“Yet she obviously came from a wealthy family.”
“Oh, yes. Her bloodline must always demand respect, even if the stain of illegitimacy remains indelible.”
Sebastian studied the schoolmistress’s self-satisfied, supercilious expression. If Rowena LaMont considered Emma Chandler’s bloodline worthy of respect, then the girl must have been of gentle birth. The by-blow of a mere merchant or tradesman, no matter how wealthy, would never be considered possessed of superior blood.
“Had she any close friends amongst the other students?”
“Oh, no. I always took care to discourage the formation of any schoolgirl attachments in that direction. My students’ parents would hardly thank me for allowing their daughters to form such a connection, now, would they?”
“But she was friendly with Georgina Seaton.”
Miss Lamont stiffened. “She was, yes. But then, girls of Georgina’s age do sometimes have a tendency toward willfulness. If Emma hadn’t been leaving the academy, I would have taken more forceful steps to end the friendship. But as it was . . .” She shrugged.
Sebastian found he liked the absent Georgina Seaton, although he had never met the girl. It couldn’t have been easy for her to befriend someone so obviously marked as an outcast by the school’s headmistress.
He said, “Did you know that Miss Seaton’s brother, Crispin, had formed an attachment to Miss Chandler?”
Rowena LaMont’s small pale eyes grew narrow and flinty. “I was aware of his interest, yes.”
“Did you by chance inform Lady Seaton of that interest?”
“If I had thought it serious, I would not have hesitated to notify her ladyship. But the boy is only—what? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? Young gentlemen of that age tumble in and out of love with startling rapidity and frequency. I saw no need to trouble her ladyship with something that would inevitably blow over.”
“Had you had any communication with Emma since she left the school?”
“No. Why would I?”
Emma Chandler had shared this woman’s table and parlor for fourteen years, yet she found his question strange?
Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, for she said, “To coddle the fruits of sin is to condone the act that created them, and I believe we must never be lured into such errors by the temptations of misplaced kindness.” She smoothed one hand down over her fine skirt. “Emma Chandler could with justice have been consigned to a short, brutal existence in a parish workhouse. Instead, she was given a life of rare comfort and privilege. Yet far from being grateful or suitably humble, she was angry, resentful, and willful.”
Sebastian found his hands tightening on the arms of his chair, so that he had to deliberately relax them. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to cause her harm?”
Miss LaMont gave a forced, mirthless laugh. “Good heavens, no.”
“Do you have any idea what might have taken her to Ayleswick?”
“No idea whatsoever.” She glanced pointedly at the small gold watch she wore pinned to her bodice. “And now you really must excuse me, my lord; I have duties to which I must attend.”
“Of course.” He rose to his feet. “If you could furnish me with the name and direction of her family?”
She rose with him. “Sorry, but that’s quite out of the question.”
He gave her a smile that showed his teeth. “Well, if you’d rather deal with Bow Street . . .”
She pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring with indignation. He thought for a moment that she still meant to refuse him. Then she said, “Wait here,” and swept from the room.
She reappeared a moment later to slam a folded piece of paper down on the rosewood table beside the door. “You didn’t receive this from me. And if you try to claim otherwise, I shall give you the lie to your face. Good day, my lord. One of the maids will show you out.”
After she had gone, Sebastian went to unfold the slip of paper and stare down at what she had written. Lord Heyworth. Pleasant Park, Herefordshire.
He folded the paper again and put it in his pocket.
He was tempted to start for Herefordshire that afternoon. But one look at his tired horses told him the chestnuts had gone as far as they should in one day.
“Did ye find out who she was?” asked Tom as Sebastian leapt up to take the reins.
“Not exactly. But I now have a very good idea of where to look.”
Chapter 32
Shortly after breakfast, Hero hired a pretty little gray mare from Martin McBroom’s stables and, accompanied at a respectful distance by a groom, rode out to the Moss family’s cottage on the far edge of Lord Seaton’s estate.