Lucky for Priscilla, the young woman, whose frizzy brown hair couldn’t entirely be contained by her mob cap, lacked the time or inclination to argue with one of her employer’s guests.
She capitulated with a weary sigh. “Keep going straightaways, and you’ll find the master chamber behind the second door on the left.”
“Thank you.”
The woman dipped into a hurried curtsey and went along her way.
Priscilla’s mission would quite possibly be in vain. But even if Mr. Evans stopped her at the door, she could at least learn more specific details as to Emerson’s condition.
Because although her unease didn’t make all that much sense, she’d not have a moment’s peace until she knew—without a doubt—that it was only a sprain.
Straightening her back and doing her best to appear purposeful, Priscilla marched in the direction the maid had pointed out. When she arrived at the designated room, she glanced around to ensure she was alone and then pressed her ear to the door.
No footsteps or voices. No rumbling or sounds of movement.
Silence.
Was he alone inside? When her knock wasn’t answered, she turned the handle and pushed inward.
She would steal a single glimpse to ensure herself that he was alive and well and then leave.
If only the curtains had been left open, her task would have been considerably more straightforward. As it was, she could barely make out the furniture in the room.
Stepping carefully to avoid knocking into anything, she tiptoed inside and across to the bed. It was empty!
Had she entered the wrong room by mistake?
A movement sounded from near the hearth. “Either you’ve come because you miss me dreadfully.” Lord Hardwood met her gaze from where he sat on a small sofa. “Or you’ve come to kill me off, which, I’ll admit, would be a most effective means to avoid marrying me. But, to be honest, I’d far prefer to believe affection provoked your visit rather than the latter.”
“Murder?” Her eyes flew wide, and she stumbled guiltily at having been caught sneaking into his bedchamber. “I would never!” Her hands fluttered in the air in front of her.
“Ah, then it’s true, you missed me,” Hunt said. In all truth, he was happy for her company. His valet, his mother, the doctor, as well as Damien and Edgeworth, believed him to be sleeping—knocked unconscious for the remainder of the day by the massive dose of laudanum his mother’s physician had prescribed.
Evans had closed all the curtains, snuffed out the lights, and left Hunt with only himself for entertainment.
After taking a few sips of the draught, he left most of it untouched.
“I have not come to murder you.” She approached, and Hunt could tell she’d gathered some of her composure. She’d changed into a different gown since they’d gone out that morning—this one made up of pastels and absurd expanses of lace that didn’t quite match her posture and voice. “I needed to see with my own eyes that you weren’t… that you were going to be all right.”
“Because you’ve decided you want me for a husband after all?”
“Because I refuse to have another death on my conscience.” But then she clamped her lips closed.
“Another?” Was she teasing? “You don’t expect such a statement as that to go unquestioned, now, do you?” he teased back.
“I’m only joking.” She lifted the corners of her mouth but didn’t quite meet his eyes.
And yet she’d risked entering his chamber alone when every time they’d talked—every time since their initial meeting, that was—she’d persisted in her refusal to marry him.
She leaned forward to get a better look at his foot, which he had propped on a pile of pillows stacked on the ottoman.
“You aren’t still blaming yourself, are you?” he asked.
When she simply stared back, looking guilty, Hunt gestured to the space beside him. “Sit with me? I’m about to go mad with boredom.”
Her hesitance showed that although she’d been so bold as to enter a gentleman’s chamber—uninvited, no less, and alone—she wasn’t completely unaware of the consequences that could result if she was discovered.
“No one will know,” he promised solemnly. He could essentially solve all his problems if he chose to use such circumstances against her.
