"Ah." He fixed her with his coldest gaze. "That is what I believe my attorney friends call 'hearsay.' It isn't even admissible in a court of law."
"This is not a court of law, sir," she said with a considerable amount of starch in her spine. "I make the laws in this school, and I want to know the truth."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Madeline's hands trembling in her lap. It turned his frustration to rage. "Then I'm afraid I can't help you. If my friend threw such a party, I was unaware of it. And I find it highly unlikely Miss Prescott would risk her position and reputation to attend that sort of affair. As I'm sure she would tell you if you asked
her
."
"I did ask her," Mrs. Harris said. "She denies it as well."
"Then there you have it."
"Not exactly." She rose to stand behind the desk. "Before we continue this conversation, I wish to make one thing very plain. Your behavior at the school until now has been better than I anticipated. I would even go so far as to say that you've helped my girls quite a lot. So I am inclined to hold you blameless in this matter."
Her face darkened. "Except for one detail. I understand that Brayham is the family name of your maternal grandmother, which indicates that the woman at the party might have had some connection to
you
." She looked at Madeline, then back to him. "So either she was a relation of yours, or Miss Prescott decided that taking a name from your family would deflect suspicion from her and onto you."
His blood chilled. How the bloody devil did her source know Grandmother's maiden name? Mother's side of the family didn't even appear in Debrett's. Of course, someone with access to public records could learn such things. A newspaperman, perhaps. Like Godwin. But not in the space of a day, surely.
Whoever he was, this Michael person deserved to be thrashed for trying to ruin Madeline over a damned nitrous oxide party.
"So here is the situation, sir," Mrs. Harris went on with an impassive expression. "Either you tell me exactly what you know— including the identity of Mrs. Brayham, her connection to you, and how she came to be at your friend's party— in which case I will reevaluate whether I choose to help you in the matter of the guardianship of your niece."
He swallowed hard. "Or?"
"Or you continue to deny any knowledge of the party, leading me to assume you had nothing to do with Miss Prescott's appearance there, except perhaps for letting slip the family name of your grandmother, something I can hardly fault you for. If such is the case, I will enroll your niece."
"And what will you do to Miss Prescott?"
"End her employment, of course."
Madeline's pitiful little gasp made his blood run cold. He jumped to his feet. "End her employment! Based on evidence so slight as to be laughable?"
"I have other evidence. My friend tells me that a guest overheard the marquess call Mrs. Brayham 'Madeline' as she left. And Madeline is a rather unusual name, wouldn't you say?"
Damn, damn, damn. It was quite likely that Stoneville had done so, too, given what he'd said during their discussion after she'd left.
What the bloody devil was he to do? Anthony shoved his hand in his coat to close his fingers around Tessa's little snuffbox. He couldn't invent any tale about "Mrs. Brayham" without admitting he knew about the party. And though Mrs. Harris hadn't said for certain she would refuse to enroll Tessa under such a circumstance, she had implied it.
But neither could he sit here and watch Madeline lose her position while he got everything he wanted. After all, he still didn't know her situation. She seemed to think he couldn't help her and her father. What if that were true? What if Sir Humphry were indeed the only person who could save Dr. Prescott? Without knowing the facts, he didn't even know if marrying her would help her.
If he were to believe what she'd told him last night, then her father's very life was at stake. It had to be something at least that serious, or why had she been willing to sacrifice her virginity to keep him out of it? Even now, she sat trembling in fear of what he might decide.
He knew how these dismissals worked— it took very little for information to appear in the paper, especially if a scandal was involved. If she lost her position, it might get back to her father's enemies. He couldn't be responsible for helping a group of ignorant fools see a man to his grave. Especially when the man was
her
father.
Compared to that, even Tessa's situation paled. Which left him only one alternative.
He squeezed the box.
Forgive me, my dear girl. If Mrs. Harris doesn't enroll you, I will find another way to free you, I swear.
"Well?" Mrs. Harris snapped.
"As it happens," he said, "Miss Prescott had absolutely nothing to do with any of this. Mrs. Brayham is my distant cousin on my mother's side. It's merely coincidence that her Christian name is also Madeline."
"Ah," Mrs. Harris said, a strange expression crossing her face. "And your cousin— how did she come to be at your friend's party?"
He gritted his teeth. "She wanted to experience the more exotic delights of town, so I arranged with Lord Stoneville for her to attend."
"I see."
"No, you don't see. She's married to a parson. I wanted to preserve her reputation. That's why I lied about the party."
Madeline rose from her chair. "Mrs. Harris, you must let me speak!"
"You may leave now, Madeline," the headmistress said curtly. "I'm sure your students are waiting for you."
"But he's ly— "
"Go!" he said sharply before she could ruin everything. He put as much of what he felt into his gaze as he could manage. "It's all right, Miss Prescott. Don't invent some complicity in this to spare me embarrassment. I'm willing to take responsibility for my actions, foolish though they were. I'm sure I can make Mrs. Harris understand the situation."
Madeline shook her head. "Please, my lord— "
"If you don't go now, Madeline," Mrs. Harris said, "I shall assume you are both guilty of something and throw you both out."
That was the only thing that got her to leave.
As soon as she was gone, Mrs. Harris closed the door. "So you think you can make me understand the situation, do you?" She strolled before him, a calculating gleam in her eye. "You aided your married cousin, a respectable lady, in going to a scandalous party thrown by your friends. You did this without regard for the risk she took to her reputation or her marriage. Have I grasped the particulars?"
