Miss Hartwell's Dilemma by Carola Dunn Read Free Book Online

opportunity to set enquiries in motion. It is entirely her fault that I did not find you sooner.”
    “I told her I must make a clean break, that I did not want to see anyone at all. Unless, of course, they wished to confide a daughter to my care. She referred any number of pupils to the school until we had built up a reputation for ourselves. I wish you will not quarrel with her, Bertram. She offered me a home, only I could not accept. Several people cut me dead in the street after Papa left. I could not subject her to such distress. But tell me, how is it you have found me at last?”
    “I was staying a few days with my sister Caroline. When I heard the name of the schoolmistress to whom she was sending m’niece, I insisted on escorting the little baggage here myself. I must warn you, Amaryllis, Caroline says the chit is a sad romp but if you ask me I’d call her a veritable hoyden. I beg you will not ask what she was doing to sprain her ankle.”
    “I have every sympathy with the child,” said Amaryllis with a laugh. “Aunt Eugenia used to call me a sad romp, you know. Heavens, look at the time. My history class will be waiting.”
    She jumped to her feet, pulling her hands from Lord Pomeroy’s clasp. “Will you...Are you staying in the area?” she asked shyly.
    “If you will recommend the best inn in the village, I shall put up there.”
    “Oh no, that would never do. You have no idea how news spreads through the village, and I am a respectable schoolmistress. I cannot afford tattle. You had best go into Halstead.”
    “I am at your orders, ma’am. When can I see you again?”
     She thought for a moment. “I believe I shall take a walk by the Colne this evening at dusk,” she said, blushing. “With luck no one will see us, and if they do perhaps they will think it a chance meeting.”
    “Respectable schoolmistress, ha!” he grinned. “I’ll take my leave of Louise and be off. Until this evening.” He kissed her hand and strode out.
    Feeling somewhat flustered, Miss Hartwell hurriedly put on her cap and followed him downstairs. She was in time to see his back disappear through the front door. She noted that his coat of blue superfine was as superbly cut as ever, his fawn pantaloons still moulded to the strong limbs of a Corinthian though he was now, it seemed, a diplomat. His boots shone with the unmistakable gloss that announced champagne in the blacking.
    Isabel Winterborne was absorbed in conversation with a sturdy, blonde girl of her own age but an inch or two taller who was tidying her hair in a mirror. They turned as they heard Miss Hartwell’s footsteps.
    “This is Louise Carfax, ma’am,” said Isabel, adding worriedly, “I’m sorry I left my lesson. I did not know what to do.”
    “That’s quite all right, Isabel. How do you do, Miss Carfax. I am Miss Hartwell.”
    Miss Carfax performed a careful curtsy. “How do you do, ma’am,” she said with a grin that reminded Miss Hartwell strongly of Lord Pomeroy. She swung her bonnet in one hand. “My uncle mussed my hair. That is why I am in such a sorry state.”
    One blonde braid was half undone, its ribbon missing. The other had been pinned precariously in a loop that threatened to descend at any moment. It seemed unlikely that Lord Pomeroy could have visited such depredations on her appearance without dragging her backwards through a bush.
    “Daisy shall take you upstairs to tidy yourself. Then ask her to bring you straight to me.” Miss Hartwell rang the bell. “Isabel, you are in my history class at this hour, are you not? Come.”
    Fifteen minutes later, Louise, now perfectly tidy, trotted into the classroom where seven young ladies were studying the Roman invasions of Britain with various degrees of attention. Isabel at once made room for her.
    “You can share my book,” she whispered.
    “Ugh, history!” Louise whispered back.
    Miss Hartwell introduced her to the other girls. “I have just explained,” she went on, “that