“Very much so.”
He’d dipped his head, his mouth near her ear, his low voice causing distant areas of her body to react as though he’d pressed his lips there, his warm breath skimming over her ear, across her cheek, sending pleasure spiraling through her. She had to get a hold of herself, was giving a lesson here. “I’m going to slowly slide my hands out from under yours—”
“I rather wish you wouldn’t.”
How very much she wished the same but being held in his arms like this was so terribly inappropriate. “I thought you might like to grip the spindles, so you can have a keener experience.”
She felt his hands close more securely around hers. “I’m perfectly content with the experience.”
Oh, that voice. Rough and raspy. She thought no orchestra in the world could play a tune that would rival it in creating a deeply enamored response within her breast. If she carried on with these unsuitable thoughts, she feared she might swoon, when she’d never swooned in her life—although the finishing school she’d attended had held a lesson on how to do it gracefully. She’d considered it a silly waste of time, but how was she to have known then that a man’s nearness could make it feel like one’s stays were slowly shrinking, making it difficult to breathe? Time to concentrate on the reason she was now locked within his arms. “Can you feel the breeze buffeting the kite?”
“I can.”
“Can you imagine how lonely the wind must be up there with only the birds for company?”
“It’ll have your leaves to toy with once the trees grow.”
She smiled with pleasure at the acknowledgment her meager efforts would have far-reaching consequences, just as the reading lessons she taught did. It was impossible to know how the smallest of actions might eventually make an incredible difference. “Yes, it will, but that is years from now. Shall we take the kite a bit higher, give it more freedom?”
“If you like.”
“We’ll slowly turn the reel, letting out more string but carefully. We must pay attention to ensure we don’t lose the interest of the wind. Otherwise our kite will fall.”
“Did your siblings teach you that?”
“They taught me everything of importance. They also made sure I had everything they didn’t: dolls, tops, kites. My mum says they lived their childhood through me. They never really had one of their own, you see. It wasn’t Mum’s fault. It’s just the way it is in the rookeries. I think we’ve given it enough lead.”
Glancing back over her shoulder in order to glimpse his joy, she discovered his intense gaze focused on her and was left with the impression he’d been studying her profile for some time. “You’re not watching your kite.”
“I’ve found something far more interesting.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be up there with it?”
“I’d rather be down here . . . with you.” His sun-weathered skin growing darker as though he was quite possibly blushing, he gave his attention back to the kite. “I rode in a hot air balloon once.”
“Really? I’d love to do that. It must have been grand to see the world from up there.”
“It was like stepping into the pages of a book, visiting an entirely different realm. At the time I wanted to stay up there. Now I’m glad I didn’t. Otherwise I’d have never learned how to fly a kite.” He slid his hands from hers and quickly stepped back, leaving her feeling somewhat abandoned and forlorn. “Thank you, Miss Trewlove, for sharing your kite with me.”
Turning around partially, she faced him as much as possible while still maintaining control of the kite. “You’re welcome to borrow it anytime you like.”
“You’re far too gracious, Miss Trewlove. I’ll see you Monday night.”
It felt as though her heart was about to follow the way of the kite and go soaring. “You’re willing to teach now?”
“I’m willing to see what it’s all about. Seven, correct?”
“Come a little early, so I can explain a few things before people arrive.”
He doffed his hat. “Monday.”
As he strode off, she realized she didn’t need to travel in the wicker basket of a balloon to know what it felt like to float on air.
Chapter 9
Glancing around at the reading parlor of Miss Trewlove’s shop, Matthew remembered one of Aesop’s fables warned that when a man faced temptation, he was likely to give in to it. That had certainly been the case yesterday afternoon. He never should have approached Fancy Trewlove, and he most certainly should not have stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Even now, if he had pen in hand, he would be able to outline exactly where her body had nestled against his.
With her in his embrace, his sister’s remark regarding finding a woman well suited to him had bounced around his mind like tumblers at a circus.
Her hunt for a title aside, what if Fancy Trewlove was well suited to him? Where was the harm in exploring the possibility? He couldn’t deny being intrigued by her and enjoying her company. It was unlikely she would attempt to trap him into marriage, because she was unaware he possessed that which she yearned so desperately to acquire.
Or what her family wished her to acquire, if she’d spoken true about her own dreams.
He was fascinated by her makeshift classroom. And it was makeshift. No desks. No proper tables. A few low ones designed as a place to set a cup and saucer or a glass. Or a pair of feet if a rude person took up position on one of the nearby settees, sofas, or chairs.
Yet a coziness enveloped the room, very much like that found in a library. In the corner rested a mound of pillows that he knew children sat upon while listening to Miss Trewlove read. On the walls throughout were the paintings her brother had created. Whimsical forest animals and mythical creatures reading. Although he was most intrigued by the hanging over the mantelpiece. It reflected Miss Trewlove lounging on a sofa with books scattered on the floor around her.
When he’d peered into the room a few days earlier—was it only a few days?—he’d not noticed the artwork or the shelves lined with books on either side of the fireplace. He’d been arrested by her, all his attention devoted to her. It was always that way with her.
