Page 35 of Benefactor to the Baroness (The Seductive Sleuths #3)

Two years later

London, England

T he sound of the chalk sliding against the blackboard, the smell of dust floating in the air, the weight of the practice book in her hand. All of it had become intimately familiar to Rosemary, such that she could no longer understand why she had been so resistant to a change in lifestyle. Surely this, educating the next generation, was far better than moping around her cottage for days at a time.

She finished a line of practice problems and turned to her students, who were dutifully scratching away with their pens on parchment. Peter and Quinn sat at the back of the room with their desks together. As she watched, Peter leaned toward his brother and whispered something in his ear. Quinn nodded, then jotted something on Peter’s parchment. As if sensing her attention, Quinn looked up. When he met her gaze, he flushed and nudged his brother in the ribs with his elbow. Peter rolled his eyes and scooted his chair further away from his brother.

From any of her other pupils, she might not have allowed such behavior, but the few times she’d attempted to separate them after their return from Halifax six months prior had resulted in both behaving far more disruptively. Even the other students had noticed and had asked that she make an exception.

That was another way in which the school was different—their pupils were far better behaved. These children knew what a life of poverty was like, and what awaited them if they did not complete their education, although Fontaine had mentioned that Mr. and Mrs. Martin, who had helped clean up the mess Mr. Prue had left behind in Halifax, were also considering moving back to London and enrolling their children. But for now, there were no students here who had been raised by wealthy parents. Most of them were experiencing school for the first time and were still in awe of the situation in which they had found themselves, perhaps even praying each night that they would not wake to find it had all been a dream.

She returned to her seat behind her desk and flipped through her instructional booklet, a project she had started at the end of the first year of teaching. So many of the teachers they’d hired had approached schooling with the cold impatience that was often the hallmark of education, which she had once seen as superior.

She no longer believed that.

If she was occasionally stern, she made certain that her students saw that side of her as often as they saw her kindness.

She flipped a page, her attention wandering to a sealed envelope on her desk. It was personal correspondence, which was why she had resolved to wait until later to open it. But after reading the same paragraph three times, she closed her booklet with a sigh and picked up the envelope, the latest from Halifax. True to his word, James had allowed Xavier to send weekly letters. Most of them went to Fontaine, but every so often, one was addressed to her. She used a letter opener on her desk to crack the wax seal, but what lay inside wasn’t a letter, but a newspaper clipping.

NEW DETAILS IN CRIMINAL OPERATION REVEALED

January 17th, 1868

Authorities have revealed shocking new details regarding a criminal operation in Halifax. Of note, sources report that a local businessman, Mr. Jonathan Prue, has been apprehended on charges of forced labor and taxation fraud. Sources also report that several children recently removed from illegal employment in gold mines are currently receiving much-needed medical attention at St. Joseph’s.

Rosemary returned the clipping to the envelope with a smile as the door to the classroom opened and Fontaine peeked inside.

“Continue working,” Rosemary said as a few students dropped their pens and looked up.

She joined Fontaine at the door. The dowager-baroness-turned-headmistress was dressed in a light-blue gown with full sleeves and wore her hair pulled tightly back. Every inch the professional, respectable lady. If she was bothered that they weren’t invited to some events because of the disgraced Mr. Hill’s and Mr. Blake’s incessant rumor-spreading, Fontaine did not show it. Neither did she seem to care that those same members of the ton did not send their children to her school.

The London Home for Orphans didn’t need any more benefactors. Viscountess Briarwood, the Marchioness of Lowell, and Olivia’s good friends, the Duke and Duchess of Hestia, provided all the funding that they required, supplemented by a small endowment from the foundation. The new board, painstakingly repopulated by Fontaine before she’d stepped down to run the school, had voted unanimously to approve the endowment.

“What is it?” Rosemary asked as she exited the classroom.

“I hired the additional teacher you requested,” Fontaine said. Then she stepped aside, revealing Annie dressed in a black skirt and white blouse, her hair twisted and placed beneath a cap.

“Does this mean you passed?” Rosemary asked. Annie had been living with them while she’d prepared for the teacher certification exam Fontaine had created to ensure they only hired the most competent staff. The effort she had put in to fill the gaps in her education, studying by herself and with several tutors, had impressed both Rosemary and Fontaine.

Annie beamed. “I did!” Then she straightened, clasped her hands at her breast, and lifted her chin. “I mean, yes, Mrs. Summersby. I achieved the highest score in my class.”

“Will she do?” Fontaine asked, laughter in her tone.

Rosemary threw her arms about both women and pulled them into a tight embrace.

“She’ll do.”

As Fontaine giggled, Annie squirmed out of the embrace and smoothed her palms over her skirt. “Perhaps it would be best, given my new position, if the two of you refrain from being so familiar with me.”

Rosemary coughed before she could snort at the prim, nasal voice Annie had used.

“I’ll show you familiar ,” Rosemary said. She nudged the door to the classroom firmly shut, glanced around to confirm no one was watching, then wrapped her arms around Fontaine. The sound of crunching paper made them both freeze.

“Oh!” Fontaine withdrew a flattened matchbox from her pocket and chuckled. “I suppose it was time to let go of it. It’s not as if I’m a matchstick girl anymore.”

“No,” Rosemary said. “You’re my matchstick girl.”

Then she swept the headmistress into a deep kiss.

THE END