Page 97 of Courting the Country Miss

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Leticia peered inside the classroom at the street urchins-turned-students. Thin bodies, ragged clothing, unkempt hair and shabby shoes, and in some cases, bare feet proclaimed them the poorest of the poor, the cast offs, the ones no one acknowledged that they existed. Yet their eyes lit up with curiosity and delight. They had hope for a better future. They’d even recruited other students. The school now had over two dozen eager learners. How could anyone not see the value of this effort?

While she let her gaze rove over their happy faces, she gave a little start. Molly, who had been missing the last few days, had returned. As the girl turned her head, Leticia let out a gasp at the swollen, bruised face.

Poor thing. No wonder she’d been absent. She must have met with an accident and needed time to recover. If Leticia had bothered to check, perhaps she could have been of some assistance. Perhaps she still might help the child in some way.

As Mrs. Harper ended her lesson and invited the students to practice their reading, Leticia leaned in and caught her eye. Mrs. Harper nodded.

“Molly,” Leticia beckoned. “It’s time for your music lesson.”

The girl stood and came to her, not quite meeting her gaze. As they left the classroom together for the smaller front room they’d taken to calling the music room, Leticia eyed the girl.

They sat and Leticia smiled. “I’ve missed you, sweeting. How did you get hurt?”

Gaze downward, Molly mumbled, “Fell.”

An inner warning sounded inside Leticia. “What happened?”

The girl’s breathing grew rapid. “Oh, nuthin’. Jes’ clumsy. Tripped an’ ’it a table.”

Leticia touched her arm. “Sweeting, did someone hurt you?”

Molly shook her head.

“You can tell me if someone did.”

Molly nodded. Letting it go for the time being, Leticia pulled out the simple etudes she’d brought for the children to learn, and began the lesson. In the background, children’s voices rose as they repeated lessons in unison. Leticia corrected Molly’s hand position, reminding her to curl her fingers and sit up straight, and reviewed counting the rhythm.

At the music lesson’s conclusion, Leticia sat back. “Very good. You may tell Sarah it’s her turn and return to your seat.”

“Yes, miss.”

As the girl stood, Leticia said, “Molly, you can tell me if something is amiss. I will do anything I can to help you.”

Again, the nod. Leticia sighed. Did some neighborhood boy hurt her? They tended to travel in packs and sometimes got rough, even with girls. Leticia must keep a sharp eye out.

Throughout the day, the music lessons continued, crowding out other thoughts. As the last music student left, a shadow drifted into the room.

“You’re very good with them.” Tristan’s voice, rich and low rumbled, and a spot inside her heart warmed.

He stood leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb, handsome and smug, but with a softness in his clear eyes that had never been there before. Wind-tossed dark curls tumbled over his brow invitingly. A bottle-green tailcoat gave his handsome looks an exotic slant. Had he always looked so good in buff breeches that fit him like a second skin?

Her pulse leaped and pounded double time.

But this was Tristan. Her childhood friend.

She stood and made a point of gathering her music. “Your arrival is timely. We will be stopping for luncheon soon. Then we’ll begin our first dance lesson. Are you still willing to help us demonstrate?”

“Of course.” He pushed off the wall and strode to her, all fluid grace. “What are you going to teach them?”

“My aunt’s servants said reels are popular. I thought we’d start with a Scottish Reel.”

“Good idea.” In the main entryway, he stopped and picked up a large basket. “I brought luncheon.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you. I only have a bit of fruit and cheese. We can eat in the kitchen. Mrs. Harper will let the children have a recess soon, so they can eat as well. You know, I suspect what little we feed them here is more than they get any other time.”

“You’re providing food?”