Page 31 of Love Lessons for a Lady

A rueful smile quirking one side of his mouth, his lordship bowed. However, before he’d completely straightened, the zealous woman grabbed his arm with the tenacity of a terrier seizing a rat in its jaws. Kellinggrave murmured something to Aston and received a nod in response.

Talking the whole while, the vivacious matron towed Lord Kellinggrave across the room.

Nothing in his bland expression had indicated he’d recognized Faith. For Lord Kellinggrave to have passed her over as if they’d never met, he must indeed be every bit the absent-minded scholar Faith had described him to be.

Chasity slid her friend a quick, sympathetic glance. No one liked to be invisible or to be disregarded.

The two lines wrinkling the bridge of Faith’s nose revealed she’d noticed her new employer’s obvious lack of acknowledgment. She cut him a sideways look and narrowed her eyes the merest bit at his broad back.

She wasn’t pleased.

Faith had no trouble speaking her mind, and Chasity suspected Lord Kellinggrave might very well get an earful tomorrow. Chasity would rather like to observe that exchange. She had no doubt who would come out the victor.

A grin threatened, and Chasity returned her attention to Lord Kellinggrave. His lordship was now deep in conversation with two fusty-looking, doddery fellows as well as the dame.

Aston’s long strides had carried him halfway across the drawing room already.

Chasity forced herself to look away as he approached, lest her friends see her acting like a calf-eyed nincompoop. He was the seminary’s dance master and music teacher. She was the assistant headmistress. For now. That was all.

“That’s him,” she said out the side of her mouth to no one in particular. “Aston Terramier.”

As one, her three friends trained their inquisitive gazes upon him.

Couldn't they have tried to be even a mite subtler?

Chasity almost groaned with the humiliation assaulting her.

They weren’t the only ones boldly staring at Aston either.

Astonishment momentarily held her immobile when something very much like jealousy rose in her breast as several young, polished, and perfumed young ladies hungrily took Aston’s measure. One with the predatory glint of a tigress in her hazel eyes brazenly licked her lower lip before whipping her fan open.

A pretty doe-eyed brunette went pale as chalk when an older woman greatly resembling her harshly whispered something in her ear. Probably her mother. Whatever she’d said to her daughter had the poor girl shrinking into the corner where they stood with her attention rooted to the Aubusson carpet.

Aston wore a finely-tailored black suit, a royal blue striped waistcoat, and a crisp white cravat. He was breathtaking. He looked every bit the fine gentleman, despite his slightly too long hair curling over his collar and his nose, which was a trifle too strong to be considered fashionable.

Chasity wore her finest gown, a simple ivory affair adorned with pink ribbons that didn’t begin to compare with the elegant frocks adorning the ladies of quality. She even lacked matching slippers, and her simple black shoes covered her feet.

For the first time in her life, she yearned for a stunning gown with matching slippers and ribbons threaded through her perfectly coiffed curls. Perhaps even a pendant and earrings to complete the ensemble.

She’d been raised to value inner beauty and not fallalls and fripperies. However, the truth was she wouldn’t mind a few fancy outward adornments if they made her attractive to Aston.

“He’s quite dashing for a dance master,” Joy whispered. “And tall too.”

“And to think, we had to settle for short, decrepit Monsieur Paternoster,” Mercy said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “He limped and always smelled of garlic and camphor.”

“I might’ve actually learned to enjoy dancing if our instructor looked anything like your Mr. Terramier, Chasity.” Faith almost choked on a teasing giggle.

“Hush. All of you. He’s not my Mr. Terramier.” Chasity gave them a mockingly stern gaze. “I had no idea he’d be here.”

Having made it to their table, Aston bowed. “Miss Noble. What a pleasant surprise to see you today.”

In short order, Chasity introduced her friends to Aston. “We all attended the same academy.”

The women raised and educated at Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women didn’t speak about the very private home. Only Hester Shepherd knew the origins of the girls in her charge. The girls didn’t even know, although Mercy had discovered who her mother was. Because Mercy and Lady Amhurst looked so much alike, anyone with eyes in their heads could see the resemblance and rightly conclude the obvious familial relationship between the women.

Whoever chose to leave a girl at the foundling home paid a fortune for Mrs. Shepherd’s discretion. The upper ten thousand liked to keep their many skeletons well hidden in their lavish closets.

“Might I have a word with you, Miss Noble?” Aston asked with one of his disarming smiles. The one that turned bones to jelly and caused a hoard of butterflies to take wing in one’s stomach.