Chapter 22 #3
He turned, and she curtsied in deference of his title. As before, he approached and drew her hands to him as he bussed her cheek. “Miss Whittemore, I hope I’m not pulling you away from something important.”
“No, you’ve caught me at my leisure.” After quite an event-filled morning. “I was walking in the garden, actually.” She looked about. “You’ve not brought Alice with you.” She smiled. “I hope that’s not a sign of your decision not to enroll her at Locke Hill.”
He smiled in return, his blue eyes crisp in the window’s light. “Not at all. One of my reasons for calling is to let you know that Alice has made her decision, and I’m in agreement.” He gave her a generous nod. “She’s chosen Locke Hill, of course.”
Violet grinned, truly delighted. “That is wonderful news, my lord. I’m so pleased.”
“I’ve spoken to your secretary,” he said. “The paperwork is signed, and my copies are already in the motorcar with my man.” He gave her hands a gentle squeeze, and her smile dimmed. Until that brief movement, she hadn’t realized he still held her hands in his.
Oh dear.
Using the excuse to gesture to the sofa, she slipped her hands from his grasp. “Let’s sit, shall we? Would you care for tea?”
“That would be lovely.”
She rang the bell and then sat on one end of the sofa. He followed, sitting on the other end. Mrs. Cole entered instead of one of the maids. Violet suspected she’d heard that Lord Buckley was here.
“Yes, Miss Whittemore?” Upon seeing Lord Buckley, she bobbed a curtsy. “Your Lordship.”
“We’d like tea, Mrs. Cole.”
“Of course, miss.” She turned but not before lifting her brows in Violet’s direction—to what end, Violet had no idea. The housekeeper then pointedly made a show of widening the gap of the already open door.
Honestly, did everyone believe Lord Buckley had come calling on Violet Whittemore, famed bluestocking suffragette virtuoso, near-spinster? She peeked a glance at the man. He’d noticed the door being left ajar, and his ears were turning a ruddy pink.
Oh dear.
“So,” she said a little too loudly. She daintily cleared her throat.
“Did you have any more questions about the school? Its curriculum? We are hoping to have a dressage program up and running by autumn, did we tell you? I’m quite excited.
I recall Alice being especially interested in equestrianism.
She’s beyond basic horsemanship, naturally, but our goal is to stretch students past their current abilities.
Did we show you the conservatory? Yes, of course we did.
I don’t recall if Alice has any musical training, but if she does, we—”
“Miss Whittemore,” he said, the edge of his mouth curling upward.
Startled somewhat, she blinked. “Yes?”
He chuckled, shaking his head at the plush carpet of creams, soft rose, and green. When he lifted his gaze, his expression became sheepish. “I fear I’ve made you nervous.”
“Nervous?” She breathed a shaky laugh. “What would I have to be nervous about?”
He shrugged. “I’m not certain. You’ve already sold me on the school. I imagine Alice will have this summer semester to find her leanings.”
Violet looked away and bit her lip. Why was she being such a ninny? She straightened her shoulders and placed her hands in her lap. She met his gaze. “She’s a bright girl. I look forward to seeing where education leads her.”
“I do believe an education enhances a woman’s prospects in life.”
“Do you?”
His gaze deepened. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
At that moment, Mrs. Cole entered with a tea tray. Mrs. Penhurst followed on her heels. While Mrs. Cole busied herself with the tea, Mrs. Penhurst lifted a notepad and pen.
“Excuse my interruption, miss, my lord, but I have a few questions that need Miss Whittemore’s immediate attention.”
“Right now?” Violet asked.
Mrs. Penhurst’s eyes widened. “This very moment.”
Violet gave a look of apology to Lord Buckley and moved to rise. He stood quickly as well.
Mrs. Penhurst held out her pen. “No need to stand. This won’t be a minute.”
Violet slowly sat. Lord Buckley hesitated.
“You needn’t leave us, my lord. Only a bit of school business. A parent of a potential student on the telephone with a few questions.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ll just—take in the view at the window, shall I?”
Violet nodded with a smile and turned her attention to her secretary, partly grateful for the interruption and partly she didn’t know what. The way the viscount had looked at her … I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. His words could certainly be meant only for his daughter’s prospects. But that look.
Mrs. Penhurst had already begun speaking in a sharp, clear voice. “—you designed the science rooms based specifically on your own understanding of the laws, workings, and study of such subjects, including the in-floor scale system, the pulley systems, and the cantilever laboratory.”
Violet blinked, guessing at the part she’d missed while her mind had still been wandering. “Yes?” she said.
“Yes, of course.” The woman made a note on her notepad.
“And it was you who pushed for courses in the study of electronics and wireless telegraphy and flight, due not only to your own curiosity and pursuit of such knowledge but also your belief that women will be essential to such industries in the future.”
There was a hushed pause here, and Violet swallowed. But she straightened her spine. “Yes, that is correct, though we’re still searching for the DaVinci who could teach the study of flight.” She gave a weak laugh, and Mrs. Penhurst made another note.
“And just one more question. You are currently heading up the athletics program with Mr. Burke, but will you be teaching several of the sports yourself, such as track and field, swimming, and fencing?”
Before answering the question, Violet tilted her head. “Whom did you say was calling?”