"Yes," he said, his stomach sinking at the harshness of her tone.
"And you didn't even accompany her to make sure none of the inebriated guests— or your friend, I might add— took advantage of her."
He debated, but decided on the truth. "I did accompany her. But because of concern over my gaining guardianship of my niece, I didn't actively participate." When she frowned, he added, "I know it was reckless of me to indulge her request, but when Madeline wants something, she is hard to dissuade."
She cocked one brow. "Yet you think you can be a firm guardian to a young girl."
Though he knew she was probably headed toward the complete destruction of his hopes, he couldn't resist making one last plea for his niece. "I have no idea if I can be a firm or even a good guardian. I've never had children, never been responsible for anyone's future except my own."
His voice grew thick. "But I can promise always to put Tessa's interests first, to do all in my power to ensure she has a safe and happy home. Having seen how well this school is run and how appropriate the curriculum, I would consider it a great honor if you would overlook my flawed character and enroll my niece anyway. After all, her only sin has been to lose her parents at too young an age."
Mrs. Harris regarded him intently, then held out her hand. "Very well. She may begin as soon as the courts settle the matter of guardianship. I will write a letter supporting your petition and have it sent round to your home."
He stared dumbly at her hand, not sure if he'd heard her correctly. He'd won? And without ruining Madeline?
"That
is
what you want, isn't it?" she said, a faint amusement in her tone.
"It is, it is!" Grabbing her hand, he pumped it up and down. "Thank you for giving me a chance. For giving Tessa a chance. You won't be disappointed."
"I hope not." Turning her back to him, she returned to the desk. "There is, however, one favor I wish you to do in exchange."
More favors? "Anything you ask."
She quirked up a brow at that. "Since I have agreed to your request, there is no need for you to continue the rake lessons. So I want you to leave the school."
"Of course," he said.
"This morning. Now. Without speaking to Miss Prescott. Indeed, I want you to promise that you won't approach her ever again, here or elsewhere."
It wasn't a promise he could make. "Why?" he said hoarsely.
She faced him with a steady gaze. "Because, sir, we both know that it was Miss Prescott at that party."
Had he won one fight only to lose the other? "I swear to you— "
"You needn't keep lying about it, for heaven's sake." Folding her hands, she leaned back on the desk. "I have connections of my own in society, and once my cousin informed me of her presence at the party, I spoke to someone who actually attended. His account satisfied me that it was indeed her."
At his look of alarm, she added, "I'm not planning to do anything about it, I assure you, especially after you made your noble sacrifice on her behalf." Her tone grew faintly annoyed. "I can easily imagine what sort of scientific curiosity led her to request such a thing of you— she is always trying to learn. And your willingness to protect her from the consequences of such curiosity does you credit."
"Then why did you just threaten— "
"Because I knew you helped her." She sighed. "Because I believed— wrongly, apparently— you were just using her to get what you wanted. That's why I brought you both in here. I wanted her to realize it, too. I wanted her to watch you throw her to the wolves, so she would know not to trust you."
She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "But you surprised me, sir. You lied for her, at the risk of your own aims." Her expression turned serious. "So I must concede that you probably care for her, at least a little. And if you do, then you have to leave her be."
He drew a ragged breath. "I can't. I won't."
Temper flared in her features. "She isn't like your other women— she doesn't understand how easy it is to slip from respectability into a pit of horror with little more than a kiss or two."
"Actually, she understands more than you give her credit for," he said heatedly. "In any case, my intentions toward her are honorable."
"Honorable!" She looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "But you're a viscount, and she's merely a teacher, with an ill father and no connections."
"That doesn't matter to me."
Her eyes narrowed. "Are you thinking to fob off on her your responsibility for your niece?"
"Certainly not!" He drew himself up to his full height. "You insult me by saying so, and you insult her even more by implying she isn't worthy of a titled gentleman's attentions."
For the first time all morning, Mrs. Harris looked entirely discomfited. "I wasn't implying any such thing. Indeed, she has been a jewel ever since she started here. She came highly recommended by the school in Shrewsbury where she worked before, and she has lived up to that promise in every— "
"Shrewsbury?" He pounced on that bit of information. "She comes from Shrewsbury?" No, that couldn't be, for Telford was only fifteen miles—
Damnation.
That
was the town she was from. Telford. Not Chertsey, not Shrewsbury. Telford.
That
was why she'd refused to reveal her secrets.
"You didn't know she was from Shropshire?" Mrs. Harris asked, suspicion in her voice. "She hasn't revealed
that
to you?"
He shook his head wordlessly, still trying to figure out the ramifications of her being from Telford.
"Is she even aware of your honorable intentions? Have you approached her father for permission to court her?"
"No," he said in a faraway voice. Her father, the physician. Oh, God, surely it wasn't…it couldn't be his uncle's—
But it had to be. Why else would she be so secretive, so mysterious in her machinations? Her father must have been the one to treat him all those years ago.
Oh, of course, he thought cynically. First, her father had abandoned him to the "tender" ministrations of his aunt and uncle. Then Madeline had run off in the middle of the night. It must be a family trait.
Something even worse occurred to him. Surely it was no coincidence that the daughter of Uncle Randolph's physician had proposed that he take her to a nitrous oxide party. Or that she'd tempted him into bedding her. Deflowering her.