He smiled a little, recalling that first sight of her in the stable, struggling to control a nervous horse and aim a pistol at a villain so that she could engineer the escape of Edwina, Theodora, Hannah and Phoebe.
“I think it is safe to say that Miss Bartlett’s character was very unlike your own,” he said gently.
“But she was a
teacher.
”
“No, Concordia.” He straightened and walked to stand in front of her. “You are a teacher. Miss Bartlett was in another line, altogether.”
“What are you thinking?” she asked, using every effort to compose herself.
“That if I had any sense, I would send you upstairs to bed. It is late.”
She stilled. “Yes, it is. Very late.”
“Much too late for me, certainly.”
He raised his hands and slid them around the nape of her neck, bent his head and kissed her again. She shivered in the most delicious manner.
He eased her lips apart with the edge of his thumb and drank deep. Her fingers convulsed on his shoulders.
He undid the sash of her robe for the second time that night. The garment parted, revealing the white linen nightgown underneath.
She mumbled urgently when he cupped her breasts in his palms. Through the thin material of the gown he could feel the tight little peaks of her nipples.
He moved his hands lower and found the full, round curves of her thighs.
She shuddered and pushed her fingers up into his hair.
He lifted her into his arms and started toward the sofa. She looked up at him with eyes that were pools of dreams.
He set her down on the sofa and reached out to remove her eyeglasses.
A staccato of sharp, demanding raps sounded on the library door.
“Miss Glade?” Theodora’s voice was muffled by the heavy wood panel. “Please come quickly. Hannah has had another one of her nightmares. She is crying and will not stop.”
Ambrose saw Concordia tense instantly. The sensual invitation evaporated from her eyes in a heartbeat. She bounded up from the sofa, grabbing at the sash of the robe.
“I must go to Hannah at once,” she said. She hurried toward the door and raised her voice. “I am coming, Theodora.”
He adjusted his own robe while he watched Concordia rush to the mirror to check her appearance.
When she had set herself to rights, she went to the door and opened it.
Theodora, dressed in a robe and slippers, hovered in the hall, looking appropriately anxious. When she caught sight of Ambrose, her eyes narrowed.
“I went to your bedroom but you weren’t there,” she said to Concordia. “Then I noticed that there was a light on down here.”
“Mr. Wells and I were discussing something of importance that occurred today,” Concordia said crisply. She moved out into the hall and paused to look back at Ambrose. “I trust you will excuse me, sir. I had hoped that Hannah would not suffer another nightmare quite so soon.”
He studied Theodora, who was watching him with an expression that struck him as somewhat too innocent.
“The timing of this particular bad dream is, indeed, quite interesting,” he said.
Concordia was clearly baffled. “I beg your pardon?”
“Good night, Miss Glade.” He inclined his head in a small bow. “Rest assured, we will finish our conversation at another time.”
She blushed. “Good night, sir.”
She went out into the hall and closed the door very quickly behind her.
Ambrose waited for a moment or two. Then he turned down the lamp and let himself out of the library.
He went up the stairs, listening closely. When he reached the landing, he heard muffled whispers and a faint giggle emanating from the darkened landing of the next floor.
There was a light flurry of footsteps overhead, a hastily closed door and then abrupt silence.
T
he following morning Ambrose surveyed the crowded breakfast room from his seat at the head of the table. Concordia occupied the chair at the opposite end. He thought she looked very good in that position, as though she belonged there, right where he could see her first thing every day.
Her hair was pinned up into another neat, elegant coil. She wore one of the new gowns he had ordered from the dressmaker. This one was of a pretty bronze material patterned with stripes the color of red sealing wax.
The girls were all in excellent spirits this morning, he noted. A tribute to the resilient powers of youth.
Hannah in particular appeared remarkably cheerful after her supposedly troubled night. Phoebe, seated next to her, was bright and happy-looking in her boy’s trousers and shirt. He made a note to send a message to his tailor to commission some more male attire of better quality for her.
Edwina and Theodora sat on the other side of the table, angelic in
green and blue. They talked enthusiastically about the tour of the conservatory that Oates had promised to provide.
Ambrose ate his eggs and toast and listened to the lively conversation going on around the table. He was amused and bemused by his own reaction to the presence of Concordia and the girls. For years it had been his custom to spend this hour of the day alone with his newspapers. But this morning the papers sat untouched on a side table. It would have been impossible to concentrate on them in any event, given the students’ chatter, he told himself.
He could always read the papers later.
“I intend for us to resume some of our studies this morning,” Concordia said decisively.
Her announcement was met with near universal amazement and some consternation.
“But, Miss Glade,” Theodora said earnestly, “we do not have any books, or rulers or globes or maps.”
Concordia gave Ambrose a challenging smile. “I’m sure Mr. Wells will not mind if we turn the library into a temporary schoolroom.”
Ambrose considered that proposition briefly and then shrugged. “No, Mr. Wells does not mind.”
“Thank you, sir.” Concordia gave him an approving look.
Phoebe turned to Ambrose, dubious. “Are there any books about chemistry in the library, sir?”
“You will find chemistry texts in the second bookcase on the right as you walk through the door,” Ambrose said.
“What about ancient Egypt?” Edwina asked. “That is my favorite subject.”
“Ancient Egypt is on the balcony just at the top of the staircase. There are also a large number of volumes on China, America, India, Africa and a number of other locales.”
She brightened. “Really?”
“Really.” He forked up another bite of eggs. “Mr. Stoner spent many years traveling the world. He wrote some of the books that you will find in the library.”
The girls were fascinated. Concordia looked politely suspicious.
“You will also find some interesting artifacts that Mr. Stoner brought back from some of his journeys. One in particular may intrigue you. It is called a Cabinet of Curiosities. Legend has it that there are a hundred and one drawers concealed inside but no one has ever been able to find and open that many.”
“A cabinet filled with secret drawers.” Phoebe was enthralled. “How exciting. May we attempt to open some of them, Mr. Wells?”
“Be my guest.”
Edwina looked hopeful. “Does the library include any of Mrs. Browning’s work? I adore her poetry.”
“Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her husband are both there,” he assured her. “Shelved right next to each other. Seemed only fitting.”
Theodora leaned forward slightly to look down the length of the table at him. “Are there any watercolor paints and brushes?”
He thought about it. “I believe there may be some art supplies in one
of the cupboards. They will be quite old, though. I will have Oates purchase some fresh paints today.”
Theodora was pleased. “Thank you, sir. That would be lovely. When Miss Glade arrived at the castle, she brought some excellent paints and brushes with her, but we were forced to leave most of them behind when we escaped.”
“I understand,” he said.
“What about novels, sir?” Hannah asked. “I am very interested in them, especially the sort that feature secret marriages and missing heirs and madwomen in the attic.”
“You refer to sensation novels,” he said.
“Yes, sir.” Hannah smiled encouragingly.
He helped himself to some toast. “I think I can say with absolute certainty that the library does not contain a single sensation novel.”
“Oh.” Hannah’s face fell.
The enthusiasm on the faces of the other three girls dimmed somewhat, also.
“How unfortunate,” Hannah mumbled.
He studied their disappointed expressions.
“This household receives a number of newspapers,” he said finally. “Several of them feature serialized novels. You are welcome to read those.” He hesitated, catching Concordia’s eye. “Assuming Miss Glade does not object.”
“Not at all.” Concordia buttered a bit of toast. “I am a firm believer in the value of novel reading. It encourages the development of the creative
imagination and allows one to experience certain strong passions and emotions that must, of course, be restrained in polite society.”
He raised his brows. “You amaze me, Miss Glade. I doubt that there are many in your profession who would agree with your views. I’m certain that the vast majority of educators and most parents, for that matter, consider sensation novels to be a very improper influence on young minds.”
“I am aware that my approach to the education of young ladies is somewhat unusual.”
“‘Unique’ might be a more fitting word,” he said, amused.
