Page 75 of Hearts of Locke Hill

He swallowed. “Have a care for my brittle bones.”

She was warm and soft and smelled of meadow and chamomile. It occurred to him then that he’d lived for her, and he couldn’t do that any longer. He shuddered and set her away from him. They stared at one another. A tear spilled down her cheek.

“Don’t let anyone break you, Violet.”

She nodded.

Then Cyril turned and strode away, forcing each step. Away from their meadow. Away from endless debates. Away from sparring and pushing and indefinable sparks. Away from his heart. Away from her.

Chapter 19

Violet lifted her head as Cyril strode into their shared office and made for his desk. She hadn’t seen him since their swim, and her dratted heart leaped at the idea. She quickly resumed her work.

Mrs. Penhurst then entered the office. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Burke. I wondered that we hadn’t seen you yet today.”

“I was in conference with Mr. Whittemore.”

Violet’s head lifted again. “In conference?”

He turned a slow gaze to her, a brow lifted. “In conference. As in, to confer. Converse. Communicate.”

“Compete?” she asked.

He paused, a far-too-handsome glint in his eyes. “Call it what you will; I’ve turned in my class proposals and lesson plans.”

Violet stood with a harsh scrape of her chair, her gaze taking in the somewhat orderly piles of pages on her desk. With a short puff of air, she dropped back down into her chair, scooted it forward again, and accepted that she was not quite ready to turn her proposals in.

But she was close.

“Well, isn’t that exciting,” Mrs. Penhurst said, pouring a cup of coffee and bringing it to Cyril. Violet had observed the woman warming up to Cyril. How could she not? Drat it. “I can’t believehow quickly things are coming together. Before you know it, students will be chattering excitedly in the halls and hurrying to get to their next class. Which reminds me, at half the hour you both have a meeting with Lord Buckley and his daughter, Miss Alice Felton.”

Violet stood again, her chair screeching once more. “Lord Buckley? As inRolandFelton, Lord Buckley, seventh Viscount of Kilborn?ThatFelton?” How had she not recognized the name on her schedule? She shifted through her paperwork and found Miss Felton’s name alone and noHonorablebefore it. No wonder she’d missed it.

“Do you know Lord Buckley?” Cyril asked her from his desk.

“Yes. That is, we’re acquainted.” Violet rubbed her eyebrow, then realized the movement and dropped her hand. “My father introduced us after Lord Buckley came out of mourning. His wife passed away three years ago, leaving him with two children.”

“Alice being one of them,” he observed.

“Yes, of course.” She began to pace. “Do you know what this means?”

“That you begin pacing frantically at the mention of titled families?”

She stopped and spun to face both Cyril and Mrs. Penhurst. “No. It means a titled family is seeking to send theirdaughterto a school of higher education, and they are considering ours.” She threw her hands out. “They’re consideringLocke Hill.”

Miss Penhurst dropped the cup of coffee and clapped her hands to her face as Cyril dove to catch the cup before it shattered, hissing an expletive as he caught the cup but also the sloshing hot coffee.

“Oh!” Mrs. Penhurst exclaimed and ran out of the office, presumably to retrieve a towel.

Perhaps they should begin to stow a set of towels in the office.

Violet hurried forward. “Are you all right? Here, give me the cup.”

“Yes, I’m all right. No, I’m not giving you the cup. Heaven knows what you’ll do with it should someone announce that Bertie has arrived with Princess Victoria.”

“The princess is too old, you ninny.”

“Naysayer.”