The Headmistress (Ladies of Miss Bell's Finishing School Book 6)

by Elizabeth Johns

  Hopefully, the Duke would take her advice and speak with his son and daughter today and rescind his silly demands. Hannah could not think of anyone more ill-suited to Lord Wolford then either of the Duke’s choices.

  Hannah was the first one into the breakfast room and she relished the quiet to have her tea and toast in peace. Jane had planned another full day of activity, and it was a bit nauseating watching Lady Mary trying to entrap the gentlemen. Lord Wolford was the biggest fish as a future Duke, but Lord Allerton and Lord Romsey were also known to be quite eligible.

  Hannah looked up when she thought she sensed some movement at the door, but no one was there. It must have been a servant. She went back to slathering marmalade on her toast when she looked up again to see Lord Wolford peeking into the room.

  “It is safe, my lord,” she said, not bothering to hide her amusement. “For now, anyway.”

  He smiled sheepishly as he came into the room. “As long as you do not leave me alone,” he added. “You will be my partner for the outing, I pray?”

  “If that is your wish,” she agreed. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Once I made it safely back to my room and locked the door,” he said with a hint of annoyance.

  “As bad as that?” Hannah did not mask her surprise. Was there a reason Lady Mary was so desperate? Jane might know.

  Others began meandering in and the private conversation had to cease. Thankfully the Duke sat on Lord Wolford’s other side so he was protected for the nonce.

  Hannah was not surprised, but she felt very keenly for the Earl’s situation. She had heard of pretty much every trick there was to entrap a wealthy, titled gentleman into marriage. The situation must be more dire than she thought, or else Lady Mary was wholly shameful. Jane had never mentioned much about her young sister-in-law, who had been in the schoolroom upon her marriage to the previous Dunsmore.

  Hannah ate very slowly so she could be prepared to leave when his lordship did, or when there were enough others to protect him.

  When Jane entered the room with her bright smile and cheery countenance, Hannah gave her a look full of meaning that her oldest friend would not misunderstand. Something had to be done.

  Jane kissed her father, then brother on the cheek before taking the seat on the other side of Hannah.

  “Good morning, dearest,” Jane greeted. “Things are worse than we thought,” she added through her smile.

  “Yes,” Hannah replied discreetly. “He was telling me it was hard to make it to his room last night alone.”

  “That is not all,” Jane continued quietly. “Dunsmore found Mary circling the billiards room like a vulture waiting to tear Oliver apart.”

  “We must do something or the poor man’s Christmas will be ruined.”

  “Or the rest of his life,” Jane muttered as they both looked across the table to where Lady Mary’s attentions were on Lord Allerton for the moment.

  Once they had broken their fast, they removed to their rooms to dress for the outdoors. Jane accompanied her brother to ensure no one set their hooks into Lord Wolford by foul means.

  Hannah dressed in her thickest woolen stockings and gown before donning tall boots with a fur-lined cape and mittens.

  Excitement was in the air as the party set out for the woods. Jane had, of course, made this a contest, so teams were conspiring as they made their way to the thick forest of trees wading through a foot of snow.

  Lady Mary kept glaring at Hannah and casting meaningful glances at Lord Wolford—to which he was either oblivious or pointedly ignoring—all the while flirting with Allerton.

  When they reached the edge of the woods, servants were waiting with carts and axes. Jane stepped in front of them to speak.

  “As you know, we are out here to pick a Christmas tree. What I did not mention is that each team will select and fell a tree. There is a prize not only for the largest tree, but also for which team gets it back to the castle first!”

  “You expect us to cut a tree down ourselves?” Lady Mary asked in outrage.

  Hannah was feeling fortunate indeed to be paired with the sheep farmer on this occasion to that of the more fashionable London beaus with their fitted coats and tight neckcloths. She would try to wield an axe, but there was little doubt Lord Wolford would fare well as a lumberjack had he not been born to be a duke.

