Page 57 of Hearts of Locke Hill

Ruby sighed, looking a little too forlornly at the marble. “None taken.”

“On the other hand,” Lydia said, and Violet could hear her friend thinking, “perhaps the idea of Mr. Burke pining foryoumight absolutely undermine his determination to persist as headmaster.”

“Lydia,” Ruby said with censure. “That’s not fair.”

Violet considered, and her gaze narrowed. WhatifCyril had removed her marble on purpose? What would he do if he knew it had been in her possession just now? What if her friends were actually on to something? She stepped forward and took the marble back. “I beg your pardon, Ruby, but war isn’t fair.”

Y

Cy pushed away from the wall, lips clamped. The double doors to his right had been wide open, and the sound of his sister’s voice mingling with Miss Whittemore’s had drawn him from the corridor where he’d been searching for the supply closet. He’d been told he could find basics such as pencils, notebooks, and file folders. He’d clearly taken a wrong turn and found something much more interesting.

He’d had no intention of eavesdropping. But he’d halted when he’d heard Ruby mention his room and Patrick and had jumped out of the doorway when he’d caught sight of the small pink object in Violet’s hands.

He’d been mortified to learn the marble in his desk drawer had not only been discovered but recognized. It was true that he’d removed it before giving the bag of marbles to Patrick. But with the earlier-than-anticipated arrival of the Whittemore motorcar to take Cyril to the school, he’d dropped the marble and a few other items he’d yet to pack in the desk drawer to retrieve later this evening. Apparently, Patrick had been more eager to move in than he’d expected. And Ruby had been more calculating.

He sighed heavily. Most definitely her friends’ influence. He frowned. Or her brothers’.

The rest of the conversation had pinned him to the spot. That moment with Violet on the balcony had not left him. Daring to step close to her as she showed him the tower. Her captivating scent. Her reference to learning to swim. The connection it stirred—his nearness had not been unwelcome. In fact, he’d sensed that if they’d not been interrupted …

You do realize that Mr. Burke and I are currently at odds?

I have had as much a place in his life in the past decade as he has had in mine. That is to say, none.

Cy eased himself away from the music room as the ladies’ conversation turned to questions peppered at Ruby about secret passages she’d had the gall not to tell them about.

He’d listened hard to Miss Whittemore’s responses—for Miss Whittemore she would remain in address. He could not risk displaying any devotion he had for her.

He paused.

Or could he?

After all, why should he be the one to fear being exposed by a group of eager little busybodies playing at Cupid? If he knew Violet—and he knew Violet—she’d been a bit too tremulous in her responses, more defensive than playful. A bit too snappish than sarcastic.

He grinned.Thimbles and acorns, indeed.

He picked up speed, his mind turning with possibilities. Strategies.

After all, war wasn’t fair.

Chapter 15

14 and 18

“Come, the polka is a joyous dance of flight, not a stomping of grapes.” Mr. Ducat, their dance instructor, stomped his feet in an angry little rhythm.

Cyril glanced over at Violet, who covered a giggle. At least that had not changed. He’d returned from a live-in semester at school in Guildford to find her taller, her brows darker, her lips fuller—more young lady than girl. His hands were sweating beneath his gloves, for heaven’s sake.

“Everything about the polka is up. Shoulders, arms, chins, sashays, galops, turns, kicks, leaps …”

Violet leaned over and whispered. “Are we donkeys?”

He leaned toward her. “We aren’t?”

She covered another giggle. A smile quirked his lips.

“Master Cyril.”

Cyril straightened.