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He gave into a devilish urge to test the waters.

“I hope my performance as a dance master and a music instructor has met your expectations, Mrs. Crenshaw.” Palm pressed to his chest, Aston fashioned his most disarming smile. “I would be disheartened if I’ve disappointed in any way.”

She flushed like a green schoolgirl.

“Your, ah, performance is most satisfactory,” she managed.

Bowing his head in deference, he’d said, “I’m most gratified.”

“I shan’t keep you.” Mrs. Crenshaw made for the door but paused at the threshold, her slate blue gown swishing around her practical black shoes. She met his gaze directly then.

At her haggard appearance, shock speared Aston. Lines etched her face, purple shadows haunted her sunken eyes, and she appeared to have not slept in a fortnight.

“Thank you, Mr. Terramier. Your presence lifts one’s spirits.” As if she realized she’d revealed too much regarding her personal feelings, she hastily added, “Music nourishes the soul, does it not?”

“I also believe as much. Music is healing and rejuvenating.”

Aston had always believed he’d acquired his love of music from his mother, a former opera singer. His father had married her against the viscount’s wishes, and the dictatorial blackguard had never forgiven either of them for defying him.

Aston passed a glance over the building he’d just departed. He hadn’t seen Chasity again today. Yesterday, when Mrs. Crenshaw said in passing that Chasity had a headache and had retired to her chamber, he’d suspected the fascinating blonde was avoiding him. When she’d remained conspicuously absent again today, his suspicions were confirmed.

Just as well.

So why did he, even now, skim the courtyard and meadow flanking the school’s right where a quaint stone folly perched atop a knoll in search of her? There had been other weeks where he’d only seen her in passing. Why did it matter so much that since luncheon on Monday, he’d not caught a glimpse of the mesmerizing beauty?

Because something scintillating had passed between them the other day while they danced. Chasity had felt it too. But if Aston was honest with himself, he knew full well nothing could come of his attraction.

If only he could stop thinking about her.

He tossed his satchel and hat onto the threadbare seat, then picked up the leather flask that contained water. He poured a generous amount into Roi’s dish, and the dog eagerly drank his fill.

“Do you need to stretch your legs before we head for home?”

Unless it was raining, Roi always enjoyed a romp. However, the dog despised the rain. Probably due to the time he’d spent on the streets, wet and miserable. While Aston taught, Roi only left the buggy long enough to relieve himself. He never explored the school’s grounds unless Aston accompanied him.

“Well, come along then. Just a short walk today, I’m afraid.”

Tonight, Aston dined with Theran Rutland and Constantine Kellinggrave, old school chums. They’d reconnected a few years back after bumping into each other at a musical hosted by Rutland’s aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Mumford, for their three plump daughters, amongst others.

The rather plain Mumford sisters’ musical aptitude made them quite popular with their set. Though it wasn’t de rigor, the Mumfords had insisted that as their instructor, Aston attend the gathering. He’d gained another four students as a result.

After dinner tonight, he had a business meeting with a few of his fellow investors including Bradford, Viscount Kingsley, and Roark, Earl of Clarendon. Though peers, neither made him feel inferior because he wasn’t also titled.

Giving a short whistle, Aston snapped his fingers, and Roi bounded from the vehicle. He raced to the nearest bush and thoroughly watered the shrub. The dog liked to run through the meadow and chase anything that flew: insects, birds, bees, and butterflies. He’d never caught one but had a great deal of fun trying to.

As he trailed behind his dog, Aston scratched his chin. Werner had sent him a third request for funds. The letter arrived before Aston left his apartments this morning. Such persistence bespoke desperation. Aston had refused again, but curiosity had prompted him to invite his cousin to meet at the Wagging Tail Pub tomorrow.

He wasn’t sure why Werner didn’t just approach their grandfather about paying off his debts. Unless the viscount had cut Werner off, though that wasn’t likely. He’d pay Werner’s arrears and use extortion to control the pasty bugger thereafter. Which might very well be why Werner hadn’t asked their grandfather for the money.

“Mr. Terramier?”

Aston half-turned, surprised but delighted to see a breathless Chasity hastily making her way toward him. Her dove gray gown trimmed in ivory bespoke reticence and style. He’d like to see her in a gown the exact shade of her eyes. Or perhaps pink or lavender. Or a rich claret red.

When he didn’t immediately respond, her pretty features screwed into a puzzled frown. “Mr. Terramier?”

Coming back to himself, Aston gave her a warm smile.

“Miss Noble. A pleasure as always. Please call me Aston.”