Julia could be truly harmed by such a meeting. Reputation was a fragile thing.
Certain strictures were, of course, taken to extreme, and women were—he glanced to Katherine—perhapsunfairly, permitted fewer missteps. But trust was the currency of Society—meted out in shillings meant to be gathered, protected, and stored. Men were held to standards of honor. And young ladies were expected to have chaperones for very good reason.
Men like him, for instance. Men who would wile their way into a brother’s good graces to meet their own ends.
He glanced to Markham, whose gaze was fixed on the rector with a half smile of polite, encouraging interest. Markham had all the makings of a fine peer, but for all Markham’s future gravitas, the Stanleys remained a young, parentless bunch, more vulnerable than they could conceive, despite their insulated world.
And they’d been parentless and vulnerable for a very long time.
A thought from the prior day returned—someoneshould look out for them.
His gaze moved to Katherine. A pang rang in the vicinity of his heart.
She’d done her best to keep them safe and afloat. Despite her scandal—or maybe because of her scandal—she’d transformed herself into a steward for Markham and a mother for Julia. But even shoulders as strong as hers could use help to ease the burden.
Someonewouldlook out for the Stanleys. And that someone would be him.
Because he owed Katherine for her future sacrifice, of course. And not at all because of the fierce-yet-tender feeling welling up inside his chest.
…
Katherine’s difficulty concentrating had nothing to do with the ubiquitous sound of chalk on slate. Everything she understood had been called into question. She was a stranger in her home, in her body, and in her mind. And the first time since she had begun teaching the village children, she had to force her mind back to her review of Tommy’s work.
His letters were stronger than before, and he’d misspelled fewer words. The Royal Primer hadn’t been a waste after all. Tommy had improved in only two days.
“Very good, Tommy,” she said. “Just one more line.”
Tommy beamed. “I practiced at home!”
“Did you?” Katherine’s heart swelled. “I’m so glad.”
Tommy bit his lip and resumed scratching the sliver of chalk Katherine had provided against Julia’s old writing slate.See?She nodded with satisfaction. Not all her efforts ended in complete disaster.
Drawing comfort from the sound of children writing, she wandered to the east window. Outside, the village matrons gathered around Bromton, squawking like a nosy badelynge of ducks. Bromton—Katherine raised a brow—encouraged their interest with a forward lean. If she were not mistaken, his solicitous expression bore a strong resemblance to one Markham often employed.
But that was unfair, wasn’t it? A man like Bromton did not need lessons in listening—not from Percy Stanley, anyway.
No, Bromton was simply performing the part of a consummately charming aristocrat.
Searching Bromton’s face, she could no longer discern the villain she had originally imagined. Perhaps hewasa charming aristocrat. Even so, instinctively, she distrusted charm and had come to question the feudal authority of the aristocracy.
Was she, as he had accused, a radical?
Nonsense. She scowled. To judge based on character rather than birth, to believe these children worthy of education, and to believe she, though tarnished, retained something of value to offer this world was not radical. It was sense.
And, if not yet common sense, one day it would become so.
The ladies’ squawking reached frenzy stage—they truly did resemble ducks—and, instantly, rain began tapping against the roof, slow at first, but with growing intensity. The squawking quieted as the ladies departed for their carriages, one by one.
Yet another reason to suspect Bromton was a weather warlock.
Eschewing Markham, Bromton fell into step with Julia. Julia paused. He offered his arm. Following a brief, inscrutable exchange, Julia—with clear reluctance—allowed Bromton to lead her back to Markham’s carriage.
Katherine sighed. If he’d won Julia over, what hope did she have?
No one had the right to be so handsome. It simply was not fair.
The church bell chimed, signaling the quarter hour.
