Most Improper Miss Sophie Valentine (8 page)

When Lazarus put his heart and mind to a project, there was no stopping until it was complete. He worked on the repairs to that farmhouse—so Tuck observed aloud—as if he had a demon nipping at his heels.

To which Lazarus replied, “Not a demon, just an angel.”

One morning as the old man stumbled out into the yard, still not quite fully awake, he remarked that his master must have more energy than he could ever expend in a full lifetime. “Will ye never rest, lad?”

“When I'm dead, Tuck. Plenty of time to rest then.”

Tuck shook his grizzled head. “Ye'll be dead soon enough, lad, carryin' on like this.”

Lazarus laughed as he made his way down from the roof. He was already sweating so early in the day, having been up since cockcrow. He saw Tuck glance sideways at the wound on his bare chest, but the old man never asked about it. Instead he said, “'Tis supposed to be the master watching the servant at work, not the other way about.”

“Once I'm awake, Tuck, I can't lie abed. Mind's too busy, body's too restless.”

Tuck gave a low chortle, much like the cooing doves currently watching from the flint wall. “When ye get to be my age—
if
ye do, lad—ye'll welcome a few extra hours abed in the morn.”

Lazarus shrugged. “When I have a wife to delay me.”

“I told ye—wife makes woe, and ye're best off without one.”

He turned away to wash his arms in the water trough. “Perhaps.”

Sophie occasionally passed along the lane beyond his gate. He never let her know he saw her. Instead, he threw himself frantically into his work.

Still washing off his chest and arms in the water trough, Lazarus asked, quite casually, “Sophia Valentine has lived with her brother ever since the accident that left her scarred?”

“Aye, and none too happy with the arrangement now that harpy wife of his moved herself in.”

“I'm surprised she never married.”

“Oh, she were engaged, but after the accident, nothing came of it. Fellow was too fine and dandy, I reckon. Couldn't do with a scarred wife.”

He straightened up and pushed back from the trough. A sharp pain stabbed his gut, like a sneaky punch delivered before he was prepared. He hadn't known about any other engagement, and now he wished he hadn't asked. Perhaps that was why she refused to consider him—her heart was with another man.

“She keeps herself busy,” Tuck added, “with the schoolhouse in the village.”

“The schoolhouse? She's an educated woman, then.”

“Only by chance. When they lived here, Master 'Enry had a tutor for science, geography, and whatnot, but the young lad never cared much. It were Miss Sophie who read all the books and sat listening when she weren't supposed to. She were always studying books. Liked them better than dolls. Frustrated her mother, it did. Miss Sophie always wanted to make use of herself. She'd say to me, ‘I won't sit about and be stupid, Tuck. I'll do something useful with my life.'”

Lazarus glanced again toward the gate as he slowly trailed the fingers of one hand over that scar by his heart. He'd been searching for a way to win her over. Like most things, he thought, there had to be a trick to it.

Tuck had just given him a clue.

***

“Matthias Finchly, pay attention. I hear you whispering…” She'd just hurried between the rows of benches to reprimand her most trying pupil, when a terrible clattering noise startled the entire class and set her heart into a gallop. “What on earth…?”

A bird had come down the chimney and now flew madly about the small schoolhouse, swooping over heads and scattering little white droplets all over the place. The children leapt to their feet and ran about screaming. Few had the good sense to clamber out of the way, under benches and desks. Most danced about, trying to evade the bird's aim or else attempting to capture it.

Sophie ran to the window and flung it open. She hoped the bird would find its way out. Instead, it fluttered up to the beams under the thatched roof, perched there, and chirped excitedly. She opened the door and grabbed the broom from its corner, meaning to shoo the creature out. The Finchly boys, meanwhile, attempted to reach the bird by standing on each other's shoulders, despite her angry shouts at them to sit down. Little Molly Robbins lay flat on the earthen floor, screaming she feared her eyes would be pecked out.

The bird flew from one beam to the next, apparently in no hurry to leave. It occasionally swooped down again, narrowly missing a head and causing another chorus of screams and shouts.

