rat hadn’t been at any of the local inns or taverns yesterday afternoon. He’d told Tris to have a go at Emma, but he hadn’t meant it, damn it all. And now they expected him to sit in a classroom all morning while Tristan explained how water helped crops grow and charmed the headmistress right out of his grasp.
“Are students allowed to leave the Academy grounds, Miss Perchase?”
“I…it’s…it’s not encouraged, Your Grace.”
Lizzy looked up at him. “We are, but not without an instructor.”
A slow smile touched his lips. “I’m an instructor.”
“My…Your Gr—”
“You want to take us out? But you’re supposed to be teaching us ballroom decorum.”
“I cannot condone—”
“That begins well before a ball. And London has parks and gardens, you know. Dozens ofthem. Why don’t you and Miss Perchase fetch your classmates, and I’ll have the tr…Tobias rig out some transportation for us?”
Elizabeth looked at him dubiously. “All right, but I don’t think Miss Emma would like it.”
“Then she shouldn’t have hired me. I’ll be waiting for you out front.”
With another suspicious look at him, Elizabeth grabbed the Latin instructor’s hand and hurried off. Humming, Grey retraced his steps outside. The entire old monastery echoed with whispers of female voices and lavender perfume. He wondered what the monks would think of having these hallowed floors, upon which they’d knelt to worship, being trod by countless chits bent on hunting husbands.
The troll kingdom turned out to be the stable. Other than an old two-seater curricle, the only transportation the Academy possessed was the cart Emma had driven yesterday. With a sigh, Grey helped Tobias rig it out. At last count he owned three phaetons, four coaches, a barouche, and five curricles, and he could think of at least two cronies in London who would die of laughter if they ever saw him driving five little chits in a cart. Emma was going to pay for this, and he knew precisely how. The thought of her slender body spread beneath him, her auburn curls lying across the pillow while he took his delicious revenge, left him taut with impatience.
“Ye taking the young ones out for a nature study, then?” Tobias asked as they brought the rig around to the front door.
“Something like that. Did Miss Emma say where she was headed this morning?”
“Aye.”
Females had no idea how to hire proper servants. “And where was she going this morning?” he asked, doubting that Tobias had any idea how patient he was being or how thankful the gatekeeper should be for that fact.
“With that other fellow from Haverly.”
Grey took a deep breath. In about another two minutes he was going to thrash the man. “Tobias, have you considered what I—”
“Hold on, Your Grace,” the old groom interrupted. “I’ve worked here for thirty years, since the day Miss Grenville opened the doors. I’m an old tomcat, and these girls—all of ’em—are my kittens. Nobody harms my kittens. So whatever trouble you’ve a mind to cause for Miss Emma, don’t expect me t’make it any easier for you.”
Grey looked at Tobias for a long moment, reassessing his estimation of the troll. “Interesting,” he finally drawled, “but I’m here to win a wager. Your ‘kittens’ will receive no harm from me.” If a certain cat among them wanted to play, though, he would be more than happy to oblige.
“I’ll be keeping my eye on you just to be sure of that, Your Grace.”
This was becoming decidedly less amusing. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The front doors burst open, and his students hurried down the steps, Miss Perchase trailing behind and looking as though she was about to have an apoplexy. The girls all looked so…pristine as they gathered at the back of the vehicle: prim bonnets and matching pelisses and shawls, three of them carrying quaint little parasols. Grey scowled. What in damnation was he doing, instructing virginal, infant chits how
“Are students allowed to leave the Academy grounds, Miss Perchase?”
“I…it’s…it’s not encouraged, Your Grace.”
Lizzy looked up at him. “We are, but not without an instructor.”
A slow smile touched his lips. “I’m an instructor.”
“My…Your Gr—”
“You want to take us out? But you’re supposed to be teaching us ballroom decorum.”
“I cannot condone—”
“That begins well before a ball. And London has parks and gardens, you know. Dozens ofthem. Why don’t you and Miss Perchase fetch your classmates, and I’ll have the tr…Tobias rig out some transportation for us?”
Elizabeth looked at him dubiously. “All right, but I don’t think Miss Emma would like it.”
“Then she shouldn’t have hired me. I’ll be waiting for you out front.”
With another suspicious look at him, Elizabeth grabbed the Latin instructor’s hand and hurried off. Humming, Grey retraced his steps outside. The entire old monastery echoed with whispers of female voices and lavender perfume. He wondered what the monks would think of having these hallowed floors, upon which they’d knelt to worship, being trod by countless chits bent on hunting husbands.
The troll kingdom turned out to be the stable. Other than an old two-seater curricle, the only transportation the Academy possessed was the cart Emma had driven yesterday. With a sigh, Grey helped Tobias rig it out. At last count he owned three phaetons, four coaches, a barouche, and five curricles, and he could think of at least two cronies in London who would die of laughter if they ever saw him driving five little chits in a cart. Emma was going to pay for this, and he knew precisely how. The thought of her slender body spread beneath him, her auburn curls lying across the pillow while he took his delicious revenge, left him taut with impatience.
“Ye taking the young ones out for a nature study, then?” Tobias asked as they brought the rig around to the front door.
“Something like that. Did Miss Emma say where she was headed this morning?”
“Aye.”
Females had no idea how to hire proper servants. “And where was she going this morning?” he asked, doubting that Tobias had any idea how patient he was being or how thankful the gatekeeper should be for that fact.
“With that other fellow from Haverly.”
Grey took a deep breath. In about another two minutes he was going to thrash the man. “Tobias, have you considered what I—”
“Hold on, Your Grace,” the old groom interrupted. “I’ve worked here for thirty years, since the day Miss Grenville opened the doors. I’m an old tomcat, and these girls—all of ’em—are my kittens. Nobody harms my kittens. So whatever trouble you’ve a mind to cause for Miss Emma, don’t expect me t’make it any easier for you.”
Grey looked at Tobias for a long moment, reassessing his estimation of the troll. “Interesting,” he finally drawled, “but I’m here to win a wager. Your ‘kittens’ will receive no harm from me.” If a certain cat among them wanted to play, though, he would be more than happy to oblige.
“I’ll be keeping my eye on you just to be sure of that, Your Grace.”
This was becoming decidedly less amusing. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The front doors burst open, and his students hurried down the steps, Miss Perchase trailing behind and looking as though she was about to have an apoplexy. The girls all looked so…pristine as they gathered at the back of the vehicle: prim bonnets and matching pelisses and shawls, three of them carrying quaint little parasols. Grey scowled. What in damnation was he doing, instructing virginal, infant chits how
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