The auction winner will receive a priceless gift in return. The item may be viewed at the Bartholomew residence.
Cormac read it again. “Unmarried gentlemen?” That, in itself, suggested that marriage was connected to this auction. Did it have something to do with Miss Bartholomew? He would ask her the next time they met. That is, if they had ever met the first time.
“Send a reply that I will attend.” If nothing else, he would be curious to see what it was.
He picked up his gloves and hat and prepared himself for yet another ball. Perhaps this time, he might meet someone who would consider his suit.
*
“This is afoolish idea.” Lucy sighed as the footman helped them from the carriage. “I don’t know why you think this so-called school could help you at all.”
Emma didn’t expect her stepmother to approve, but she was at the end of her options. If attending Mrs. Harding’s School for Young Ladies would grant her a month’s respite from Lucy’s plotting—and possibly an end to this ridiculous auction idea—she would do it.
She fervently wished her stepmother didn’t have to accompany her, but her father had insisted.
“Father already gave his permission,” Emma answered before she walked up seven steps to the townhouse and knocked.
“His permission isn’t going to—” Lucy’s words were cut off when a footman opened the door.
“I am Miss Emma Bartholomew, here to pay a call on Mrs. Harding,” Emma said. She kept her voice steady, revealing none of her nerves.
“She is expecting you,” the footman answered. “If you’ll just follow me.” His shoes clicked upon the smooth marble flooring, and Emma stepped inside to follow him. She counted twenty-four steps to the study, and as she stood at the doorway, she hesitated. Was she supposed to enter and wait? Or what was next?
Then the headmistress greeted them. “Good morning. I am Rachel Harding.”
“I am Lucille Bartholomew, and this is my stepdaughter Emma,” Lucy answered.
“Please, come in and sit down,” the matron invited them.
Emma took six steps forward and bumped into a chair before she managed to sit. She took a moment to steady herself, hiding her embarrassment at her clumsiness.
“I understand you are interested in becoming a pupil at my school,” Mrs. Harding said to her. The woman’s voice held an interesting blend of kindness and steel. Emma didn’t know what she’d expected, but Rachel Harding did not seem to be an effusive headmistress bent upon false compliments. There was a no-nonsense demeanor that reminded Emma of her school days.
She repressed a shudder and told herself that this would be different. Her lessons here would be about finding a husband, not reading or writing.
“Well, my stepdaughter is unlikely to be a pupil here for very long,” Lucy answered. “Emma has not had any offers of marriage in five Seasons. I don’t anticipate there’s any hope that she could learn anything at a school for young ladies—after all, she’s not young anymore. But this washeridea, and she talked her father into giving her a fortnight’s worth of lessons. After that—” Lucy laughed lightly. “Well, let us just say I have my doubts.”
Mrs. Harding didn’t seem to react to her stepmother’s words. Instead, she kept her voice kind and asked, “And what are your thoughts, Miss Bartholomew?”
“I—”
Lucy cut her off. “She’s terribly shy and clumsy. If you don’t wish to accept Emma as a student, I’m certain we could make other arrangements.”
Mrs. Harding stood for a moment and rang for a servant. “Would you care for some tea and refreshments, Mrs. Bartholomew?”
“Of course. I’d be delighted.”
“Excellent. My partner, Cedric Gregor, will escort you to the drawing room. Emma and I will join you there momentarily.”
“Oh, well I—” Before her stepmother could protest, the door opened wider, and a gentleman arrived. He wore all black, and Emma caught a different scent, almost like freshly cut wood.
“I would be delighted to escort you to enjoy tea, Mrs. Bartholomew,” he continued. His voice had a charming air with a warm friendliness. “And on the way, I should love to hear all about your stepdaughter and how we can help her.”
It was clear enough to Emma that they were removing Lucy from the room to talk to her in private. But it was done so smoothly, her stepmother could not argue without sounding belligerent.
“I will be there in a moment,” Emma promised.
But after Mr. Gregor took Lucy from the room, he closed the door behind him. Mrs. Harding held her silence for a moment, as if staring at her. Then she asked, “Is this what you want, Miss Bartholomew? Or are you being forced into this schooling?”
