For a moment, Nicholas closed his fist in anger. He, an earl, was pushed out the door to make way for a common headmistress? And why did she receive a superior welcoming to that which Nicholas had been given? All Mr. Bromley had offered was his oily grin.
With a sigh, Nicholas opened the carriage door. “Take me to the school.”
Tibbons bowed and closed the door. Soon, the carriage was trundling down the street toward Courtly Manor.
Two girls were standing on the portico as the carriage approached the house. They put their heads together and began whispering between themselves as they looked upon him with suspicion.
Nicholas lifted a hand in a polite greeting, which made them lift their skirts and hurry inside the house. He sighed. Perhaps it would be best if he returned home. Or at least wait for Mrs. Rutley to return before knocking. Yet surely someone else was in charge in her absence?
Nicholas took out a gold pocket watch. How long would the headmistress be gone? Perhaps his time would be better spent simply requesting to speak to Miss Clifton now rather than later.
Indecisiveness had always annoyed him. Yet here he was, unable to decide if he should leave and return later or knock on the door and see what happened. And the two girls who had run inside surely had warned someone of his arrival.
You’re already here, Dowding.
He knew full well that he was struggling from more than mere uncertainty—he was putting off the inevitable. If he did not approach Miss Clifton now, the odds of him returning were like betting on a lame horse.
With a sigh, he walked up to the portico and rang the bell. The door opened to a young woman with bright red hair and a green day dress that matched her eyes.
“Yes?” the woman asked.
“Good afternoon. I’m Lord Dowding. I understand that Mrs. Rutley is not here, but I was hoping to speak to another person of authority.”
The redhead narrowed her eyes for a swift moment before they brightened, and she curtsied. “I’m Miss Ruth Lockhart, one of the school’s instructors. Will that be adult enough for you, my lord?”
Nicholas looked the girl over. She appeared to be of the same age as Miss Clifton, but what did he know about those employed by a girls’ school? Women’s education consisted of painting, poise, and how to serve tea. How much experience would an instructor need to obtain such a position?
“I was hoping to speak to Miss Clifton,” Nicholas said. “I understand that my sudden appearance is unusual—”
“We live in unusual times, do we not, my lord?” Miss Lockhart said with a small smile. “Nevertheless, I shall find Miss Clifton. Allow me to escort you to the drawing room.”
Nicholas gave a polite nod, but then he glanced up at the top of the main staircase. Three girls, all no older than fourteen, whispered amongst themselves.
“Ignore them, my lord,” she said, frowning. “They’re just nosy children who have yet to learn how to conduct themselves properly. Follow me.”
The school’s drawing room was tastefully decorated in blue and white. A set of couches and matching chairs was covered in blue-and-white striped fabric. Another was white with blue flowers. Dark blue drapes flanked great windows and overlooked a garden that he assumed would offer a magnificent view in the summer when the flowers were in full bloom.
“I’ll go for Miss Clifton, my lord,” Miss Lockhart said. “You should not have to wait long, I’m sure.” She curtsied and hurried from the room.
Walking over to one of the windows, Nicholas stared out over the garden as he waited for the arrival of Miss Clifton. He prayed that his first impression of her had been correct—a young girl enamored enough with him to follow through with the promise she had made. If she agreed to this farce, he would finally finish what he had started five years earlier, leaving them both to move on with their lives.
She did owe him a favor, after all.
Yet guilt tugged at him.
Is that truly who you are?he thought with disgust.
He was in the business of ruining men who deserved their fall from their self-made pedestals, not playing with a young woman’s feelings or using them against her.
Perhaps it was best if he left before she arrived. Yet he paused. At the very least, he could grant himself one last opportunity to gaze upon her beauty.
Surely, no harm would come from that?
* * *
The sound of slippered feet coming up the stairs came to Jenny’s ears. The new term had begun the previous month, just after Twelfth Night, and new faces had replaced those of the students who had not returned. As it was Saturday, they had no lessons, allowing them time to walk the grounds, engage in their favorite pastimes, or visit the village if they so chose—the last if they had a companion willing to accompany them.
Or they could trample the stairs. It seemed Mrs. Gouldsmith had her work cut out for her in this younger group of students. Surely, Jenny—or any of her friends—would never have sounded like a herd of elephants!