Into this chaos came Lazarus, who must have heard the ruckus and then quickened his pace down the horse path to stand in the open doorway and look in.

She was horrified. He was the last man she expected to see in that moment…the very last man she wanted to see her as a helpless female again.

He walked over and tried to extract the broom from her grasp. “I think we might dispense with this,” he said.

“Oh…but…”

He smiled and leapt onto one of the desks.

“Do be careful, Mr. Kane.”

He looked around at the children, one finger pressed to his lips. At once they all nodded and then fell silent and watched in awe. Sophie crossed her arms, slightly miffed.

The bird fluttered back and forth, singing happily. He whistled back at it.

She scowled. What
was
he doing? Of course, he had the recklessness of youth on his side. She had not asked his age. It would surely be improper to ask such a personal question. It would also probably give him encouragement to tease her. But he was young. As she saw him today, surrounded by the schoolchildren, and the way he'd formed an immediate alliance with them, his youth was more evident than ever before.

She was holding her shoulders stiffly, and they began to ache. She would not relax. She was too determined to disapprove the brazen young fool's antics. He was no better than the troublesome Finchly boys, and not far advanced in years, it seemed.

He stepped across to another desk to move closer to the bird. It swooped, and he ducked.

Again she warned him, this time with a slight edge to her tone. “
Do
be careful, young man. An ounce of caution is worth a pound of cure.” He glanced down at her, and she quickly added, “I wouldn't want you breaking anything. In my schoolhouse.”

The bird came back again, crisscrossing the room, almost as if it were taunting him. Lazarus whistled softly. He raised one hand. As the errant bird circled his head, Molly Robbins shuffled close to Sophie, hugging her legs and hiding her face in her teacher's skirt.

Lazarus moved suddenly. The schoolroom held its breath. All was still.

Stunned, Sophie watched as he climbed down from the desk, his large hands cupped gently around the bird. He grinned at her with supreme arrogance and then carried his prize to the window. The children followed him as if he were the Pied Piper. There he lifted his arms and released the bird into a cornflower-blue sky, much to the cheering delight of his little followers.

Sophie's heart finally found a more even pace, although it was still not, by any means, calm or slow. He was watching her, waiting no doubt for her astonished praise and dutiful swooning. She'd turned him down once, yet he still bothered to smile and flaunt himself before her. The secret ache grew inside, but those heated yearnings must be suppressed. It would do neither of them any good. She was not the woman he needed, and he was, most certainly, all wrong for her—too young, brash, and forward. What she needed was someone quiet, placid, and respectable, not a man bent on turning the world upside down. Certainly not a man capable of reading her filthy, shameful thoughts. A woman had to have some secrets.

When nothing came out of her mouth, he prompted her. “It was a good thing I came to your rescue again, Miss Valentine. Wouldn't you agree?”

As she briskly set the room back to order, she finally allowed a small nod. “Thank you, Mr. Kane. I'm sure we're all very grateful. Are we not, children? Now back to the lesson, please.”

While the children complained and slouched back to their benches, Lazarus slowly crossed the room to where she stood. He had a very powerful frame, an overwhelming presence when he was near.

“Miss Valentine?”

He was standing too close. Did he have no sense of propriety? Every pore on her body felt his heat; every lock of hair sprang to life, tempted to curl itself.

“I was not passing by chance today,” he said. “There is a matter I wanted to discuss with you.”

She clasped a slate to her chest and looked away. “I'm presently occupied, as you see.”

“It won't take long. May we talk privately?”

“Privately? I'm afraid that wouldn't be proper.” She lowered her voice. “Have I not told you that before?”

“Outside. Just two minutes”—his voice grew husky—“of your time.”

Finally, and most reluctantly, she agreed. She left instruction for Matthias to continue reading the passage aloud, and led the way outside into the sun. Her hands were shaking, so she gripped them tightly around the slate in her arms, hoping he wouldn't notice.