  “I think we should take off the other direction in the cart as far away from the others as possible after they go into the woods,” said man whispered in her ear, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Ready? Go!” Jane called as the other three teams took off on foot.

  Hannah agreed to his scheme, assuming he knew what he was about, and allowed him to hand her into the cart.

  “I saw a nice crop of pines closer to the estate entrance when we arrived. They are much larger than the ones on this side of the forest, which does not get as much sun.”

  Hannah stared in wonder at the fact he had even noticed such a detail. “Have you much experience felling trees, my lord?”

  “A fair amount, I suppose. When my mother was alive, we used to pick a Christmas tree every year. It was a tradition in her family.”

  “German, correct?”

  “Indeed. Now the custom is becoming more common in England, I understand.”

  He stopped the cart along the carriage way, and he hopped out and walked around to assist her before picking up the axe and a saw from the back of the cart. “See, there is a much better selection on this side of the estate.”

  He was correct. The trees were tall with wide, full branches, and the evergreens were thicker and fuller.

  “They seem too large to be inside, my lord.” And too big to place on a cart, she wanted to add.

  “A big tree for a castle only seems appropriate,” he said with a boyish smile, full of mischief, which did strange things to her insides. He began to walk deeper into the wood, examining each one as they passed. He stopped in front of a pine about ten feet tall by her estimation. It could not have been more perfect if it had been drawn by an artist’s hand with its full, symmetrical branches of deep green.

  “Ah, this will do nicely, do you not think, Miss Bell?”

  Hannah eyed the monstrosity with uncertainty. “Who am I to say, but it is certainly a beautiful tree!” A break in the clouds allowed a ray of sunshine to cast a heavenly glow on the snow-covered branches, and they glistened in response. The moment certainly felt divine. She turned to discover Lord Wolford unbuttoning his greatcoat and handing it to her.

  “Would you mind holding this?” he asked, then picked up a saw and began the rhythmic back and forth motion, only stopping to shed more layers of clothing as his heat grew with exertion.

  Hannah watched the exercise in pure masculinity as the muscles on his back and forearms strained. Sweat glistened on his brow as he stood to stretch. “I think I might need your assistance for a moment.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as he had caught her staring! But the male form was so very different from any of the females she had seen. How could she not study one so near to perfection? It might be her only chance.

  “Of course, my lord.” She carefully placed his greatcoat, jacket, and waistcoat over a log, allowing herself time to regain her composure. Only to find him watching her with amusement when she turned around. “How can I be of assistance?”

  “If you will hold right here,” he reached around her and placed her hand where he wanted it, his woodsy smell mixing with the pine and heat radiating from his person. If she could take this moment in time and take it with her… “it will be easier to make the final cuts.”

  Too soon, she felt the tree give way, and it fell to the ground sending a spray of snow with it. Her eyes found Lord Wolford’s and his face wore the boyish grin again.

  “I must say, Miss Bell, that there is nothing quite like using one’s hands to accomplish a task. Perhaps it is the primitive nature inside of a man.” He took one step closer and brushed a few snowflakes from her cheeks. It was qu
ickly becoming difficult to pretend indifference to him, and she would gladly lose the race to avoid returning to the house.

  Oliver was so incredibly tempted to kiss Miss Bell in that moment. Her cheeks were glowing with a snow-kissed dew and snowflakes that had fallen on her from the felled tree. She was delightful and uncomplicated, unlike the young ladies in London, and had no expectations of him. He was comfortable with her and very attracted. Even his stuffy old father had succumbed to her charms, but was Oliver ready to risk his heart?

  Her sparkling amber eyes looked up at him with curiosity. Did she know how much danger she was in from him in this moment?

  “How shall we get it back to the cart, my lord?” she asked with complete innocence despite being so near.

  “We drag it. Or shall I say, I will.” He chuckled.

  “Should we hurry?” she asked, though she seemed as reluctant as he did to return to the house.

