A Stroll
Pricilla stretched her arms at the sound of the door opening. The mattress was divinely comfortable, but her sleep had been uneasy. Thoughts about Lord Hardwood had stolen into her dreams and then been crowded out by memories she’d preferred not to examine. Memories of when she’d thought herself in love—of when she’d trusted whole-heartedly—and then the aftermath. At nine and ten, her future had been filled with so much possibility, but she had, unfortunately, thought she knew better than everyone else.
Oh, how she’d paid for her overconfidence.
She rubbed her eyes and stuffed the memories down.
She needed to keep her mind in the present, keep focused on her mission.
“I hope I didn’t wake you.” The maid spoke from beside the bed in a hushed tone. “His lordship instructed me to bring up chocolate and biscuits. He also asked me to deliver this note and have your answer if possible.”
Guilt prompted her first thought. Had Lord Hardwood discovered their deception? Was he already prepared to order them off his property? Fully awake, Priscilla braced herself and opened the note.
Oh, but, no. That wasn’t it at all.
My Dear Miss Meadowbrook,
If you are awake and amenable, I’d be delighted to have the pleasure of your company for a walk along the cliffs this fine morning. Please give Maisy your answer and how long you require to ready yourself to join me.
Anxiously cooling my heels,
—Emerson
Priscilla shot a glance to where Chloe lay a few feet away. There was a trundle bed in the dressing room, but with this one being large enough to sleep ten full-grown adults, it would have been ridiculous not to share it.
And having spent over five years sleeping in the same quarters at Miss Primm’s, the room would seem too quiet without the even sound of Chloe’s snoring.
Glancing over at the maid, Priscilla held a finger to her lips. “Don’t wake Miss Fortune. And please tell his lordship that I’ll meet him downstairs in half an hour. No, make that twenty minutes.”
Later, Priscilla would chastise herself for being so biddable.
The trouble was, since the moment they’d arrived, she had longed to explore the various trails along the cliffs. Although the precipices weren’t as endless and steep as those at Sky Manor, Lord Hardwood’s estate reminded her of home.
Rather than take the time to unravel her braid, brush out her hair, and then twist it into a serviceable coiffure, she wound the long rope around her head like a coronet. And as she shuffled into one of her more serviceable gowns, she tamped down her excitement at the prospect of walking along the cliffs with him.
Emerson.
Although she mustn’t think of him so informally.
Wool stockings, half-boots, and the coat she’d been wearing the day of their first meeting, and she deemed herself prepared for a brisk walk by the sea.
Raised a lady, she’d been taught that gentlemen naturally expected ladies to keep them waiting—to exist in time constraints of their own making.
But once she’d begun teaching, she’d quickly disabused herself of such nonsense. And training up a new generation of independent women, she refused to abide by habitual tardiness.
Allison, ironically, was one of her worst offenders.
Only slightly out of breath, Priscilla stepped outside with a minute to spare.
The sharp air pressed into her face, but she hardly noticed when she caught sight of the gentleman deep in thought as he paced along the gravel drive.
Anxiously cooling his heels.
Keeping quiet, Priscilla took the opportunity to study him. Even though he had his chin down and was staring at the ground, his bearing exuded strength and pride. But also… worry? Had he feared that she would not come?
More likely, he was mulling over estate concerns.
He wore the same greatcoat he’d had on just before immersing himself in the lake to save Fiddlesticks, but his Hessians gleamed. He’d replaced those.
