Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,97
their desks, their fearful eyes focused on James.
Drake thrust back the door so hard it banged against the wall. The room fell silent. In a swift glance around, he spied the Duchess of Featherstone seated in a straight-backed chair near James. Across the chamber, Alicia sat with her legs tucked beneath her on the window seat, her rose-pink gown bright against the gray day.
Her eyes widened on him; she sprang to her feet. Her lips formed his name, though no sound emerged.
He gave her a scathing glance. She condoned this injustice?
Furious, he strode toward James. A sea of startled faces turned to Drake. With a jolt, he recognized some of them: Kitty, the deaf girl; several grooms from his stables; Molly, the pregnant maid. The room was quiet except for the patter of raindrops against the windowpanes.
He swung toward James. “How dare you presume to chastise my employees? This is my house, not yours.”
The silence lasted a heartbeat. Then giggles swept the gathering, the pupils covering their mouths to hide their mirth. Their reaction left Drake nonplussed.
James grinned briefly, then returned his attention to the group. “Quiet, now,” he commanded. “It isn’t polite to laugh. Mr. Wilder didn’t realize I was reading you a story.”
The tittering subsided. For the first time, Drake noticed the notebook propped open in James’s lap. And he felt a rare moment of utter foolishness.
The duchess glided toward James, placing her hand on the back of his wheeled chair. “James is an eloquent reader as well as a gifted writer.”
A faint flush colored his fair skin. “Enough, Sarah,” he muttered.
She ignored him. “You should know, Mr. Wilder, that James penned this tale of knights and dragons, of evil sorcerers and fair princesses. The class has enjoyed hearing his stories. Is that not so?”
As one, the pupils eagerly spoke their assent.
Drake looked at their bobbing heads and felt more off balance than ever. James, a writer of fairy tales? A benefactor who entertained the underprivileged?
Drake couldn’t reconcile that image with the snobbish lord who had been raised as a privileged only son. This must be a ruse of some sort. But to what purpose, he couldn’t imagine.
While the younger ones begged James to read another chapter and he laughingly refused, Alicia pulled Drake to the side of the room, where a large map of England was tacked to the wall. His senses were attuned to the brush of her soft breast, the seductiveness of her subtle scent, the delicacy of her features.
Somehow, she looked especially fragile today, her skin translucent and her eyes shadowed as if she needed a nap. “I thought you’d be arriving in half an hour,” she murmured. “I’d meant for you to see the class at their lessons.”
“Class?” he repeated numbly.
“Yes, I’ve organized this school for those wishing to learn their letters and sums. That way, a maid can aspire to the post of housekeeper someday. And a groom might prove adept enough at numbers to become a steward. They can better their lot in life.”
A school for the poor? He’d thought she’d been spending her days shopping and socializing, the usual activities for a lady of wealth. He struggled to assimilate her actions.
She’d been here at Pemberton House. With James.
Feeling betrayed, he gripped tenaciously to his anger. “What the devil is Hailstock’s son doing here?” he said under his breath. “The wretch is toying with these commoners, playing the Good Samaritan. He hasn’t any true interest in them.”
“You’re wrong about that,” she whispered back. “And before you pass judgment, I ask only that you listen while the pupils show you what they’ve learned this past fortnight.”
He despised being gulled. Yet he couldn’t refuse her. Not when she gazed at him so hopefully with those clear blue eyes. Not when she curved her lips into the soft smile that could turn him into a babbling idiot.
Compressing his mouth into a thin line, he took up a stance by the hearth, propping his elbow on the mantelpiece. She walked toward the class, her hips swaying, all graceful, beguiling woman.
While Sarah and James sat watching, Alicia clapped her hands for attention and called the beginning pupils to the front. Scullery maids and grooms alike assembled in a circle on the large rug while she seated herself on a stool. One by one, they proceeded to draw their letters on their slates. After that, they did a little game using marbles to count their sums. Some of them were remarkably quick; others struggled with the simplest