“All three,” she said as he closed the door and she led the way to the assembly hall. It had been a ballroom once when the building was a private home.
“It is a pleasingly designed room,” he said, standing in the middle of the gleaming wood floor and turning all about before looking up at the high, coved ceiling. “Indeed, I like the whole school, Miss Martin. There are windows and light everywhere and a pleasant atmosphere. Thank you for giving me a guided tour.”
He turned his most charming smile on her, and Claudia, still holding both his visiting card and Susanna’s letter, clasped her free hand about her wrist and looked back with deliberate severity.
“I am delighted you approve,” she said.
His smile was arrested for a moment until he chuckled softly.
“I do beg your pardon,” he said. “I have taken enough of your time.”
He indicated the door with one arm, and Claudia led the way back to the entrance hall, feeling—and resenting the feeling—that she had somehow been unmannerly, for those last words she had spoken had been meant ironically and he had known it.
But before they reached the hall they were forced to pause for a few moments while the junior class filed out of the dining hall in good order, on their way from tea to study hall, where they would catch up on any work not completed during the day or else read or write letters or stitch at some needlework.
They all turned their heads to gaze at the grand visitor, and the Marquess of Attingsborough smiled genially back at them, setting them all to giggling and preening as they hurried along.
All of which went to prove, Claudia thought, that even eleven- and twelve-year-olds could not resist the charms of a handsome man. It boded ill—orcontinuedto bode ill—for the future of the female half of the human race.
Mr. Keeble, frowning ferociously, bless his heart, was holding the marquess’s hat and cane and was standing close to the front door as if to dare the visitor to try prolonging his visit further.
“I will see you early two mornings from now, then, Miss Martin?” the marquess said, taking his hat and cane and turning to her as Mr. Keeble opened the door and stood to one side, ready to close it behind him at the earliest opportunity.
“We will be ready,” she said, inclining her head to him.
And finally he was gone. He didnotleave Claudia feeling kindly disposed toward him. Whatever hadthatbeen all about? She wished fervently that she could go back half an hour and refuse his offer to escort her and the girls to London the day after tomorrow.
But she could not, and that was that.
She stepped into her study and looked into the small mirror that she kept behind the door but rarely consulted.
Oh, goodness gracious! Her hair reallywasflat and lifeless. Several strands had pulled loose from the knot at the back of her neck. There was a faint smudge of ink on one side of her nose left there when she had tried to remove it earlier with her handkerchief. And one point of her collar was indeed slightly curled and the whole thing off center. She adjusted it one-handed, very much too late, of course.
Horrid man! It was no wonder his eyes had laughed at her the whole time.
She remembered Susanna’s letter then and broke the seal. Joseph Fawcitt, Marquess of Attingsborough, was the son and heir of the Duke of Anburey, she read in the first paragraph—and winced. He was going to offer to bring Claudia and the girls to London with him on his return from Bath, and Claudia must not hesitate to accept. He was a kind and charming gentleman and entirely to be trusted.
Claudia raised her eyebrows and compressed her lips.
The main reason for Susanna’s letter, though, was quickly obvious. Frances and Lucius—the Earl of Edgecombe, her husband—had returned from the Continent, and Susanna and Peter were arranging a concert at their house at which Frances was going to sing. Claudia simplymuststay long enough to hear her and she simplymuststay even longer to enjoy a few other entertainments of the Season too. If Eleanor Thompson had expressed a willingness to look after the school for one week, then surely she would be willing to do so for another week or so too, by which time the summer term would be at an end.
The extended invitation was enormously tempting, Claudia had to admit. Frances had been the first of her teachers and friends to marry. With the encouragement of a remarkably enlightened husband, she had since become a singer who was renowned and much sought after all over Europe. She and the earl traveled for several months of each year, going from one European capital to another for various singing engagements. It was a year since Claudia had last seen her. It would be wonderful to see both her and Susanna together within the next week or two and to spend some time in their company. But even so…
She had left the study door open. Eleanor poked her head about it after scratching lightly on its outer panel.
“I will take study hall for you tonight, Claudia,” she said. “You have had a busy day. Your aristocratic visitor did not eat you alive, then? The school is buzzing with his praises.”
“Susanna sent him,” Claudia explained. She grimaced. “He has offered to take Edna and Flora and me with him in his carriage when he returns to London the day after tomorrow.”
“Oh, my!” Eleanor exclaimed, coming right inside the room. “And I missed seeing him. It is to be hoped that he is tall, dark, and handsome.”
“All three,” Claudia said. “He is also the son of a duke!”
“Enough said.” Eleanor held up both hands, palms out. “He must be the darkest of villains. Though one day I hope to convince you that my brother-in-law, the Duke of Bewcastle, isnot.”
“Hmm,” Claudia said.
The Duke of Bewcastle had once been her employer, when for a short time she had been governess to his sister and ward, Lady Freyja Bedwyn. They hadnotparted on the best of terms, to put the matter lightly, and she had strongly disliked him and all who shared his rank ever since. Though if the truth were told, her antipathy to dukes had not started with him…
