Page 45 of Not his Marchioness (Daughters of the Ton #2)

Six months had passed since Charlotte had first dreamed aloud of a school for children, and now the reality stood before her like a promise kept.

The school would open its doors this very morning to its first cohort of students.

The delays—structural repairs, broken windows, uneven floors—had finally been conquered.

The old sanctuary had been transformed. Its lofty ceilings now held four classrooms, their walls freshly painted in soft creams and warm pastels.

Two rooms had been converted into teachers’ lodgings, modest but comfortable.

The kitchen had been equipped, and maids had been hired to prepare meals for the fifty pupils who were already enrolled.

Outside, the gardens were a display of care. Flowerbeds framed winding paths, the air scented with marigolds. A swing set stood in the courtyard, and a small room had been built to allow for indoor play during rainy afternoons.

The school was not simply a building; it was a promise of hope, of education, of opportunity. A promise Charlotte was determined to keep.

Lady Woodhaven had played an essential role in bringing her vision to life.

Charlotte felt a deep fondness for the older woman now, an affection that went beyond gratitude.

They had spent countless afternoons planning, measuring, and discussing the curriculum.

And when Charlotte had timidly suggested that education might also be extended to adult women in St. Giles, Lady Woodhaven had lent her support without hesitation.

Though her standing prevented her from being as hands-on as Charlotte had hoped, she had offered ideas, encouragement, and connections.

It was Rhys who had first suggested that some women ended up in those establishments through no fault of their own. A lack of education, poor upbringing, and bad luck often conspired to trap them in their situations for good.

He’d suggested that help might serve them well in improving their circumstances.

Charlotte had shivered at the thought, concerned for her reputation, yet determined to wield her influence to improve lives.

She and Evelyn had arranged for a discreet teacher to travel into St. Giles and conduct small classes in reading, writing, and mathematics—practical skills to provide a path toward independence.

It was careful work, and it had to remain mostly unseen, but Charlotte knew that even these small efforts could ripple outward into the community.

The morning was bright and crisp as she walked across the courtyard, her skirts swishing, and found Lady Woodhaven already there, perched on the stone bench beneath the old elm tree.

The older woman’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“Good heavens, Lady Ravenscar. Look at it all!” she exclaimed. “The gardens, the children arriving… it is magnificent. I dare say, one day we might even open a school in Whitechapel. The need is just as great there.”

Charlotte laughed, shaking her head. “Let us not get ahead of ourselves. One school at a time, Lady Woodhaven. It is enough work to ensure this one thrives.”

“Of course,” Lady Woodhaven said, smiling, though the glint of excitement remained. “And you may be indisposed for the foreseeable future.”

Charlotte’s hand instinctively went to her stomach. Lady Woodhaven’s sharp eyes caught the movement immediately.

“How did you know?”

“Ah,” Lady Woodhaven said, “I have a sense for these things. You have a certain glow about you. Does your husband know?”

Charlotte smiled, warmth spreading in her chest. “He does, and he is delighted.”

“I am glad for you both, and I dare say, you are both fortunate that Lord Emery has been dealt with before your happy arrival.”

Over the last three months, the truth had emerged. Emery’s campaign of deception had extended far beyond Charlotte. Anonymous letters, tricked gentlemen, a network of accomplices—the man had sought to control and manipulate, and his ambitions had been thwarted.

The barkeep at that tavern had been complicit in tracking wagers and movements of gentlemen, supplying Emery with a trove of information to be used against certain titled gentlemen. The man had been found out and dismissed, and he would soon stand trial.

Emery himself had been publicly disgraced. He would not answer for his crimes in court because, as a titled man, he enjoyed certain privileges.

That had driven Rhys mad with rage, but there was nothing to be done about it. At least the man had been so shamed that he had lost his business associates and standing among their peers. No one would confer with him at Parliament. No one would socialize with him.

He had been cast out.

