His words summoned a not unappealing image of him carrying her in his arms like a romantic hero from one of the books Miss Addy preferred. And at the thought of Addy, Priscilla’s mind jumped to Chloe. Priscilla couldn’t help feeling the pinch of guilt that she’d abandoned her friend without so much as a word.
But there was no reason to feel guilty. It wasn’t as though he’d ever have cause to carry her up from the beach. The problem with reading such nonsense was that those stories planted unrealistic ideas into a young woman’s head. They raised impossible hopes of heroes and happily-ever-afters…
Priscilla lifted her chin. She knew better than to imagine either existed for her.
“No need to concern yourself that you’ll have to do anything of the sort,” Priscilla asserted.
She would make her own way down the trail and then back up on her own two feet. She was fit and strong. It wasn’t as though she spent her days at the school lazing around reading and knitting.
She was an independent woman who, although she’d made mistakes in the past, was quite capable in her chosen career.
Lord Hardwood turned and, before they set out, waved over one of the estate workers they’d passed a moment before.
“Yes, m’lord?” The young man rushed over and removed his cap.
“My apologies for interrupting your work, Geoffrey, but would you be so good as to inform Carruthers that Miss Meadowbrook and I won’t be returning until later this morning. I’d hate for them to think we’ve gone missing and send out a search party.”
“Of course, m’lord.” The fellow dipped his chin but then caught himself. “Have a care around the middle turnarounds. That storm last week took out quite a lot of sand.”
“Will do.”
And with a guiding touch to her elbow, Hardwood turned her, and they embarked toward the path together. The simple adventure lifted her heart unexpectedly. The wind, which was damp and cold but not as brisk as the air farther inland, reminded her of home.
Sky Manor.
Rather than spend the holidays there with her mother and brothers and Olivia, she’d accompanied Allison to London—and then just as quickly returned to the school.
The past Christmas had been nothing like those she’d typically spent with her family.
She didn’t realize she’d exhaled a heavy sigh until he nudged her, his head tilted. “Have you changed your mind?”
“Oh, no, I was just thinking of how quickly Christmas came and went.” It was as close to the truth as she dared.
“My fault, I’m afraid.”
She frowned in confusion.
“Your father told me you left when you learned I was to be a guest.”
How could she have forgotten?
“What else did my father tell you?” Had he told the earl about Allison’s infatuation with the footman?
“Just that you were skittish. And that it was up to me to convince you that a marriage between you and I was in your best interest.”
She heartily wished, not for the first time, that she’d never heard of the blasted Meadowbrooks. And yet… if that were the case, she wouldn’t be here today. She would never have met him.
And rather than walking beside him this morning, she would be having tea in her classroom, preparing lessons for her classes that day.
“I’m not skittish,” she corrected him. “I am determined.” The path narrowed, and she moved to walk in front of him. She didn’t want to discuss Allison, Mr. Meadowbrook, or that blasted betrothal.
“I would suggest that I go on ahead of you,” he said from behind her. “In case you slip or lose your footing.” He was directly behind her now. “However, I have a powerful inkling you would consider my suggestion an insult to your abilities.”
She was happy about the change of subject.
“Which would you prefer?” She smiled over her shoulder and then quickly turned back so she could carefully pick her way down a few rocky steps. “That I simper and fawn at your courage, or that I better my skills, improve my physical condition, and consequently experience the satisfaction of my accomplishment?”
He waited a moment before answering. “The latter,” he said, and Priscilla sensed his scowl. “I think.”
