Shadows

XIII

"A gentleman to see you, Miss Priscilla," Yates stated, appearing on the terrace. He held out a silver receiving tray containing a single white card.

Papa glared at me evenly as I lifted the calling card. I glanced at the name, and my heart quickened. Viscount Merriweather Barnchester, it read in beautiful script. I smiled gratefully, rose, and excused myself. Demurely, I entered the house and then ran toward the summer parlor, lifting my skirts above the ankles. Catching my breath, I stopped in the doorway and waited until my heartbeat slowed.

"I am quite pleased to see you this morning, milord," I gasped, bobbing a curtsey. He reached out his hands, and I took them. Bending swiftly, he kissed my hand.

"The pleasure is all mine," the tall, lean gentleman replied. He led me to the settee, and we sat side-by-side. "I thought I dreamed a vision of loveliness last night. I rushed over this morning to make sure you are real."

"I dreamed the same thing...well, almost," I giggled, blushing deeply. "I'm glad you're real."

As I settled against the settee, the door crept open, and Miss Young entered. Ann Marie followed, carrying the coffee tray, and placed it before us on the table. The governess sat and began to pour out. Chaperoned, I thought in dismay.

"It is kind of you to call this morning, milord," Miss Young stated, demurely offering Spencer a plate of shortbreads. "The wedding yesterday was lovely, and the reception went off without a hitch. Mr. Blanchard and I did not stay long for the festivities. We remained quite long enough to make an appearance. Miss Priscilla remained out far longer than her curfew."

My eyes shot daggers at the governess for insinuating my youth. I shrank back against the settee and sipped my coffee. She continued to prattle on while Spence nodded his acknowledgment of her themes. Finally, he rose and graciously took his leave.

"I am sorry, Priscilla," Claudia Young stated, setting down her coffee cup. "Your father insisted I accompany you. He thought you spent too long with that young man last evening. Etiquette does demand you have a chaperone when a gentleman calls upon you."

"Thank you for your attendance," I tersely remarked. Clipping my heels, I marched from the room.

My hasty footsteps returned me to the summerhouse. Leaning against the railing, I glared at the morning glories as they leaned toward the sunlight. I sighed, my mind returning to the previous night. The click of a heel on the steps brought me from my reverie. I turned, expecting Grayson.

"Alone at last," Spencer remarked, rushing toward me. "Surely your dragon won't follow us out here."

"I certainly hope not," I returned sharply. "I really am too old for a governess." I sighed. "In the fall, Grayson will go up to Oxford. Mr. Blanchard will leave us then. With luck, Miss Young will accompany him—they plan to marry someday. Ah, but I must have a London season, and the governess will transition into my companion."

"Perhaps we could dispense with the awkward season," my companion muttered, pressing my hand between his. "If all goes well this summer, we might make other plans."

Other plans! My heart leaped with joy, and then I came back to earth. I had only just become acquainted with Viscount Barnchester during the previous evening. Nevertheless, I felt immediately drawn toward him—as though we had known each other all our lives.

"My regiment bivouacs nearby," Spencer continued, his eyes focused on a distant point of the garden. "I plan to spend every moment of my free time here with you."

"Oh," I sighed, my heart beating rapidly.

"Shall we stroll?" He offered me his elbow.

"I'd rather stay here," I responded, sinking onto the bench. Visions of Miss Young hustling out to join us played in my mind if we exposed ourselves in the garden. "Tis quite cool in the summerhouse. Tis a hot summer this year."