The Headmistress of Rosemere by Sarah E Ladd Page A

the horse’s fault. I should have been more careful.”
    He could see that his answer did not satisfy her, so he stood up, ignoring the jabbing pain in his side that still plagued him. “Do you ride, Miss Simmons?”
    The little girl’s blue eyes grew big, and she moved her head slowly from side to side. “No, sir.”
    “What!” he exclaimed, finding that once the initial shock of conversing with a child wore off, he was almost enjoying this discussion. “You do not ride at all? Not even that plump black pony I passed in the pasture on my ride here today?”
    She giggled and shook her head again. “That is Violet.”
    “Violet, the pony,” he repeated. “Well then, you must learn toride before you can decide if an animal is naughty or not, for a good rider should always be in control.”
    Miss Creighton, face flushing in dismay, put her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Off with you, Emma, to Miss Baden.”
    The little girl hesitated and then whispered to her headmistress.
    Miss Creighton leaned down to hear. “Yes, you may visit Delilah, but only after you have finished your cards. Mind you do not forget your cap and gloves.”
    The girl gathered the cards from Miss Creighton, casting inquisitive glances toward William during the process, then scurried from the room, her untethered tresses bouncing against her back with every step.
    Once she was gone, William said, “I know who Violet is, but who is Delilah?”
    Miss Creighton did not remove her gaze from the door until the sound of footsteps could no longer be heard from the hall. “The girls have a pet goat.”
    “A goat?”
    Miss Creighton walked over to the desk and adjusted a stack of paper. “A troublesome, cantankerous creature, really, who causes more mischief than not. But the girls are quite fond of her. Delilah has been a permanent fixture here for at least the last ten years, probably more.”
    With an extended hand, Patience offered him a seat next to the fire. Its warmth begged him to draw near. As he sat on a tufted chair cushion, the heat wrapping around him like a blanket, he felt his tension relax. He looked back at Miss Creighton and noticed the softness in her expression, the kindness in her eyes. She was as he remembered. Not an angel. Not an illusion. But an exquisite sight to behold. He’d hardly be a man if he did not notice how the early-evening light filtering through the west window caught on the contour of her cheek.
    “Would you care for tea?”
    William shook his head, reminding himself of his purpose here. “Thank you, but I must forgo your offer. My visit will be brief.”
    “As you wish.” She crossed back across the room, sat in a chair opposite him, and folded her slender hands atop the thick fabric of her gray skirt. She assessed him with expectant eyes.
    He cleared his throat and touched two fingertips, still cold from the ride, to his lip. “I apologize for my appearance.”
    “Not at all. On the contrary, Mr. Sterling, it relieves my mind to see you. I was quite worried about you after you departed.”
    He felt an unexpected warmth. How long had it been since anyone had shown any concern for him? “I appreciate your concern, Miss Creighton, but as you can see, I am on the mend.”
    “I’m glad to hear it.”
    The honeyed timbre of her voice, combined with the awkwardness of their circumstances, made his mind go blank. He stood and turned toward the window. “I wanted to thank you for your assistance. It must have been quite a shock to receive a visitor in such a state.”
    Her answer was as diplomatic as any her father would have given. “You are always welcome at Rosemere, Mr. Sterling, regardless of your condition.”
    Before he could open his mouth to speak, the door swung open, and a young woman with nut-brown hair and dressed in a blue pinafore came in.
    “Patience, I—” The intruder snapped her mouth shut when she spied him. Her hand flew to her throat, and her face reddened to the color of the