Love on Assignment

by Cara Lynn James

  Her arm swept across the desk and touched his hand. He snatched it away as she looked at him, eyes wide and smoldering. He arose from behind his desk. What was this young lady up to? “Miss LeBeau,” he said in warning.

  Missy stayed seated, one leg crossed over the other and swinging slowly beneath her skirt. “I wish you’d tutor me yourself. I really do need your personal attention.”

  He bent and finished scribbling the names of possible tutors, handed her the note, and strode toward the door, nearly tripping over her feet. “I’m afraid I don’t have the time for tutoring anyone, Miss LeBeau. If you’re afraid the material is too advanced, perhaps you should take a more basic course. Mine is designed for students who are familiar with Scripture. In fact, I’m certain you’d fare far better in a survey class with another instructor.”

  “But Professor Wilmont, you’re the best professor at the college.”

  He recognized blatant flattery and choked down a laugh. “Thank you for the compliment. But you ought to learn the fundamentals of the faith before you take my classes.”

  Missy’s stubborn chin jutted. “No, that won’t do at all.” Her lower lip quivered. “Don’t brush me off, Professor Wilmont.” Slowly she lifted from the chair and sauntered toward him, swaying her rounded hips. Moving in close she whispered in a breathy voice, “I want your help.”

  A whiff of sickly sweet perfume swirled around her. He rushed into the foyer, past Miss Hale, and then to the door. He flung it open before Mr. Grimes had a chance. “I’ll help by remembering you in prayer. And I’ll ask one of my best students to tutor you. That’s the most I can do. Have a good evening, Miss LeBeau.”

  Missy grimaced as she waltzed past him, saying not a word. At the door she spun around. “There’s a dreadful rumor going around campus that you may not teach here next year. Is it true, sir? I’d so hate to see you leave.”

  “You shouldn’t listen to rumors, Miss LeBeau. If and when I depart my teaching post, I shall tell my students.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s the talk of the campus, you know.”

  He watched her descend the veranda steps and glide down the walkway to her buggy. Daniel drew a deep breath of cool night air, relieved that the minx was finally gone. Now if she’d only vanish from Aquidneck College, he’d feel more comfortable.

  But he knew she’d be back.

  Leaning against the wall, Charlotte buried her face in her hands, shoulders heaving with what he suspected was mirth.

  “I do apologize, sir,” she sputtered. “I shouldn’t laugh, but that girl has set her cap for you.”

  “And you find it amusing?” His lips twisted in a dry smile, his face heated.

  “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

  “Well, you’re overreacting, Miss Hale. Miss LeBeau’s behavior wasn’t one bit humorous. Or was it my behavior you find so funny?”

  ELEVEN

  She’d heard most of the conversation and seen Missy advancing, as well as Professor Wilmont retreating. But it wasn’t just amusement that set her laughing. Relief at the professor’s obvious innocence brought forth a wave of giggles she couldn’t control. This turn of events proved Mr. Phifer had misjudged the good professor and she couldn’t wait to tell him. She felt herself gloating. She’d have to be diplomatic with her boss or he’d fire her for insubordination. Or perhaps he’d fire her for failing in her mission.

  “Please excuse me, sir. I get carried away easily.” In an effort to regain her dignity, Charlotte straightened her back and held her head high like the most dignified of society matrons as she stared up at the professor. But her giddiness kept the corners of her mouth curled upward.

  Professor Wilmont nodded as he shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets. “Yes, I can see you’re prone to laughter. I agree, Miss LeBeau did seem—overly familiar. I’m obliged to assist my students if I can, but—”

  “That young lady doesn’t want your help. She wants you.” Charlotte tried to add gravity to her voice but broke into another hiccup of laughter.

  Professor Wilmont’s face glowed. “Utter nonsense. I’m old enough to be her—well, if not her father, at least her much older brother.”

  How could a man over thirty be so naive? It was enough to finally sober her. “Miss LeBeau is chasing you, sir. Forgive me for speaking bluntly, but take care she doesn’t lure you into a compromising situation.” Or Mr. Phifer will take full advantage of it.

