“Who cares about his horse?”
Moving as nonchalantly as she could, Alexandra sidled over to the window—and stopped breathing.
Tall and powerful looking in a dark gray riding coat, Lucien Balfour sat on Faust at the Academy’s gated entrance. As she watched, Emma reached him and scattered the gathered cluster of gawking girls. He tipped his hat, obviously introducing himself, and Emma said something in response.
As soon as she spoke, he dismounted and stepped forward to shake her hand. Alexandra drew a ragged breath. In his letter he’d said he looked forward to meeting Miss Grenville; from his reaction, he’d been sincere.
They were too blasted far away for her to be able to hear or even to interpret what they might be saying, though her students provided a lively commentary of their own. The consensus seemed to be that he was a wealthy nobleman, come to Miss Grenville’s Academy in search of a bride. Alexandra clutched the windowsill to keep her fingers from trembling.
“Do you know who he is, Miss Gallant?” one of the girls asked. “Alison says he’s a duke.”
“He’s an earl,” she corrected, and cleared her throat as they all turned to look at her. “We have a lesson to finish, ladies.”
“Ooh, you know him? Who is he? Tell us, Miss Gallant!”
Alexandra winced at the cacophony of questions and demands. “He is the Earl of Kilcairn Abbey, and he is undoubtedly lost. Shall we continue?”
“Oh, he’s leaving,” Jane moaned. “Dash it. I wanted him to come in and visit.”
“So you could swoon into his arms?”
Alexandra felt nearly ready to swoon herself. She watched, unable to move or to look away, as he swung back up into the saddle, tipped his hat again, and trotted back toward the road. He’d come all this way, apparently to see her, and then left without doing so? Besides being hugely disappointed, she couldn’t believe it of him. Lucien Balfour wouldn’t go to this much effort for nothing.
“Miss Gallant, do you know him from London?”
She blinked and returned to her desk. “Yes. Now, back to the nonoffensive expression of opinions and point of view.”
The girls reluctantly resumed the lesson, but Alexandra seemed to have completely lost her ability to form a coherent thought. What the devil was Lucien Balfour doing in Hampshire, much less at Miss Grenville’s Academy?
A few moments later, her classroom door opened again. Emma Grenville leaned into the doorway and gestured at her. “May I speak with you for a moment, Miss Gallant?”
Alexandra stood too quickly, and grimaced at the resulting hushed commentary coming from her students. “Of course. Jane, please read the next sonnet. I’ll be back in a moment.”
She followed Emma a short distance down the hall. When Emma faced her, Alexandra tried to decipher the headmistress’s expression, but Emma seemed as blasted unflappable as always.
“You saw our visitor, I presume?” she asked.
Alexandra nodded. “I have no idea why he would come here. I made my feelings quite clear to—”
“He’s looking for you, Lex.”
“He’s…What did you tell him?”
“I told him you were here and in good health, and that I was not at liberty to allow him onto the Academy’s grounds.”
He was looking for her. Did that mean he still intended to convince her to marry him? Or had he come to Hampshire simply to be sure he had the last word? Or—
“Lex.” Emma interrupted her thoughts, making her jump. “He will be back tomorrow at noon. You need to speak to him.”
A flutter of pure terror ran down her spine. “But I don’t know what—I have no idea what—”
“I am teaching young ladies propriety,” the headmistress broke in again. “I can’t have the notorious Earl of Kilcairn Abbey lurking on my doorstep.” She leaned closer, humor touching her gaze. “It doesn’t look well. And I’d lose most of my students.”
Alexandra closed her eyes. “I know, I know. I never thought he would follow me here. I can’t even guess why he’s come.”
“But he did come.” Emma took her arm, and Alexandra opened her eyes again. “You have to resolve this.”
She sighed. “Obviously, Emma, you’ve never been in love.”
