by Jo Goodman
"Would you like some refreshment?" Ria asked. "I can offer you tea or wine. I have not much else in the way of spirits."
"Nothing, thank you." His eyes narrowed faintly as he regarded her. "You have rather more than your fair share of aplomb, I'm thinking. No hysterics. No demands. Very little in the way of reaction, in fact."
Ria glanced at the mantel clock. It was gone eleven, even later than she had supposed. Little Amy had been swept away to bed more than an hour earlier. It did not seem possible she had stayed awake so long after, writing and making plans. "I will have a fit of the vapors directly if it will hurry your explanation along."
A ghost of a smile flitted across his features, acknowledging her wry riposte. "I do apologize for coming to you at this hour. I would not have let myself in if you had been abed, but I saw you pass in front of your window and knew you were awake."
"You were watching me?"
"Actually, I was observing the school. There must be a dozen ways an enterprising girl can come and go without attracting notice. A lattice is always a suitable ladder if it is sturdy enough. You will be pleased to know your lattices are solidly constructed. Downspouts can be shinnied in either direction if they are secured properly to the masonry. Yours are. There is also an easy exit from the attic windows, across the box gutters to the ladder propped against the east wall."
Ria's lower jaw sagged a fraction. "Roof repairs," she said on a thread of sound. "An ice dam lifted the slate."
"Yes, I thought that might be the way of it. Perhaps you will want to instruct the laborers to remove the ladder when they are finished for the day." He went on, ticking the points off on his fingers. "Inside, the doors swing on well-oiled hinges, which is invariably a good thing when one wishes to move in and out of the school or between rooms. The floors in your corridors do not creak overmuch and the stairs, while noisy in places, offer a wide, polished banister as a neat, speedy alternative. I assume all the windows can be latched, though this is only moderately effective for keeping intruders out. It does nothing to keep your girls in."
While Ria's mouth was no longer agape, her eyes had widened considerably. "It is a school, Your Grace, not a gaol. The young ladies here are students, not prisoners."
"Then you don't mind if they leave."
"No. Yes. Of course I mind if they leave unattended or without permission." She waved her hand impatiently. "That is not the point at all. I hope you mean to apprise me of your manner of entering the school."
If she had hoped to make him defensive, she was sadly mistaken. West said easily enough, "I used the front door."
"It was locked."
"It wasn't barred."
"I put the bar in place myself before vespers."
He shrugged. "That is my point, isn't it? A bar works to deter intruders; it does not present any obstacle at all for the inmates."
"It is a school," she said again, "not an asylum. You are pur—" Ria stopped considered what he was telling her in a different light, and began again. "What are you saying? That the door was no longer barred because someone here removed it?"
"Wasn't I clear?" he asked. "I thought I was clear. Yes. That's what I'm saying. One of your students slipped out the door and met a lad by that stand of beeches not a hundred yards from the school. She did not remain there long, though I should think there were some passionate words exchanged, oh yes, and I saw a note pass between them. You will not credit it, but there was no kissing. I believe your girl was all for it, but the lad had his wits about him and kept her at a distance. I cannot say why he did so, though one supposes he imagines himself in love with her and regards carnal denial as chivalrous. But then," West added his tone mildly ironic, "I am judged by my friends to be a romantic."
Ria could not rouse sufficient breath just then to call him mad.
"No wind in your sails?" West asked. "Perhaps you would like a glass of wine yourself? You are markedly more peaked than you were moments ago. That does not bode well." He held up one hand to stop her from rising and got to his feet. "I shall get it. Do you keep the wine in the sideboard?"
She nodded.
West poured half a glass of red wine and carried it to her. "Here. It can do no harm."
Ria had difficulty not draining the glass. "Has she come inside?"
"Your young lady? Yes, she didn't tarry once her beau took his leave." West returned to his chair. "She hurried back, dutifully barred the door, and, I believe, went straightaway to her room. By then I was already inside, so replacing the bar was of no consequence."
"I see." She didn't, not entirely, but it seemed appropriate to report some understanding. It occurred to her that she should inquire as to the identify of her student, though she had a very good idea who it was. "Can you describe the girl? I shall speak to her in the morning."
"Certainly I can describe her, it is just that I have no intention of doing so. No harm has been done, and the boy looked to be a decent enough sort. I don't believe you will have any trouble from that quarter." Especially, West told himself, after he hunted down the lovestruck lad and had a few words with him. "It seems to me that your girl can be spared a lecture."
"Surely that is my decision. I am responsible, after all, and her actions had the lamentable consequence of opening the door to you."
"I believe I mentioned there were other means by which I could have entered the school."
"Yes, but at least you might have broken your neck using one of those."
"Ah," he said. "You would have preferred to find me lying sprawled in the hedgerow at morning light."
"I would have liked it better if you missed the hedgerow."
West laughed outright at that. "You, Miss Ashby, are decidedly coldhearted."
