Page 115 of Courting the Country Miss

Tristan let out his breath in disgust. What timing!

“Oh, dear,” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand. “Now is your chance. Tell him. It would be cruel to allow him to believe a minute longer than necessary that you will have him.”

She drew a shaking breath and nodded. “You’re right. I’d best tell him right away.”

“Ah, there you are, dear.” Leticia’s aunt appeared in the doorway.

“Aunt.” Leticia glanced at Tristan. Clear dread at the conversation she must have with Lord Bradbury halted her speech. At Tristan’s reassuring look, she straightened as if finding her resolve. “Aunt, I must speak to Lord Bradbury as alone as propriety will allow.”

Something in her tone must have revealed her intent, because Mrs. Tallier glanced at Tristan and she nodded with a knowing glint in her eye. “I understand, my dear. You may use the front parlor. I will be in the foyer, arranging the flowers.”

Leticia greeted Lord Bradbury and, after a nervous glance over her shoulder at Tristan, invited him to join her in the parlor. Standing alone in the breakfast room, Tristan gripped the back of a chair lest he give into the temptation to rush to Leticia’s side. She must do this alone, of course. Moreover, Bradbury deserved to keep his dignity while Leticia rejected him.

A commotion at the front door interrupted his thoughts. Her aunt’s voice exclaimed, and a male voice replied, to which her aunt let out something akin to a shriek.

Tristan dashed to the foyer and pulled up short. The footman, Peter, who always accompanied Miss Harper, carried in the young teacher. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she buried her face in his neck cloth. Her shoulders shook and muffled weeping broke the silence.

“What has happened?” Leticia rushed to her side.

“She was attacked,” Peter said grimly, oblivious to his own battered, swollen face.

Primal anger rose up in Tristan. “Who was it?” he demanded.

Peter said, “The bloke what showed up and dragged off his daughter a while back.” The footman met their stunned stares with the ferocity of a savage.

“Are you hurt, Mrs. Harper?” Leticia put her hand on the teacher’s back.

“He hit her,” Peter snarled through clenched teeth. He swallowed, and added, “I think I killed him.”

“Get the doctor,” Leticia said to the butler. “And fetch a constable.”

As the butler sent runners, Tristan patted his back pocket where he kept his pistol. It remained secure. “Send the constable to the school. I’ll go there now.”

Lord Bradbury stared at Tristan. “What are you doing here, Barrett?”

“I invited him to join us for breakfast,” Mrs. Tallier said.

“Peter, take Mrs. Harper to her room,” Leticia directed.

“I’ll show you the way,” Aunt Alice said.

Still cradling the teacher in his arms, Peter carried Mrs. Harper up the stairs behind Aunt Alice. Leticia put a hand on her head, as the full weight of what happened seemed to have landed on her shoulders. The thought of the gentle teacher suffering an attack left a sick heaviness in Tristan’s stomach. Was Leticia in danger as well?

“That’s it.” Lord Bradbury drew himself up and addressed Leticia. “The school is closed. This has gone too far.”

“No!” Leticia said. “We can’t give up now.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Lord Bradbury said.

Leticia spread her hands. “If we close the school, everyone who said we shouldn’t do it will win. The children lose.”

“I won’t let you risk your safety for a bunch of street urchins.” His voice left no room for argument, as if it were his decision alone to make.

Tristan took a step closer to Leticia, ready to back her up if she needed him. Though he understood the desire to protect her, he couldn’t agree with Bradbury’s solution or his heavy-handed approach. Instead of becoming angry, Leticia looked at Bradbury with beseeching eyes. With quiet determination, she said, “If we won’t, who will?”

Bradbury opened his mouth then closed it. He glanced at Tristan as if seeking an ally.