And thus he had left England for Italy, hopefully never to be seen again. Margot’s father had written to some of the Italian counts, forewarning them of the man about to arrive on their land, hoping they would prevent him from scheming there.

“I am grateful he is gone from our lives. And I hope it is for good,” Charlotte muttered.

The sound of laughter interrupted her musings.

She turned to see her sisters, her aunt, and Nathaniel approaching, their faces alight with curiosity and excitement. Evelyn, now heavily pregnant, moved with careful grace, leaning on Nathaniel’s arm.

Truthfully, she should not have been out and about in her condition, but she had insisted, even though it would most certainly be written about.

“Charlotte,” she beamed. “I see the children are already here.”

“Some, yes,” Charlotte replied, greeting her sister and the rest of the family.

“What a remarkable day,” Aunt Eugenia noted, looking around. “Your father asked after you.”

Charlotte’s nostrils flared.

“Auntie, she does not need to hear about him on this day,” Marianna chided.

“I know, but he wanted me to tell her good luck. That is all he wanted to say.”

Charlotte shrugged. “I suppose I will accept that.”

They had not seen their father for a while. He, too, had left for the Continent, likely to remain there for a good while.

“Now, can we see the school?” Nathaniel asked, offering his arm to Evelyn.

“Of course,” Charlotte called and led them inside.

After a brief tour, they stepped out into the garden, where all manner of food and beverages had been laid out.

Rhys was there, alongside Margot, tying a ribbon that Charlotte would cut in a little while.

“Charlotte!” he called, handing Margot the other end of the ribbon.

He rushed over and paused upon seeing her family. After greeting them properly, he smiled. “May I have a moment with my wife before the festivities begin?”

“Of course, but do not drag her too far away. I think she will be needed here soon,” Evelyn said, pointing to the ribbon.

Rhys took Charlotte’s hand in his and guided her toward the swing set. “Would you like to try it out?” he asked.

She hesitated, embarrassed. “That would hardly be proper. I am an adult, after all.”

“You are carrying a child, My Lady,” he pointed out. “That alone entitles you to a swing.”

She laughed, the sound carrying in the crisp air, and settled into the swing. He pushed gently, and she felt a contentment that had eluded her for months. The motion, simple and playful, reminded her that joy could coexist with responsibility.

Rhys stopped the swing, standing before her, and his gaze softened.

“Charlotte,” he said quietly, “all of this—the school, your courage, your heart—it has opened mine. You have truly made my life better. I love you, entirely and without reservation.”

Charlotte reached up, stroking his face gently. “And I love you,” she whispered. “It has been a journey, Rhys, but we are here. Together.”

They laughed softly and shared a kiss, only to be interrupted by the cheers of the children at play.

Charlotte smiled, knowing the future was bright—their love secure, the school thriving, and a tight-knit family. But first, there was another matter to attend to: the opening of the school.

“Now, Lady Ravenscar,” Lady Woodhaven’s voice called from the doorway, “it is time for the unveiling.”

Charlotte rose from the swing and smoothed her skirts. Margot had finished stringing the crimson ribbon across the front door.

She stepped forward, feeling the weight of the moment, the culmination of her efforts, care, and vision.

A gaggle of children and their parents had arrived, filling the garden. Some neighbors had come to watch the spectacle as well, some with smiles, others with frowns.

“Friends,” she began, her heart beating fast. “I am so delighted to officially open our new school. May it help set our children on a path to a future that will be filled with joy and success.”

With a confident motion, she cut the ribbon.

The clapping and cheering of children, teachers, and friends filled the air.

Charlotte turned, catching Rhys’s eye. His hand rested on the small of her back, his presence steady and reassuring.

“All is well,” he murmured.

Charlotte, eyes shining, nodded.

The school was open. The children would learn, play, and grow. The women of St. Giles would have a chance at dignity and opportunity. And Charlotte and Rhys—united, trusting, and deeply in love—would face whatever the world had to offer, together.

The End?