propelled Lissa up the stairs, down the long hallway, and into her bedchamber.
"Really, Aunt Pru," complained Lissa as she was quickly and unceremoniously pulled into her aunt's room. "There is no need for such a cloak-and-dagger air."
"No?" asked Prudence, obviously disagreeing as she made certain no servants were afoot or lingering in the hall.
Lissa sighed, deciding to allow her aunt her head. She moved deeper into the room, scents of exotic oils filling her nostrils. Her aunt was a true world traveler and had become accustomed to exotic things. The potpourri of fragrances was dizzying—patchouli and bergamot, musk and champac, Roman chamomile, even Chinese neroli could be noted in the air. Her aunt loved oils and herbs perhaps more than she did the notion of her niece being married.
The far corner of the room harbored a large massage table, covered with clean, thick terry cloths, and a dainty satin pillow. The monstrosity was complemented by a sitting stool and a small sidetable, upon the latter of which was scattered numerous pots of fragrant oils from far-flung countries.
Prudence's massive dressing trunks claimed the other wall, while the bed itself (transported from Prudence's permanent home in Mayfair) was a huge creation of polished walnut, exquisite drapes, and numerous down-filled pillows. A rich, yellow silk counterpane reflected the morning's light coming through the high-curtained windows beyond the bed.
Though Prudence had announced she would stay with Lissa for a few weeks following the death of Albert (her brother and Lissa's father) Aunt Pru had somehow managed to become a permanent fixture at Clivedon Manor during their long period of official mourning. And then, with the advent of so many suitors from Town hoping to be the perfect parti for Lissa, and with Aunt Pru deciding she should play Cupid in the midst of all these gentlemen and her niece, the woman had extended her stay indefinitely.
Though Lissa adored her father's sister, she did not at all appreciate her aunt's single-mindedness in seeing her wed posthaste. But Aunt Prudence had been thrilled by the arrival of so many suitors, and had even gone so far as to create a list from which Lissa was to choose the most suitable admirer.
None of the names on Aunt Pru's list had moved Lissa, however, and now the two women seemed always to be at loggerheads.
The sound of the bedchamber door being closed and then locked caused Lissa to turn her attention toward her aunt. She felt like a fly caught in a spider's web; she being the fly and her aunt being the black spider come to wrap her tight!
Prudence was indeed a timeless being, thought Lissa as she watched her aunt move toward her. With her slim, but curvy form she looked no more than thirty-ish... and yet her eyes held the wisdom of a much older woman. She was stately and gorgeous, and she favored, in her own odd way, unconventional trappings, but surprisingly never appeared outmoded.
"Out with it, my sweet," Aunt Prudence announced, apropos of nothing.
"Excuse me?" said Lissa.
"Let us get right down to the matter at hand, my sweet. There is definitely something afoot, yet you seem bent on appearing as though you have no clue as to what that something could be. We'll start at the beginning, shall we? We'll start with you and what you have been about since—when was it you left your bed, Lis? At dawn? Ah, no, it was before then, if the servants can be trusted."
"I often head out in the wee hours of the morning, Aunt Pru. You know that."
"True enough," agreed her aunt. "But why is it today seems to be so odd? You stayed away an inordinate amount of time, Lis."
"I merely ventured out to sketch alongside the river and—" Lissa paused, noting her aunt's skeptical glance. "I did go out to sketch," she insisted.
"I've no doubt that was your initial intent. But then what, Lis?"
Lissa could not deliver an out-and-outer to her aunt. Though the woman was too set upon pushing her to the altar, she
"Really, Aunt Pru," complained Lissa as she was quickly and unceremoniously pulled into her aunt's room. "There is no need for such a cloak-and-dagger air."
"No?" asked Prudence, obviously disagreeing as she made certain no servants were afoot or lingering in the hall.
Lissa sighed, deciding to allow her aunt her head. She moved deeper into the room, scents of exotic oils filling her nostrils. Her aunt was a true world traveler and had become accustomed to exotic things. The potpourri of fragrances was dizzying—patchouli and bergamot, musk and champac, Roman chamomile, even Chinese neroli could be noted in the air. Her aunt loved oils and herbs perhaps more than she did the notion of her niece being married.
The far corner of the room harbored a large massage table, covered with clean, thick terry cloths, and a dainty satin pillow. The monstrosity was complemented by a sitting stool and a small sidetable, upon the latter of which was scattered numerous pots of fragrant oils from far-flung countries.
Prudence's massive dressing trunks claimed the other wall, while the bed itself (transported from Prudence's permanent home in Mayfair) was a huge creation of polished walnut, exquisite drapes, and numerous down-filled pillows. A rich, yellow silk counterpane reflected the morning's light coming through the high-curtained windows beyond the bed.
Though Prudence had announced she would stay with Lissa for a few weeks following the death of Albert (her brother and Lissa's father) Aunt Pru had somehow managed to become a permanent fixture at Clivedon Manor during their long period of official mourning. And then, with the advent of so many suitors from Town hoping to be the perfect parti for Lissa, and with Aunt Pru deciding she should play Cupid in the midst of all these gentlemen and her niece, the woman had extended her stay indefinitely.
Though Lissa adored her father's sister, she did not at all appreciate her aunt's single-mindedness in seeing her wed posthaste. But Aunt Prudence had been thrilled by the arrival of so many suitors, and had even gone so far as to create a list from which Lissa was to choose the most suitable admirer.
None of the names on Aunt Pru's list had moved Lissa, however, and now the two women seemed always to be at loggerheads.
The sound of the bedchamber door being closed and then locked caused Lissa to turn her attention toward her aunt. She felt like a fly caught in a spider's web; she being the fly and her aunt being the black spider come to wrap her tight!
Prudence was indeed a timeless being, thought Lissa as she watched her aunt move toward her. With her slim, but curvy form she looked no more than thirty-ish... and yet her eyes held the wisdom of a much older woman. She was stately and gorgeous, and she favored, in her own odd way, unconventional trappings, but surprisingly never appeared outmoded.
"Out with it, my sweet," Aunt Prudence announced, apropos of nothing.
"Excuse me?" said Lissa.
"Let us get right down to the matter at hand, my sweet. There is definitely something afoot, yet you seem bent on appearing as though you have no clue as to what that something could be. We'll start at the beginning, shall we? We'll start with you and what you have been about since—when was it you left your bed, Lis? At dawn? Ah, no, it was before then, if the servants can be trusted."
"I often head out in the wee hours of the morning, Aunt Pru. You know that."
"True enough," agreed her aunt. "But why is it today seems to be so odd? You stayed away an inordinate amount of time, Lis."
"I merely ventured out to sketch alongside the river and—" Lissa paused, noting her aunt's skeptical glance. "I did go out to sketch," she insisted.
"I've no doubt that was your initial intent. But then what, Lis?"
Lissa could not deliver an out-and-outer to her aunt. Though the woman was too set upon pushing her to the altar, she
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