Page 41 of The Accidental Prince (Accidentally in Love #3)

“ I ’m here to see Mrs. Harding,” Violet Edwards told the footman. “I-I have an appointment.”

She twisted her hands together as he led her inside, the fear rising in the pit of her stomach. The man led her to a small sitting area and said, “Wait here, if you please, Miss…?”

“Edwards,” Violet finished. She didn’t know if the headmistress—if one could call her that—would be able to help her. But after three Seasons without a single suitor, she saw no alternative but to enroll herself in Mrs. Harding’s School for Young Ladies.

The not-so-polite name was the School for Spinsters.

Rumor had it that Mrs. Harding took only a few students each year. Violet had witnessed one transformation when her friend Felicity had disappeared for a few weeks, only to return, find the perfect husband, become blissfully happy, and now, she had a child on the way.

Violet’s cheeks burned, for she wanted that so very much.

True, her looks were only average, and certainly she would never be a great beauty.

Her dowry was pitiful. But that wasn’t the real reason why men didn’t want to marry her—it was her stutter.

An invisible weight sank down on her shoulders with the unspoken question of whether she could ever overcome the problem.

Another gentleman entered the sitting room.

He looked to be in his thirties, and he had light brown hair with kindly blue eyes.

“Miss Edwards, I am Mrs. Harding’s secretary.

Cedric Gregor is my name. If you’ll just follow me into the study, we will discuss your situation with the headmistress of our school. ”

Violet walked alongside the gentleman, keeping her eyes lowered.

With every step, her fears only multiplied.

Even now, she felt her eyelid beginning to twitch while a ringing noise resounded in her ears.

She took deep breaths to stop herself from growing faint.

That was the last thing she needed right now.

When Mr. Gregor led her inside, she was surprised at Mrs. Harding’s appearance.

At first, the woman looked to be only a few years older than Violet herself.

Yet, when she looked closer, the headmistress appeared closer to thirty, with green eyes and deep brown hair.

In her face, Violet saw the mirror of someone who had endured suffering.

Mrs. Harding glanced up from her correspondence and regarded Violet. “I received your letter, Miss Edwards. I am Rachel Harding, and you’ve already met my secretary, Mr. Gregor. I presume you have come about enrolling in my school.”

“Y-y-yes.” Violet wanted to curse herself, but her stammer only worsened. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I-I-I’ve brought money f-for the tuition,” she said, placing her reticule on the desk. “I’ve saved my p-pin money for over a year.”

She bit her lip, wishing to God she could rid herself of the stutter. Although Mrs. Harding waited patiently while she spoke, Violet could see the sympathy in her eyes. She lowered her head again, her shoulders slumping while she waited for the woman to answer.

“Tell me more about why you have come to seek my help,” the woman said gently. “What is it you want to learn from my school?”

Violet tried again, but whenever she got nervous, her stutter seemed to grow even more impossible to control. “M-my mother doesn’t believe I will ever m-marry,” she managed. “I was hoping to f-find a husband of my own. I’ve heard you c-can help women who have…very f-few choices.”

Mr. Gregor’s expression tightened at the sound of her voice, and Violet turned away from him. No doubt he was disgusted by her speech.

“And do you consider yourself one of those women?” the headmistress prompted.

Violet nodded. She had grown so accustomed to being a wallflower, she could barely remember the last time anyone had asked her to dance. She couldn’t truly say she was a woman with few choices—she was a woman with no choices at all.

“You lack confidence, don’t you?” Mrs. Harding said. Violet wasn’t certain how to respond to that, but then the matron continued. “There’s nothing wrong with your appearance, aside from that boring gown.”

She glanced down at the dove gray bombazine, wondering if the woman’s remark was sincere or a test of some kind. “It’s f-far more than that. I can…barely speak. No gentleman wants to marry me.”

It would be easy enough to change her gown and her hair. But confidence was something she’d never had. Nearly everyone mocked her stutter, and it was easier to simply retreat from the ballrooms and hide in the shadows. Which, of course, made it impossible to meet a man to marry.

“What does your father think?”

Violet shook her head. “He d-died years ago.”

Mrs. Harding tilted her head slightly. “Did he have a title or any wealth at all? Does he have an heir who is responsible for you?”

“He was only a baronet. My younger brother Arthur inherited his title and the house.”

The memory of her father brought a soft warmth, mingled with regret. Her brother had made many friends among the members of the ton, which was likely the reason why they still received invitations to balls or dinner parties—certainly not for her mother’s sake.

