Page 40 of Love Lessons for a Lady

Naturally, I could not presume you would want to meet him or know if he is truly your father. However, Lady Audrey died in childbirth, and you were brought to Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Ladies shortly thereafter. Audrey means noble, and that is how I selected your surname, Chasity.

I have enclosed Mr. Oxley-Norton’s direction should you decide you wish to contact him. He has asked that you do so.

~ Mrs. Hester Shepherd, Proprietress, in a letter to Miss Chasity Noble

Enroute to Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies

Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies

Still in Mrs. Crenshaw’s office

Fifteen very unpleasant minutes later

Aston had never laid hands on a woman with violent intent, but at this moment, his fingers itched to wrap around Rafaela Crenshaw’s neck and shake her into unconsciousness. It had only taken him a few minutes of questioning to understand what the scheming harpy had done.

She’d convinced the board and benefactors that Chasity was the culprit and not herself. Except, he had witnesses to Chasity’s confession last week, and he had a copy of his contract that proved the headmistress had overstepped her authority.

More fool him, he ought to have questioned her when she hired him. He hadn’t been flattered by her generosity but had honestly believed the school had generous patrons and, unlike most seminaries, chose to pay instructors well.

He should’ve known better.

Aston felt used, stupid, and like an utter arse.

He’d also let Chasity down by not being here when the benefactors arrived. That he couldn’t have avoided. Uncle Conley passed quietly in his sleep at thirteen minutes past three this morning. It had taken Aston until almost eight to find his sot of a cousin passed out in a gaming hell.

Werner had chosen to drink himself into oblivion rather than be at his father’s side when he died. After depositing his soused cousin at their grandfather’s Berkeley Square house, Aston had been forced to endure an hour of complaints and a litany of condemnations from the viscount.

Jaw set, he squelched his harsh replies, reminding himself that Grandfather had just lost his only living son, and from Werner’s pallor and weight loss, he might soon follow in his father’s wake.

Which, God help him, meant Aston was the next in line to inherit.

Would Werner wed his lady in a few days as planned?

Strictures required him to mourn his father for a year. Regardless, knowing their mercenary grandfather, he’d insist the wedding take place. After all, an heir was more important than anything. Even honoring your son’s death.

Both of Grandfather’s sons had predeceased the rabid old tosspot. If he grieved at all, he hid it well.

Enough of that.

Filling his lungs with air, Aston clasped his hands behind his back and tipped back onto his heels.

“Mr. Terramier, it offends my sensibilities that you should arrive looking like you’ve slept in your clothes.” Lady Balderbrook raised a superior nose. “We know what we need to know in any event. Fortunately, you have already tendered your resignation, or you would be dismissed along with Miss Noble.”

Aston peeled his gaze from the haughty dame and stabbed Mrs. Crenshaw with an incredulous glance.

“My resignation? I haven’t tendered my resignation as yet. In fact, given the circumstances, I am not the least inclined to do so. Particularly as the entire balance of my contract is due at once if I’m dismissed. And if you are dismissing me, I’ll have the remaining two hundred and twenty pounds now.”

Bramblefink’s and Potterburger’s jaws came unhinged. Bug-eyed, they gaped wide enough for a pelican to nest inside their mouths.

Mrs. Crenshaw swayed on her feet and grasped a chair for support while Lady Balderbrook, for once, was rendered utterly speechless. Her mouth worked repeatedly, but nothing but strange croaks and squeaks came forth.

“What say you?” Theobald Bramblefink finally regained his senses and shoved his spectacles up his nose as he gave Mrs. Crenshaw a gimlet stare. “I saw the letter of resignation in your personnel folder myself, Mr. Terramier.”

He gestured to the open file atop the headmistress’s desk.

Puffing out his barrel chest, Pharris Potterburger grabbed his lapels. “What manner of balderdashery is this?” He swung his accusing gaze between Aston and Mrs. Crenshaw, then pointed to the folder. “I also read your contract, Mr. Terramier. There is no outlandish mention of such a clause. Two hundred and twenty pounds. What rubbish.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Crenshaw offered weakly, still clutching the chair with a white-knuckled grip.