Perhaps after rejecting him once and for all this afternoon, she and Chloe could make an early departure. Spending time with his family like this wasn’t fair to any of them.
Every time one of them referred to Emerson and her as husband and wife—as future parents—Priscilla’s resolve weakened. And that didn’t even make sense. It wasn’t as though she had a choice!
Chloe stared out the window. “I would like to get away.” She hugged her elbows, shivered, and glanced over her shoulder to stare back at Priscilla. Cliffhouse was forever going to remind both of them, no doubt, of this terrible lie. “I can’t help but worry about Victoria, Primm, and even Allison. Not to mention my students.”
Priscilla merely nodded in understanding.
This charade had gone on too long. She and Chloe ought never to have agreed to carry out the deception to begin with.
“Put it from your mind for a few hours,” Priscilla advised.
Chloe nodded. “Very well.” She smiled brightly—too brightly. “I’ll keep an eye out for any trinket that might help. Something to build up your spirit.”
As practical and stern as her friend could be, the philosophy and dance teacher had a weakness for the dark arts—for magic. She never discussed it with her students, to Priscilla’s knowledge, but had once read her and Addy’s palms.
It had been silly—for fun—but Chloe took it seriously.
“I’d appreciate that,” Priscilla said. And she did. She’d appreciate any help she could find.
Only after the door closed behind her friend did Priscilla release her breath.
“I’m going to need it,” she said aloud.
* * *
Priscilla waited until the last coach was out of sight before exiting her chamber.
Hunt had asked her to stay behind, but aside from that, he hadn’t told her where she could find him.
Dragging her fingertips along the corridor wall, she delayed their meeting. She would not walk in the direction of the master chamber. She was half-tempted to locate the secret door on her own and return to the terrace.
Finally, she decided to seek him out in his study. Wasn’t that where England’s aristocracy conducted all their important business?
And this business was important indeed, to both of them.
Two sharp knocks, and she was instantly rewarded for her decision. “Come in.” His familiar voice beckoned.
He’d already risen from his seat before she took a single step inside. He’d changed out of his riding clothes from earlier. When she’d returned to her chamber to change out of her flour-covered gown, she’d pulled open the drapes just in time to spy Emerson, the captain, and Viscount Bloodstone returning from a ride.
Together, they’d made a dashingly handsome trio, looking equally at ease and powerful as each of their mounts.
“You’re here.” Was that relief on his face? Priscilla’s heart sank. Disappointing him was going to be the most difficult thing she’d ever done.
It would likely haunt her until the end of time. She swallowed hard.
He had bathed, for his dark hair was slicked back, reminding her of when he’d walked out of the lake carrying Fiddlesticks, but his jacket and waistcoat were pressed, and his cravat had been tied into a perfect but simple knot.
As though he’d prepared for an important meeting.
With her.
“Allison,” he said.
Priscilla ought to be used to the name, yet she still barely managed to keep herself from cringing.
And then he caught her gaze and held it, both of them remembering. Her blood ran hot, and suddenly, she felt warm all over. She ached for his touch—everywhere.
What did this mean? This unspoken connection?