  Professor Wilmont winced. “I do believe you’re exaggerating. At least I hope so.” He gazed into space for several seconds before he flashed a disarming grin. “Enough of Miss LeBeau. It’s time to leave for the band concert. Would you like to come along?”

  Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. She hesitated for only a split second, her exhaustion disappearing in the wake of his enthusiasm. “Why, yes. That sounds delightful. I’m glad you’re taking the children. I know they will enjoy spending time with you.”

  And so shall I. The words rang alarm bells in her ears. Did she want her career in journalism? Or to chase the silly fantasy of the man who rescued her?

  Professor Wilmont leveled a quizzical stare, then asked kindly, “Are you feeling all right, Miss Hale? You suddenly grew pale.”

  “I’m fine, sir, really I am. Just a moment of light-headedness. I was just thinking of yesterday, sir. Excuse me. I need to fetch my things.”

  “AND WHERE ARE you going at this time of night? It’s not your evening off,” Simone said as Charlotte descended the backstairs, hat and shawl in hand.

  “Professor Wilmont asked me to accompany him and the children to a band concert. And I’m well aware it’s not my night off.” Simone’s disapproval caught Charlotte off guard, but she controlled her annoyance. Of course the maid took her cue from her mistress.

  “Take care, Miss Hale. It’s not seemly for a servant to be out at night with her employer.” Though Simone’s voice emerged in a soft French accent, her meaning was clear.

  “I know, but the professor wishes me to watch the children at the concert.” Charlotte turned away and hurried to the foyer. Why else would he want her to attend? Certainly he took no personal interest in her.

  She caught a glimpse of Tim heading out the front door with Ruthie at his heels.

  “Are we ready to go, sir?” she asked the professor who waited in the hallway.

  “In a moment.” Professor Wilmont gestured toward the drawing room. “My mother’s friend, Mr. McClintock, recently arrived. He’ll keep her company until we return.”

  Through the panes of the French doors, Charlotte spotted the gentleman perched on the edge of the settee. His eyes, magnified by thick spectacles, fastened on Mrs. Wilmont.

  The professor leaned closer and spoke softly. “Mr. McClintock has been sweet on my mother for the last several years, but he seems hesitant to take the next step.”

  Professor Wilmont’s breath tickled Charlotte’s ear and sent warm shivers down her spine. She let the feeling linger, knowing full well she ought to shake herself free from his spell.

  Pulling herself back to reality, she whispered back, “I did notice how your mother perks up when Mr. McClintock arrives.” For the last few days, the natty little man strutted into the drawing room laden with a bouquet of flowers and a box of candy. Each time Mrs. Wilmont babbled her thanks like a young schoolgirl. He brought out a warmth that lay buried deep inside Mrs. Wilmont’s icy exterior.

  “He never comes empty handed. I’m going to wish them a good evening.” Professor Wilmont pushed open the French doors and addressed the couple on the settee. “Please excuse the intrusion. Good evening, Mother, Mr. McClintock. We’re going to the band concert with the children. We’ll return in an hour or two.”

  His mother’s soft smile hardened to a glare. “We? Do you mean to take Miss Hale along?” Her gaze slid to Charlotte standing in the hallway near the open door. “I might need her to fetch me something. I haven’t regained my strength yet.”

  Mr. McClintock intervened with a soothing pat on M
rs. Wilmont’s lacy wrist. “If you need anything at all, Vivian, I’d be delighted to fetch it. No need to worry. I’ll take good care of you, my dear.”

  Mrs. Wilmont blushed and her face sweetened. “Well, I suppose it might be all right, if you don’t mind, Horace.”

  “We also have a house full of maids and footmen,” Daniel reminded her. “Simone is always at your beck and call.”

  That settled, Charlotte followed the professor outside. While the children ran ahead, they strolled across Summerhill’s wide lawn toward the Aquidneck College campus. When they came to the edge of the Wilmonts’ property, they followed the dirt path skirting the coast that ended at Cove Road.

