Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(45)



I flush. That explains why he suddenly showed up that day, when he found me sprawled on top of Edward in the library. He must be the replacement that Elle eventually found. I cough and look for another topic.

“Did you say something about that girl being the third one this week?”

He shrugs. “It was bound to happen anyway. Lady Willoughby had issues with my teaching biology and science. Girls usually aren’t expected to take those subjects.”

Oh, yeah. I remember having a discussion on the school board, even before Princess College was established. I had insisted on letting the girls receive the same education as the boys in Athelia.

“However.” Liam shifts his weight so he’s no longer leaning against the wall. “The Honorable Lady Willoughby did not complain when Henry had the job.”

Well, I’d also prefer Henry over Liam, though of course I keep silent.

“Do you believe a noble lady enrolled her precious daughter in hope of getting a different education? It’s because she’s hoping her daughter might catch the fancy of Duke Henry—an eligible young peer who doesn’t gamble or fool around with women. There aren’t many of them left, especially after you snared the prince.”

“But her daughter…” I try to recall how old Lady Willoughby’s daughter looked like—thirteen, or fourteen? “Surely she is too young for Henry?”

“An early attraction never hurts, and there’s the chance they could be engaged before the daughter is of age.” Liam’s mouth forms a cynical smirk. “The Willoughbys have been a bit hard up since Lord Willoughby lost his investments in a jewel mine. Were I Lady Willoughby, I’d likely do the same.”

A bell rings. I pull out my pocket watch—the school board meeting is in a few minutes.

“Well then, I’d better head to my class,” Liam drawls. “Don’t look shocked, Your Highness. I’m not against improving the minds of women, but trust me, in the end, you won’t be making any difference. Not even for those working-class girls.”

I stare at him. “What makes you so sure?”

“Do you know the factory girls still have to work eight hours a day? They have to get up at five, work till two, and come here for three hours of instruction if they aren’t falling asleep. Most of them are unable to absorb what we teach. Sooner or later, I’ll wager they’ll be dropping out as well.”





22





Holding the parasol over my head, I make my way through the gardens. Thanks to my recovering memory, I have an idea of where I’m going. Both Edward and I agree that I should try to find it by myself. Right now, I try to look like I’m enjoying a meandering, leisurely walk. Sometimes, I pretend to pause and sniff at some flowers. But in reality, I’m keeping a look out for the direction that leads to Edward’s private garden.

Sweat is pouring down my back when I approach a door covered in ivy. My heart pounds. I KNOW this is it. Fingers trembling, I withdraw the big golden key for my pocket and insert it in the keyhole.

Click.

Slowly, as though in a dream, I enter the garden—the place where I spent the most time with Edward. And then, a tsunami of memories hits me like a ton of bricks. My breath catches in my throat. It feels like I’m in a film, while scenes from the past swirl and converge like a huge montage. I see myself lying on the soft expanse of grass near the flowerbeds with Edward, side-by-side, arguing over insignificant matters like the shape of the clouds in the sky. I see myself sitting in the swing beneath an apple tree while Edward pushes me higher and jokes that I’m getting heavier. I flush when I find the carved stone bench, where Edward used to pull me onto his lap and we’d engage in a passionate make-out session. Nor can I miss the fountain, bright and glistening, sending sprays of clear water into the sky.

Edward appears. He looks tired, but his face lights up when he sees me.

“Amelie dressed you well.” His gaze slides over my body in appreciation. This gown fits me snugly in all the right places, flattering my curves. While it is less revealing compared to my usual summer wear in Portland, I feel sexy all the same. I have grown more womanly compared to my teens—considering how Edward could discern the facial difference between me and my teenage self, I’m positive that he has noticed the changes to my body as well.

“Though I wish this image of you were for my eyes alone.”

I’ve got to react better than a speechless blush.

“I can go back and change.” I smile. “It won’t take long if I can put on a coat.”

He closes his hand around my wrist, effectively preventing my escape. “No need.” His other hand drifts to my back and stays there, as immovable as a rock. I can’t move unless I fall forward, which will bring my body into direct contact with his chest. “Let us start with a basic waltz. Put your left hand on my shoulder and give me your right hand.”

Since there is no music, Edward keeps count in his deep baritone voice. To get used to the rhythm, we go through a three-step pattern—step right, bring the left foot next to the right foot, then step in place with the right foot. It should be simple, even for somebody who is not adept at body coordination, but with Edward gazing at me intently, it’s so hard to concentrate.

“Relax, darling.” Edward sounds amused. “Rest your hand on my forearm instead of grasping the material of my shirt. Unless you want to rip my shirt off? I assure you that I have not the slightest objection to that.”

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