Joan felt tears prick her eyes. She clutched the wrapped meat to her chest, overwhelmed by the generosity of the gesture.
“Percival is a bright and kind child,” she managed. “It’s my privilege to teach him.”
Timothy nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the emotion of the moment. He cleared his throat. “I spoke to a few families, showed them Percival’s progress. The physician is impressed, and the vicar is pleased with Imogen’s lessons. You should expect a few more students next week.”
“Truly?” Joan’s heart leaped with hope.
“Aye. Word is spreading that you’re the real thing that you actually know what you’re doing and care about the children.” Timothy smiled slightly. “Folks are starting to trust you, Miss Sinclair.”
“Thank you,” Joan whispered. “Thank you so much for believing in me.”
Timothy’s expression grew more serious. “How long is the Duke letting you use this hall?”
“I’m not certain,” Joan admitted. “We have an arrangement, but we haven’t discussed specific terms beyond the initial period.”
“You should think about finding a cheaper alternative,” Timothy said carefully. “Maybe a barn or a large room someone would rent for less. The Duke is… unpredictable. He could change his mind at any moment, and then where would you be?”
Joan felt a flash of defensiveness on behalf of the Duke, which surprised her. “He has been quite fair in our dealings thus far.”
“Maybe so.” Timothy shifted uncomfortably. “But you don’t know him like the village does. He’s been alone up in that estate for so long, cut off from everyone. It’s not natural.”
“Why do people think of him the way they do?” Joan asked, genuinely curious. “What has he done to earn such a fearsome reputation?”
Timothy sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “It’s not so much what he’s done as what he is. He lost his parents young, terrible tragedy. And before that, they’d lost a daughter. Just a baby, she was. Died in her crib.”
Joan’s heart clenched with sympathy.
“After his parents passed, the young Duke closed himself off,” Timothy continued. “The only person from the village who sees him regularly is that young lady—Lady Octavia, I believe her name is. People have been saying for years that they’re engaged, though there’s never been any formal announcement.”
Joan’s breath caught. Her hands tightened involuntarily on the wrapped meat.
“Engaged?” she heard herself ask, her voice sounding strange and distant.
“Well, rumored to be,” Timothy amended. “She visits him often enough. And she’s the sister of his closest friend, the Duke of Ravenvale. It would make sense for them to marry eventually.”
He looked at Joan with concern. “You’re one of the only people in town who’s actually met him and spent time with him, Miss Sinclair. Other than Miss St. Vincent, of course.”
Joan felt something cold and heavy settle in her stomach.Of course he’s engaged, she thought.Of course there’s someone else. He’s a duke—a handsome, wealthy, titled man. Why wouldn’t he have a beautiful young lady waiting?
Timothy reached out and patted Joan’s shoulder awkwardly. “I need to get back to the shop. But we’ll talk more about finding you a permanent location for the school, all right? Can’t have you dependent on the Duke’s uncertain charity.”
“Yes,” Joan managed. “Thank you, Mr. Andersen. For everything.”
She watched him walk away down the street.
Joan looked down at the meat in her hands, but she barely saw it. Her mind was full of images she couldn’t seem to banish, the Duke with his Miss St. Vincent.
It shouldn’t matter, she told herself.His personal life is none of my concern.
But unbidden, she remembered the feel of his hand beneath hers when she had reached across the desk in sympathy. The gentle way he had tended her injured wrist, his fingers careful despite his teasing. The way his voice had roughened when he’d accused her of flirting.
The way something in her chest had warmed at his touch. But he belonged to another woman and that knowledge made her heart ache.
CHAPTER TEN
“Stop that,” the Duke said quietly, his hand moving to intercept the cat.
The Duke sat in his chair behind the desk, Archimedes playing in his lap, and he barely acknowledged her arrival with a slight nod.
