Page 13 of The Earl Next Door
“Have you seen him since the night it happened?” Julia asked.
“Once,” she admitted honestly but decided not totell them it was only a few minutes ago. “Over the garden wall, and we were tolerant of each other.”
Adeline didn’t want to go into further details about that conversation where there was somewhat of a peace made between them, so she added, “I fear he will not be an easy neighbor to live beside. When I returned home yesterday from seeing Mr. Clements there were so many carriages waiting in front of his house they had clustered in front of mine as well. My driver had to let me off down the street and I walked home. Which I didn’t mind the stroll, of course.” Adeline smiled. “But I did wonder why he had so many people visiting.”
“Perhaps it was his tailor, his boot maker, and his milliner getting him ready for the Season,” Julia offered.
“Maybe even a button maker, too,” Brina added. “A beast like him needs to be buttoned up tight.”
The friends laughed again.
“Enough about Lord Lyonwood,” Adeline said, feeling better now that she’d shared the story with her friends. Most of it anyway. “We have spent enough time discussing him.”
“Very well,” Julia said. “But it does sound as if Lyon is an exciting man to be around.”
“Yes, he is,” Adeline said without thinking and then quickly added, “Let’s go meet the girls.”
At first Julia and Brina were reluctant to give up the stimulating conversation about the earl so quickly, but Adeline remained adamant that she was through with her story and they had no choice but to follow her intothe school. She had told them all she was going to about her neighbor.
Adeline had personally selected Mrs. Tallon out of all the applicants for the headmistress of the school. She was a robust, stern-looking woman who was, at least, twenty-five years older than Adeline. There was a motherly appeal to her, too. She opened the door, curtsied, and then waved her hand toward the girls.
“My ladies, come inside. The girls are waiting. Girls, show the proper respect to your benefactors.”
Adeline saw the nine girls ranging in age from eight to twelve standing in a line as straight as toy soldiers until they each made their curtsy and mumbled their greeting. All were different in size, shape, and color of hair and eyes. They all wore the freshly pressed dresses Mrs. Tallon and her helpers, Miss Peat and Miss Hinson, had made for them. Two of the girls stood out from the rest. They were holding hands. She might have thought they were sisters had they looked anything alike.
One was almost as tall as Adeline and had the gangly rawboned look of a male youth. Her blue eyes were large. Slightly protruding front teeth enhanced her sharp nose and chin. A timid smile stretched across her thin lips. Her light brown hair was unusually short for a girl, barely touching her shoulders. She was introduced as Mathilda, but the girl whose hand she was holding was the one Adeline had most wanted to see.
Fanny Watson. The little girl she’d seen that day on the docks had been found. A lump grew in Adeline’s throat. Fanny was a head shorter than Mathilda with vibrant long and curly red hair. Her bright blue eyes,her nose and mouth, were small, lovely. She was stout and her rounded cheeks had more freckles than Adeline had ever seen on anyone.
That day near the docks wafted across Adeline’s thoughts once again as she looked at the girls with a feeling of awe. When her brother-in-law had seen her in tears that afternoon, he thought she was crying for the loss of her husband. But the tears had not been for him. Would never be for him. She’d lost all feeling for her husband when, after a few months of marriage, he’d yelled at her in anger that his mistress had given him child, but his wife hadn’t, and it was damn time she did.
That admission from him had been a blow she didn’t think she would ever recover from, but now she had.
There was a fleeting rush of sadness for what the girls had been through. It faded quickly and was replaced with a hopefulness. Their futures were filled with possibilities.
It would always hurt Adeline that she was barren, but now she had nine girls she was responsible for. They wouldn’t ever take the place of having a child of her own, but they would give her a purpose in life that she hadn’t had before.
She inhaled a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Good morning. Welcome to The Seafarer’s School.”
Chapter 6
Lyon’s eyes popped open.
His blurry mind couldn’t make out what had roused him. A high-pitched noise? A scream?
No, nothing, he told himself, lowering his fluttering lids, shutting out a gray slice of light that threatened to further disturb his slumber. Shaking off the intrusion, he snuggled deeper into the welcoming warmth of the comforting bed.
A squeal pierced the silence, and Lyon came instantly, fully awake. He bolted up in bed and listened. What in Hades was going on? He glanced about and listened. He was home. Not in a bawdy tavern east of Bond Street playing cards with friends and foe alike.
Nothing seemed out of place except for the host of young feminine shouts, shrieks, and laughter thatsplintered and crackled all around him. By all that was sacred, what had happened in St. James to cause such a ruckus?
“Damnation,” he whispered, realizing his head felt like an anvil being pounded with a hammer. A low hum reverberated in his ears. It had been a long time since he’d overindulged in the bottle. Those years were behind him. Or so he thought. He would be mindful not to let it happen again. His temples were throbbing.
Lyon shook the warm coverings off his legs and rose, feeling as if he’d just fallen asleep. The chilly bedchamber and icy cold floor against the bottom of his bare feet helped clear his groggy mind as he walked over to the window. He yanked the top of the draperies apart to look outside. His neighbor’s extended back grounds was swarming with girls.
“Lady Wake’s garden,” he whispered to himself. It was obviously now a play area for the boarding school she’d told him about. And these were the consequences. Toe-curling shrieks. He shouldn’t be surprised. The girls were apparently as undisciplined as the lovely, merry widow.
Some of the lasses were running together, others were all by themselves, either hopping, skipping, or jumping. He wasn’t sure which. Dressed alike, they wore gray bonnets, black gloves, and dark brown coats. And each one was making some kind of shrill noise that shuddered all the way through him. They chased, laughed, and yelled at each other. Their coattails flapped and long tresses bounced on their shoulders. Why would girls run and squeal if no one was chasing them?
