Page 45 of Hearts of Locke Hill

“Talk to your foe,” Mama said with a smile. “The other half of successful leadership is communication.”

Violet’s brow wrinkled. “That’s three-halves.”

“See?” Mama squeezed her shoulder. “I knew giving you the mathematics curriculum was the correct choice.”

They both laughed quietly.

Mama sobered once more. “No more games, Violet. No more battles with words. Just get to work. Yes?”

Violet bit her lip. She knew the wisdom of it. She just didn’t know if she was capable of it. War was won with battles. “I’ll try.”

Chapter 12

The first time Cy looked upon Locke Hill College, he frowned. “It’s an estate house.” A sprawling gray stone, broad and tall with reaching narrow windows on each level framed with white corbelled pediments. A deeply arcaded terrace could be seen off the nearest wing as Mr. Whittemore’s Cadillac Model M wound around a sparkling lake bordered on the far side by a naturalized grove of trees.

Mr. Whittemore chuckled. “Did you expect a fortress?”

“With a name like Locke Hill? Yes, actually. A castle, at the very least.” He smiled.

Mr. Whittemore pointed beyond the car’s windshield to the treed hill just beyond the estate. “There is where you’ll find your stronghold. An ancient stone tower that by all reason should be a pile of rubble by now.”

Cy narrowed his gaze across the hill, wondering if he could catch a glimpse of the structure. “I should like to see that.”

“Have you never explored the area, Mr. Burke?” Miss Whittemore asked from the rear seat. “It is not so far from Oakleigh. Many a curious young person can be found tromping up the hill to climb the stone steps. Tillingbourne Falls can be seen from the top, on a clear day.”

“I was never one to feel comfortable trespassing in myexplorations as a youth.” He glanced behind him. “You’ve mistaken me for one of my younger brothers, Miss Whittemore.”

Mrs. Whittemore chuckled.

“How silly of me,” Miss Whittemore said, laughing under her breath. “Having been a curious child myself, I assumed all children run, climb, and crawl their way out of the confines of their home boundaries.”

“And run she did,” Mrs. Whittemore said. “Curious child, indeed. We had a terrible time keeping her, Mr. Burke. As soon as she could walk, she sensed freedom and threw herself at it.”

He could easily imagine a toddling Violet careening out a door, her nanny in quick pursuit. He smiled. “I cannot reconcile what I know of the vast boundaries of Kinthwaite with the termconfining.”

“Hear, hear,” Mr. Whittemore said.

“I suppose it’s one of those phenomena of the heart,” Violet said more thoughtfully. “Like feeling alone in a roomful of people. Or shouting but never feeling heard.” She paused. “Having a dozen suitors but never feeling sought-after.”

“Violet,” her mother said in censure.

“They’re only examples, Mama. Have I made you uncomfortable, Mr. Burke?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Only curious.” His raised eyebrows seemed to tug the corners of his mouth skyward.

She laughed. “There. You see? Now he is one of us. Watch out, Father. We may lose Mr. Burke on our tour, to find him sprinting away to Locke Hill.”

“Hmph.” Mr. Whittemore shook his head at the idea. Or at the silliness of his daughter. Or both.

Cy glanced back at Miss Whittemore, glimpsing her profile as she gazed over the water. His heart thumped a bit out of rhythm.Gads, she was lovely.Freshwas how he might describe her. Like a field of daisies or a brook of the clearest water. Her blue-green gown accentuated the images, as did the amethyst damselfly pinned just where the high, white lace collar met the square neck of her bodice. Her hat today was mostly lace and froth, her golden-brown hair curled and gently coiled.

Her gaze flickered to his, and she turned more solidly away, two spots of pink appearing at her cheeks. He smiled to himself and turned his attention to the approach. He knew that she’d been using examples to make a point, but he wondered if she’d been speaking from experience. A dozen suitors and never feeling sought-after. Had there been truth in that illustration? A very lonely example, indeed. He would never have equated loneliness with Miss Whittemore. She was so very lively. Though, he had wondered why she was not yet married.

He frowned. Was he to think of her the way his mother thought of him? Assigning an age or a time when one ought to be married? As if society didn’t do enough of that. No, he admitted. He was curious. Curious as to why no one had yet won her heart.

“Mr. Burke,” she said.

“Yes?” he said, not turning around.