All of whom stared at her with startled expressions.
“When you go on like that, you sound more like a teacher than a student,” Eloise pointed out.
Priscilla didn’t speak, fearful she’d give more of herself away.
“You make an excellent case.” Isadora was either unaware of the tension in the room or had purposely chosen to ignore it. “Perhaps after you and Hardwood have married, I could learn how to cook from you.”
This wasn’t the first time one of the girls had alluded to why Priscilla and Chloe had been invited to the party, but it was the first time anyone had mentioned it publicly. Priscilla felt exposed—naked. All these people believed she was someone that she was not.
A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck.
Priscilla wished she could disappear into the floor. If she denied the assumption, she’d come across as coy. If she assented to it, her lies would compound upon one another.
And so she covered in the only way she knew how.
She laughed. “I can tell you some of what I know. But I’m no expert.” Even though she had no doubt sounded like one a few moments ago. And not only had she gone on in great detail, but she’d also done so with the fervor of a zealot.
Not what one would expect from the daughter of a wealthy industrialist.
Priscilla exhaled a shaky breath. Good lord, she’d been one beat away from explaining the importance of emptying chamber pots in a timely manner.
Lady Hardwood signaled to Evie, who struck up another song, and then Isadora excused herself, leaving Priscilla alone with Emerson.
“Nobody likes to hear those things, I know,” she explained. “But really, everyone ought to have an inkling as to how to look after themselves.”
“I don’t disagree.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed your mother.”
“It would take a hell of a lot more than that to embarrass her.” An edge of irony threaded his voice.
“Because of your father?”
“Yes.”
Rather than say more, Priscilla nodded. “You seem to be getting about easier.”
“Ah, so you have been watching me?” Teasing glimmered in his eyes.
“I… just—” He cocked a brow, and Priscilla clamped her mouth shut. The heat in her cheeks had undoubtedly given her away.
Because, of course, she had been watching him. Just as he’d been watching her.
“But I think I’ve turned a corner with it, so to speak.”
“I’m so glad,” she answered honestly. Emerson hadn’t minded her short sermon at all. Meeting his eyes, she felt as though she was precisely where she belonged.
“And as I’m on the mend, will you walk with me?” He glanced around, and for once, no one seemed overly interested in the two of them. “I have something for you.”
Priscilla shook her head. She did not want gifts from him.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sit?”
He leaned close and offered his arm. “If we go quietly, we might even be left alone.”
“Then by all means,” she answered, betraying the promise she’d made to herself.
She could not refuse.
