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“Yes—I know the door, and you cannot drive me up to the school with me looking like this,” she objected.
As he took out his handkerchief and wiped a smudge of mud from her pert nose, it occurred to him that not only did he love her, he adored her. What was all the confusion about? Fear? Was he so afraid to take her for his own? Why when everything about her reached some nerve inside him and soothed it, smoothed it, and made it hers?
“Very well. I understand, but you can walk? You haven’t hurt your ankle?”
“No, no, I am fine … just dirty.” She glanced at him and gave him a rueful smile.
He laughed and flicked her chin. “Very well, then. I shall keep your headmistress busy until you fly to your room, eh?”
“Oh, that would be very good. At the moment, I think she would use any excuse to get rid of me.”
“Would she? Why?”
“Oh, a bit of a story there, but I had better hurry now.”
“Right then. I’ll be there before you. Mind now, stick to the woods and then use the back door, while I go straight to her office.”
“Yes, yes, thank you, my lord.”
“Justin, I have a need to hear you call me Justin,” he answered.
“Justin, then,” she said softly before running off.
He watched her leave and then hurried down the footpath, across the courtyard, and to the front door.
Molly arrived to show him in and lead him to the Miss Sallstone’s anteroom, where he only had to wait a moment before a welcoming call from the headmistress allowed him entry.
~ Twenty-one ~
“GOOD AFTERNOON, MY lord,” the headmistress said, leaning back against her high-backed chair and gazing at him questioningly.
He made his bow, dropped his hat and gloves on a nearby chair, and said softly, “It is now, fair charmer, it is now, for I have missed you.”
“Have you?” she answered, displaying that she would not easily be taken in.
“Can you doubt it?” he returned banteringly.
“Yes, oh yes,” she said and gave him a cool smile. “So tell me, what really brings you here today?”
The marquis did not wait for an invitation as he sat and made himself comfortable. He gave her a flirtatious glance and said, “Ah, what brings me here—” he started.
“I have seen your interest in the Winthrop chit.”
“She is a lovely morsel, a quite delectable fruit,” he answered and gave her an intense glance.
“Are you saying that particular fruit … interests you?”
He answered quietly, “And if it did?”
“I would happily make you a present of her and be done with the chit. I cannot abide her,” Bianca said bitterly.
“Do you always give away such things to your male acquaintances?” This was not what he had expected to hear from her that afternoon.
She smiled ruefully. “My lord, I am in no position to. However, even if I were, I would not give anything away. There are fruits though, that I would gladly sell.”
She got up, moved to a corner dark wood cabinet, and produced a bottle of
sherry. Pouring slowly, she added, “Some refreshment, my lord?”
