Page 120 of Courting the Country Miss

Peter bounded toward them, pointing to the narrow staircase leading down to the ground level. “The kitchen!”

Tristan and Peter, followed by the other footman, raced to the kitchen stairs, but smoke billowed up, too thick to breathe. Covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, Tristan took the stairs two at a time. Squinting through eyes tearing from smoke, he glanced around. The entire kitchen burned from multiple locations. The back door stood open, the frame splintered as if someone had kicked it in, and an oily liquid moved across the floor leading from a broken lamp on the floor.

Coughing and blinking, his face burning from the blistering heat, Tristan backed up the stairs.

Peter pushed past him, using a blanket to try to put out the fire, but flames leaped up all around him.

“It’s too late,” Tristan shouted. “The whole thing is ablaze. We need to get everyone out of the building and organize a bucket brigade.” He raced up the stairs.

Swearing, Peter followed. “Everyone out of the building. Get out now! Matilda! Get the children!”

Mrs. Harper sprang into action. Leticia raced to the schoolroom. Within minutes, they had collected the frightened children and ushered them to safety across the street. Elizabeth rushed out, her arms loaded with papers and a satchel. Outside, a small bucket brigade had formed with Peter at its head.

“Do you have fire insurance?” Tristan called to Leticia.

“Yes!” She pointed to a distinctive plaque on the outside wall.

“Someone already ran to fetch them!” the footman yelled.

Leticia, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Harper kept the children together and tried to calm them while Tristan, Peter, and several neighbors joined the brigade to douse the flames. Finally, a modern fire engine with a water pump arrived and poured water on the blaze.

To let the firefighters work, Tristan backed off and wandered to Leticia. She stood with her arms around two children, three more clutching her skirts, all staring in fascination at the billowing smoke. Silent tears streamed down Leticia’s cheeks. A grim Mrs. Harper quietly comforted children gathered around her. Peter went to the teacher and stood next to her, not touching her but sending concerned and sympathetic looks her direction.

“It’s all gone,” Leticia said. “Everything—furniture, books…the pianoforte.”

As the firefighters quenched the blaze, impotent smoke billowed into the sky. Volunteers wiped their brows, no doubt sighing in relief that the flames had not damaged their homes or businesses, and drifted away. The school children left one by one. Leticia, Elizabeth, Tristan, Mrs. Harper, and Peter remained alone but together.

“There’s nothing left for us to do here,” Tristan said.

No one had the heart to respond.

Again, Tristan spoke, “It’s time to go home.”

Elizabeth’s coach carried the silent, ashen-faced group to Mrs. Tallier’s house. Though Elizabeth offered to give him a ride home, Tristan declined. He walked. He still had not yet resolved anything with Leticia. Seeing her so bereft at the loss of the school had softened his heart toward her, but the truth remained; she had kissed Lord Bradbury after pledging herself to Tristan.

What did it mean? Had it been anyone less virtuous than Leticia, he might have dismissed it as a farewell kiss. But she’d looked so guilty when he confronted her that it could not have been anything so simple.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Leticia spent an agonizing day and night, sobbing until her head would surely split.

The school, the object of her hopes and dreams, had vanished—literally—in a puff of smoke because of one tragic, malicious act. Yet that loss paled compared to losing Tristan.

Oh, why had she been so foolish as to allow Lord Bradbury to kiss her? It had been a faithless act of weakness and betrayal. After that kiss, guilt had devoured her, and she’d spent a sleepless night wrestling with what to tell Tristan and how to convince him she’d never do anything of the kind again.

Now, Tristan not only knew, but had witnessed her perfidy. At least if she had found a way to tell him about it and to beg his forgiveness, she might have been able to salvage their relationship. But he wouldn’t soon forget what he saw. He might never forgive her. Nor could she blame him.

He probably viewed her as selfish and dishonorable. Perhaps she was. Who professed her love to one man and kissed another? She deserved a lifetime of spinsterhood if she failed the first test of her faithfulness.

A horrifying thought brought her up short. Would the heartbreak she caused Tristan drive him to his former reckless behavior of drinking and debauchery? Pain shot through her abdomen and she burrowed into her pillow. If she destroyed all the progress Tristan had achieved, she would never forgive herself.

Her judgmental, hypocritical behavior, and her selfishness stared back at her in all its ugliness. She’d constantly questioned Tristan’s motives, his heart, his sincerity, and yet she had been the one to behave like a hoyden. If the earth swallowed her up now, nothing would make her happier.

Her aunt entered. “Leticia, dear. I know you are overset at the loss of your charity school. But surely you needn’t go on so.”

Leticia closed her eyes and tried to breathe through her shame. She should confess her kissing Lord Bradbury and allow all her aunt’s condemning words to punish her. She deserved losing her aunt’s good opinion. However, it might reflect on Lord Bradbury as well, and he didn’t deserve that.

Instead, she said, “Forgive me, Aunt. I am sure you are right. But my head aches so badly, I cannot possibly attend a social event tonight.”