If not for the fact that his mother had sided against him on this, despite admitting to having reservations regarding the Chaswick Scandal, he never would have allowed it.
But his mother rarely denied Fiona anything her heart desired. Which meant he rarely did either.
No, his reluctance had had nothing to do with one of Chaswick’s illegitimate sisters teaching Fiona. It would have been hypocritical if it had.
Rather, such a school was not the proper place for the daughter of a duke. The duties she stood to face as an adult differed greatly from anything her fellow students would ever understand. His sister was different. Just as he was. They could not dismiss the responsibilities that came along with their position.
Allowing Miss Jones to lead him, he noted a display made up of colored flowers along with cutout letters pinned together welcoming students back.
Miss Primm’s Private Seminary for the Education of Ladies was decent enough, but in the brief time since he’d arrived, he’d been harangued by no less than half a dozen social-climbing mothers.
If the mothers were already attempting to elevate themselves through him, how many of their daughters would befriend his unsuspecting sister for the very same reason?
“There are two stairwells; this one isn’t nearly as impressive, but it is the closest,” Miss Jones glanced over her shoulder as she fumbled with a latch. “This shouldn’t be locked,” she mumbled before jerking the door open.
Filtered sunshine from a window high above provided just enough illumination for him to know that he’d have much preferred to utilize the larger staircase—one that was more than spiraling steps winding up a space that qualified as little more than a closet.
He set his jaw and inhaled a deep and calming breath. Chalk dust, lemon oil, and some other scent that was only ever present in schools assaulted his olfactory sense. Except for a hint of something sweet—the same scent he’d caught a whiff of when he’d kissed her hand.
He certainly hoped Miss Jones was more proficient at languages than she was at propriety. Offering her hand to him as though she were a gentleman intent upon sealing a contract. And no gloves!
The back of her wrist had felt cool when he’d brushed his lips over her skin. She’d smelled like chalk dust but also something sweet.
Vanilla? Mint?
He clasped the rail of the spiral staircase and glanced up to find her derriere directly in his line of sight. Nothing spectacular about it, really. She was petite and thin but not quite bird-like. Even so, he didn’t immediately drag his gaze away.
“The older girls’ dormitory is on the top floor,” she explained as she climbed past the first landing. “The youngest girls are on the same floor as a few of us teachers. Since this is my first-year teaching, I don’t rank my own chamber just yet.”
Addison forced his attention away from the gray walls to the fabric of her gown fluttering in front of him.
The walls are not closing in on me.He knew this rationally and yet despite being in excellent physical condition, the moment he’d stepped into the stairwell, his chest had tightened. It was ridiculous and yet… it was not.
Grasping at the nearest distraction, he pinned his gaze on the schoolteacher’s bum and managed to draw a decent amount of air into his lungs.
He could endure the confinement for the moment. They would be exiting in a matter of seconds.
Her gown was prettier than something he’d imagined a teacher wearing. An eggshell-blue color, and someone had crocheted tiny daisies around the hem. A filtered ray of sunshine from the window overhead caught her blond hair, which might be attractive if she’d not bound it so tightly.
She was of average height and not as frail as most English ladies. Only she wasn’t a lady, really. She was Lord Chaswick’s illegitimate sister. The scandal had been just significant enough to create a stir for the second half of last spring’s season.
Truth be told, Addison rather admired the baron for publicly acknowledging his sisters—even if some members of theTondisapproved. He, himself wouldn’t have given it a second thought if his mother hadn’t made such a fuss over it.
As Addison slid his hand along the smooth rail, a cold bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck reminding him again of his fear. He forced his hand to relax. This was only a stairwell. He was in no danger, for God’s sake.
From what he’d gleaned before entering, the building was four stories high. He glanced longingly at the door that exited onto the third floor but refused to give in to his incomprehensible weakness.
Miss Jones, however, oblivious to the state of his nerves, lifted her dress and took each step carefully, not showing herself to be in any sort of hurry.
Her ankles were prettier than he would have expected as well. Shapely.
With only one flight remaining, Addison allowed himself to focus his attention on the swaying movement of her hips, barely discernible beneath that light blue muslin. Her legs would be strong, muscular, no doubt, but slim. When she arrived at the last landing, she dropped her skirts, and he trailed his gaze up to her back, relieved and disappointed at the same time.
But mostly relieved.
Because as much as he’d enjoyed the view climbing these stairs that had been designed, it seemed, to only accommodate small children, the ability to breathe normally held a higher place on his current list of needs.
Addison stepped onto the landing which was barely large enough for the two of them and draped his arm over the balustrade to keep from having to drop it around her.
