Refreshing.
And if he’d taken the time to research the subject, that meant that he’d done so because of their conversation.
Because I told him it was my favorite.
“You don’t really want to discuss it.” She stared straight ahead, spying the distant line of the ocean where it cut the horizon.
“I really do/”
Priscilla recalled time spent with Lord Lockley—the only time she’d ever been courted. For what had felt like hours and hours, she’d forced herself to feign interest while the baron listed his achievements. The older gentleman had bored her to tears, and yet she’d been grateful for his attention.
“Baking and cooking,” she answered. “Although a lady’s priority must always be household management—budgeting, staffing, and event preparation...”
All skills she’d learned and mastered before she’d turned six and ten.
“So I was not imagining it,” he said, almost as though speaking to himself.
“Imagining what?”
“Cinnamon and vanilla. In the park, and then later at the school. I distinctly remember thinking that your perfume reminded me of my favorite biscuits.” His voice was matter-of-fact.
Something in her chest swelled. Such a casual comment ought not to send this warmth gushing through her.
Because he was doing what any man in his position would be foolish not to do. Compliment the lady he wished to marry—worm his way into her good graces.
“I cannot decide if you are naturally charming, or,” she sent him a skeptical glance, “so very desperate for my father’s money that you’ve carefully calculated your compliments.”
“Was that a compliment?” He turned to her with a laugh.
Priscilla dipped her chin into her scarf. “It felt like one,” she mumbled.
“I think—” He touched a fingertip to his lips. “If I were going to be truly calculating, I’d compare your eyes to the sea at midnight, your complexion to sweet cream, and the blush in your cheeks to a perfect rose just before it blossoms.”
Priscilla barely kept herself from stumbling.
Did he mean to use such poetic flattery on her, then, or was he merely explaining what he thought made for a better compliment?
“But no, being the romantic fellow that I am, I compared you to my favorite biscuit.”
Priscilla could do nothing to prevent the giggle that bubbled up from escaping as the breeze swirled her gown around her ankles. She felt light, buoyant almost.
She should not have come. She should return to the school this very morning.
Because he was not only handsome and kind and charming, but he also possessed a clever sense of humor.
The ground dipped, and Lord Hardwood reached out to draw her away from the direction she approached. “We don’t want that trail. It’s a little rough and winds all the way down to the beach. And once a lady makes the hike to the bottom, she’s no choice but to hike back up.”
“Is it dangerous?” Priscilla halted, staring longingly toward the descending path.
“Not if we’re careful.” He seemed to be studying her. “I’m willing if you are. We can either continue walking along the cliffs or test ourselves with the descent. And we don’t have to go all the way down to the beach. I’ll leave the decision up to you.”
“In that case, I’d like nothing more,” Priscilla answered instinctively.
“The hike back up isn’t easy. You’re certain you’re up to it?”
“Are you?” she teased.
“I best be. Who else will haul you out once you’ve admitted defeat?”
