Page 47 of Love Lessons for a Lady

This small chamber was home for now, be it a few hours or days or weeks.

Inhaling a bracing lungful of air, she turned in a small circle, at once thankful she had a roof over her head and would have food to eat but also worried how she would find employment without a reference if she opted to stay in London.

A ragged sob forced its way past her lips, and she stuffed a fist to her mouth.

Where are you, God? Why did you let this happen to me?

It was futile. The tears Chasity had suppressed all morning surged up her throat and pooled, stinging and hot, in her eyes.

She sank onto the lumpy settee, and head in her hands, gave vent to her grief. Tears of fright and uncertainty clogged her throat and streamed from her eyes.

She cried about the injustice of her situation and the plight of women in general, which gave them so few choices in life. She wept because she was alone, and at this moment, Chasity yearned for a family she could flee to. Someone who would take her in, no questions asked, and accept and love her. She sobbed because she didn’t know what to do…where to go.

And mostly, Chasity wept because the tiny, secret dream she’d harbored of a life with Aston had disintegrated to ashes.

I should’ve told you, Aston. I shouldn’t have been a poltroon and hidden the truth from you, drowning my cowardice and guilt with spirits. Your parents didn’t perish in a boating accident. Father thought that falsehood would be easier for you to bear. Scott and Elly were killed by poachers while out riding—or so my father has always maintained.

There wasn’t an inquiry, and I confess, I’ve had my doubts these many years. Scott had quarreled with the viscount and meant to take you and your mother and leave England. Father never approved of Elly, but make no mistake, he wanted you. You know, the spare heir since I refused to wed again after Margaret took her own life. I couldn’t impose that misery on myself or another woman even to spare you.

I regret much about my wasted life, but mostly that you were also a casualty of my father’s calculations and scheming.

Forgive me.

~The Honorable Conley Terramier in a sealed letter to his nephew, Aston Terramier

Kept by his solicitor until the time of Conley’s death

Upper Clapton Street

Mrs. Longsdon’s Lodging House

24 August 1818 - near midnight

Barely able to keep his eyes open after a sleepless night and having spent the last several hours futilely searching for Chasity, Aston climbed the stairs to his apartments. Head hanging, Roi trailed behind him, the poor dog as exhausted as his master after the chaotic past day and a half.

Tomorrow, Aston would return to Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies and question Gibney. He’d met Bexon, sent to retrieve the magistrate, on the road, but the groom hadn’t seen Chasity. He’d suggested Aston try several merchants where Gibney was to purchase the school’s weekly supplies.

All of those locations had been dead ends. Where Gibney had disappeared to in London, Aston could only imagine. The man probably took the rare opportunity to dally a bit at a pub and quaff back a few ales. Mayhap even seek female company.

Aston didn’t blame him for taking advantage of the occasion. Mrs. Crenshaw was a demanding employer.

Nonetheless, running into the magistrate on the road to London saved Aston a call or summons. Though it meant a slight delay in pursuing Chasity, he’d given the magistrate his statement right there. The man took copious notes and afterward said, “I shall call upon you should I need further information, Mr. Terramier.”

After unlocking his door and dragging himself inside, Aston collapsed onto his bed, still fully clothed. He’d be up before dawn searching for Chasity. Werner or Grandfather could make Uncle Conley’s funeral arrangements.

Tomorrow, he’d write them and tell them that very thing.

Chasity was more important than a dead man. She was everything, and when he found her, Aston meant to tell her exactly that. His life meant nothing without her in it.

His last thought before letting slumber take him away was of her.

Is my beloved safe?

~*~

Before the kitchen fires had been lit, Aston ventured below and helped himself to a piece of bread and a slice of cheese. He also grabbed two meat pies. One for himself and one for Roi. Mrs. Longsdon would box his ears if she caught him.

Though she was hard and crusty on the outside, just like a loaf of bread fresh from the oven, she was soft, sweet, and warm on the inside. This wasn’t the first time he’d availed himself of food and drink in the kitchen when the lodging house was still enshrouded in slumber’s mantle.