“What sort of husband are you hoping to find?” Mrs. Harding was starting to take notes, which made Violet feel slightly better. She might actually be able to join this school, if the headmistress decided to accept her.

“Someone kind,” she answered. “He doesn’t h-have to be very handsome as long as he is a g-good man.”

“Do you not believe you are capable of winning a handsome husband?” Mrs. Harding asked.

Violet shrugged. “Of course not. H-handsome men don’t want to c-court a woman like me.”

The matron stared at her for a long while, as if trying to make up her mind.

“I cannot accept every young woman who seeks my help,” she said slowly.

“While I believe you may benefit from our tutelage, I have a task for you first. If you succeed in this, then we might be able to accept you into our school.” She emphasized the word, making it clear that she had not yet made a decision.

“W-what sort of task?” Violet asked. She was genuinely curious, for she couldn’t imagine anything they could possibly want from her.

“You must attend a ball this week,” Mrs. Harding announced. “Send word to me which one it is, so I will know that you have kept your word.”

“M-my mother is forcing me to attend Lady Shelby’s ball in two days,” Violet admitted. She wasn’t at all looking forward to it, but then again, she had never liked social gatherings. They were a means to an end, not something for enjoyment.

“Very good.” Mrs. Harding scribbled a note to herself.

“Now then, your task is this: I want you to study the most popular ladies. Look at the ones who are asked to dance by dukes and viscounts. I want you to find out what these women are doing to attract the attention of high-ranking gentlemen. And by that, I do not mean her appearance. I mean her mannerisms. Her behavior and the way she smiles or glances at a man. Do you think you can do this?”

Violet nodded at Mrs. Harding before glancing down at the carpet. This was an assignment she could easily manage. It was what she always did anyway—she stood against the wall while watching the other guests.

“Good. Return to me Tuesday next and tell me what you’ve learned.” The headmistress paused a moment and then said, “One more thing, Miss Edwards.”

“Yes?” she whispered.

“Look up at my face when we speak.”

Violet felt a flood of color in her cheeks, but after a long pause, she did. Mrs. Harding studied her closely, and with each moment, Violet’s discomfort grew. “When anyone speaks to you, do not look at your hands.”

She nodded again and looked downward out of habit. But this time, she forced herself to look up again.

“Good. You have now had your first lesson. Return to me in a week’s time, and we shall see if you can earn a place in my school.”

A flood of hope suddenly rushed through Violet as she reached for her reticule and stood. Though her cheeks were still flushed, she agreed, “I will. And th-thank you.”

Rachel Harding set her pen down, giving herself time to think about what Miss Edwards needed.

After she’d been widowed three years ago, she’d vowed that no woman should ever have to endure an arranged marriage like her own.

Because of it, she’d opened a school for young women who had difficulty finding a husband.

It didn’t matter that her establishment had been nicknamed the School for Spinsters. If that meant the right ladies arrived on her doorstep, so be it. Rachel prided herself in finding a match for any unmarried young woman who was facing the same nightmare she herself had endured.

There was tuition, of course, but it was mainly to ensure that the young woman was serious about her quest to find the right husband. Most believed that finding a husband was about transforming her appearance, becoming beautiful, and wearing fine clothes to lure the perfect man.

But finding a husband had nothing to do with physical beauty.

It was about the young woman’s inner transformation.

She had to believe she was worthy of being loved, and she had to develop her confidence.

That was Rachel’s true purpose. Although, sometimes a few wallflowers needed to feel beautiful first.

Cedric Gregor’s role in the matchmaking was just as crucial, for he spent time in the gaming hells and ballrooms, finding out which men were appropriate for marriage and those who should be avoided.

He was her dearest friend and an excellent business partner.

He was discreet in his preference for men, which made him perfect for finding the right gentlemen for her spinsters.

And Miss Edwards would indeed be a good candidate.

Demure and shy , Rachel thought. But it’s more than that. She’s trying to hide from the world.

Miss Edwards’s stutter was a problem, yes, but not the greatest one. It was the young woman’s insecurities that hindered her the most.

Her door opened wider, and Cedric returned. “What do you think? Can we help her?”

Rachel shrugged. “It’s possible. But we will need to watch her further.

She plans to attend Lady Shelby’s ball on Thursday.

We will go and observe her behavior. And in the meantime, it would be good if you could start searching for an eligible bachelor.

She wants someone kind, and his looks don’t matter. ”

Cedric smiled. “Consider it done.”

Rachel picked up her pen again, trying to press back the rise of excitement. It would be a challenge, yes. But she felt confident that they could succeed.