The young man looked around uneasily, but he didn’t balk. “Yes, sir.” Pushing through the yelling crowd, he set off.
“I wanted to help,” said Miss Fletcher, the soiled bit of toweling hanging from her hand.
“Could you send one of these boys to Langford House to prepare them?” Randolph said as they made their way back to Miss Sinclair. “A clever runner might be faster than the coach.”
“Yes, of course.” The teacher scanned the crowd. “Georgie! Georgie Finch.” She pushed through the crowd, waving at one of the boys.
Miss Sinclair was gazing at the puddle of slops with what seemed to be fascinated revulsion when Randolph joined her. He took her hand and summoned Hordle with a jerk of his head. The huge man cleared a path for them, and in a few moments they were back inside the walls of the school. Two of the teachers stood on the doorstep, distressed. Wide-eyed faces filled the windows. Randolph relaxed a bit as the gate clanged shut behind them.
“Your mother is extraordinary,” said Miss Sinclair.
“She is.” There’d never been any doubt about that.
“So many grand ladies would have collapsed in hysterics.” She gave an odd little laugh. “Adventures.”
“Mama can get through anything,” Randolph agreed. He had no fear for his mother’s state of mind. In a day or so, she’d be laughing about the incident. He was more concerned about the contents of that foul deluge.
“You did very well, too.”
Something about her tone made him smile. “Thank you.”
Miss Fletcher came through the outer gate. “Georgie swears he’ll beat the coach to Langford House.”
Randolph thanked her with a nod. He handed her a coin from his pocket. “For him when he returns.”
“You will tell the duchess how very sorry we are for this unfortunate—”
“She would never blame you,” he interrupted.
The formidable Miss Fletcher’s eyes filled with tears. “No, she wouldn’t. She’s the most admirable woman.”
“Isn’t she?” agreed Miss Sinclair.
A few minutes later, Thomas the footman returned with a hack. The crowd in the square had thinned, Randolph saw as he handed Miss Sinclair into the vehicle. He gave the driver her address and stepped up to sit beside her. Thomas found a perch at the back, and they set off.
The cab was small, a bit shabby but clean. Randolph’s knee touched Miss Sinclair’s when they clattered over some loose cobbles. Their shoulders brushed. They hadn’t been alone together since the kiss, he realized. And then all he could think of was that caress. The flowery scent she wore filled his senses.
“Your mother is quite unusual, isn’t she?” his companion said.
“What?” He pulled his mind back to the present.
She looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “She’s doing something important,” she went on. “With her schools. But great ladies often have charitable interests. It’s the way she does it.”
“The way?”
“She knew all about those girls. Every one, I wager. And she was truly interested in how they were doing.”
“She was,” Randolph agreed. He saw her point. Many of the wealthy would give to a cause when asked; few became so involved with the consequences of their donations.
Miss Sinclair turned to look at him. Her blue-green eyes were very close. And her lips—such an enticing shape, full, just slightly parted.
“You don’t find that unusual, do you?”
For an instant he thought she meant her lips. He blinked. “Ah—”
“That she should take such a personal interest. Find Sally a mathematics book, and Kate a place to sell her embroidery. I daresay she’ll send little Emily some stories.”
“You remembered their names and their circumstances,” he pointed out.
“I suppose that’s why your brothers have such striking wives,” she answered.
Randolph had missed a connection. “That?”
“Your mother’s influence.”
“She never interferes,” he said, puzzled.
Miss Sinclair seemed amused. “She doesn’t have to.”
Before Randolph could ask what she meant, the hack jerked to a stop, and they were thrown forward. Randolph put out his arm to keep her from falling, catching Miss Sinclair across the chest. Her beautiful bosom was at once soft and firm and delectable. Heat flushed through him. Their eyes met across inches. He heard her breath catch. For one aching instant he thought she would kiss him again.
Then she sat back. She cleared her throat, gripped the strap beside her as if she required support. “Have we…hit something?”
Stifling disappointment, Randolph lowered his arm. He stuck his head out the window. Up ahead, a large wagon loaded with barrels of beer was trying to enter a narrow lane. The street was blocked, and a line of carriages had formed. They couldn’t move