On her way, she finished her tea and gathered the slates and chalk, gathering everything she needed right before she rounded into the room.
“It is Elinor! Elinor is back!” As soon as the first child, Toby, a small, too-thin boy with a mop of black curls, spotted her, the whole, full room of children cheered as they rushed towards her.
Elinor’s simple dress skirts were tugged on and swished as they swamped her with hugs.
“Good evening,” she laughed. “Well, this is a most welcome return. How are you all today?”
There was a chorus of answers, indistinguishable with the layers of voices, and she laughed again.
“Did you bring Newton this time?” Toby asked.
“I am afraid I could not coax him from his spot on my pillows tonight, but I will make sure to catnap him for next time. Now, line up so I can hand you your slates. Are you ready to do some learning?”
More cheers went up, and Elinor’s heart thudded. When she was younger, she had loved her studies with her father but hated it with her tutor who had not understood her endless curiosity. She had despised when it came time for her lessons, but these children actually were excited. They waited for her, enjoyed what she could provide, and as much as they were her lights in the dark, she was theirs.
It had been that for about a year, and Elinor, despite knowing how much she risked by being there, would never stop.
Not for anything.
The children lined up, jittering and eager. They were all so well-behaved, and there was only minimal bickering as one child tried to shove his way to the front of the queue. Slate by slate, Elinor equipped them all, but frowned when she noticed that Alice, one of the younger children, perhaps five or six, had a nasty bruise on her cheek.
“What happened?” Elinor asked, crouching down to her height, brushing a light hand over the bruise. Alice’s mouth puckered into a pout.
“I—I was bad. I got in the way.”
Elinor shook her head both in refusal and disgust at somebody potentially raising a hand to a child. “You are never in the way, and especially not in my classroom. Here is your slate, and I can make sure you sit near me today, all right?”
Alice cracked a tiny smile, nodding. “Yes please.”
She skipped off to wait for Elinor to call the lesson to a start.
“Right,” she announced, “you all did excellently during your previous lesson. I know it has been a short while, but I am positive you will all do just as well today. Billy, you must differentiate your letters a little more when you write so there is distinction and readability.”
“Yeah, Billy!” one child called out. “You just draw scribbles.”
“Now, now,” Elinor chuckled. “We do not need to poke at one another. Billy, you are still doing very well. Let me know if you need more help.”
And then Elinor called the lesson start, all the tension of the evening with her stepfamily finally draining away.
This was her purpose. This was where she thrived and was supposed to be. Surrounded by children who doted on the education she secretly brought them rather than play the blushing lady in a ballroom, hoping to be noticed, pretending to be somebody like Belinda.
This—this was where she belonged.
The lesson progressed over the next half-hour, and she was only regretful she could not provide more time to them, but she did not know how long her family would be preoccupied at the ball and needed to flee back to Morland House before anybody left the Morrows’ townhouse and spot her.
The door creaked open right as she was about to call an end to the teaching, and she looked up, smiling when she saw Mrs. Neal, who was peculiarly pale-faced and tense?—
But then her heart promptly thundered when she saw a man standing alongside her.
The low lantern light of the room made his hair turn almost golden, and the green eyes that fixed on her flashed with interest.
Elinor struggled to control her breathing, both at being caught—if that was what this was—and at the handsome man that gazed at her as though intrigued.
“Well.” His voice was a deep drawl. “What do we have here?”
Chapter Three
“Ladies, I have been attempting to leave your delightful company for several minutes to allow you to speak with other men here,” Lucien Stanton, the Duke of Fairmont, chuckled, eyeing each of the three women that flocked around him.
