“Let me help.” Then, carefully, so as not to dislodge his foot again in a painful way, she lowered herself onto the floor and gathered the small pillows scattered around the ottoman.
He allowed her to stack them and prop his foot in the center, all the while watching her.
When she was finished, he dropped his gaze meaningfully. “You might want to, er…”
Priscilla glanced down.
Her bosom was still mostly bare. One wrong move and—
Heat flooding her neck, she fell back onto her heels and adjusted herself. In doing so, of course, she once again toppled the stack of pillows, and if not for his agility, his foot would have landed hard on the floor a second time.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, adjusting the stays beneath her bodice.
Rather than complain, however, he was laughing. “Ah, Allison. That is one thing you need never apologize for.”
“I wasn’t apologizing for that.” Priscilla hated being called Allison, which made no sense. Allison was the reason she was here.
With her clothing righted, she edged backward.
“I’ll just, er, leave you be then.”
In rising to her feet, she caught sight of the book sitting on the table beside him—The Nuances and Efficiencies of Proper Domestic Management.
The trouble with all of this was that in thinking he was courting Allison, Lord Hardwood was, in fact, courting her—most effectively.
And it was all terribly confusing!
“I should go,” she said.
“I suppose that would be best.” And yet he sounded regretful.
However, he didn’t realize that she didn’t mean she should leave his chamber. No, she needed to go away!
She needed to go back to the school before she caused any more harm to either of them.
“Why on earth would you go to his chamber?” Chloe twisted around from where she sat at the vanity.
What with the house bursting full of all manner of aristocrats and Lady Hardwood insisting Priscilla participate in every game and activity to feel at home with the younger guests, this was the first opportunity Priscilla had had to speak with her friend alone.
“I had to make sure that… well… that he was going to recover properly.” Priscilla ducked her chin as she removed the pins holding up Chloe’s dark, thick, and heavy hair.
“Because of what happened to your brother?”
“And Lord Lockley,” Priscilla agreed.
“I’m never going to understand you, Prissy.” Chloe met her stare in the mirror. “A scoundrel kidnaps you, then your brother and the Duke of Crawford take chase. Then, Lockley shoots your brother and is killed for it—by a duke, no less! And yet you consider yourself to blame? You were merely a pawn in all of it.”
“Gabriel nearly lost his leg. And he could have died.” Priscilla would never forget the harrowing drive back to Sky Manor, her brother’s head resting in her lap as the driver pushed the horses to get them home as quickly as possible.
She’d been sure her brother was going to die in her arms. Because I ignored his advice about Lockley. I ignored rules that had been drilled into me all my life.
Because I foolishly believed that the older sophisticated baron loved me—even worse, I lacked any sort of discipline when it came to… allowing him certain liberties.
“Lord Lockley simply got what he deserved,” Chloe said.
Priscilla had led Lockely to believe she would be willing—up to that last morning. But, of course, no one knew all of it. Not her mother, Victoria, nor even Olivia knew the truth.
And because it was too humiliating, no one ever would. She’d thought it would be romantic, and instead, it had been painful, awkward, and…humiliating. Priscilla pinched her eyes closed. She hated thinking about it.
