“Miss Thompson?” She smiled. “Viscount Whitleaf?”

What on earth was he doing here? He was supposed to be miles away.

“Miss Osbourne,” Miss Thompson said, her eyes twinkling. “I might have guessed that a plain gray work dress would only make your hair appear even more vibrantly auburn. If I were ten years younger I would be mortally jealous of you.”

“Miss Thompson will be staying for the afternoon,” Claudia said. “Viscount Whitleaf is about to take his leave, but he wishes to call in on Lady Potford with a message. She has sent an invitation for me to join her and Miss Thompson at a concert in Bath Abbey tomorrow evening. I will be unable to attend, having promised to give three of the senior girls extra coaching for their history examination next week. However, Miss Thompson has suggested that perhaps you would like to go instead of me, Susanna.”

“I should be delighted if you will agree, Miss Osbourne,” Miss Thompson assured her. “And I am sure Lady Potford will be too.”

It was hard for Susanna to think straight with Viscount Whitleaf standing silently not six feet away. But the chance to attend an evening concert was certainly enticing. She very rarely attended any entertainment that was not directly related to the school. And the Abbey was such a beautiful church.

“Your drama practice is tonight,” Claudia said, “and there is no study hall tomorrow, it being Friday. I see nothing to stop you from going, Susanna, except inclination.”

“Oh, inclination would certainly take me there,” Susanna assured her.

“Splendid!” Miss Thompson exclaimed. “Then it is settled.”

“I shall inform Lady Potford of the slight change in plans,” Viscount Whitleaf said. “And I shall take my leave, ma’am.” He bowed to Claudia. “Perhaps Miss Osbourne would see me on my way?”

On his way? He should be well on his way beyond Bath by now, shouldn’t he?

“Why are you still in Bath?” she asked him after they had stepped out into the hallway and he had closed the study door behind him. For once there was no sign of Mr. Keeble. “I thought all the wedding guests were leaving early this morning.”

“I waved everyone else on the way,” he said, “and then discovered two things. First that Miss Thompson had no escort to Lady Potford’s on Great Pulteney Street or here to the school, and second that really I had nowhere of pressing importance to go myself.”

“Have you been home to Sidley Park yet?” she asked.

It felt somehow surreal to see him here inside the school, which was such a very feminine domain. He was wearing a long, multi-caped greatcoat, which somehow made him seem larger and more broad-shouldered and more masculine than ever. Susanna felt half suffocated by his presence.

“Since August?” he said. “Oh, yes, indeed. I went after my mother’s houseguests had left. But the drawing room had turned pink and lacy in my absence-it is horribly hideous. And the dining room is to turn lavender after Christmas, which I am expected to spend at Sidley in company with a certain Miss Flynn-Posy and her mama and papa among other people. I shall have to go if only to save my dining room from such a ghastly fate.”

He looked so comically forlorn that she could not stop her lips from twitching with amusement.

“I daresay you are too kind to speak your objections openly to your mother,” she said.

“Not at all,” he said.

“You were actually playing with all the children in the ballroom yesterday when I arrived, were you not?” she said. “I overheard Miss Thompson telling Claudia so after our waltz.”

“I was early, you see,” he said, “and playing with them seemed as good a way as any of passing the time, especially when they had more or less kidnapped me.”

“But no other adult thought to play with them,” she said, “and apparently it did not occur to them to kidnap any other adult-only you, because you wished to amuse them and they recognized in you someone who would pay attention to them and make the afternoon fun for them. But you are not at all kind, of course.”

He grinned a little sheepishly and she knew that now, within moments he was going to open the door and step outside and she was going to close it after him and be alone again.

“I will bring my carriage to fetch you tomorrow evening,” he said. “Will half past six suit you?”

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

“I am staying for a couple of days longer,” he explained. “I have offered to escort Lady Potford and Miss Thompson to the concert.”

“And maneuvered matters so that I would be invited too?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Not at all,” he said. “That was sheer good fortune. I was trying to devise a way of doing it, but it was done for me when Miss Martin said she could not go and Miss Thompson suggested you in her stead.”

