Miss Hilversham and the Pesky Duke : Wishing Well Seminary Book 1 by Sofi Laporte

Author:Sofi Laporte [Laporte, Sofi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lapuerta Publishing
Published: 2022-05-30T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Heroic duke

single-handedly saves 30 people from fire

After they returned to the house, they saw that Fariq had taken over command. He’d arranged for everyone to be seated at tables, or any object that could function as a table, and everyone was quietly eating breakfast.

The clattering of the plates, the munching and sipping, stopped when Marcus and Eleonore entered. Twenty-five shiny faces turned towards them, focusing on Marcus.

“What?” He rubbed his jaw. Eleonore understood, with a tinge of amusement, that he did this, in addition to drawing his eyebrows into a ferocious scowl, whenever he felt put on the spot.

Little May stepped up to him and pulled at his sleeve. “You’re a hero. My hero.”

Twenty-five heads nodded, hero-worship glistened in their eyes.

He took a step back.

Ellen got up and folded her hands. “May is right. The children and I, and all the teachers and servants of Miss Hilversham’s seminary, would like to thank you for saving our lives.”

“Nonsense.” He attempted to lift his hands to ward them off, but Little May held onto him, so he was forced to hold her hand instead.

Eleonore stepped up. “Ellen and the children are quite right. We haven’t properly thanked you. We are deep in your debt, Your Grace.”

“What is this nonsense?” he growled.

Little May dropped to the floor and pulled him down to a makeshift table, which consisted of a box covered with a tablecloth. He sat down next to her on the floor, cross-legged, and inquired what she was eating.

“The betht breakfatht ever,” she announced.

Indeed, the neighbours had delivered plenty of cornbread, butter, and jam, and the cook had brewed gallons of tea and coffee.

A maid handed Eleonore a cup of coffee, which she sipped gratefully.

“What are we to do today, Miss Hilversham?” a tall, brown-haired girl asked. She was one of the older students and had been taking care of a group of younger ones. “We can hardly have classes today, can we?”

All eyes turned to her. Once more, the feeling of being overwhelmed engulfed her. Decisions! She had to make decisions. Her mind drew a blank, and her chest constricted tightly: panic.

Her eyes wandered around and fell on the duke.

He set down his cup. “Of course, you will have classes. How can something as paltry as having your school burned down keep you from learning? That is after you have helped clear up the breakfast dishes—you and you—” he pointed at Annabelle and Rosemary, “and you two here,” he pointed at two little ones who were still eating, “are going to help Fariq organise papers, pencils and quills. There ought to be some of that stuff lying about in this house somewhere, I suppose. If there isn’t enough, you will knock on the neighbour’s door—that woman yesterday with the massive bosom and the shrill voice. What was her name?”

Some teachers gasped, but the children erupted in delighted giggles.

“Mrs Benningfield,” they answered in a chorus.

“You will go ask her for whatever supplies you need; I daresay she has aplenty. And the teachers, where are the teachers?” