The School of Charm: Books 1-5

by Maggie Dallen

  She didn’t belong here. It felt far too much like her old life, the one she’d walked away from. Maybe that was why she could not sleep. Being here in this room was only adding to her confusion about who she was and the life she was meant to have.

  She’d given up all those old dreams when she’d left, and then…

  Her mind flashed on an image of Lord Tolston, glaring down at her. The intensity in his eyes, that spark of fear that she’d caught there. Almost like he’d cared about her safety.

  About her.

  Utter hogwash. She threw the covers aside with a quick jerk, slipping out of bed with a new sense of urgency. She needed to move. To act. If she were to lay there one more second, she’d drive herself crazy with all these errant thoughts.

  The nice thing about having worked in the home where one currently was a guest was that she knew her way around. In bare feet, she padded silently through the hallways and down the grand staircase.

  The vaulted ceilings seemed to echo with the sound of her footsteps as she stole down the hallway toward the kitchen. Once there she took a deep breath of relief. Oddly enough, she felt more comfortable here with the still smoldering fire and the smells of the day’s cooking than she had in the elegant guest room.

  She saw some bread sitting out and went over to it.

  She hadn’t felt at ease in this kitchen as a servant, and she didn’t feel at ease as a visitor…perhaps she’d never find a place where she truly felt she belonged, but she could at least ease her hunger.

  That was a start.

  She reached for a knife and began to cut off a hunk.

  “If you are running again, you are doing a poor job of it.” Tolston’s low voice made her squeak in alarm as she whipped around, the knife in front of her.

  He eyed it with a smirk that made her knees grow weak. “Are you threatening me in my own home?” His brows arched. “And with a bread knife?”

  She looked down at the blade and then dropped it to her side quickly. “You startled me.”

  “I might say the same.” He crossed his arms as he fixed her with a glower. “Were you running away?”

  She looked down pointedly at her night rail and arched her brows just as he had.

  “Very well.” He gave a huff of amusement. “Couldn’t sleep, then?”

  She shook her head.

  “Too hungry?” By the amusement that tinged his voice, she suspected he knew very well that hunger wasn’t all of it.

  “That and I fear my mind has a way of racing away without me at night,” she admitted.

  His lips quirked up on one side in a look that was positively dangerous. She found herself holding her breath for no good reason.

  “Welcome to the club,” he said, lifting his right hand which held a glass filled with an amber liquid. “Come,” he said, nodding toward the hallway where he’d just arrived. “Grab your little meal and join me.”

  “Oh, I could not—”

  “I insist.” His tone brooked no argument and he turned and walked away before she could try.

  With a weary sigh, she finished cutting the bread, found herself a plate and poured a large glass of milk. When she could dawdle no longer, she followed in his path with the plate and glass in hand.

  He was easy to find—the only door open with a glow coming from within. Still, she paused in the doorway.

  “Come in,” he ordered.

  She wasn’t sure whether to be amused or annoyed that he only spoke to her in commands.

  “So,” he said when she’d settled in on the large leather seat across from him, tucking her legs beneath her as she dug in to her food. “What is it that has you up all night?”

  She sighed as she chewed. Was it not obvious?

  He didn’t wait for her answer. “I told you I would make sure you and your child are safe.”

  She swallowed thickly and the bread seemed to lodge in her throat. She coughed around it as her eyes watered. She supposed she still hadn’t quite gotten used to hearing Reggie referred to as her child.

  She still couldn’t believe her initial reaction was to laugh. Even when it hinged on the hysterical, laughter seemed a novelty these days, but it had felt so much better than crying.

  He was eyeing her oddly when she met his gaze. “I told you, you have nothing to fear. Not anymore. I shall make sure you are both safe and well cared for.”

  She stared at him with wide eyes, struck anew by the sincerity in his eyes, at the kindness of his offer. This man who resided in a world of balls and luxury, soirees and debutantes…what on earth had she done to deserve this sort of concern and generosity from a gentleman like him? Here in the firelight, he seemed too good to be true. Larger than life and more handsome than anyone she’d ever met.

  For a moment, she wondered if her imagination had conjured him, or if, perhaps, she’d never woken at all from her fainting spell on the steps. “Perhaps I am still dreaming,” she murmured.

  His brows arched. “Pardon me?”

  She gave her head a shake and squeezed her eyes shut. “Sorry, it is just…you owe me nothing. I am not your obligation. I don’t…that is…” She sighed with impatience at her own stumbling attempts to speak. “I appreciate your generosity, my lord, but I do not understand it.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “I am a man of honor. As a gentleman, it is my duty to look after those less fortunate.”

  Charity. That was what he meant. She swallowed down her distaste. After all, someone in her position could not afford pride. And this man, despite his growls and his commands—he’d been nothing but good to her.

  And Reggie.

  “I suspect perhaps it’s more than just honor,” she said softly.

  His brows drew down. If she did not know better, she would have found that glower fearsome. But she did know better. She’d seen that warmth in his eyes and her dratted mind wouldn’t let her forget it.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked warily. “If you are worried that I have ulterior motives—”

  “Oh no,” she hurried to interrupt. “I merely meant that I believe it’s your kind heart that has you taking pity on me and my…” She swallowed. “My child.”

  Now that she’d claimed him as such, she realized how much easier that was to explain. It was safer, too. If word got back to Duncan or any of their acquaintances about a runaway young lady with a little brother, it would be too easy for him to piece it together.

  But a young lady and her child that was born out of wedlock?

  She was just another cautionary tale.

  She could live with that—if it meant that Reggie was safe.

  To her surprise, Tolston dropped his gaze to the amber liquid as he swirled it. He seemed discomfited by her comment. “Do not go painting me as some white knight,” he said, so low she could barely hear him. “It was not kindness that made me act. Just duty.”

  She shrugged, bemused by his inability to accept his own goodness. “Perhaps the two are sometimes one in the same.”

  His scowl made her want to laugh. For the first time in weeks—no, months—maybe even years, she felt the urge to tease, like she would have with her father or one of her friends back home. Leaning forward, she met his gaze with laughter in her eyes. “Tell me, do you believe in angels?”

  He widened his eyes and then let out a huff of laughter once he realized she was in jest. “No one in her right mind would call me an angel.”

  She grinned, motioning to her surroundings. “Do I strike you as someone in her right mind?”

  She’d meant it as a joke, but his smile faded. “You strike me as someone quite desperate.”

  “Desperate,” she repeated under her breath, her own smile fading as well. “What an ugly word.”

  He met her gaze evenly, a challenge.

  “But true,” she added.

  He gave a short nod, as if in appreciation for her speaking the truth.

  The truth—ha! This man believed her to be an unwed mother. He had no id
ea the truth behind her situation…or the danger.

  Not that she thought Duncan would pose a danger to Tolston. Even if he managed to inherit her father’s title, if Reggie was presumed dead—a baron from the countryside up north held nothing on this powerful Earl. Even a sheltered young lady like herself had heard about the great and powerful Earl of Tolston. His friends were dukes and marquesses. Rumor had it he could have his pick of brides. He had the world at his fingertips.

  And yet he was sitting here, with her, hoping that she would tell him her secrets. She could see it in his eyes, the curiosity and the expectations.

  She bit her lip as she met his dark gaze in the glow of the firelight. Something about this moment—the late hour, the warmth of the fire, the darkness around them—it made her feel close to him. There was something so intimate about it all.

  It made her want to give him what he wanted. To spill her secrets here in the safety of his company. Her heart seemed to take a leap in his direction with an unexpected surge of affection toward this near-stranger. She wanted to please him, to make him happy—make him smile.

  She could chalk these feelings up to gratitude, no doubt. A sense of indebtedness, nothing more.

  Because she did owe him. Any other gentleman could have tossed her out and not given her a second thought. But not him. Whether he wished to admit it or not, his actions were kind.

  And the least she could do was tell him the truth.

  Oh, not the whole truth—but some of it.

  And if she were being honest, a part of her wanted to share her plight with someone. Even if she could not share everything, she could relieve herself of some of this burden. “I left home because I feared for Reggie.”

  His eyes narrowed a bit. “You feared for his safety?”

  She nodded, turning to stare into the fire rather than face his intensity. She set the plate and glass aside and fidgeted with the hem of her night rail. “The thing is…I don’t know if I was right to leave. Sometimes, late at night, I doubt my actions.”

  “You think you may have made a mistake in running away?” His voice sounded guarded. Careful.

  She hesitated over her words. “I…I was scared.”

  “Undoubtedly.” The murmur was gentle. So kind. Her heart hurt when she looked over at him.

  “At the time I felt leaving was my only option.”

  “And now?”

  She bit her lip, her mind replaying everything she’d seen and heard after Duncan arrived. A cold knot of fear twisted within her. “I’m still afraid of the dangers at home.”

  He was so still across from her she managed to forget him for a moment as she lost herself to memories. Regrets. Fears. The fire lulled her. When she did look over, she gave a start.

  Anger played over his features, and in this glow of the fire he looked positively terrifying. “Perhaps I was too quick to call you an angel.” She hoped to tease the rage from his eyes. “In this light, you look rather like a devil.”

  His fierce expression eased slightly. “I don’t like the thought of you being in danger or afraid.”

  “I don’t like it much either,” she said with a rueful laugh that helped ease even more of his tension.

  He sank back in his seat and took a sip of his drink. “I might not be an angel, but I promise I am not quite a devil, either. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  She wasn’t sure if she believed him. She knew he would not intentionally hurt her, but with every second she spent with him, she felt her draw toward him intensify. The more they spoke, the more she felt as though she knew him—and he her. For a lady who’d been suffering from loneliness, that connection was, indeed, dangerous. She would get hurt, because this connection…it would break.

  It would have to.

  There was no future in which she was in his life, or he in hers.

  “You don’t believe me,” he said.

  “No, no,” she said quickly, keeping her voice light to break this overwhelming intimacy. “I was just thinking about what you said. You claim not to be an angel, and I do not know if I can agree.” He rolled his eyes heavenward, and she laughed. “I will admit, I never imagined an angel to look like you.”

  He dropped his gaze to meet hers, and she felt his eyes meet hers with a physical jolt. “And just how do I look?”

  He was teasing, just like her. But his teasing was different.

  It was dangerous.

  His tone held a note of flirtatiousness that made her belly flip and her heart flutter. Something filled the air between them that made it difficult to breathe. Something heavy and…delicious.

  He leaned forward slowly. “Tell me, Miss Adelaide. How do I look?”

  Handsome. Devilishly so. She clamped her mouth shut and dropped her gaze, hoping he could not see her blush in this dim lighting. Her mind scrambled to come up with a response—anything that would break this unbearable, sweet, agonizing tension. “Well, you certainly look nothing like Miss Grayson.”

  That did it. He fell back in his seat with a short laugh. “I should hope not.”

  She shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. “And Miss Grayson,” she said meaningfully. “Now she looks like an angel.”

  Tolston grinned—that wicked lopsided smile that made him look like a pirate rather than an earl. “She does rather resemble an angel, does she not?”

  An ugly sensation twisted her gut at his easy agreement. She was ridiculous. There was no call for her to be jealous just because Tolston admired Miss Grayson’s appearance. After all, who wouldn’t? The woman was a beauty.

  Addie brushed imaginary crumbs from her lap and reminded herself for the millionth time that she had no claim on this man, certainly no future with him, and he had no regard for her as anything but an act of charity.

  “And is Miss Grayson’s character that of an angel as her appearance suggests?” Addie was pleased to discover that her voice sounded normal.

  Tolston laughed. “I cannot say I know her well enough to make such a claim one way or another.”

  She returned his smile, that ugly feeling fading somewhat in the face of his grin.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I do know that she can be trusted,” he said. “She will not throw you out because of a child.”

  She bit her lip. Admittedly she barely knew the other woman, but she did know society and its expectations. No matter how kindhearted, the school’s success could be affected by taking in a fallen woman. The other girls there would need to be considered, not to mention the lady who owned the place.

  Her mental tangent came to an abrupt halt as Tolston placed a hand over hers.

  Her mind ceased its scattered tangents. The whole earth seemed to stop spinning at the feel of his large, warm, strong hand on hers.

  “It might not be forever,” he said. “But we will figure the rest out in time. For now, however, you will have a home there.”

  She blinked rapidly as tears rose up at his gentle tone. “And Reggie?”

  He squeezed her hand. “I have no doubt Miss Grayson and I will figure out some solution.”

  She bit her lip to hold back more tears. “You have a lot of faith in Miss Grayson.”

  His lips quirked up, and his eyes held such warmth it nearly burnt her to her core. “I suppose I do. Her best friend married mine, you know.”

  He released her hand, and she finally managed to exhale. “No, I did not know that.”

  “Mmm,” he said. “They’d been engaged their whole lives but only met last year. It was love at first sight…if you believe in such things.”

  She smiled at his cynical expression. “And I suppose you do not?”

  He shrugged. “Do you?”

  She opened her mouth and shut it again. No. That was what she ought to have said, but when she went to say it she had a flash of warm brown eyes staring down at her, making her feel like she’d finally found the home she’d lost.

  She gave her head a lit
tle shake instead of answering. It was clearly the late hour that had her so thoroughly rattled. Normally she had much more sense than this, and far more control over her emotions.

  “Miss Grayson and I spent this past year watching our friends make fools of themselves over each other.” His eyes were filled with laughter. She didn’t even mind that it was over the beautiful Miss Grayson just then, because his genuine amusement—not cynical or snide—it was a thing of beauty in its own right.

  “That must have been entertaining,” she said.

  He shook his head with rueful laughter at the memory. “The two of them are romantics through and through.”

  “Not you, I suppose?”

  “Hardly.” He smiled. “And neither is Miss Grayson. Perhaps that’s why we get on so well. We’re both reasonable, rational, and not ones to be led with our hearts.”

  Addie couldn’t help it. She let out a snort of laughter at that.

  He arched a brow in question.

  “My apologies, it’s just… everything you’ve done for me seems to have come from the heart. No logic would compel a man to help a stranger.”

  He frowned. “I do wish you’d stop doing that?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Making me out to be something I am not.”

  “Kind?” she teased.

  He gave a grunt of exasperation that made her laugh.

  “Generous?” she continued, loving the way he shifted uncomfortably at the praise. “Admit it, Lord Tolston. You might be more like your friend than you imagined…the kind of man who lives by the compass of his heart.”

  “The compass of his heart?” Now it was his turn to tease, and she loved it. His expression was filled with amusement and disbelief. “Did you really just say that?”

  She laughed softly at his disbelief. For the first time in ages, she felt a smile spread across her face—not rueful or wry, not sad or forced, but one filled with happiness at such a simple thing. Teasing and being teased. Who knew it could feel so very good?

  She must have been even lonelier than she’d thought.

  “Compass of the heart,” he muttered again with feigned disgust. “It seems I’ve found another hopeless romantic, haven’t I?”