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“Indeed.” Mercy quickly rose. “Come along, Faith and Joy. I haven’t shown you the roses yet. They are my mother-in-law’s pride and joy.”

Before Chasity could object, Mercy had bid Aston a polite, “Please excuse us,” and bundled the other two women away.

Mercy glanced around the room, uncomfortably aware of the eyes trained on her and Aston. As they were in full view of dozens of people, no one could object to his speaking to her alone. Except that she was a commoner, and he was an aristocrat. There was always that little detail that stuck in the craw of a good many in the peerage.

Aston sank onto the settee beside Chasity, angling his back to provide a barrier against the curious onlookers. “I’ve decided to resign my position at Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies next month. I’ve been given the opportunity to go to Italy on business.”

Your uncle is dying. He shan’t last the night. Have the good grace and decency to pay your last respects. Not for my sake, for I know that won’t sway you, but for Conley’s. He asks for you.

~ Viscount Woolbury in an urgent message to Aston Terramier

Sent by messenger in the late afternoon of Sunday, 23 August 1818

Trentholms’ drawing room

Several stilted tick-tocks of the longcase clock later

Aston had meant to tell Chasity of his decision on Monday, but there was no sense making her wait for the good news. He thought she’d be overjoyed, but her crestfallen expression said otherwise. As was her wont, her mask of professionalism slid into place before he took another breath.

“That sounds like an intriguing adventure, Mr. Terramier. I wish you well.”

Ah, back to Mr. Terramier, was she?

Chasity was mindful of the ears flapping nearby.

She was an absolute vision today. This was the first time Aston had ever seen her wear anything but dark, somber shades. The light gown with its pretty pink ribbons suited her. She should always wear pastel colors. They enhanced her ethereal beauty.

Unfortunately, somber hues were expected of instructors at girls’ seminaries.

He firmed his mouth and cast a glance behind him. Too many people eyed them beneath their lashes or from the corner of their eyes. A few of the bolder and more intrusive, stared outright.

“Dash it all. That’s not the reason I’m tendering my resignation,” Aston insisted, taking care to lower his voice. “It’s so that you can keep your position. I’ll still be thwarting my grandfather’s plans to boot.”

She angled her head, the sunlight behind her bathing her in a golden halo. Her gaze searched his face, and a hint of something—pity?—darkened her eyes to navy-blue.

Her tone equally subdued, she asked, “Is that what motivates all you do? Thwarting your grandfather?”

“Of course not,” Aston responded automatically and not a little defensively.

Her questions abraded his conscience.

Isn’t it?

No. Of course it wasn’t.

“I shall miss you. Truly. Balderbrook’s shan’t be the same without you.” Chasity fashioned a sad little half-smile. “If I manage to stay on as assistant headmistress, that is.”

Aston intended to assure that as a condition of his voluntary resignation. Chasity would be guaranteed her position. And he’d get it in writing. Mrs. Crenshaw could not dismiss Chasity for any reason except a blatant immoral or criminal act.

Peering past him, Chasity toyed with the ribbon at her trim waist. There was an ink stain on her thumb. She brought her attention back to him. “I cannot help feel remorse and guilt that you won’t be there, and it is partially my fault.”

“I don’t hold you accountable at all.” Aston needed to speak with her alone. Where neither of them feared eavesdroppers. “I’ve devised a plan.”

She raised a dubious eyebrow. “A plan?”

Such skepticism weighted those two small words, he made a sound near a frustrated growl in his throat. He must tell her his tactics before tomorrow when he intended to speak with Mrs. Crenshaw. Before the board came for their inspection. He also planned to have a word with the board members and ask that they investigate the headmistress, though Chasity didn’t need to know that.

Bollocks to propriety.