“Perhaps.” Enthusiasm lit her eyes. “But I believe very strongly in my theories. One day I intend to establish my own school for young ladies based on the principles that I have developed.”
He lowered the uneaten slice of toast, fascinated by the small glimpse of her personal hopes and dreams.
“I believe you did mention that,” he said quietly.
“My school will be founded on the same notions of education that inspired my parents,” she said. “They were convinced, and I agree, that a broad, wide-ranging curriculum not only develops powers of logic and reasoning in young ladies, it will prepare them for the various professions and careers. It is my firm conviction that young ladies who are equipped to make their own way in life will no longer feel pressured to marry for reasons of financial necessity.”
“But, as you have noted, many of the professions and careers remain closed to women,” he pointed out.
Her brows snapped together above the rims of her spectacles. “One
of the arguments used to keep women out of medical schools and other professional institutions is that they are not properly prepared academically. But the girls who graduate from
my
school will be able to hold their own with male students. What is more, they will emerge resolved to take a stand and agitate for their right to be admitted to the professions.”
“I see.”
“Mark my words, sir. When a sufficient number of women unite to demand their rights, there will be great changes in the world.”
He inclined his head respectfully. “I am impressed with your dedication to your goals, Miss Glade. I wish you the best of luck with your grand plans.”
She gave him a glowing smile. “Thank you, sir. Your attitude indicates that you are very advanced in your thinking on such matters.”
He grinned. “For a man, do you mean?”
She turned pink. “For anyone, male or female. Generally speaking, there is a great resistance to the notions of equal rights for women, as I’m sure you are aware.”
“That may be true of society in general. But this household, like the one in which you were raised, Miss Glade, subscribes to a somewhat unconventional approach to many things.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, enough of that topic. We all have a busy day ahead of us.” She crumpled her napkin and placed it on the table beside her plate. “If you will all excuse me, I am going to have a look around the library and gather some materials together for today’s lessons.”
He got to his feet and circled the table to hold her chair. “Let me know if you have any questions about the contents of the library.”
“Yes, thank you, I will do that.” She rose and walked quickly to the door, where she paused to look at Hannah, Edwina, Theodora and Phoebe. “I will expect you all in the library in twenty minutes.”
There followed a dutiful series of “Yes, Miss Glade.”
Concordia swept out of the room. The small bustle at the back of her gown caused the bronze-and-red-striped skirts of the dress to sway in an elegant, enticing manner that Ambrose was certain he could have studied for hours.
He became aware of the fact that the room had gone very quiet behind him. When he turned, he discovered that the four girls were watching him with intent, serious expressions.
He went back to his chair at the head of the table and sat down.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked politely.
Hannah, Theodora and Phoebe shifted their gazes to Edwina.
Evidently having decided to accept the responsibility that had been silently thrust upon her, Edwina rose, went to the door and closed it very firmly. She returned to her chair and sat down, resolved.
“We are very concerned about Miss Glade’s situation, sir,” she said.
Ambrose poured more tea into his cup. “Her situation?”
“In this household,” Theodora clarified.
“Right, then.” He sat back. “I believe I’ve got it straight now. You are very concerned about Miss Glade’s situation in this household.”
Phoebe bobbed her head quickly, seemingly pleased that he had grasped the concept so readily. “That is correct, Mr. Wells.”
“The thing is,” Hannah said very gravely, “although Miss Glade is
quite intelligent and well educated and extremely modern in her notions, she has not had a great deal of practical experience.”
He considered each of the girls in turn. “I think you may all be underestimating her. Miss Glade has managed to survive on her own in the world for several years. You must trust me when I tell you that no one can manage that feat successfully without acquiring a good amount of practical experience.”
“You are missing the point, sir,” Edwina said with a flash of impatience. “Certainly Miss Glade has
some
types of practical knowledge. She knows how to read train schedules and how to rework a gown so that it can be worn for more than one season, for example. But she has had very little experience in the ways of gentlemen.”