Chapter 3 #2
A small spark of hope lit within her. Talent like that could be shaped into something steady and strong if handled with care.
She felt the familiar warmth she used to feel when guiding younger students and during her own lessons as a child.
Perhaps this position would allow her to reclaim a part of herself she thought she had lost.
When they finished, Cecily took her place at the piano again. “Very good. Let me show you something I think you will enjoy.”
She began to demonstrate a simple pattern, but their attention strayed almost at once. Julian kept his posture neat and formal, although his focus stayed somewhere beyond the keys. Amabel’s gaze drifted toward the window, her expression quiet and unreadable.
The lesson felt stalled before it had even begun.
Cecily paused, then played a wrong note on purpose. Neither child reacted. She tried again, adding another wrong note that made the phrase stumble.
Julian’s mouth twitched, but he held it in.
Cecily exaggerated the next mistake, striking a note that did not belong in the pattern. Amabel’s head lifted. A small sound escaped her, almost a laugh.
Cecily continued, building a string of clumsy, mismatched notes until the melody lost all shape. Julian let out a short laugh, quick and surprised. Amabel followed with a softer one, her shoulders loosening as she covered her mouth.
Cecily let her hands rest in her lap. “So you were listening.”
She felt her heart lighten as she saw the first sign that she could reach them.
From that point forward, the lesson moved smoothly. The children followed her instructions without resistance, and the rest of the hour passed with steady practice and small, manageable tasks.
When Cecily finally closed the piano lid, both Julian and Amabel rose at once. Julian gave a small, correct bow of his head, and Amabel lowered herself into a small curtsy.
“Thank you for the lesson, Miss Marwood,” Julian said.
Amabel echoed him softly. “Thank you, Miss Marwood.”
Cecily returned their farewells with a warm nod. “You both worked very well today. I look forward to tomorrow.”
Julian straightened a little at the praise, and Amabel’s eyes lifted for a brief moment, as if she were deciding whether to believe it.
“I will see you then,” Cecily said.
The children turned together and walked toward the door. Their steps were light and orderly, and neither spoke as they moved down the corridor. Within a few moments, they had disappeared from view, leaving the schoolroom quiet once more.
Cecily gathered her music sheets and turned to leave.
She stopped.
The earl stood at the far end of the room.
She had not heard him enter, and she had no idea how long he had been there. Her breath caught, and the papers in her hand shifted.
He was near the tall bookcase, standing very still. His height was the first thing Cecily registered. He was tall enough that the line of his shoulders rose above the edge of the shelves behind him.
His light brown hair was cut close, neat and even, and his eyes were fixed on her, steady and unblinking.
As she observed his face, she noticed that a small scar marked the left side of his chin.
It was a narrow line that she recognized at once as the sort of injury a man might bring back from service.
His expression held a brooding cast that did not shift, even when she startled.
“My … My Lord,” she said. Her voice came out thin. She dipped into a curtsy that was too quick and not nearly correct. She felt the mistake at once and tried to adjust it with a second, smaller one that only made her more flustered. “I did not see you. I am Cecily Mar … Miss Marwood. I mean …”
He watched her without any change in expression. His green eyes stayed fixed on her, cool and steady. Nothing in his face suggested irritation or amusement, and it was clear that her discomfort made no difference to him.
Cecily stopped speaking. Her hands tightened around the sheets she held.
After a long moment, he spoke. “You have a good way with the children.”
Her heart gave a small jump.
Had he been watching the entire lesson?
She tried to keep her voice even. “Thank you, My Lord.”
He did not acknowledge the words. “However …”
The single word made her breath catch.
“I am of the opinion that the children are here to learn a skill,” he said. “Their lessons are meant to strengthen discipline and responsibility.”
Cecily stood very still as her heart pounded.
“Laughter and tomfoolery,” he continued, “have no place in their instruction.”
He waited, his gaze fixed on her, expecting a reply.
Cecily could not hide her reaction. She knew the disagreement showed plainly on her face before she could temper it.
“For children to learn well, My Lord, they need a good relationship with their teacher,” she said. “They also need to feel some measure of connection to the subject itself. If everything is strict and without warmth, they will only do what they must, and nothing more.”
She kept her voice even, though her pulse had not settled.
“A moderate amount of enjoyment is important,” she continued. “That is how my father taught me, and it helped me learn. It helped me want to learn.”
The mention of her father gave the earl a brief pause.
It was slight, but it was there. His eyes shifted, and for the first time since she had encountered him, Cecily thought she saw something move behind that steady, brooding look, as if he felt some sort of emotion.
She could see his jaw tighten, and for a moment she wondered if she had said something she should not have.
The change passed quickly, and before he could react, his expression settled back into its usual stillness.
“This is my house, Miss Marwood,” he said. His tone remained even, but there was a firmness beneath it. “I will run it in the manner I believe best. Not in the manner your father preferred.”
Cecily nodded, knowing she could not argue with such a direct statement.
He gave a single, final nod. “That will be all.”