Marriage with a Proper Stranger. Karyn GerrardЧитать онлайн книгу.
Remember; take an apple from the basket on your way out the door. Alice, take one for your little sister.”
The room emptied out and grew silent. The door was on the opposite wall, thankfully, or the children would have caught her spying on them.
“Would you like to come into the schoolroom and have a look around?”
The schoolmaster’s close-in-proximity voice startled her, and she gasped. He stood at the window, but thanks to the midday sun, she could not make out his features.
“Yes. Of course,” she muttered in reply.
Clasping Mary’s arm, Sabrina pulled her along with her as she made her way to the front entrance. “Head to the manor and fetch the carriage. I will wait here for your return and then we’ll continue into town.”
Mary had been with her during her marriage, and had chosen to come with her when Sabrina returned to her father’s house. She was a steady presence in Sabrina’s life, had helped her through some of the darkest days of her desolate life with Pepperdon. It struck her that her loyal maid’s fate was now irrevocably tied to hers. If her father turned her out, what would become of Mary? It made her situation all the more urgent.
Mary raised an eyebrow. “Leave you alone with a strange man? I think not, my lady.”
“I am hardly a green girl in need of a chaperone. I can handle a meek schoolmaster. I’ll be fine, I assure you. Perhaps he will give me an apple.”
Mary smiled and headed off toward the line of trees. She waved, and Sabrina returned the gesture. Sighing, she walked around the perimeter of the building and, as she looked up, stopped dead in her tracks.
The schoolmaster was not a docile, plain man of middling years, but a tall, handsome young man who took her breath away. She’d never seen such virility before, never mind been in such close proximity to it. Her heart fluttered, and Sabrina was shocked at her response, for it was strange and foreign.
He dressed plainly, wearing a black frock coat stretched across broad shoulders, with a simply tied black cravat. No spectacles; all the better to see his piercing light blue eyes. His wavy black hair gleamed in the bright sunlight. Good Lord, he barely looked out of the schoolroom himself.
“Good afternoon. My name is Riordan Black. How may I help you?”
His voice, like melted butter, smooth and delicious. Could he assist her? She should leave immediately, keep her mad machinations to herself. But her feet would not move. Yes, the sight of a handsome man made her heart skip a beat—it still stuttered with an uneven cadence. Sabrina was surprised she even had a heart. All nonsense. The last gasp of long-lost, never-to-return emotions. They had no place here. Straightening her shoulders, she gave him a brisk nod. “Help me? That remains to be seen.”
Chapter 3
Riordan’s smile twitched in amusement at her brusque tone. James had whispered to him that a lady was peering in the window when the boy stood before his desk. Since Riordan’s arrival three weeks past, he’d remained an object of curiosity. Not only for his youth, but for the major changes he implemented right out of the gate. And, he supposed, his dark hair and blue eyes sparked an interest with the young ladies in the nearby town. He wasn’t conceited, but he’d been lucky when it came to inheriting certain family features.
This lady was no blushing maiden, could be his age or older. He would guess older, as she possessed an air of maturity. Casually, he glanced at her hand, looking for a ring, but she wore gloves. Riordan let his gaze linger on her trim form, guessing her height was six inches over five feet. Her attire was fashionable, and, shamefully, he quite enjoyed observing how the buttons of her short jacket strained across an impressive bosom.
Moving upward, he made a study of her face. Fine, pale, porcelain skin, and a light brown shade of hair that shimmered gold in the sunlight. She wore a fashionable hat with green plumes sitting atop her stylishly arranged hair. Pretty features and a pert nose. Her hazel eyes met his, boldly holding his gaze. The coldness he saw in their depths startled him. To be unhappy and weary at such a young age, what could have caused it? “And you are…?”
“Sabrina Durning Lakeside, widow to the late Earl of Pepperdon. My father is Baron Durning. Our small estate is beyond those trees.”
A widow. The news caused his smile to widen, he wasn’t sure why. But, being the gentleman he was brought up to be, he took her gloved hand and bent over it, skimming his lips across her knuckles. “My distinct pleasure, Lady Pepperdon.” He dropped her hand and met her gaze once again. “How may I assist you?”
“May we speak inside?”
He held out his arm, bidding her to enter first. She stepped across the threshold and looked about the spartan room. “Forgive the state of the place. The school was built over the summer months, and I’m overseeing various alterations. These windows are a perfect example.” They both walked to the opposite side.
“I do not hold with the idea of children learning in a windowless, cold room,” he continued. “It’s done in order for them not to be distracted from their lessons, but I believe large windows should allow sun and fresh air into the learning environment. If a child is to be here most of the day, they should not be cut off from nature and the out-of-doors. They should smell the flowers, feel the heat from the sun, listen to the birds sing.”
“And in the winter?”
“The wood stove there will provide heat, while gently falling snow will cast a tranquil, magical mood,” he replied in a light, teasing tone.
Lady Pepperdon turned, studying him closely, though for what reason, Riordan had no idea. She strode over to the tables, her fingers brushing across the slates. “It must be difficult to teach children of different ages and learning levels. Do they all use slates?”
He followed her, clasping his hands behind his back. “No, the older children use pen, ink, and paper. I have not found it difficult. I treat them all the same, regardless of age or stage of knowledge. I find children respond better when you do not talk down to them.”
“From what I heard you had them in thrall, in the very palm of your hand. There is no need for discipline, then?” she asked, still sauntering leisurely between the tables.
“I’ve only been here three weeks, but I am not a believer in the concept of the old adage ‘spare the rod, spoil the child.’ Children in this day and age have hard enough lives; they do not need me screeching at them or beating them with a cane or ruler in order for them to behave. I don’t mind if children become boisterous once in a while. Learning should be fun.”
Lady Pepperdon swung about and gave him a brief smile. “You are unlike any schoolmaster I’ve ever heard of. Your views are…refreshing.”
He smiled in return. “Good. Then, my lady, you will not be averse to donating to our school library fund.”
“My, you do not waste an instant.”
“No, I do not. I wish to start an arts program. Music and painting, for example. Children should not spend hours hunched over their slates taking endless, repetitive notes. I’m in the process of convincing the board to approve the purchase of paints, brushes, and sugar paper.”
She arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Sugar paper? And what is a board?”
Riordan crossed his arms. “Sugar paper is the heavy brown paper used for sugar bags. If we buy a large roll, we can tear off pieces for the children to paint pictures on. The board is a group of local officials and prominent persons who oversee the collection of fees to run this school. When you told me your name, I assumed your father wished to become involved. I was told he initially turned down a position on the board.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Ah. Then you are not here to inspect the school on behalf of your father, my lady?”
Lady Pepperdon bit her lower lip, and he found it fascinating, as it drew his attention to how lusciously plump they