Chapter 22 #4
“A Mr.—” Mrs. Penhurst’s eyes widened. “Smith.”
Violet studied Mrs. Penhurst a moment. “Please take any more of Mr. Smith’s questions down, and I will get back to him promptly. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“Yes, miss. Pardon the interruption.” Mrs. Penhurst folded her notepad away and, with a glance in Lord Buckley’s direction, left the room.
Violet found Mrs. Cole tidying up a very tidy corner near a bust of Elizabeth Gaskell and an arrangement of pottery. Lord Buckley cleared his throat and made his way back to the sofa. “Mr. Smith sounds like he’s already done some extensive research into your influence on this school.”
“Indeed,” she said, somewhat befuddled, as he took his seat. “I’d no idea such information was being circulated, though I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been made such a provocative subject of gossip.” She laughed good-naturedly.
Lord Buckley did not.
Sobering, she shifted in her seat.
He did as well. “I hope you’ll indulge me,” he said, “but my curiosity is piqued. Do you intend to teach the athletic courses listed by Mr. Smith yourself?”
She smiled, but it felt off. “Would it make a difference to Alice’s attendance here if I did?”
He frowned. “No, I suppose not. But—” He turned to face her more fully on the sofa, sliding nearer as he did. “It would make a difference if you were to …” He trailed off here.
“If I were to what?”
Her pulse became a shallow staccato as he reached for her hand and tenderly took it in his.
He lifted his gaze. “If you were to accept my courtship.”
A wobbling sound of porcelain on wood preceded a resounding thud on the Aubusson carpet.
Mrs. Cole crouched to the floor, picking up a Roseville Della Robbia vase from America.
“Forgive me, miss. Not to worry. This Roseville’s sturdier than the Majolica, that’s for certain.
I couldn’t imagine it missing from this grouping; it fits so well here.
As though it were made for it.” She repositioned it on the small table it had toppled from and stepped away.
“There, now. Didn’t you decorate this room with that single vase in mind? ”
“Er, yes. I did.”
Mrs. Cole glanced about the room. “Lovely, to be sure, when it all comes together. Will you be needing anything else, miss?”
Violet stared at the woman, wide-eyed, struck by the odd behavior of the staff but also the words that had most recently left the viscount’s mouth. She’d pulled her hand from his at the sound of the tumbled vase. “No,” she managed. “I shall ring if I do.”
After Mrs. Cole left the room, Violet wondered how long she might have before the housekeeper made mention of Lord Buckley’s visit to her mother.
She guessed she had minutes.
“I’ve bungled this, I think.”
She turned.
Lord Buckley rubbed a hand down the side of his face.
“I think you’ve had help,” she said, and he choked on a laugh. “Really though,” she went on, “I’d no idea—that is—I wasn’t expecting—”
He sighed and shook his head. “Obviously, if you were so unaware of my intentions. Your staff, on the other hand …”
“They were not subtle, were they?” she asked.
He shook his head. “As subtle as a locomotive. They are loyal to you, Miss Whittemore. I had no idea how deeply entrenched you were to this place.” He looked around, and then he scrunched his face up. “A course on the study of flight?”
She nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. America can’t have the corner on that one, can they? Not when we gave them the boy who could fly.”
He watched her, and she remained steady under his gaze.
“You won’t consider leaving this school, will you?”
“No,” she said gently. “It’s a part of me.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “It was in here first.”
His smile held sadness.
She rose, and he with her. She extended her hand to him, and he took it. “I thank you. I’m honored. But … may I be frank with you?”
“I’ve always liked that about you. Your frankness.”
“You are among a blessed few.” She smiled, but it was tempered. “But I must tell you, my heart belongs to another. It has for a very long time. It wouldn’t be fair to pretend to give it to someone else. Not fair to you or me.”
“Or to Mr. Burke.”
Her brow rose and she felt her cheeks flush.
His gaze sharpened. “Well now. I think I’ve the right of it.
” He gave her fingers a squeeze. “I can’t say I don’t know what you mean.
I daresay I’d hoped a … companionship between us was possible, despite my …
” He looked away at the windows and swallowed.
“Well, one can’t force a heart, now, can one? ”
“She was a lovely woman, your wife.”
He returned to her once more, a wistful look in his eyes.
“She was. And so are you, Miss Whittemore. I sincerely hope you find your heart’s desires, whatever and wherever they may be.
You deserve no less.” He let her hand go and strode from the room.
“Be sure Alice is in that flight class,” he commanded. “She’s no ear for music.”
Violet pressed her fingers over her mouth and closed her eyes, caught between amusement, weeping, daze, and relief.
But not regret.