A Gentleman's Vow (Saints and Sinners 2)

Mrs. Beck moved away to a section of post and rail fence. She leaned upon it, staring into the distance. “I could bear living on my sister’s charity if not for the boys’ unhappiness.”

“Perhaps you could take up a useful profession? I understand you’ve had a good education. There has not been a tutor in the district for quite some time, and there are a great many girls in need of guidance. Letter writing, accounting for the home expenses and such.”

Mrs. Beck’s eyes lit up at the idea but then her smile faded. “I can hardly imagine my sister agreeing to let students into her home.”

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sp; “Ah, I had not considered the matter that far. But you would need only a little space, somewhere quiet.” He frowned as he considered the buildings closest to the village green, the most central point in the district. The tavern boasted a private dining room, but there would be considerable noise to distract any students and the expense of renting the space might be too great. Gideon had more free space at Quigley Hill, but his home was on the opposite side of the village and any potential students for Mrs. Beck. A place in the village would be preferable.

Surely there must be a place somewhere that could be rented.

And then he recalled Lady Jessica had inherited her old aunt’s cottage in the village on her eighteenth birthday.

The cottage was currently empty, but never stayed that way for long. Gideon had no idea what plans Jessica might have for the dwelling. But he could inquire on Mrs. Beck’s behalf. The aunt who had owned it had once offered instruction to the village girls, too, for a time. Jessica might be interested in supporting such a venture; at least until she married and her husband’s wishes took precedence over her own. “Would you leave the matter with me for a few days?”

“You have an idea that might help us get away from my sister and her husband?”

“Perhaps. But I can say no more for now. I will make some inquiries and let you know if there is hope.”

She looked at him curiously but nodded, too. “Very well. I shall place my trust in you, sir.”

A pair of blond heads suddenly sprung up from the long grass. “You didn’t try to find us very hard!”

Mrs. Beck slipped through the post and rail fence and ran to her children. She kissed the tops of their heads, clearly a devoted mother. “I’m sorry, my darlings. Mr. Whitfield and I were talking.”

The youngest clung to his mother’s skirts but cradled his hand against his chest. Gideon took a step in his direction. The little fellow did not smile at Gideon. He never had.

“Hello, Thomas.”

The boy looked up at his mother. “Are you going to marry him?”

“Gracious, no,” Mrs. Beck chided quickly. “Mr. Whitfield would, however, like to look at your sore fingers.”

The eldest pulled the youngest behind him and glared. “I won’t let anyone hurt him again.”

Gideon strolled forward, conscious that the boys looked at him with painful wariness. He did not blame them for their caution. “You are a good brother to want to protect Thomas. I would never harm him. But if you’d prefer, my housekeeper tends all my scratches and scrapes, and will be very gentle with your brother. You can go with him into the house of course.”

Although both looked skeptical, they followed their mother when she called them to come with her. Gideon placed his hands behind his back and strolled slowly toward his home. He led them inside to the housekeeper’s room and bade them wait there while he found his servants.

Mrs. Harrow and Mrs. Mills were seated at the kitchen table, sipping tea. “Do you have a moment to tend a few scratches?”

“Are you hurt, sir?”

“Not I. Mrs. Beck’s youngest, and perhaps the other one, too. You might have to cajole them a little to find out more.”

Mrs. Harrow and Mrs. Mills exchanged a long look. “As you like, sir.”

“I’ve left them in your room, Mrs. Harrow,” he murmured. The pair gathered their things, and a plate of biscuits, and rushed out. He heard the soft exclamations of his servants and paced the kitchen until they returned.

Mrs. Harrow drew close. “Mrs. Beck had to go but wished us to bid you goodbye, sir.”

“Good.”

Mrs. Harrow frowned. “Those wounds?”

Gideon rubbed his fingers over his palm, remembering his own hard childhood. Thankfully, he bore no lasting scars from his father’s punishments. But he remembered them all, the unfairness and ferocity.

“A switch,” Mrs. Harrow informed him sadly.