  “I have little doubt we have the biggest tree. Let the small trees return to the house quickly. Besides, I am rather enjoying not having to watch my every move.”

  Her expression voiced her understanding and even pity.

  “I do think you should speak with your father. I think you will find he is reasonable. Even he could not be so misguided about either lady’s suitability for his heir.”

  “He has certainly taken to you,” Oliver mused. “Since Mother passed, he has been a shell of his former self, frankly hiding in politics.”

  “Jane says much the same of you, though of your sheep.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Forgive me, my lord, that was impertinent.”

  “But the truth, nonetheless. I cannot make myself be comfortable with the glittering world of the ton.” He walked over to his greatcoat and pulled a rope from his pocket. He had already said too much to this lady who seemed to cause everyone around her to let down their guard. He took the rope and tied it above some of the lower branches around the trunk so it would be easier to pull.

  “What can I do, my lord?”

  He tried to place an unaffected expression in place before he turned to her. “You can stop my lording me, for one.”

  She frowned. “What else would I call you?”

  “Oliver or Wolford, if you must. I asked once before, if you recall.”

  She seemed to ponder that as she gathered his shed clothing.

  “Then you must call me Hannah.”

  “I would be honoured.” He met her gaze somewhat questioningly. He had no doubt with the Society ladies that they would wish for a match with his title if not with him. Somehow he knew Hannah had no designs on a name or fortune. He thought she might return his attraction—he had seen her staring earlier—but was that simply because she had never seen a man thus? Her experience with any males must be limited to the servants at the school. When had he become so jaded and cynical? He would have to allow their friendship to develop and provide more opportunities like this. For that, he thanked his sister and her meddling ways.

  However, he had already markedly favoured Miss Bell over the others and time was short.

  He wrapped the rope around his hand and pulled it over his shoulder. The heavy tree was a welcome distraction as he pulled it through the wet snow. When they reached the cart, Miss Bell set his coats down and picked up the other end of the tree. He could not imagine any of the other ladies doing such a thing and he smiled at her as they heaved it into the cart. He assisted her into the cart and then put his waistcoat and jacket back on.

  “Do you like sheep, Hannah?” he asked, hoping she took it in good humour as intended, but somehow he could see her as his helpmeet and loving the land and animals as he did.

  “I love their wool,” she answered with laughter in her voice. “I have never met a sheep, so cannot answer with absolute certainty.”

  “Perhaps we can remedy that deep, gaping hole in your life.” He turned to look at her and could see the slight questioning look in her eyes. Did she not know he was flirting with her? Did she not know her own attractions?

  “I never knew it was a deficiency,” she retorted so quickly that he wondered if he had imagined it. How he wished to kiss her and show her just how attractive she was, but they were within sight of the castle now and he dare not toy with her reputation. Yet, how could he consider one of the others feeling as he did about Hannah? He had not felt such in his previous marriage, but was this simply infatuation? Surely he was beyond such youthful behaviours.

  “Oliver!” Jane shouted as they drew near the others crowded under the portico. “Where did you find that monstrosity?”

  He laughed as he looked at the other more modest trees found by the other groups, ranging from Dunsmore’s six-foot tree to the other two, which were closer to three feet.

  “And here I was certain we would beat you all!” Dunsmore said jovially. “Though we were the first team back.”

  “What do we do with them now?” Allerton asked.

  “We put them in the house and tomorrow, we decorate them. One of them we will use for the Yule log.”

  “And what do you decorate a tree with?” Lady Mary asked.

  “Anything you like, really. Ribbons, candles, paper snowflakes, ornaments, candy…”

  Lady Mary frowned, but did not have the chance to comment as Jane ushered everyone inside while some of the footmen began to move the trees.

  Tea was being served and Oliver intentionally chose a seat near Lady Fanny. He still had a few days’ reprieve, and he was not one to make decisions quickly unless absolutely necessary.

  “May I?” he asked the shy girl.

