Still, there was nothing she could do about it.
Riding beside him this morning, she felt the weight of her deception acutely. She couldn’t tell him about Sky Manor, or the horse her brother kept for her there, or that she even had any brothers.
Priscilla could not have imagined how difficult this holiday was going to be.
Frustrated, she exhaled a heavy sigh.
“You are not enjoying the ride?” He glanced over again, this time cocking a brow. “We’ll ride along the cliffs tomorrow.”
It wasn’t that.
She ought to allow him to go on thinking she was pouting, but…
She shifted in the saddle.
She could not tell him that the cool, damp air reminded her of life before her own father had passed. Nor could she discuss her father in any way, a man who had died in the prime of his life, loved and respected by his family.
She’d been eleven.
Allison’s father, however, was still very much alive.
“Your sisters are delightful,” she said.
“They are on their best behavior.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t want to deceive you into thinking they are this pleasant all the time.” But he spoke lovingly.
She needed to turn the attention away from herself—away from Allison.
Allison. She might very well hate the name by the end of this visit.
She still felt a stinging at the recollection of Emerson saying Allison’s name while he was kissing her.
“Did your father come home to Cliffhouse often?” she asked.
General speculation was that the former Lord Hardwood had accrued extensive gambling debts before his death. He’d left his son no choice but to sell Longbow Castle.
Which, although thoughtless and despicable, did not preclude the fact that the man had been his father.
“He had not set foot here in over a decade.” Emerson’s tone was short.
She frowned, processing his statement.
Her brothers had been devastated at their father's passing—as had she.
“Do you and your mother and sisters spend much time in London, then?”
“Occasionally.” He showed no desire to pursue this conversation.
And yet, he’d piqued her curiosity. Priscilla reasoned that she wouldn't blunder again if they were discussing his family.
“How did he die?”
“Apoplexy.” The word came out short.
“You were estranged?” she guessed.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
