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He braced himself for her request, disappointed she’d do Mrs. Crenshaw’s bidding. But then, he wasn’t in Chasity’s position and didn’t have to depend upon the seminary for his entire livelihood as she did. Still, he’d believed Chasity more of an independent soul—a woman of substance and gumption and one who knew her own mind.

She gave him a sideways look. “You haven’t joined us for luncheon.”

It wasn’t an accusation but a statement of fact.

“I thought it wiser not to.”

Aston couldn’t sit beside Mrs. Crenshaw and pretend all was well when the scheming shrew had threatened Chasity.

Straightening her turned-up cuff, Chasity gave a slow nod.

“I have to agree. I was prepared to send a note to your residence asking you to meet me somewhere private. Most inconveniently, Mrs. Crenshaw keeps her office locked, so I couldn’t look through your employee file to find your address. I was reduced to skulking around outside windows.”

She gave the still open window a pointed look.

Now it was her turn to jest, and he chuckled, recalling the very proper Miss Noble straddling the window sill with her gown rucked to delectably dimpled knees.

“I’m delighted you came skulking,” he said with a devilish grin.

That earned him a pale eyebrow raised in reprimand.

Aston glanced at the clock and drew his brows together. “You’d best hurry and tell me what it is you need to say. It’s nearly time for luncheon, and I don’t want you to risk further disfavor with Mrs. Crenshaw.”

Or the other instructors who reminded him of ill-tempered hens ready to peck and poke at an easy target. In this case, Chasity because she was young and pretty, and they weren’t.

“Ah, about that…” Chasity pressed fingers to the bridge of her nose for a moment.

She slanted her head to meet his eyes, and his breath stalled somewhere behind his ribs.

She was bold and brave and beautiful.

“I want to apologize, Aston. Asking you to resign was dishonorable and beneath me. I am ashamed and embarrassed. I have no excuse except that I let fear spur me on. Please forgive me. I do not want you to resign. I feel like I have a friend in you—the only friend I have here.”

She looked so sincere, her dark blue eyes round and her pink lips slightly parted. Aston had not blamed her for her part in Mrs. Crenshaw’s ill-hatched scheme. Chasity was a victim, whether she realized it or not.

Aston’s attention gravitated to her mouth again.

He wanted to kiss her. Never mind that there was nothing the least romantic or arousing in her apology. If he were honest with himself, he’d wanted to kiss her since that day he’d waltzed with her. Chasity affected him as no other woman ever had. She made him want things he’d never desired before. Things he thought to never have.

A home. A wife. Children.

Those were for other people.

Not for him.

Never for him.

He’d never subject his wife or children to his grandfather’s evil machinations. For that is exactly what would happen. That’s what he’d done to Aston’s parents and to Uncle Conley. Aston’s unpleasant musings must’ve reflected in his countenance because Chasity regarded him with a hint of wariness.

And yet, she stood there waiting for his reaction, not knowing if he’d be angry or belligerent or offended.

“Aston?”

Aston closed the distance between them and placed his hands on her delicate shoulders. “You are forgiven, completely and absolutely. Think no more on it. It’s as if it never happened.”

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes for a moment, the lashes fanning her high cheekbones.

If only he had the right to draw her against his chest and comfort her. To assure her that he’d make everything right.