Even at the park, after he’d noticed her, he was lost. He’d intended just to take a late-afternoon stroll through the green, and instead he’d received a lesson on kite flying. Even if their relationship didn’t develop into anything permanent, he wanted to become one of the memories she spoke of in later years, wanted to be more than on the periphery of her life.
“I’m truly glad you’re here, to get a feel for all we accomplish with the lessons we offer,” she said, coming up alongside him.
She hadn’t been in the room when he’d first walked into it. Based on the strength of the orange scent surrounding her, he assumed she’d been finishing up her bath in her lodgings above. That thought had him imagining her sinking into the tub of steaming water, dew forming on her skin, gathering in the little notch at her throat that had so enthralled him during their adventure. “Your girl downstairs told me to come up.”
“Yes, Marianne watches the door, keeping potential customers out, allowing only students in, as the shop is closed for the evening. You seem to be giving everything a thorough study. Do you find it all to your liking?”
He found her to his liking. Would she give up her quest for a title in order to be with him? Although in the end, through him, she’d acquire what she sought. “I’ve yet to discern any rhyme or reason to these books, am unable to determine their category.” Most appeared to be fiction, but he also noted some biographies and histories as well as a few on travel.
“For the most part, they’re stories or subjects I’ve enjoyed reading.”
“It seems an odd thing, though, to send your customers up here, searching for something, rather than having the books downstairs.”
“Oh, these are for reading within this room or borrowing.”
He faced her. She wore a prim and proper dark burgundy frock that buttoned all the way to
her throat, hiding that enticing little hollow, for which he was grateful. He didn’t need the distraction or to have his body rebelling as want gave way to desire. “A lending library?”
“Precisely. Except I don’t charge a yearly subscription fee. Anyone may take any book home.”
“What induces them to bring back the books?”
“Well, hopefully good manners. If, however, they don’t return the book, I assume it’s because it found a place in their heart—and I don’t penalize them for it.”
“How can you afford that?”
“Donations. Mostly from my family members, a few of their spouses’ relations or friends. Even the lessons we teach are based on the generosity of others. On this shelf here”—she swept her arm to the side—“we have primers. Each new student receives one to take home with him or her, to keep, so they can study it at their leisure. One of the challenges we face is that people have differing levels of knowledge when they arrive and then some are faster learners than others.”
“It seems as though it would be less confusing to have terms, as in schools.”
“I agree but haven’t it in me to turn someone away after they’ve found the courage to walk through the door to ask for help.”
“How many students have you?”
She shrugged. “Probably a dozen or so at any one time, although often fewer show up. Work, family, or life sometimes interferes. Another challenge, remembering what a person has learned and coaxing them along in the right direction.”
“It seems it would be a lot less work if you had a more formal schedule.”
“Eventually perhaps I will. I hope someday to have a proper school that will focus on the needs of illiterate adults.”
A sound at the door caught his attention. She turned and beamed a radiant smile at the tall, slender gent with striking red hair tamed into a modern fashion. “Mr. Tittlefitz.”
He approached cautiously, his suspicious gaze flickering between Matthew and Fancy. “Miss Trewlove.”
“I’m rather certain you’ve probably already met Mr. Sommersby. He’s leasing—”
“86 Ettie Lane.”
“You’ve quite the memory,” Matthew said, reluctantly impressed by the young man’s skills.
“Mr. Trewlove expects me to know the tenants, and to quickly see to whatever needs might arise. It helps to recall where they reside.”
“I’m certain you’ve exceeded his expectations, Mr. Tittlefitz,” Miss Trewlove said.
The man looked at her with such an adoring manner, she might as well have proclaimed him King. Anyone who drew breath could discern the secretary had a tender regard for his boss’s sister, which Matthew was selfishly grateful didn’t appear to be returned in kind. She favored him as no more than a friend.
“Mr. Sommersby is considering assisting with the teaching on the nights when I’m not available.”
The falling of the young man’s joy was subtle. “I could handle it without help.” Obviously, his pride had been nicked.
“That’s too much to ask of you.”
“You may ask anything of me, Miss Trewlove.”
Reaching out, she rubbed his shoulder. “I won’t take advantage of your generosity and kindness, Mr. Tittlefitz.” Looking past him, the smile she gave to the tall, broad man escorting two women through the door was ten times what she’d given Tittlefitz, and Matthew knew a sharp tightening in his chest. Not jealousy, surely.
“Beast!” She rushed across the room and flung herself at him, her arms circling his neck as he caught her easily and held her close. The smoothness of their actions indicated they’d engaged in them a thousand times.
“Her brother,” Tittlefitz explained quietly beside him. “He doesn’t come around much.”
“Doesn’t like books?”
Tittlefitz chuckled low. “Too busy terrorizing the darker parts of London from what I understand.”
Beast finally released his sister. Matthew could see where the man might have acquired that moniker. His presence fairly swallowed the room, made it seem too small. He possessed a confidence that indicated he was not one to be toyed with.
“I’ve not seen you in ages,” Miss Trewlove said.
“I’ve been busy, but the lasses here were wanting to learn to read, so I decided to bring them to you.”