Ria pursed her lips to temper her smile. His easy laughter was its own invitation, and she found it hard not to join him. "It will have been Emma Blakely that you saw," she said. "She has been known to flirt with the village boys." Ria finished her wine and set the glass down. "What brings you to Gillhollow, Your Grace? You were careful to leave me with no expectation that I might depend upon your help, and indeed, I have not."
"That is true."
"Never say you have changed your mind."
"Let us say that what assistance I have determined to offer shall be offered on my terms."
"What do you mean?"
West leaned back, crossing his arms in front of him, the posture both relaxed and watchful. "I have set it in my mind to join the board of governors of Miss Weaver's Academy for Young Ladies."
Chapter 4
"You are serious," Ria said.
"You say that as if exactly the opposite were true. I assure, I am serious. The list of governors for the school is impressive. Why should I not lend them my name in this charitable enterprise?"
"My, but you have become full of yourself. And in so short a time. It really does give one pause." To press that point, she paused. "There, it is passed. Goodness, but it is a relief to have done with that."
He cocked one eyebrow. "You are not taken with the idea."
"Your Grace has a happy talent for understatement. I abhor the idea. Loathe it, in fact."
"Pray, do not mince words. You must say precisely what you think."
Ria did smile then, albeit softly and without the passion of humor behind it. "Forgive me. You are generous to tolerate my sharp tongue."
"Now you disappoint, Miss Ashby. It is not in my mind to punish you for speaking yours. Tell me why I should not apply to the board."
"What would be the purpose?" she asked. "You already enjoy considerable influence as my guardian. Must you hold sway in this aspect of my life as well? Your father was good enough not to interfere in this manner."
With some effort, West let this mention of his father pass. He could not very well encourage her to speak freely in one moment, then press her to be more cautious in the next. "My intention is not to exert my will on you. Am I wrong to suppose that you still desire my assistance? Miss Jane Petty ha
s not returned to the school, has she? The last inquiries I made before leaving London indicated that she had not."
"You made inquiries? How? Of whom?"
"I believe you were the one who pointed out I must not be without connections in the foreign office."
"Yes, but—"
"I applied to them, Miss Ashby, on your behalf. I regret they were of no help in divining Jane's whereabouts, but some use might yet be made of them. What I learned was enough to bring me here."
Ria blinked. She felt strangely weepy of a sudden and hoped she would not embarrass herself or him by crying. "Thank you," she said, working the words past the lump in her throat. "Thank you for that."
"Save your thanks for when I announce I have accomplished something." He tilted his head slightly to one side as he continued to take her measure. "Apart from the control you feared I will inflict upon you, is there some other reason I should not apply to the board?"
"I suppose not, though I don't understand what can be accomplished by it."
"Humor me, Miss Ashby."
"I have not placed a knife at your throat, have I?"
He gave a shout of laughter and ignored her attempt to shush him. When he caught his breath, he said, "That is proof indeed of your charity toward me."
"You must lower your voice. Someone will hear you."
West shrugged. "It is just as well that I am your guardian, then. We will be acquitted of arranging a tryst in your apartments."
Ria regarded him skeptically. "You are not serious."
"Correct. I am not. But the thing of it is, it is vastly entertaining to watch you try to work it out." West wisely shifted subjects. Ria looked as if she might like to go searching for a blade. "It seems to me that I can be of most assistance by having unrestricted access to the school. While I could use my position as your guardian to do that, it is not a proper fit. I believe it will inspire comment, especially since the former duke did not deign to visit you here."
"He visited." She watched his eyebrow arch and amended her statement. "Once. He visited once."
"Yes. That is what I've heard."
Ria wondered if Tenley was the informant. Tenley would not have shared this information as a kindness. He begrudged his father any time spent with her. "Then you must also know that the governors are not in the habit of coming here."
"But they tour the school."
"Certainly."
"And if they desire to visit, it is an acceptable practice."
"Of course."
"They can come and go if they please."
"Yes."
"Then it will serve nicely as a means of doing all of those things without comment. Now, have off with trying to dissuade me. I have my own reasons for being set on the matter."
"Shouldn't you like to tell me what they are?"
"No."
"But—"
"No," he repeated. "There is no predicting what you would make of them. I have not forgotten that you traveled to London without benefit of escort, armed only with the most improbable notion that I was some sort of spy and the odd conviction that I could lend you assistance."
"Yet here you are."
He gave her a sharp glance. "Because it amuses me. You would do well not to make too much of it beyond that. I found myself at sixes and sevens in London with all of my friends engaged, one of them literally, in their own imbroglios. It seemed good sense to make myself scarce. There is also the matter of acquainting myself with the estate at Ambermede. Tenley is still in residence, and he and I will have to discuss how we mean to go on."
It occurred to Ria for the first time that West had probably never stepped foot inside the manor. As the duke's ward, she had had opportunity to become familiar with the house, while he had not been allowed to cross the threshold. "Will you demand that Tenley leave?"
"No. For now it is his choice if he comes or goes. I have no immediate plans to take up residence beyond a few weeks."
"Then you mean to be a frequent visitor to Gillhollow?"
