Page 41 of Once Upon a Midnight Dream

Though her stomach turned and her lungs cramped at the pain he had endured, she could not regret the dire circumstances that had sent him to her doorstep.

Well, perhaps not on her doorstep, but onto Kelston Hall’s lands.

Lilly likely would never have met him otherwise.

Children’s laughter carried through the fresh, fragrant air as they scampered about the orchard and up and down ladders. Everyone in the household, except the stable boy and Mrs. B, busy cooking their supper, helped harvest the Golden Pippen and Ashmead’s Kernal apples, Warden and Bergamot pears, and walnuts.

They would not harvest the quince until October, but in the meantime, cider and preserves must be made, fruit preserved, and walnuts dried for the winter.

Song thrushes, blackbirds, and robins chirped and bobbed among the laden branches, eager for the humans to depart so the birds could gorge themselves on fallen fruit too bruised to save.

Tonight, everyone would indulge in apple dumplings, served with cream, a tradition Lilly began several years ago as a reward for the children’s and staff’s hard work in harvesting the estate’s bounty.

She loved this time of year, when the English countryside blushed with the fiery golds and crimsons of autumn, and morning mist clung to the hillsides like a comforting blanket. The orchard brimmed with ripened fruit, and the cooler air made for cozy, shawl-wrapped walks beneath canopies of russet and amber as leaves crunched beneath her boots.

The hearth fires seemed more inviting and a cup of steaming tea or apple cider more calming, as the earth celebrated one last time in preparation for facing winter’s starkness and harshness once again.

This year was even more special because of Zander’s presence.

He had taken to teaching as if he had been instructing children for decades, rather than days. It was apparent from the worshipful looks the boys kept sending him, Zander had already made a mark upon the lads who needed a male mentor in their lives.

Charles, bless his kind heart, tried his best. However, given he was absent most days and did not interact with the children in the same capacity as an instructor, his relationship with the orphans was not as close.

Even the shyest girls slipped their little hands into Zander’s, and Lilly had caught more than one female instructor ogling him like a French Mille-feuille or custard tart they would like to gobble up.

Drucilla Wobblecroft, five and fifty if she was a day, sidled next to Zander and batted her almost non-existent gray eyelashes. She added half a dozen apples to the already full basket he held, then coyly angled her head so that her hideous straw bonnet slid to the ground.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured in mock dismay while pressing a hand to her ample bosom. “My bonnet has fallen.”

Yes, that tends to happen when you untie the ribbons and then tilt your head.

Lilly made a mental note to have a conversation about appropriate and acceptable behaviors with the female instructors as soon as possible. It would not do to have enamored teachers mooning about and perhaps, causing a scandal, because while she had worked hard to make the home self-sufficient, a handful of benevolent patrons regularly donated funds.

Still, she could not help but admire the way Zander’s too-small shirt tightened across his broad back as he lifted a full produce basket onto the wagon before bending to retrieve the bonnet. Unlike Drucilla, however, Lilly covertly observed him from beneath her eyelashes, rather than openly gawking like an infatuated schoolgirl.

Just to ensure her secret was safe, however, she sent a swift glance around to see if anyone had noticed her appreciation. Everyone seemed engrossed in activities elsewhere, and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

Really, hiding her feelings became more difficult each day that Zander remained at Kelston Hall. As headmistress, she should set an example, not engage in the same untenable goggling of the home’s only male instructor.

Not that she could blame the other teaching staff.

Plopping a fine specimen of masculinity in the middle of a bunch of spinsters was akin to tossing dry, brittle fodder on a toasty fire, and then pretending to be surprised when the blaze raged hotter.

Lilly ought to have foreseen the chaos hiring Zander would cause, but her secret feelings had blinded her.

True, she repeatedly told herself, she had hired him because doing so was practical, logical, wise, and prudent. However, when alone and forced to face the undeniable truth head-on, she must admit she had fairly jumped at the opportunity to keep him at Kelston Hall.

He brushed a leaf off the ratty atrocity that passed for a hat, then handed it to Miss Wobblecroft. “Here you are.”

“Thank you ever so much, Mr. Brook,” Miss Wobblecroft gushed, her chins folding into themselves and the mole with the black wiry hair near her mouth twitching with a life of its own. “What a pleasure to have a gentleman so close at hand.”

She placed her plump hand on his rippling shoulder and tipped her mouth up into what could only be described as an improper invitation.

Lilly’s stomach clenched tighter than a beggar’s fist.

I am not jealous, she told herself sternly.

Her position as director demanded she nip this type of behavior in the bud at once.