She stared at him, speechless.

“Tell me you are glad.” His smile looked a little crooked to her, even perhaps a little wistful-which was surely nonsense.

“I will be very glad to attend the concert,” she said. “Bath Abbey is often used for organ recitals. I love nothing more than to listen to the great pipe organ being played though I have not heard it often. Perhaps there will be some organ pieces tomorrow.”

“You will be glad to attend the concert, ” he said softly. “Well, I must be content with that. I shall come at half past six?”

“Thank you,” she said.

And then he did indeed open the door and step outside, and she did indeed close the door after him and find herself alone again. She closed her eyes briefly and drew a few steadying breaths. Not only was she to attend a concert at the Abbey tomorrow evening as a guest of Lady Potford, but she was also to have Viscount Whitleaf as an escort. It was almost too much to bear. The excitement of anticipation might well kill her.

And she had classes to teach this afternoon-in penmanship and writing. The first class was to begin within the next five or ten minutes, in fact.

Susanna turned away from the door and tried to pretend that this was no different from any other afternoon at school.


This was the damnedest thing, Peter thought as he rapped on the door of Miss Martin’s school again the following evening. He liked music. He often attended concerts and even the opera in London, depending upon which artists were to sing. But a concert in Bath Abbey? He had actually postponed his departure from Bath just because of it-when he had still thought the ladies he was to escort there were to be Lady Potford, Miss Thompson, and Miss Martin?

It really was just good fortune that had replaced the last-named lady with Susanna Osbourne. His mind had been working furiously over various schemes for including her in the party, but he had known perfectly well that it was unlikely that both resident teachers would leave the school together for a whole evening-especially so soon after the wedding breakfast.

It really was the damnedest thing, then, but here he was anyway. And there she was-he saw her as soon as the school porter, looking more sour-faced than ever, opened the door to admit him. She was wearing a plain gray cloak-but Miss Thompson had been quite right yesterday about the effect of such a drab color on her hair. Miss Martin, who was with her, was handing her a paisley shawl, which she would doubtless need inside the Abbey. Churches were notoriously chilly places.

There she was -the phrase repeated itself inside his mind as if there were an echo in there.

“Good evening, Miss Martin, Miss Osbourne.” He bowed to them.

She looked wide-eyed and slightly flushed in the light of a table lamp-Susanna, that was-and he realized with a pang of tenderness that this must be a grand occasion for her, just as the assembly in Somerset had been.

“I am ready,” she said, her voice slightly breathless.

“I trust,” Miss Martin said, “that Lady Potford and Miss Thompson are awaiting you in your carriage, Lord Whitleaf?”

“They are awaiting me at Lady Potford’s house, ma’am,” he assured her. “A mere five-minute drive from here.”

She inclined her head and turned her attention to her fellow teacher.

“Do have a lovely time, Susanna,” she said, her voice softening, “and give my regards to the other ladies.”

“I will,” Susanna said and stepped forward so that he could cup her elbow in his palm and escort her out onto the pavement.

He took her hand in his to help her up the steps into his carriage. She sat with her back to the horses, he noticed, in order to leave the better seat for the other ladies. He vaulted in after her and sat beside her.

It was only after his coachman had shut the door, climbed up to the box, and set the carriage in motion that the door of the school closed.

“Miss Martin cares about you,” he said. “So does the male dragon.”

“Mr. Keeble?” She laughed. “He cares about us all, girls and teachers alike. He would guard us all from the wicked world beyond the school doors if he could.”

“And I am the big, bad wolf?” he asked as the carriage turned onto Sutton Street.

“You are a man, ” she said, and laughed, “which in his eyes is probably far worse. I may be only a schoolteacher, Lord Whitleaf, but to Claudia and to Mr. Keeble I am also a lady and must be protected from any possibility of harm.”

“You are first and foremost a lady,” he said as the carriage made its big turn onto Great Pulteney Street, “who happens also to be a schoolteacher.”

She turned her head and their eyes met in the dim light cast by the carriage lamps that burned outside.