  The professor strode beside her, much too close for propriety. If he wouldn’t think it odd, she’d walk alone on the other side of the lane. His presence stripped her mind of all rational thought and conversation. First she babbled, and then her tongue tied itself in knots. Again and again, she thought back to the night before, to how close she came to death . . . and how he saved her. She needed time to sort out these strange, emerging feelings. She wasn’t behaving at all like herself.

  He curved over to speak, and from the look in his eyes she knew he didn’t recognize her confusion. She hoped she wasn’t making a spectacle of herself like Missy LeBeau. Charlotte banished her confusion and concocted an open expression.

  “I hope you’ll enjoy the band. The college music department sponsors weekly concerts, and I try to attend a few every summer. I thought this was a good way to incorporate more time for the children.” He glanced to Tim and Ruthie ahead of them and back to her, clearly seeking her approval.

  Charlotte stifled a snort. “I’m glad you took my advice, sir.”

  “You’re hard to ignore, Miss Hale.” He tossed her a crooked grin that fired heat into her neck and face.

  Was he flirting? No, her imagination must be playing tricks. But, horror of horrors, she wanted to flirt with him—maybe even poke him in the ribs, though that would be much too unseemly, especially in plain view. Why were these foolish thoughts dancing through her head? No, it wasn’t that she liked him in a romantic sort of way; she merely enjoyed a bit of fun and frivolity. But he was her boss and she dare not forget that for even a moment.

  The mild air blew in gentle puffs through the trees that lined the lane and cast dark, lacy patterns across the lawns. She hoped the breeze would cool her countenance and drain the color from her face. She’d die of embarrassment if he even suspected she cherished even a twinge of fondness for him. And that’s all it was—a fondness she’d feel toward any kind and pleasant person.

  Professor Wilmont looked at her from the side. “You’re grinning like a Cheshire cat. What’s so humorous, Miss Hale?”

  Charlotte gave up her flimsy hold and let her smile broaden. Finding him innocent of Mr. Phifer’s ugly suspicions propelled her to turn cartwheels down the center of Cove Road.

  “I was picturing your student, Miss LeBeau. I found her behavior quite outrageous. There isn’t one subtle bone in her body.”

  Professor Wilmont nodded. “You’re right. But as a Christian I can’t turn my back on her, though I was sorely tempted. In order for her faith to grow stronger, she needs to read and study the Bible. And pray, of course. I’m afraid I failed to get that across. I just pushed her away without offering much assistance.” His voice held a surprising amount of regret. “I wasn’t as understanding as I should have been.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “Don’t feel guilty about protecting yourself and your reputation, not even for one second. You should run away from that girl just as fast as you can. Mark my words, she’ll only cause trouble.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you really think so?”

  “I most certainly do.” If only she could explain how Mr. Phifer counted on him to succumb to his student’s charms. Yet right from the beginning Charlotte had felt sure the fine, upstanding Professor Wilmont wouldn’t fall prey to a young vixen. He was too smart and too good to be snared by such overt flattery.

  “I believe you’re exaggerating. She’s forward, but that’s the extent of it, I’m sure.”

  “She’ll use any ploy to capture your attention, even pretend an interest in religion.” Charlotte uttered the truth, but Daniel’s questioning gaze made her wish she’d spoken with more tact.

  “You’re quite cynical, Miss Hale.” His face registered surprise, though he didn’t sound judgmental.

  “Oh no, sir, I’m not in the least bit jaded. But I am realistic. And I understand women, including Missy. I mean, Miss LeBeau.”

  “Then you must know Melissa LeBeau needs the Lord in her life. Somebody should help her before she takes a wrong turn.”

  Charlotte jerked a nod. “Yes, of course. But, sir, if you’ll pardon my saying so, you’re not the right one to guide her. She’ll cling to you like a vine.” She hoped she wasn’t stepping out of line by voicing her opinion, but he had to take heed.

  Professor Wilmont drew out a long sigh as the shadows lengthened across lawns and gaslight glowed in the windows facing Faculty Row. “Sometimes students have crushes on their professors, or so I’ve been told. It’s just a passing fancy. Fortunately, it’s never happened to me before.”

  Such a good-looking man was an obvious target for a girl’s fantasies. “Just beware of her, sir. That’s all I’m suggesting.”

