“Cleaning one’s room or dressing oneself is only a fraction of the worries one of the lower class must endure. They must learn to protect themselves in ways those of us with means may not.”
She glanced up at the portrait. “Was it the death of your father that changed the way you see the world?”
Nicholas shook his head. “Not because of death exactly, but my father made a confession just before he died. I won’t get into the particulars of what he disclosed, but this scar is a reminder of what he told me.” He touched the still-puckered skin that no longer pained him physically.
“Why… how did he give you that scar?” Miss Dunston asked. The fear in her tone made him laugh aloud. He had heard the various rumors, but none were worth his time to dispel. He had far more important matters with which to deal. Let the scandalmongers believe whatever they wished.
“Forgive me for laughing,” he said. “Father had become so passionate with what he wanted to share with me, he cut me with his ring.”
Miss Clifton glanced at her chaperone. “So, it was… an accident?” she asked. “What wonderful news!” Before Nicholas could comment, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
The feel of her body pressed against his brought back sensations he believed long dormant. Her fragrance—lilacs with a hint of mint—was alluring, and he wanted to hold her forever.
Then prudence returned, and he pulled away.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Miss Clifton whispered. “I was so excited to learn the truth…”
“No need for apologies.” No amount of throat clearing could remove the huskiness from his voice.
“May I ask what he shared with you?” she asked. “And why have you shown me this?”
Both were valid questions, and Nicholas considered how to answer them. He had made the mistake of sharing his father’s confession with Lady Ayles, and that had now come back to haunt him. He knew little of Miss Clifton and, therefore, could not confide in her. Perhaps once they became better acquainted, but not just yet. Despite his attraction to her, he had to spare her the sadness he would see in her eyes upon learning his secret.
“You are like so many in this world who have been sheltered,” he said. “You believe the future will somehow be free of troubles. But I can assure you that everyone must face adversity in life. Once you leave your school, you’ll face a world that can be unforgiving. Therefore, I advise you, whatever you do, step lightly down the path laid before you.”
What he wanted to say was to beware of falling for the false charms of unscrupulous men as he had for a woman. Highwaymen and brigands, although terrible in their ways, were not the ones who will hurt you the most. That danger came from those closest to you.
He paused. What had brought on this need to protect her from any pain, either by his actions or those of others?
Miss Clifton frowned. “I think I understand.”
“I’m glad,” he replied. “As to my father’s confession, let’s just save that for another time.”
“I look forward to that day.” She glanced at her companion. “The hour is growing late, my lord. We really should return to the school before Mrs. Rutley sends out a rescue party.”
“Osborne,” Nicholas called to the butler who stood beside the front door, “have Tibbons ready the carriage. I’ll help the young ladies with their coats.”
“Yes, my lord,” the butler replied.
Once Miss Clifton and Miss Dunston had donned their pelisses, Nicholas said, “I’ll send a card to arrange a time to call on you again, Miss Clifton. If you would like that.”
“I would.” Her blush sent a tingle across his skin.
When the carriage was gone, Nicholas stood staring at the empty drive. He had agreed to Miss Clifton’s offer of friendship, but could he keep their relationship at that level? He could not deny the strong attraction they shared, yet he also could not risk hurting either of them. An outcome for which he would never forgive himself if it were to happen.
Chapter Ten
Jenny buttoned the final button on her pelisse, checked that the bow of her bonnet set just as she wanted, and nodded to Louisa. She had devised a plan to see Lord Dowding again, but she had to go into the village for one important item. Most of the students were at their lessons, so the school was relatively quiet. Except for a distinct voice coming from one of the rooms down the hallway.
Ruth was sitting on her bed, her legs crossed in a most unladylike manner, telling a story to Unity and Theodosia when Jenny and Louisa stopped at the open door to Ruth’s bedroom.
“And that is when the captain swore he would one day return for me,” Ruth was saying in grand conclusion.
Jenny rolled her eyes and stifled a giggle when Louisa did the same. Out of all the members of the Sisterhood, Ruth could tell the most outrageous stories. She placed a finger on her lips, and she and Louisa tiptoed away. If Ruth had seen them, she would have skirted her next lesson to join them, and Jenny refused to be a stone in her path of learning. Despite Ruth’s years at Mrs. Rutley’s School for Young Women, she still had much to learn.
At the top of the stairs, Louisa put an arm in front of Jenny. It was her turn to press a finger to her lips. At the front door, Mrs. Rutley and Mrs. Shepherd were speaking to two formidable men in long, black overcoats with bronze buttons down the front and quite official-looking.
Both were nearly the age of forty and held a rounded hat beneath their arms, but that was where the similarities ended. One had curly blond hair, combed forward in the latest fashion, was shorter than Mrs. Shepherd, and as thin as a fence post. In contrast, his companion was dark, tall, and round with a bushy mustache sitting like a fat caterpillar on his upper lip.