Page 12 of Love Lessons for a Lady

Chasity flinched, splattering ink droplets atop the journal as his second pupil of the morn, Esmerelda Finch-Hatten, tortured the violin’s strings.

God save me.

Chasity loathed music lessons worse than dance instructions. Half of the students possessed so little natural talent that they shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a musical instrument. Ever. Yet, in order for her education to be complete, every young lady was expected to master an instrument. Such ridiculous rules were imposed upon an accomplished woman.

Two fingers pressed to her forehead, Chasity set her jaw and focused on the row of numbers in the ledger. An especially jarring screech sent talons scraping down her spine. Heaving a disgusted sigh, she set the quill aside. Slouching into the back of her chair, she glared at the door and drummed her fingertips on the chair’s arms.

How was anyone supposed to get anything done with that racket going on? She’d promised Mrs. Crenshaw the finished ledgers two days ago.

Come to think of it, how did Mr. Terramier stand it, week after torturous week? Unskilled student after unskilled student? And not just here at Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies but with his other students as well?

He was no saint.

He did it for the same reasons Chasity tolerated the less pleasant aspects of her position: to put food on the table and a roof over one’s head.

Though why the privileged grandson of a viscount insisted upon earning a living when the peerage looked down their illustrious noses at those who smelled of the shop, she couldn’t fathom. Unless, of course, Mr. Terramier was sowing his proverbial wild oats simply to goad his family or to meet some innate drive within himself that he probably couldn’t even identify. Flirtatious rapscallions like him drew women as effortlessly as the vibrant blossoms outside her office window.

Casting an envious glance to that same window, Chasity fought the urge to put aside her ledgers and sneak away for a long stroll. The day was still early enough that the temperature wouldn’t be oppressive. Especially if she took a parasol.

Her favorite destination was a folly situated several yards from a pond. Trees and shrubs cocooned the stone structure on two sides, providing privacy and shade as well as homes to a variety of wildlife and birds.

Sighing and with a firm shake of her head, Chasity straightened and perused the ledger once more. As tempted as she was to throw caution to the wind and steal a few minutes for herself, she didn’t dare abdicate her duties.

For the past three days, she’d felt as if she were tiptoeing on glass. From the penetrating, intense glances Mrs. Crenshaw leveled her, the headmistress had been fully informed of what had transpired during dance lessons. And Chasity would be bound that she hadn’t been cast in a favorable light in the telling of the tale. Though how anyone could fault her was beyond her.

Was she supposed to be rude to Mr. Terramier in front of the students?

Wasn’t she supposed to be an example to them? To demonstrate how to be a gracious and poised lady in all circumstances?

Puckering her brow, she considered Mrs. Crenshaw’s behavior Wednesday. She’d seemed almost relieved that Chasity was indisposed.

Because she didn’t want her near Mr. Terramier?

Something bordering on peevishness swelled behind Chasity’s breastbone, though her reaction made absolutely no sense.

Perchance shutting the window would mute the cacophony occurring two doors down, and she could then concentrate on her ledgers. She’d just closed the window after another longing look outdoors and was en route to her desk when someone scratched at her office door.

Brow crinkled, Chasity slid a glance to the brass inlaid bracket mantel clock. All of the girls were in classes at the moment. The panel swung open before she’d halfway crossed the room or bid anyone entrance.

The headmistress sailed inside as if it were her right. In point of fact, it was, even if the intrusion bordered on rudeness.

“Mrs. Crenshaw?”

An irrational prickle of guilt poked Chasity. For pity’s sake, she needn’t feel embarrassed that Mrs. Crenshaw had found her away from her desk. Chasity entwined her fingers and stifled an apology. She’d done nothing wrong.

No doubt Mrs. Crenshaw simply wanted to review the ledgers. The unfinished ledgers.

Chasity resisted glancing toward her desk. “I’m afraid I haven’t quite completed updating the books just yet.”

There’d been quite a muddle of receipts and statements to wade through and a few confusing entries by Mrs. Crenshaw she had questions about. Likely, just as she had these past several weeks, the headmistress would shake her head and plead forgetfulness. Which meant Chasity could never quite balance the books.

Mrs. Crenshaw made a dismissive shooing motion with her hand. “I’m not here about that, though I should like to review the accounts this evening.”

Her meaning was perfectly clear.

Finish the bookkeeping today.

Much easier to do if Chasity were left to the task.