“What do you want, Mr. Kane?”

“I'm in need of your talents, Miss Valentine.”

“My talents?”

“I need a tutor. A private tutor.”

“For what purpose?”

He looked around sheepishly, hands behind his back, and then leaned down toward her. “I cannot read or write, Miss Valentine. Well…I can a little. A very little. It pains me to admit it. I should like to master the skill for something beyond the marking of my own name.”

Her fingers tapped against the slate. “I don't give private lessons.” She turned hastily to go back inside. He blocked her way, his shoulder propped against the door frame.

“But you owe me, Miss Valentine.”

She swallowed. “I owe you for what exactly?”

“Must I remind you? I came here thinking I'd found a wife, but now I'm obliged to begin my hunt all over again because you refused me so callously. Am I not entitled to some kindness, some compensation, considering the disappointment?”

So he was trying to make her feel guilty. As if she didn't already.

“You owe me a bride, Miss Valentine. The least you could do is help me get one by softening my rough edges.”

She looked up at him, wondering why he thought he needed her help. He had no shortage of wily charm and a certain persuasive quality. She might be in danger herself, if she were ten years younger and a great deal stupider. “Believe me, Mr. Kane, I'm very sorry I ever posted that advertisement. I don't know why I did it.”

“Don't you? I do.”

She clamped her lips tightly.

“Because you wanted me to come and find you,” he said calmly.

His sheer arrogance goaded her temper enough to reply, “And what would I want you for, pray tell?”

He treated her to a slow, arch grin. “Shall I show you here and now?”

Alarmed, she stepped back.

“You may pretend to the whole world, Miss Valentine, but you can't lie to me. You need me.”

She clung desperately to a few shreds of practical thought. “Mr. Kane, if you cannot read, how did you find my advertisement?”

“The landlady at the Red Lion in Morecroft read it out one morning at breakfast.” He was looking at her hands around the slate. “It caused some amusement among her guests.”

“Of which you were one.”

“A guest, yes, but I was not amused. I was intrigued. Then I found you climbing out of that tree, and my curiosity increased.”

She took a quick, tight breath. “A gentleman wouldn't take advantage of a lady and bribe her for a kiss.”

“You made it necessary to kiss you. I was undone.” The overgrown boy grinned down at her. “Vixen.”

To her utter despair, Sophie felt a chuckle tickling her throat. Despite the ridiculousness of his statement, it was impossible to keep a straight face. She looked away, anxiously checking the lane at the end of the horse path that ran along the side of her schoolhouse, not wanting anyone to see them standing together. At least, with the door half-closed, the children couldn't see, and having been left untended for a few moments, they were already loud enough not to hear a word of the conversation taking place outside.

At last she recovered enough to muster a gentle reply. “I understand you've been disappointed, Mr. Kane. But that is not entirely my fault.”

“Oh?” He folded his arms, settling against her door frame.

“I should never have written that advertisement, but you should never have come in answer to it, when you'd never met me. I wonder what you expected to find.”

“Nothing like this,” he replied dryly.

She sighed. “I believe I made my feelings clear. I cannot speak with you further on this matter, Mr. Kane. Good day.”

He still blocked the doorway. “The least you could do, Miss Valentine, is agree to tutor me, turn me into a proper gent who wouldn't embarrass a fine lady. A gentleman even a Valentine would deem worthy enough to smile at.” He stopped again, those devilish eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Not that a gentleman is what you truly need.”

She tried scowling but suspected it came out more as a wince. “Mr. Kane, surely you have other women to torment.”

He was staring at her lips in a very odd way and then he took a step toward her. Sophie thought she could duck under his arm and get safely inside, but he must have read her thoughts. He backed up again, just as she advanced. Now they were both in the doorway, separated by mere inches and with his arm blocking her escape once more.

“I suppose you think this amusing,” she muttered, “to come here like this and tease me. As if I could ever agree to give private lessons to an unmarried man.”

He moved even closer. Her heart thumped so hard her hairpins were coming loose.