these
many years, have you?"
Portia knew Caldwell would much rather not discuss his disreputable parent with the
woman he longed to impress. "An absent father can be better than a bad one," she said. "We have
neither of us missed his presence. Cal intends a brief visit, nothing more."
"So unfortunate, to have a parent malveillant . I am grateful I have no
experience of such. Even with the variety of parents of our students offer, there are none of
actual wickedness."
"Stadbroke is the most infuriating, annoying, arrogant and thoughtless man it has ever
been my misfortune to entertain as parent," Portia stated.
Her companions stared at her, for a moment bereft of speech.
Then, "How can you say that?" Heloise said. "You have met the gentleman but
twice!"
"Indeed, Port, that's a bit harsh, isn't it? He was saying on Saturday--I saw him as he was
taking his leave--how much he admired the school. Indeed, he asked me to particularly tell you
that he felt the house looked very fine from the labyrinth, especially the situation of your study
and the parlour."
Portia felt the colour drain from her face. The viscount had seen her. He had seen her
peep from her study window as he walked in the gardens with his daughters. The girls said they
had showed him every detail of their favourite places. She had thought he could not have spotted
her. She had assured herself he had not. Now he knew that she had not been busy, but that she
had been avoiding him. She refused to think about the possible repercussions of her cowardly
actions. Casting about for some way of extracting herself from the coils of her comment, she
said, "Well, that is my early impression of him. I may be wrong."
"I think you will find you are." Caldwell dismissed consideration of the Perringtons. "I
foresee nothing but harm from the meeting with my father. His reappearance now, his
importunities, can do nothing but damage my career. I am not inclined to indulge him. I have no
stomach for it."
"I am de trop , my dears. If you will excuse me, I will be off to my class."
Heloise whisked to the door before Portia or Caldwell could ask her to stay.
Caldwell leapt to hold it open for her, and closed it quietly after her departure.
"You must meet with Mr. Dent, Cal." Portia realized she was grateful for her friend's
sensitivity. She had rather speak with her brother alone about her step-father. "It can do no harm
to talk to him. We must know if he has some nefarious designs."
"I know, but equally I know he will be nothing but trouble."
Portia paused, though her own class would be growing reckless with her extended
absence. "We can cope with whatever difficulties he creates, Cal; we always have." She shivered
despite her brave words. There had always been a quality of meanness about Harold Dent that
had made her flesh crawl. How he could have had such a thoroughly decent, kind and intelligent
son was ever a mystery to her. And Dent's reappearance now could only harm Caldwell's hopes
for winning over Heloise.
They gazed at each in mutual agreement and dismay. What could Dent want?
* * * *
Matron burst into Portia's bedchamber after no more than a token knock. "Lord
Stadbroke has called, and we cannot locate Melicent, his middle daughter."
On Saturday mornings, Portia took a little time for herself, reading, writing or reflecting
in her bedchamber until the nuncheon was served at one o'clock. Many of the children were
taken on excursions at the week's end by a parent or a friend's parents; their proximity to London
made for more such outings than with many boarding schools. There were dancing and music
lessons in the afternoon for those students who had no other activity, but Saturday was by and
large a respite from the week day routine.
For Portia, it was a most welcome one, and on this particular Saturday, she had
embraced the solitude. It had given her opportunity for much-needed calm reflection. If her
thoughts had included the viscount, she had to admit it to no
many years, have you?"
Portia knew Caldwell would much rather not discuss his disreputable parent with the
woman he longed to impress. "An absent father can be better than a bad one," she said. "We have
neither of us missed his presence. Cal intends a brief visit, nothing more."
"So unfortunate, to have a parent malveillant . I am grateful I have no
experience of such. Even with the variety of parents of our students offer, there are none of
actual wickedness."
"Stadbroke is the most infuriating, annoying, arrogant and thoughtless man it has ever
been my misfortune to entertain as parent," Portia stated.
Her companions stared at her, for a moment bereft of speech.
Then, "How can you say that?" Heloise said. "You have met the gentleman but
twice!"
"Indeed, Port, that's a bit harsh, isn't it? He was saying on Saturday--I saw him as he was
taking his leave--how much he admired the school. Indeed, he asked me to particularly tell you
that he felt the house looked very fine from the labyrinth, especially the situation of your study
and the parlour."
Portia felt the colour drain from her face. The viscount had seen her. He had seen her
peep from her study window as he walked in the gardens with his daughters. The girls said they
had showed him every detail of their favourite places. She had thought he could not have spotted
her. She had assured herself he had not. Now he knew that she had not been busy, but that she
had been avoiding him. She refused to think about the possible repercussions of her cowardly
actions. Casting about for some way of extracting herself from the coils of her comment, she
said, "Well, that is my early impression of him. I may be wrong."
"I think you will find you are." Caldwell dismissed consideration of the Perringtons. "I
foresee nothing but harm from the meeting with my father. His reappearance now, his
importunities, can do nothing but damage my career. I am not inclined to indulge him. I have no
stomach for it."
"I am de trop , my dears. If you will excuse me, I will be off to my class."
Heloise whisked to the door before Portia or Caldwell could ask her to stay.
Caldwell leapt to hold it open for her, and closed it quietly after her departure.
"You must meet with Mr. Dent, Cal." Portia realized she was grateful for her friend's
sensitivity. She had rather speak with her brother alone about her step-father. "It can do no harm
to talk to him. We must know if he has some nefarious designs."
"I know, but equally I know he will be nothing but trouble."
Portia paused, though her own class would be growing reckless with her extended
absence. "We can cope with whatever difficulties he creates, Cal; we always have." She shivered
despite her brave words. There had always been a quality of meanness about Harold Dent that
had made her flesh crawl. How he could have had such a thoroughly decent, kind and intelligent
son was ever a mystery to her. And Dent's reappearance now could only harm Caldwell's hopes
for winning over Heloise.
They gazed at each in mutual agreement and dismay. What could Dent want?
* * * *
Matron burst into Portia's bedchamber after no more than a token knock. "Lord
Stadbroke has called, and we cannot locate Melicent, his middle daughter."
On Saturday mornings, Portia took a little time for herself, reading, writing or reflecting
in her bedchamber until the nuncheon was served at one o'clock. Many of the children were
taken on excursions at the week's end by a parent or a friend's parents; their proximity to London
made for more such outings than with many boarding schools. There were dancing and music
lessons in the afternoon for those students who had no other activity, but Saturday was by and
large a respite from the week day routine.
For Portia, it was a most welcome one, and on this particular Saturday, she had
embraced the solitude. It had given her opportunity for much-needed calm reflection. If her
thoughts had included the viscount, she had to admit it to no
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