Read Online The Headmistress of Rosemere by Sarah E Ladd - Free Book Online Page B

truths that were so important. Her father would have been proud.
    “Oh, you girls are all kind, and I know I can trust you not to argue and fight like the girls in the book. Always remember, we all get angry. What is important is that you handle your anger appropriately. Now, to bed with you.”
    The girls scurried up into their beds, and Patience stoked the fire before pulling extra quilts from the wardrobe. Before leaving, she pressed a kiss on each girl’s forehead, heard their prayers, and tucked an extra quilt around each one to guard against the cold February night.
    The last child was Emma. The other four girls came from sound families and spent holidays in their own loving homes, but Emma was different.
    Patience tucked the quilt around the girl’s tiny frame. Emma motioned for her to lean closer. “Do you think that man’s eye is better yet?” she whispered.
    Patience sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning close so as not to disturb the other girls. “It will probably take a few more days to heal.”
    Emma frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the response. “Naughty horse.”
    Patience smoothed the child’s hair from her face. “I sincerely doubt the horse intended to throw Mr. Sterling.”
    Emma wrinkled her nose. “Do you think it hurts him?”
    “I am sure it is not pleasant, but he is on the mend. He told me as much himself.” She pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead, offered a smile, and took up her candlestick. “How thoughtful of you to be concerned for the welfare of others. Sweet dreams, my darlings.”
    Patience pulled the door closed behind her. Once again, Rosemere was as silent as the grave.
    And her mind was free to roam.

    William slumped in his chair, a goblet of claret balanced in his hand.
    Night had fallen. Darkness—and a bone-chilling cold—blanketed Eastmore Hall’s paneled library. The dying glow from the fire played on the goblet’s intricate cuts and angles. He nudged his booted foot closer to the fire and stared unblinking into the weak flame.
    He touched his healing lip, then rubbed a hand across his sideburn and over his chin. He was distracted. Why could he think of little else besides Miss Creighton? Of the curve of her neck, the slope of her nose? His conversation with the blue-eyed little girl at the school kept coming back to him, and the memory of the hall’s warmth toyed with his mind.
    He had not wanted to leave Rosemere.
    The realization shocked him as much as it confused him. He would have been quite content to stay in Miss Creighton’s company for as long as the day and the evening would allow. But she had obvious responsibilities that were far more important than humoring a man that she no doubt regarded as little more than her landlord. His attempt to offer simple gratitude for a kind gesture had resulted in more questions he could not readily answer.
    Eastmore Hall had once been welcoming and inviting, much like Rosemere. His mother had seen to that. But since her death, and then that of his father, the estate property had been on a sharp decline.
    William pulled his brother’s letter from his waistcoat, unfolded it, and strained to read it in the dim light. The letter wasshort but good-natured. Graham, a captain in His Majesty’s navy and away most of the time, asked William to watch over his wife and daughter. They lived but a short ride away, at Winterwood Manor, just on the other side of Sterling Wood. He would ride out to Winterwood soon to check on Amelia and little Lucy, for he owed his brother that much and more. Life had taken the brothers in opposite directions. Graham had enjoyed much success. But William, despite his privilege and opportunity, had floundered. It was Graham who had started William on the path to confronting his wrongs and failures instead of hiding them.
    Not even a year ago, when William did manage to spend time in Eastmore Hall, the house was never still. Servants were busy at all hours. Guests at all times. The