"Not the village," he said. "But here at the school. I plan to visit Mr. Beckwith at Sunbury first and express an interest in the academy. I understand he is there now, settling in for the winter. It is not so far. We shall see how that goes."
"I do not believe you will find him so overcome by the honor of your visit that he will invite you to join the board."
"Perhaps he has not heard that I am no longer a bastard."
"I do not believe there is a person in all of England who has not heard the story of the duke naming you his true son and heir." She paused. "Oh, I see, you were making light of it."
"I was." West's green glance fell on the small smile that hovered on her lips. She had a sweetly generous mouth that demanded attention be paid to it. West was inclined to give it its due. "I think Mr. Beckwith will hear me out and mayhap be persuaded to accommodate me." He saw that Ria remained unconvinced. "Am I so objectionable, then?"
"No," she said hastily. "That is, I do not think so. It is only that as a group the governors are singularly insular."
"Really?" West was confident that Ria knew next to nothing about the men who governed Miss Weaver's Academy—nothing, that is, but the face they put before the public. "How do you mean?"
"Well, the school is a very old institution," she said. "It was founded in 1725 by a group of London gentlemen who were forward in their thinking about the education of females. The governors today are largely comprised of the third and fourth generation of those founders. This social responsibility has been passed on as a legacy to the sons, their sons, and their grandsons. So it goes. Your father's family was not part of that tradition. That is why I do not think they will welcome you into their fold."
"You may be right. I will allow it presents a challenge, but I am not unaccustomed to standing at the bakery window with my nose to the glass. If there is a sweet I desire, I usually find my way inside."
"As you did tonight." Ria flushed as she realized how her words might be interpreted, and her eyes slid away. "I did not mean... that is..."
"You did not mean that you are the sweet? Is that what you are trying to take back?" He chuckled deeply at the back of his throat, the sound of it perfectly wicked. "You are blushing, Miss Ashby, and it suits, for you are far too pale without it. However, your discomfort is so palpable that even I cannot continue to tease you at this juncture. In the future I hope you will take yourself in hand, else you will prove to be tedious company."
Her chin came up and she glared at him.
"Oh, you have rallied nicely. Very well done."
"You are incorrigible."
"That is the considered opinion of those who know me well."
"My, and I have arrived at the same conclusion after only a short acquaintance. I am clever."
West grinned. "Now you most definitely have your feet under you, Miss Ashby." He leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees. "Enough about the governors. Tell me about that fellow you hired... Mr. Lytton, I believe is his name... I understand he has not yet proved his worth."
Ria shook her head, no longer in surprise that he knew what he did, but simply as a response to his statement. "It is true that he has been a disappointment. I was hopeful at first, but there is nothing he has been able to discover on his own."
West was compelled to point out, "There may be nothing anyone can discover. You must admit to that possibility. Miss Petty might be lost to you."
"I have considered it," Ria said, though she was loath to admit she had lost faith, however briefly. "But this very evening, Amy came forward and has told a story which holds out some promise."
Glancing sideways at the clock, West realized he had kept Ria from her bed far longer than was his intention. He had no regrets about coming to the school straightaway, but he had meant only to have a look at the lay of the land, then retire to the inn. Miss Emma Blakely's departure from the house had inspired him to step inside for no other reason than to prove that he could, then demonstrate the same
to Ria. He had overstayed a welcome that was only grudgingly given in the first place, and now she was teasing him with this tidbit of information from someone named Amy as artlessly as Eve had tempted Adam with the apple.
West did not try to resist. He bit down hard. "Who is Amy?"
"Miss Amy Nash. She is also a student."
"Of an age with Miss Petty?"
"Amy is eight."
West was disappointed but careful not to show it. Ria obviously considered the girl a reliable informer, and he did not disabuse her of that notion. "Amy knows where Miss Petty is?"
Ria shook her head and began to relate what Amy told her. West listened patiently to the story without interruption. When Ria concluded with Amy's disclosure of the dressmaker on Firth Street, West merely nodded.
"Are you not encouraged?" asked Ria when West made no comment.
"It is something worth investigating, but it does not warrant so much enthusiasm."
Since Ria thought she had offered a carefully tempered explanation of events, West's comment stung. "I am aware it may come to nothing."
"It was not my intention to dash your hopes, merely to maintain perspective. Your information is from someone who, unlike Miss Petty, may properly be called a child. I have not the experience you have with them, but from having been one myself, I know something about the lack of reliability."
"Amy is not a liar."
"I did not say she was. It is likely she believes the few details she told you and no doubt has spent weeks guiltily reviewing Jane's conversation with her. I should not be surprised if she has convinced herself of particulars that were never shared between them. It is just as well she could provide no description of Jane's proper gentleman, because it would be of little use."
"I had already thought of that," Ria said quietly. "What is to be done?"
"I will question her myself tomorrow. That is the first thing. If she tells me Jane has gone to Gretna we shall know how suggestible she is. You planted that seed with her."
"Then I should not have mentioned it?"
