Searching for her.
I’m right here. Priscilla didn’t say the words aloud, but she might as well have.
His gaze found hers.
And, of course, neither of them looked away from the other. Tonight, the velvety green of his eyes reminded her of moss she’d found once, growing in the shade near the swift-moving spring that fed into the sea—soft and luxurious.
One of the other guests, an elderly gentleman, stepped up to Emerson, effectively ending the connection.
Six days. It would all be over in six days.
“You’re quiet this evening.” Isadora had joined her. “I am recovering from that dessert. Just when I think I’ve tasted everything good, Cook puts together something new to astonish me.”
“The berry pudding?” Priscilla turned. Cooking was one of the only things that could distract her.
“I recognized the strawberries and gooseberries, of course. A hint of vanilla and cinnamon, but I couldn’t identify that other flavor.”
“Elderflower.” Priscilla smiled. “It always reminds me of a ripe pear. I think she must have soaked them in wine.”
Isadora nodded but then turned curious green eyes on hers, not as dark as Evie’s but not as light as Emerson’s. “How do you know that?”
Priscilla caught herself and then answered as truthfully as possible. “When I’m at home, I enjoy spending time with our cook.” Unfortunately, her nagging guilt diluted any pleasure she’d take from discussing her passion. “She taught me a similar recipe.”
Isadora grew thoughtful. “I wonder if Cook would mind if I watched her some time.”
“Ask her to put you to work if you truly wish to learn.” Priscilla suddenly ached for the comfort of the kitchen. When she cooked, all that mattered were her ingredients, her technique, and the heat of the stove or oven.
That thought had her wondering how Victoria was faring. Left alone to fend for herself over the holidays, the former assistant director had only recently acquired the few skills required to fend for oneself domestically.
“But Cook uses meat from animals—dead ones!” Isadora grimaced, backing away from Priscilla in what was perhaps only half-feigned terror. “There would be blood and skin, and… surely you don’t mean me to help with that?”
Priscilla couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean help by washing and cutting vegetables,” she explained. Although any good cook eventually had to tackle raw meat.
“I’ll consider that.” Isadora tapped her chin, thinking.
“Consider what?” Emerson appeared, having escaped the gentleman who’d cut between them. He grinned over at his sister and then back to Priscilla.
And like a besotted fool, Priscilla found herself grinning right back at him. She was powerless against his charm.
It wasn’t even his charm, so much, as his...existence.
“Cutting vegetables,” Isadora answered. “Allison has suggested that I might learn to cook if I offer to help in the kitchen.”
“She has, eh?” Emerson answered his sister; however, his gaze slid toward Priscilla.
“I have.” Priscilla dipped her chin, doing her best to stay serious. Emerson winked and then turned back to his sister.
“When did you become interested in the domestic sciences?” Of course, he referenced the subject by its scientific name for her benefit. Moments like this, Priscilla believed he must be as aware of her as she was of him.
“I like eating,” Isadora said almost defiantly. “Why wouldn’t I want to know what goes into making my favorites?”
Unlike her three unruly but lovable brothers, Priscilla had noticed that Emerson never teased his sisters. Had he always treated his sisters with this level of sensitivity? Or was he making up for what their father had failed to provide?
“I think it’s an excellent idea.”
“Oh, but it is.” Priscilla found herself telling both of them about Victoria’s—nay, Miss Shipley’s—difficulties over the holidays. “Never having fended for herself, she learned what a disadvantage it was to lack such basic skills.” She went on to explain the importance of knowing how to cook, wash, and even care for the hearth. As she concluded her story, her gaze settled on Chloe, who was wincing.
Evie ended the piece she’d been playing, and in the silence, Priscilla’s story had captured the attention of a few guests standing nearby.
