To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1) by Jane Charles Page B

halls late at night, she would be sufficiently covered
so as not to tempt him.
    Vincent laughed then tossed back the drink.
The woman could be covered from head to toe in sackcloth and he
would still desire her.
    As to the scar, it could be an inch thick and
cover the length of her forehead and doubted it would take away
from her attractive face or sultry eyes.
    Vincent groaned and poured more brandy in his
glass. He should not, under any circumstances, think of Miss
Crawford as attractive, interesting, or any other manner of
adjectives. With luck, the teachers and the students would be gone
from this house in a few months and he would never have to lay eyes
on them again. Besides, what could come of a relationship with Miss
Crawford? He was a person of the night and she needed to bloom in
the sun.
     
    * * *
     
    The girls were assembled around the long
dining room table enjoying their breakfast when Tess walked in. She
filled a plate from the sideboard and took a seat by Claudia. “I
need to go into town this morning,” Tess announced.
    Mrs. Wiggons looked up at her. “Why is
that?”
    Tess gestured to her bodice. “I need to
replace my wardrobe.”
    The headmistress looked at Tess’s dress and
sniffed her nose in disgust. “Yes, I can see that.”
    “Will I be able to replace my clothing also,
Miss Crawford?” Eliza asked. The poor girl had lost her possessions
as well, but at least she was able to borrow from Rosemary.
    “Yes, and anyone else who is in need.”
    “If I may be so bold,” Wesley stepped into
the room. “I have taken it upon myself to invite the local modiste
to visit here later this morning.”
    Stunned, Tess looked up at him. “That is very
kind of you, Wesley, but I don’t want to be an inconvenience. The
girls and I can go into town.”
    “Nonsense,” he dismissed. “Besides, I made
the arrangements on the morning of your arrival, in anticipation of
your needs.”
    The teachers shared a surprised look. Tess
turned to the valet. “Then I thank you, Wesley. Please let me know
when she arrives.”
    Wesley bowed and quit the room. The girls
returned to their meal.
    “Miss Crawford?” Sophia asked.
    “Yes.”
    “When a person is buried, are they wearing
their shoes?”
    Stunned silence surrounded the table and all
of the girls looked at her expectantly. “I honestly have no idea,”
Tess answered after a few moments. And, it was certainly something
she had ever thought of, nor cared to think about.
     
    * * *
     
    Tess dismissed the girls and settled into the
chair behind Atwood’s desk. Her first history lesson outside of the
school had been a trial. Her students were too excited about the
room, the books and the strange gentleman who took them in to
concentrate on the Orient. Well, in time they will become
comfortable with their surroundings.
    At first it seemed odd to have their lessons
in here, but this is where the books were. And, she did teach
literature as well as history and she no longer had access to the
study materials from the school. The Orient had been the first
topic that occurred to her when she found the four volume set of
books on China.
    She glanced up when there was a knock on the
door. “Yes?”
    Wesley stepped in. “The modiste has
arrived.”
    Tess stood and walked around the desk. “Thank
you. Where have you put her?”
    “In your chamber, Miss Crawford.”
    She stopped in her tracks. “That will not do,
Wesley. We cannot be on that floor during the day.”
    Wesley rolled his eyes and crossed his arms
over his chest. “Lord Atwood will not be disturbed. It is the
largest room available for all of the material, and it is the most
private.”
    Tess had to agree with him in regard to
privacy. She did not relish stripping down to her one, worn chemise
in the parlor.
    Tess mounted the stairs and Wesley followed.
How very odd.
    He continued to trail her down the hall and
into her room. Surely he didn’t plan on staying. Tess turned to
look at him and opened her