Matthew watched as she turned to the girls—girls who, to his eye, were women, probably younger than twenty-five although they had a worn, frayed look about them like clothing that had been washed far too many times—and gave them an enthusiastic greeting. “We’re so pleased to have you here.”
She waved him and the secretary over. “Allow me to introduce Mr. Tittlefitz, one of the tutors. And Mr. Sommersby, who is considering taking on the task of instructing as well. And you are?”
One of the girls—short of stature and quite buxom—homed her gaze in on him and stepped forward. Although she was buttoned up to her chin and down to her wrists, she still managed to bring attention to her well-endowed attributes by moving in a sinewy, lithe motion, like a snake on the verge of striking. “I’m Lottie, I am, and I’m ’appy to do some instructin’, ’andsome.”
“That’s not the reason you’re here, Lottie,” Beast said, a firmness in his tone that would brook no argument.
“Right.” She winked at Matthew. “Maybe after lessons.”
“I’m Lily,” the other girl said, a bit shyly, not nearly as bold as Lottie. “I know some of me letters, enough to spell me name. I just don’t know how to put the rest of ’em to use, so they mean somethin’.”
“When we’re finished with you, Miss Lily, you’ll be able to read and write anything you like,” Miss Trewlove said with confidence that would transfer to the doubtful. “Go with Mr. Tittlefitz. He’ll get you primers.”
“I’ll be leaving now,” Beast said. “You girls take a hansom back to the lodgings.”
“Thanks, Beast,” they said in unison, before traipsing after Tittlefitz.
Matthew felt a pat on his backside as Lottie walked by him. Ah, yes, these were well-worn ladies who thrived in the night.
Beast heaved a heavy sigh. “If they give you any trouble, let me know. Sometimes they like to be a bit mischievous, especially Lottie.”
“They’ll both be fine. Once lessons get started, they’ll become enthralled by the learning.” She rubbed his arm. “Don’t you worry.”
After giving his sister another hug, he left. She turned to Matthew. “Mr. Tittlefitz handles the newer students, teaching them their letters and some of the basic words. Miss Lottie might be disappointed when she realizes that. Although you’re more than welcome to sit in their circle and observe how he gets on with them if you like.”
He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Is that jealousy in your tone, Miss Trewlove?”
“Certainly not. It’s just that she seems to have taken an interest in you.”
“I suspect she takes a keen notice of all men. How do you suppose she came to be in your brother’s company?”
“Beast has a heart of gold. He’s always finding strays or those suffering through hard times and doing what he can to better their lives.” She leaned conspiratorially toward him. “I suspect she’s a fallen woman—both of them actually—and Beast is striving to reform them. Learning to read is the first step.”
“You’re not put off by them?”
“If not for my family, it’s quite possible I might have traveled the same road they did. I don’t sit in judgment, Mr. Sommersby. If you do, then I mistook you for the caring sort, and you are probably not the one to help us out when I’m occupied.”
Her eyes reflected her disappointment in him, and it irked that he may have given her reason to find fault with him. “I’m not judging them.” He’d be hypocritical if he did. He’d turned to prostitutes in his youth. High-priced ones, to be sure, but they still plied their wares like the poorest of girls who catered to those who lived in the rookeries. “Many women I know wouldn’t be as accepting as you. You
’re quite remarkable.”
Lowering her head slightly as though embarrassed, she looked up at him through her long sooty lashes. “Hardly.”
He couldn’t help but think that suffering through a lack of acceptance in her youth made her more tolerant of others now. “If I’m to replace you, it seems I’d benefit most from sitting in your circle.”
Before she could respond, footsteps caught their attention. A woman crossed the threshold and staggered to a stop at the sight of him. Her cheeks flamed such an intense red that he was surprised they didn’t ignite.
“Good evening, Mrs. Bennett,” Miss Trewlove said. “I believe you know Mr. Sommersby. He’s considering assisting Mr. Tittlefitz on the evenings when I’m not available.”
His maid-of-all-work gave a little bob of a curtsy. “Mr. Sommersby, sir.”
“Mrs. Bennett, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“She’s one of our best students,” Miss Trewlove said.
He’d thought it impossible for her face to flare any redder, but it did, and with slowly dawning awareness, he realized she was mortified he knew she came here. He also now understood why she hadn’t left him a note to alert him that Miss Trewlove had paid a call. She couldn’t write. “I’ve no doubt of that whatsoever.”
Mrs. Bennett held up her primer, a bit frayed at the corners, the spine bent. “’Tis a gift to be able to read.”
“One that is easily shared,” Miss Trewlove assured her. “I daresay, Mrs. Bennett, you’ll be teaching before too long.”
“Ah, I’m not there yet. But soon, hopefully. My husband can read but hasn’t the patience to teach me.”
“I suspect he’s worn-out at the end of the day after giving most of his patience to his workers at the construction site,” he said. “But your efforts are commendable, Mrs. Bennett. Learning a new skill, any skill, is always a challenge.”
The blush in her cheeks began fading. She seemed truly grateful for his words. He’d complimented numerous ladies, but the praise had always been flirtatious, light and teasing, and women had taken the admiration as their due.
The Earl Takes a Fancy Page 10