.”
“Such as keeping up appearances in London?”
He patted her hand. “Is that the best you can do?”
“What do you mean?”
“You really are quite amusing.” And then he laughed. “But you’re going to have to do better than that.”
Courting Allison
“Did you leave little Fiddlesticks at the inn again?” Hunt changed the subject even as he wondered which version of Allison Meadowbrook was the real one.