  “Yes, my lord,” she replied so quietly Oliver strained to hear. Her eyes darted across the room towards Allerton, and her rosy cheeks appeared to deepen in colour. Perhaps she had her own amour in this unlikely bunch. With Allerton, she was bound to wind up with no more than a tarnished reputation.

  Oliver took a bite of a tiny egg sandwich and could not help but watch Hannah as she and Jane were in close conversation. Dunsmore’s eyes followed Jane wherever she went, and Oliver wondered if Jane realized the Marquess’ feelings. It was obvious to Oliver, but Jane did not enjoy her first marriage and assumed all others would be equally abhorrent. Perhaps he should speak with his sister…or perhaps he should mind his own business. It would give her licence to harass him—as though she needed any reason.

  He finished his tea and excused himself, hoping he could find a few moments of solace in the billiards room to think over his own growing attraction to Hannah.

  Chapter 7

  Hannah closed the door to her chambers with a feeling of relief. Her emotions were swirling in conflicting directions and she did not like it one bit. A headmistress always had to be in control, and romantic attraction was dangerous to her self-preservation. She had no business allowing herself to think such thoughts or dream such dreams—no business at all.

  Removing her wet garments, she sat in a chair near the fire and contemplated as the flames danced in a soothing rhythm. She was deep in thought when her door suddenly opened and shut again. Hannah turned to find Jane breathless and leaning against the door.

  “I need your help!” she gasped.

  Two small children stood in front of Jane. Hannah glanced between her friend and the children, sure her bewilderment must be writ upon her face.

  “Gladly,” she answered, “but will you kindly explain what is going on?”

  “Allow me to introduce to you Patrick and Lucy-Ann,” she said. “They are orphans from the village.”

  Hannah perused the length of them, noticing their fine attire. “They do not look like orphans.”

  Placing a hand on their thin shoulders, Jane said, “They are my guests until the vicar returns from his holiday.”

  Hannah frowned. “Why, then, the need for such secrecy?” It was unlike Jane to hide anything she did.

  The boy, the older of the two, spoke up. “Lord Dunsmore can’t know we be here or he’ll throw us out.”

  The little gir
l, who had black curls, bobbed her head in agreement. “Yes, in the snow.”

  Almost of their own accord, Hannah’s eyes darted towards Jane’s. “Is that true?” Hannah liked the new Dunsmore. Such an action seemed out of character for him.

  “Possibly,” she replied, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I know that Lewis would never have allowed it.”

  Hannah placed her book down onto a side-table. “But Lord Dunsmore is not at all like your late husband. I cannot imagine he would turn these children out in such weather.”

  “I cannot take that risk,” Jane replied firmly. “I must keep the children hidden until after the house party.”

  “What then?” Why was Jane behaving so strangely?

  “Whatever do you mean?” she asked. “Once the vicar returns, he will take over the responsibility of caring for the children.”

  Hannah pressed her lips together, suspecting she had been admitted into a secret that no one else was privy to. She rose from her chair and approached the children.

  “My name is Miss Bell.” She smiled kindly at them. “How old are you?”

  Patrick announced proudly, “I am five.”

  “Five?” Hannah repeated. “That is a fine age to be.”

  Lucy-Ann stepped forward and held up three fingers.

  Hannah crouched down and said, “You are a beautiful little girl, Lucy-Ann.” Rising again, she met Jane’s gaze. “What would you have me do?”

  “I need the children to remain in your chamber until Dunsmore has left the servants’ quarters.”

  Giving her a curious look, Hannah asked, “Why is he in the servants’ quarters?”

  She frowned. “I am not entirely sure, but I intend to find out.”

  “Do you think he suspects you are harboring children?”

  “That is impossible,” she replied. “We have been so careful.”

  Patrick looked up at her and asked innocently, “Do you suppose the Duke told Lord Dunsmore about us?”

  Hannah arched an eyebrow. “The Duke knows about the children?”