A Duke in the Night(28)

Involuntarily her eyes swept the empty fields around them and back toward Avondale, though the house was no longer visible beyond the rise. She knew what she was looking for—the tall, dark-haired figure who might be out wandering around the property, examining barley or ewes or whatever else might catch his fancy. She hated that she felt she had to search, and she resented the feeling of hope that she just might see him. She didn’t want to see him anywhere. She forced him out of her mind.

Clara closed her eyes and breathed deeply, letting the scent of salt and vegetation fill her lungs as the wind tugged at her hair. She turned back to her charges, who were standing behind her, looking at her with the expected expressions of anticipation. They ranged in age from sixteen to eighteen. Half were from rich, titled English families, and four more were from extraordinarily wealthy families of the landed gentry or the nouveau riche. The remaining student was an American heiress, despised and sought after by the ton all at the same time. And all had been painstakingly selected by Clara from the long list of girls who had applied.

“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the wild grasses swaying in the wind. She picked up her skirts and lowered herself to the ground, tucking the fabric around her knees. She hid an inward smile as some of the girls hesitated. There were no blankets, no servants scurrying forward with chairs, only a mat of grass and wildflowers.

“On the grass?” It came from a fair-haired student. She was the youngest daughter of a marquess, and given what she knew about the family, Clara rather suspected that this was probably the first time the girl had ever been asked to put her backside on something that wasn’t padded.

“On the grass,” Clara confirmed pleasantly.

“But—”

“Don’t worry, people have been doing it for thousands of years. And we’ll all have creased skirts and grass stains when we’re done and no one to judge us for it.”

There were a couple of titters. Patiently she waited as, one by one, they finally sat, some more gingerly than others.

“Welcome to our first class,” Clara said. She saw a few exchange uncertain looks and hid another smile. “A rather beautiful classroom, do you not agree?”

There were nods, these less uncertain.

“I trust you all found the excursion that each of you participated in yesterday…appealing?”

This was met by shy smiles and outright grins and curious gazes at their fellow students—especially from the three who had been on their own.

“Good. We’ll get back to that,” Clara said. “In the meantime I’m assuming that some of you may know each other already, either from prior familiarity, from being stuck in a carriage, or from the time you might have spent together yesterday. But I’ll ask you to humor me and introduce yourselves again. Tell us your name and something important about you that you’d like us to know.”

More curious glances around the group.

“Why don’t we start with you?” Clara gestured at the blond girl, who was, even now, trying to smooth out her skirts.

“Oh,” she said, blinking at Clara. “Very well. My name is Lady—”

“Just your Christian name will do,” Clara interrupted gently.

“I beg your pardon?” The blonde’s mouth hung slightly agape.

“Your name. The prefix of Lady gives an indication of who your family is. I’m not interested in your family, and I’m not interested if your families are attached to titles. I’m not interested in how much money or how many houses they have or where they have theater boxes. I’m interested in you.”

She ignored the new round of wide-eyed, uncertain looks being exchanged. She could well understand why this would be shocking for many.

“But—”

“But nothing.” Clara smiled at her. “Tell me your name and something you want me to know about you.”

She stared at Clara and then gave a slight shrug. “Very well. My name is Lydia. And I enjoy riding. Fast. Not that I’ve ever been allowed on one of our racing thoroughbreds.”

“Yet,” Clara said, and Lydia looked up with interest.

“Yet,” she repeated with a slight curl to her lips.

“Thank you.” Clara looked at the platinum-haired, green-eyed girl next to her, daughter of a man whose family had made a fortune in prospecting and mining.

“Amelia,” the girl blurted and then looked around her almost shyly. “My name is Amelia.”

“Good,” Clara said and gave her an encouraging smile. “Go on.”

Amelia looked around. “My favorite color is red?”

“Is that a question?” Clara asked.

The girl flushed slightly. “No.”

“What kind of red?” Clara asked.

“Crimson. Like the crimson China roses that are twined over the trellises near the fountain at the back of Avondale. It’s the soil, I think, and the application of—” She suddenly clamped her mouth shut as if she’d said too much. “Never mind. They’re just…pretty.”

“I agree,” Clara nodded, thinking how very different this conversation would go a week from now. Her eyes slid to the familiar dark-haired girl next to her.

“My name is Anne.” Holloway’s sister was looking around her with interest. “And I have a brother who drives me crazy.”