Page 43 of Love Lessons for a Lady

“The task will not be easy, Mrs. Ramsbottom, as you will be short of staff for the time being, and, most likely, an investigation will occur.” Lady Balderbrook drew herself up in the regal way women of position had perfected and actually fashioned a benevolent smile. “If you are up to the task, I believe a woman of your integrity would do well.”

“Oh, yes, my lady.” Joy blossomed across Mrs. Ramsbottom’s face like a flower opening to the sun. “I should be honored.”

“What about Miss Noble’s position?” Aston inquired.

Would she even want to stay after this debacle?

“Unfortunately, until the investigation is complete and a decision has been rendered about the actual embezzler, Miss Noble cannot be reinstated.” Mr. Potterburger eyed the stone-faced Mrs. Crenshaw distastefully. “However, once the issue has been resolved, I see no reason, if found innocent, that Miss Noble cannot resume her duties.”

He looked to Mr. Bramblefink, who muttered, “Excellent,” and then to Lady Balderbrook.

She inclined her head. “Just so.”

Aston cursed inwardly. He’d not saved Chasity’s position as he’d intended. At least not for the short term. He needed to speak with her at once. She must be beside herself.

“I beg your pardon, but I must be away. My address is in my employment folder, and the magistrate can reach me there for my statement. My contract, please.” He extended his hand, and Mr. Bramblefink obligingly handed him the document.

After folding the papers, Aston returned them to a pocket inside his jacket.

He’d have to be addled to leave such an important piece of evidence where it might accidentally get misplaced or destroyed as Mrs. Crenshaw’s copy had.

Over the next few days, Aston would be busy with Uncle Conley’s funeral arrangements. He’d agreed to take on the task because his uncle had asked him to. Odd that he hadn’t asked his son, but perhaps he believed Werner would be too overwrought. Or, in truth, wholly inept.

And then there was the reading of Conley’s will. Aston had hoped to avoid that tediousness, but Uncle Conley had explicitly asked him to be present at the reading. On second thought, the magistrate might need to call at Grandfather’s home. “Or the magistrate can find me at Sutton House, Berkeley Square.”

After giving a brief bow, Aston left the office and hurried down the corridor. He had no idea where Chasity’s bedchamber was, but he’d wager all of the sleeping areas were on the upper story.

Josie came hustling down the passageway, breathless and her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry I didn’t return sooner, but…ah…Cook needed my help in the kitchen.”

She wiped her hands across her wet cheeks and forced a bright smile. It didn’t reach her red-rimmed eyes.

Had she received a scolding?

“I’ve sent the groom for the magistrate as you asked, Mr. Terramier. He left about twenty minutes ago.”

“Well done, Josie.” Already halfway up the risers, Aston paused. “Where is Miss Noble’s chamber?”

Josie blinked against the tears swimming in her eyes once more. She shook her head and swallowed hard.

“She’s…she’s gone, sir.” Tears streamed down her face. “She left with a groom.”

I don’t believe I have ever met a more infuriating or perplexing man in my life. Lord Kellinggrave admitted he recognized me at the Trentholms’ tea. When I asked him why he ignored me, he said he never mixes business with pleasure.

That’s not the entire tale, however. I have discovered his lordship only hired me after losing a wager. My employment is the result. I shall explain the details the next time I see you.

Nevertheless, suffice it to say, his lordship doesn’t believe I can perform an amanuensis’s duties. He expects me to quit and is doing his utmost to push me to the brink. I mean to prove the rogue wrong on all accounts. Pray for me, because as you well know, I struggle to bridle my tongue, and patience isn’t a virtue I possess. I may box his ears before all is said and done.

~ Miss Faith Ross in a hastily written note to Miss Purity Mayfield

A dusty road to London

24 August 1818

I shall not cry. I shall not cry. I. Shall. Not. Cry.

Thank goodness Chasity’s unadorned gray bonnet shielded her face from Gibney’s curious glances, else the groom might see her struggling for control. Jaw aching from clenching her teeth against the tears surging in the back of her throat, Chasity stared straight ahead. She saw nothing except beloved Aston’s face, etched with fatigue and regret as she’d fled Mrs. Crenshaw’s office.

Each bounce of the wagon jarred her bones and slammed her bum relentlessly on the unpadded bench, cruelly reminding Chasity of her sudden reverse in fortunes. She’d gone from assistant headmistress in a prestigious academy to a criminal accused of theft and immorality. From safety and security to an unknown future fraught with uncertainty and possible peril.