Page 79 of Hearts of Locke Hill

She lifted a brow in his direction. “Hardly.”

He gave her a pointed look.

She cleared her throat. “But I do think Miss Alice was quite pleased.”

“She’s a bright girl.”

“Indeed. I’ve heard it said that her mother was quite shy. I believe she takes more after her father in that area.”

“He is certainly not shy.” He turned and studied her profile, attempting to see her as a gentleman would upon first acquaintance. He could only see her as utterly fascinating. “I wonder … if you should be careful.”

She turned her green eyes to his. “Careful of what?”

“Of the possibility that Lord Buckley is looking for more than just a school for his daughter—that perhaps he is looking for a wife.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them.

For moments she seemed trapped in his gaze, then abruptly looked away, her cheeks pinking. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“It was only a thought.”

“It was more than that, and you know it. In one sentence you’ve insinuated that Lord Buckley was not here for his daughter but for me. That if I’m not careful and lead him to believe that I am … well, that if I amnot, then I risk losing Alice as a student here.”

He frowned. “That is not what I meant.”

She raised her voice, her fists clenched. “Then, what did you mean?”

“I meant—” He gripped the back of his neck and growled. “I meant that should he pursue you, he most certainly wouldnotallow you to remain here asheadmistress.”

She blinked at him, wide-eyed. “Surely you don’t believe—he seemed so open to—”

“He’s a viscount. Perhaps if you gave music lessons or ran agarden club, he would overlook that. But running a school?” He shook his head.

Her jaw firmed, and he closed his eyes, resigned to the torrent of accusations he was about to receive.

“Wouldyou?”

His eyes shot open at her quiet question.

She watched his feet. “Would youallowme to stay here? If you were a viscount? If you were anybody? If I … were to be a wife?”

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his, stealing his breath.

“Excuse me, Mr. Burke—”

“Whatis it?” he asked rather sharply to a startled Mrs. Cole.

“It—it’s your mother, sir. On the telephone.”

He blinked. “Forgive me, Mrs. Cole.” Giving Violet a nod, he said, “If you’ll excuse me,” and strode from the room.

Chapter 20

Cyril did not return to the office, nor anywhere else Violet looked. Frustrated at the way their conversation had ended and worried about his father, she put on her gloves and hat and let a footman know that she was going to walk to the tower, should anyone need her. Back at her cottage, she changed into walking boots and her shorter linen walking skirt, donned her oiled silk cape with hood, and hurried to the path leading to the foothills. The rain had quit, but above her, heavy clouds moved painstakingly slow.

Beneath them, she felt like a bridled horse who wanted nothing but to run.

At first, she focused on her feet, the path, and her breath. When all that hit a rhythm, her focus was drawn to the trees to her right, the fields and meadows to her left, and the glorious greens of the rise before her. The path was not a straight shot to Locke Tower but wound steadily back and forth over the face of the foothills. This, of course, broke up what would’ve been a steep climb into a more gradual ascent. Perfect for a walk or run. Or canoe.

She shook her head and muttered at herself. “Canoe. Brilliant moment, that. Excellent.”