  “Yes, I shall keep her at arm’s length.” He spoke in a light, dismissive tone.

  His lack of concern made Charlotte groan inwardly. “Sir, you’re humoring me when you should be taking my warning seriously. You’re giving her the benefit of the doubt on the off chance she’s sincere. And that could be a grave mistake.” Charlotte glanced at him sideways and held her breath.

  “I do thank you for that admonition”—he gave a wry smile—“but you needn’t worry.”

  She tried to hide her apprehension, but she felt the muscles in her face tighten. “You’re so open you leave yourself vulnerable to people with dishonorable intentions.”

  Professor Wilmont shrugged. “Maybe, but I won’t turn my back on anyone. The Lord will protect me if necessary.” He frowned. “Why do you look skeptical? Don’t you believe that?”

  She should say, “Yes, of course I do.” But she couldn’t force the words. Professor Wilmont ought to trust his own common sense, not rely on a God who was out there somewhere beyond the moon and the stars—certainly not close enough to offer personal counsel or assistance. Though lately she’d sought to communicate with Him through prayer. She thought He might be listening, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “God doesn’t always protect us from harm,” she said softly. He’d taken her parents and brother John all within weeks. Influenza had struck them, and He hadn’t intervened. Sadness laced with anger ripped her heart—even now, years after they’d died.

  His eyebrows arched in astonishment. “Perhaps not physically, but the Lord keeps us from spiritual peril and that’s what counts in the long run.” Professor Wilmont regarded her with a steady gaze that cut right through her.

  She looked down at the stones and twigs scattered across the lane. “I suppose so.” She knew all about the physical harm that came from disease and pain and death, but what exactly was spiritual harm? She had so much to learn and experience. Her Scripture reading and feeble attempts at prayer had given her a taste, though it was hard to forgive a God who stole half her family and left her with the other half to take care of.

  He gave her arm a conciliatory pat. “At any rate, I appreciate your concern. Not many governesses take such a special interest in their employers.”

  She scrutinized his face for sarcasm but found gratitude instead. She pushed away the sad memories, as she always did when they came to mind, and dragged her focus back to the present. Why was the professor so open and trusting of others, ignoring their less-than-honest motives, her own included? She appreciated his transparency, but she couldn’t quite understand how the Lord could become such a force in one’s life
to direct every thought and deed. It was beyond her comprehension. Yet with her job nearly finished, it didn’t matter. She’d soon go home. Whether or not she succeeded in Mr. Phifer’s eyes remained to be seen.

  “You look troubled, Miss Hale.” He read her like a book. And that’s what she was—an overblown, overdrawn character from one of Elna Price’s outrageous dime novels—filled with joy, angst, remorse, and fear all rolled into one pathetic story.

  Charlotte pulled on her cheerful mask and forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

  As they came to the ivy-covered brick buildings, the professor’s penetrating gaze drew her in. “I’m always nearby if you care to talk.”

  “Thank you. I do have things on my mind, but nothing to burden you with, sir.” She clamped her mouth shut.

  They followed Ruthie and Tim to the benches set in front of the bandstand where the concertgoers were gathering in small groups. Well-dressed ladies and gentlemen crowded together on the hard seats and chatted with friends. Their conversations rose above the noise of the brass band tuning their instruments. Several children raced across the wide swath of grass while most remained under the watchful eyes of their parents. Ruthie and Tim slid into the back row and motioned to their father, but Professor Wilmont held back.

  “Save us a place, please. We’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said.

  Charlotte followed him to a corner of the lawn, bathed in early evening shadows. They settled onto a stone bench set beneath a silver maple shimmering in the pale light. Still in full view of the other concertgoers, they were several yards away and out of earshot.

  Charlotte’s heart thudded against her ribs. Why did he want privacy—with her? His colleagues and their wives glanced their way with obvious curiosity. What was a professor doing huddling with a servant? She wondered herself. A rich young woman who belonged to the smart set ought to stir his interest, not a governess with a hidden agenda. She must discourage his attention at once, if that’s what it was. But as she edged away, the professor inched closer.