He dipped his head low in acknowledgment, showing none of the fear that many would in his position, but none of that galling bravado either.
Prudence’s eyes narrowed further. What was he about? Had he truly changed so very much? Had he matured into this man she saw before her or was this some sort of act?
Mistrust had her pinching her lips to keep from asking him outright, something she would certainly have done if her aunt were not here in the room with them.
His gaze flicked past Aunt Eleanor and clashed with hers, and that was when she saw it clear as day.
His mockery. His silent laughter at her expense.
Oh, nothing had changed in his outward demeanor, but she didn’t need it to. She knew. She could see right through this act of his and the fact that her great aunt was fooled—and she surely was because even now she was walking out of the room and leaving them alone together, telling the butler to leave the door open and stay close, but otherwise leaving them alone.
Together.
Something she could not name had her heart racing in her chest. Or maybe it wasn’t something but several things. She could not tell if what she was feeling was panic, fear, disgust, or anger.
She suspected it was all of the above.
His gaze held hers as her aunt threw out one last parting shot to Prudence about trying her best or not bothering to join her for supper.
Prudence flinched slightly but waited to breathe again until her aunt left the room and a sudden silence filled the air in her wake.
All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing in the muffled room with its thick carpeting and outdated, oversized furniture that used to make her feel like a human visiting a giant’s kingdom when she was a child.
She couldn’t recall ever seeing Damian in this room or in this house, despite their long acquaintance. Perhaps that was why she found it so unsettling. His presence here felt ominous...and that was before he opened his mouth.
“And so we meet again, Pru.”
She frowned. “It’s Miss Pottermouth.”
He arched a brow and….there he was. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. The transformation was remarkable. As if a curtain was drawn back, she found herself facing the boy who’d terrorized her youth with his merciless teasing and his awful pranks.
“I’ve called you Pru for years,” he said, his eyes dancing with mirth. “And now so formal?”
She pinched her lips together. He was baiting her. This time—for once—she wouldn’t fall for it. “We were children then. Times have changed.”
“Ah.” He clapped a hand over his heart. “And here I’d hoped you’d call me Damian once more and we could rekindle our childhood intimacy.”
She scowled. “We were never intimate.”
He gave his head a woeful shake. “And more’s the pity.”
She opened her mouth. She closed her mouth. “What are you on about?” Planting her hands on her hips, she eyed him as he’d been studying her. “And what is with this music tutor nonsense? Surely your uncle doesn’t approve—”
“I have my uncle’s full support,” he interrupted.
She narrowed her eyes. He seemed to be telling the truth.
But then again, unlike her, his guardian had always been kind and supportive. No doubt this was why he’d also been so disobedient as a child.
As though he could read her thoughts, his eyes narrowed and his lips twitched with a mocking smirk. “What’s wrong, Pru? Worried I’ll cause you trouble?”
“I would not put it past you.”
He laughed. “You can rest assured, my days of hijinx and pranks are well behind me.”
“I see. Now you merely act the part of the proper young gentleman while you weasel your way into the private rooms of the ton’s most eligible young ladies.”
His brows shot up in surprise and the flickering look in his eyes was a mix of irritation and admiration—which precisely summed up the way he’d always treated her. Even as a child he could not seem to determine whether she was a worthy adversary or merely a pest.
He recovered quickly, a sinister smile replacing his smirk as he strode toward her, not stopping until he was so close she could feel his heat. “Is that what worries you, Pru?” He glanced down, taking in her modest, perhaps slightly frumpy morning gown, and moving up to eye her tidy but practical hairstyle. “I assure you, you have nothing to fear on that front.”
She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes...but a dreadful heat rose up in her neck, no doubt leaving her decolletage a mottled, ugly sight as his meaning registered.
She had nothing to fear because she was not attractive enough to warrant his attentions.
Tilting her chin up higher, she sniffed. “Good. I’m glad we are clear.”
His dark eyes flashed, and for a moment she was nearly knocked sideways because something passed between them. An understanding, perhaps. The wicked banter and the unpleasant insinuations fell away and for a moment it was just Pru and Damian.
And in that moment, in his eyes, she caught something alarmingly like guilt. Maybe regret. There and gone so fast she nearly missed it.
“Are you ready then, Miss Pottermouth?” He said her name mockingly.
She wasn’t entirely sure what prompted her to do it, but she shot back with, “After you, Damian.”
His eyes flared wide with surprise and amusement before he led them toward the music room. For a moment, her dislike for Damian was forgotten. It was drowned out by dread.
That dread grew to panic as they entered the large, wood-paneled room with its oriental rug and the ferns that added little life to the stale, memory-filled room.
He turned as he reached the pianoforte. “Now then, Miss Pottermouth, where shall we beg—” He stopped abruptly as he faced her. “Pru?”
His brows drew down in an expression she’d never seen from him before—and she’d thought she’d catalogued his every smirk,
