Page 124 of Courting the Country Miss

“Miss?” A child’s voice broke through her haze of grief.

“Please leave me,” Leticia said.

“We come to—came—to h-h-help, we did.” the child emphasized the h in her word as if trying to make it a part of her speech. “Don’t cry, Miss. We can rebuild, can’t we?”

Footsteps approached. “She’s right,” Mrs. Harper said.

Leticia raised her head. One of the students held a homemade broom. Next to her, Mrs. Harper and Peter stood, their expressions hopeful. Behind them, scattered on the steps and spilling out onto the street, all the students, as well as several adults, held brooms or shovels or rags and buckets. Among the adults, she recognized a baker’s assistant, several chimney sweeps, a blacksmith, and a fruit peddler.

Speechless, she stared at the army of support. She climbed to her feet. “Thank you all, but cleaning up is a small part of what we need. We’d have to rebuild, and replace all the books. We don’t have the money for that, nor could we purchase desks…”

“You don’t need desks to teach children, do you?” Tristan’s familiar voice sent warm ripples all over her.

She resisted the urge to run into his arms. His expression, though not hostile, was still guarded. “It’s only a building, Leticia.”

So handsome, so solemn, and even vulnerable, he met her gaze. Her heart broke all over again. He was here. Had he come as a friend, or was he still willing to make a future with her if she managed the right apology? She owed it to him to try. If he rejected her, she’d be no worse off.

Tristan took another step toward her. “All you need for a school is a teacher and students. All of this”—he gestured at the remains of the building—“is nice but not necessary.”

“I agree with Tristan.” Elizabeth pushed her way through the crowd with Richard helping clear a path for her. “We had grand hopes. One day, we can do all of that again, and more—have the charity boarding school as we dreamed. For now, we can concentrate teaching them their letters. I don’t think they’d mind sitting on the floor to learn, would you, girls?”

A chorus of “no, m’lady” came in response.

“I spoke to our solicitor this morning,” Elizabeth continued. “He ran the figures and said that we can rebuild the exterior of the structure and buy enough coal to get them through the winter. If we wish to add desks or anything else, we’d need to have another method of raising funds.”

“We are here to help.” Lady Petre called. “Excuse me.” She wormed her way through. “When I heard of the fire, I informed my husband I intend to help.”

Leticia gaped. “And he agreed to it?”

Lady Petre smiled. “I can be persuasive if I put my mind to it. He still disagrees with your venture, but allowed me to help as I wish.”

Elizabeth took Leticia’s hand. “Lord and Lady Tarrington donated a pianoforte.”

Leticia looked at each face, overwhelmed.

Tristan stood near enough to touch if she stretched out her hand. “You are doing a good thing here, Tish. Don’t throw it all away because of a setback.”

If Tristan, of all people, still believed in her, she didn’t dare quit now. She swallowed hard and blinked at tears stinging her eyes. She nodded. “You’re right. If we have enough to restore the building, we can make do and add the rest a little at a time. I would never wish to throw away all we’ve worked so hard to achieve.” She raised her voice. “Thank you all for coming. By all means, let’s get to work.”

All the volunteers got busy. Within a few hours, they’d made a noticeable improvement. By the time the adult helpers started leaving, making apologies that they needed to return to their places of business, the ground floor had been cleared of rubble. Much work remained to be done, but they had made progress.

“We’ve done all we can for now,” she said. “We’ll hire workers to finish the rest and to rebuild the main floor. Perhaps we should go home.”

“I believe you’re right,” Elizabeth said.

“I have a meeting this afternoon with my steward,” Richard added.

While Peter trotted off to find a hackney, Richard said, “The four of us can fit in our coach. Can we offer you both a ride?”

“Thank you.” Leticia glanced at Tristan. “You’re probably hungry. Would you care to come back with me and have luncheon?”

Again, that hesitance mingled with something else that she wanted to identify as longing but couldn’t hope for that much. He nodded. “I would like that.”

Dear Tristan! How badly she must have hurt him to put such hesitation in him. She wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him until his inner wounds healed. He might never forgive her enough to marry her now, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Tristan living with emotional injury.

Peter returned with a hackney and helped Mrs. Harper inside. When the earl’s crested carriage arrived, Richard handed in Elizabeth and took a seat next to his wife, leaving Tristan to hand in Leticia. He held out a hand, his gaze so shielded she couldn’t begin to guess his thoughts. She looked into his eyes, hoping her regret and deep sorrow were revealed. He gave no reaction. Placing her hand in his, she stepped into the family coach. Tristan swung in and sat close enough that his thigh brushed hers.

As the carriage rolled along the streets, Elizabeth and Richard kept up a stream of conversation in a clear attempt to pretend they didn’t notice the tension between Tristan and Leticia. Leticia focused on holding back her tears.