The last child departed just before nine, leaving behind the familiar chaos of displaced furniture and crumb-scattered floors. Charles surveyed the scene, then quietly began helping Thompson return the desks to their proper positions.
“You needn’t do that,” Amelia said, still processing the evening’s revelations. “The staff will manage.”
“I don’t mind,” he replied simply. “Besides, I recall how backbreaking such work can be.”
“You’ve rearranged furniture before?” She couldn’t keep the skepticism from her voice.
His smile held a touch of self-deprecation. “My father believed in practical education. I spent every summer from age twelve to sixteen working alongside the estate staff—fields, stables, kitchens. Said I couldn’t properly manage people whose work I didn’t understand.”
Another piece of the puzzle that was Charles Bartholomew Hereford slipped into place. “That explains your ease with everyone tonight.”
“We all contain multitudes, Amelia.”
“Thank you for stepping in tonight. The children adored you.”
“They’re remarkable little beings,” he said, his expression softening. “So eager to learn despite everything working against them.” He paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully. “I should like to come again, if you wouldn’t object.”
“You want to teach regularly?” The question emerged more incredulously than she’d intended.
“Is that so difficult to believe?” There was playfulness in his tone.
Amelia regarded him thoughtfully. “After your performance at the committee meeting today, yes. Now… I’m not so certain.”
His expression sobered. “About that. There are complexities you may not fully appreciate. The committee members who seemed most opposed to immediate implementation are actually more likely to support gradual reform. Pressing too hard too quickly would only harden their resistance.”
“So you play both sides?” she asked without her earlier heat.
“I navigate the middle ground,” he corrected gently. “Fighting for what can actually be achieved rather than what should ideally exist.” He gestured toward the empty benches where the children had sat. “Those children need better conditions now, not perfect conditions never.”
Put that way, his approach made a certain pragmatic sense, even if it chafed against her idealism and patience.
“You continually surprise me, Charles,” she admitted quietly.
“Good.” He offered his arm with a slight bow. “A little mystery keeps a marriage interesting, wouldn’t you agree?”
As they departed theReview’soffice, Amelia found herself contemplating the man beside her with new eyes. The Charles who patiently guided struggling readers, who knelt to speak to children at their level, who understood the value of education for those society overlooked—this was someone she hadn’t anticipated when she’d agreed to their arrangement.
Maybe there was merit in his approach to reform as well—working within the system, molding rather than breaking. Perhaps there were more layers to the Marquess of Hereford than she had been willing to see. And perhaps, just perhaps, some of those layers might be worth discovering.
