Chapter Seven #2
Mr. Billings sat up straight, his brow rising as if he understood.
“Well, thank you, sir. I do believe I have. I’m going to tell the missus about that compliment when I see her next month.
I’ll be home between the terms to help plow the fields.
Teaching the ladies is good work, but there’s nothing so satisfying as using one’s own gifts.
” He raised both arms, showing how well muscled they were, even beneath his linen shirt.
His interest piqued, Christopher couldn’t help asking, “Have you had your estate long?”
“A few years. That 1816 year almost broke us, but we pulled through, thanks to this here work. We’ve a small place, but just what we can handle with a handful of servants.
I admit, it’s more work than I expected, but I’m proud to be raising my lads there instead of the city.
I’m hoping one of them will go to school. ”
The man’s words made Christopher more anxious to lay claim to his new estate. At least he knew someone he could talk to about the trials and tribulations of managing one. He picked up the letter to his solicitor. “I need to get this sent off, but I enjoyed our conversation.”
Mr. Billings extracted himself from the chair and swung it back to where it was. “It’s good to have another man in the place. I’ll see you at dinner. You won’t have to worry about any students there. It’ll just be us.”
“What do you mean there’ll be no students?”
“What I said. I think I said it right. The students take their meal with the duke and duchess, and we have our own dining room. But don’t worry, Cook serves us the same food and the footmen are first rate.”
The relief Christopher felt was quickly followed by frustration.
How was he to talk to Lady Sophie if they didn’t share any of the same activities, and without asking for her?
The last thing he needed was for anyone to know his true motive for being at the school.
“Mr. Billings, thank you. You have put my mind at rest. I look forward to an excellent meal.”
“Don’t worry, my lord. You’ll fit in here in no time at all.” With that, the man strode out the door opposite the one he’d entered.
Christopher tapped the letter against the desk he’d used as he pondered his options for finding Lady Sophie.
She was obviously not a first-year student or she would have been in his philosophical conversation.
That meant he needed to discover what area she studied and find a way to discuss it with her and her mentor.
No easy task, but the only plan he could think of.
Dinner might be a good place to learn more about the students from the other instructors.
If anyone knew whom she studied with, it would be them.
After sending his letter off with a footman, he ventured upstairs.
The grand stairs of the sprawling estate were as impressive inside as they were outside.
It took him a good while to ascend and then traverse the length of two of the three inside balconies before coming to his wing.
He had no idea where the students’ quarters were, nor did he wish to.
He’d been pleased to discover that the corridor where he stayed was strictly for the instructors.
He counted the rooms, not at all bothered that his was not at the beginning.
It wasn’t as if he would be at the school long.
He stepped into his room and closed the door, immediately loosening his cravat. If he didn’t miss his guess, he had an hour before dinner, which gave him some time to—
A small piece of paper appeared on the floor beneath his door.
Without thinking, he yanked the door open and grabbed the arm of the person who had just turned away and pulled them into his room. As his gaze fell on Lady Sophie’s face, he stilled. “You!”
Quickly, he looked into the corridor and closed the door. No, she couldn’t be in his room. Bloody hell!
“What are you doing here?” Though he tried to keep his voice quiet, it still came out harsh.
Her green eyes were wide with fear, but she didn’t say anything. She just pointed to the paper that had been kicked to the side.
He walked over to it and picked it up. “What is this?”
Again, she pointed to it, frowning at him.
Losing patience, he opened it. In what could only be considered beautifully elegant handwriting was a warning about a possible prank by none other than Lady Rose, who was being inspired by The Merry Wives of Windsor.
It was a Shakespeare play he knew well, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a cold river, a beating, and embarrassment were just a few mishaps visited upon the main character.
Understanding dawned. Lady Sophie had been trying to warm him. Despite her would-be kindness, he now found himself in a very dangerous situation, possibly more dangerous than a prank played upon him by Harewood’s sister. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
Her frown deepened as she looked pointedly at the note in his hand.
He looked at it as well. Had he missed something? He read it again. “I don’t understand.”
Her shoulders sagged as if she were defeated. “I left the note so we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Her voice was softer than butterfly wings, and it took a moment for her words to register. When they did, he barely kept from groaning. His actions had once again placed her in a precarious position. Again, he was to blame.
“Damn.”