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He joined her outside during the girls’ free time to propose another modification to the curriculum. She found his interest in furthering his students’ skills and increasing their chances of success in the outside world admirable.

If all of this wasn’t enough to unsettle her, throughout the day there were numerous encounters in the hall between lessons. Granted, these were no more than fleeting smiles and nods of acknowledgment, but they affected her nevertheless. A smile from him made her pulse leap. The sound of his voice made her middle tighten.

Attraction really was a damned nuisance.

Determined to put some distance between them, she popped by his classroom just before the last class to inform him she had to attend to the new pupil and wouldn’t be available for tea that evening. If the dulling of his eyes over this news elicited a spark of joy in her secret heart, she chose to ignore it.

True to her word, she did check on Penny’s progress. The little girl was sitting in the window seat with a book when she entered.

“Do you know how to read?” Jacqueline asked, surprised.

“No, miss—I mean Headmistress.” She held out the book and pointed to a line drawing of an angel sheltering a child beneath its wing. “But the pictures is nice.”

“The pictures are nice.”

Ducking her head, the girl repeated the phrase correctly.

“I’m glad you like the book.” Jacqueline came and sat beside her. “Once you learn how to read, you’ll like it even more. We have a whole room full of them here.”

“Mrs. Sloane showed me.”

She could tell the girl wanted to say something more. “I imagine it’s all a bit overwhelming, this place. So many rooms and so many new faces.”

“I miss me mum.”

Jacqueline’s chest ached. “I miss mine, too.” She didn’t bother correcting the girl’s grammar again; she’d pick up proper speech soon enough.

The child’s brows rose. “But you’re grown. Grown folk don’t need parents no more.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. Jacqueline missed Maman daily. Before grief had robbed her of her mother, they’d been very close—another likely reason why Hélène had chosen to cut her out of her life. She’d always been jealous. I doubt she would envy me now. She shook off the melancholy thought. “Nevertheless, I still miss her company.”

Tears welled in the little girl’s eyes. “I miss mine. Will I ever see her again?”

“An association now would endanger her position,” Jacqueline reminded her. “But when you are older, and after you’ve made your place in the world, I don’t see why not.”

Penny’s face filled with determination. “I’ll get the best job an’ save all o’ me coin until I’ve enough to buy a house where we can be together again. We’ll go where nobody knows us, an’ she’ll never have to work again. I’ll take care o’ her, just like she took care o’ me.”

“An excellent goal,” Jacqueline responded with an approving nod. “I shall help you attain it.” She looked about the room. Everything was neat, not an item out of place. “Have you not played with any of the toys?”

The girl looked down. “I was afraid—they belong to someone else.”

“They belon

g to the school. You may play with anything you like in here. In fact, you may choose one item from this room to take with you as your own when you move into your permanent quarters in a few days.”

A frown puckered the child’s brow. “For me own?”

“For your very own. Is there anything in here you like especially?”

At once, Penny’s longing gaze flew to the small rocking chair in the corner. “I think she’s beautiful.”

Rising, Jacqueline went over and picked up the large, hand-sewn doll perched on the chair. Her brown yarn hair had been arranged in two long braids framing a face embroidered with a sweet expression. She shook the wrinkles out of the blue-checked dress and straightened the lace collar. “I think so, too. What will you name her?”

“Has she not got a name already?”

“Oh, no, not yet. Like you, she’s new here. In fact, you are her first friend.” Smiling, Jacqueline proffered the toy to the round-eyed child. “I think she likes you quite a lot.”

Penny’s small hands trembled a little as she reached out reverently. “I like her a lot, too.” A tiny crease of doubt appeared between her brows. “An’ she’s really mine?”


Tags: Liana Lefey Once Wicked Romance