But when Lady Potford’s butler opened the door to their knock, he found himself stepping over the threshold.
And a little more than half an hour later, after taking coffee in the drawing room and making himself agreeable to Lady Potford, who was feeling rather down after having waved her houseguests on their way earlier, he found himself escorting Miss Thompson again on the short walk to the end of the street and around the corner onto Sydney Place and almost immediately around onto Sutton Street. The turn onto Daniel Street was not far away.
And so here he was, he thought as he stepped up to the school and rapped the knocker against the door, unable even to change his mind at the last moment and hurry away. Miss Thompson was standing solidly just behind him and would think it odd in the extreme if he suddenly bolted.
What the devil was she going tothink?Shebeing Susanna Osbourne, of course.
An elderly, pinch-faced porter opened the door and glared at Peter with unconcealed suspicion. His black coat, shiny with age, looked almost as elderly as he.
The dragon guarding the maidens, perhaps?
“Miss Thompson and Viscount Whitleaf to call upon Miss Martin,” he said.
The man looked beyond Peter’s shoulder, and his demeanor grew marginally less hostile.
“Miss Martin is expecting you, ma’am,” he said, ignoring Peter, “though she is in the middle of a class at the moment.”
“Do not disturb her, then,” Miss Thompson said. “I shall wait until she is free.”
Ah, reprieve! Peter thought. He had the perfect excuse for bowing her over the threshold and going on his way—I shall wait,she had said. Notwe.
Instead, he stood back to allow her to precede him inside and then stepped in after her.
If ever he came fully to understand himself, he thought ruefully, the world would surely stop spinning on its axis and then they wouldallbe in trouble.
He was standing in a dark, narrow hallway. Instantly he could hear the distant hum of girls’ voices chanting something in unison. He had stepped into the world of Susanna Osbourne, he realized, breathing in the mingled odors of furniture polish and ink and cabbage and an indefinable something that would have told him he was in a school even if he had not already known it.
16
Susanna was in the dining hall eating luncheon. The seat besideher at the head table—the teachers’ table—was empty. Claudia was probably eating in her office with Miss Thompson, who had apparently arrived to look over the school with a view to teaching here.
It would be good to have another resident teacher, Susanna thought, and one whom Claudia had instinctively liked at their first meeting.
Where was he now, she wondered, as she had wondered at frequent intervals all morning while she was teaching. How many miles from Bath? How many miles from wherever he was going?
She made an attempt to bring her attention back to the conversation of the other teachers.
But Mr. Keeble, whose boots were squeaking as they always seemed to have done ever since Susanna had known him as if he must have them specially made with just that quality, had entered the room and was making his way toward the head table. Susanna looked inquiringly at him.
“Miss Martin wishes to see you in her office as soon as you have finished eating, Miss Osbourne,” he said.
The dessert had not yet been served. But she did not need dessert. She did not seem to have much appetite today. She excused herself, got to her feet, and made her way to the office. Was Miss Thompson still here? she wondered.
Miss Thompson was. So—inexplicably—was Viscount Whitleaf. He was getting to his feet as Susanna opened the door, and he bowed to her as she stepped inside.
She felt suddenly robbed of breath—just as she had been yesterday when the sight of him in the Upper Assembly Rooms had been equally unexpected. But at least then she had had a few minutes in which to recover herself without having to feel that everyone’s eyes were upon her. Today all three occupants of the room were looking at her.
“Miss Thompson?” She smiled. “Viscount Whitleaf?”
What onearthwas he doing here? He was supposed to be miles away.
“Miss Osbourne,” Miss Thompson said, her eyes twinkling. “I might have guessed that a plain gray work dress would only make your hair appear even more vibrantly auburn. If I were ten years younger I would be mortally jealous of you.”
“Miss Thompson will be staying for the afternoon,” Claudia said. “Viscount Whitleaf is about to take his leave, but he wishes to call in on Lady Potford with a message. She has sent an invitation for me to join her and Miss Thompson at a concert in Bath Abbey tomorrow evening. I will be unable to attend, having promised to give three of the senior girls extra coaching for their history examination next week. However, Miss Thompson has suggested that perhaps you would like to go instead of me, Susanna.”
“I should be delighted if you will agree, Miss Osbourne,” Miss Thompson assured her. “And I am sure Lady Potford will be too.”
It was hard for Susanna to think straight with Viscount Whitleaf standing silently not six feet away. But the chance to attend an evening concert was certainly enticing. She very rarely attended any entertainment that was not directly related to the school. And the Abbey was such a beautiful church.
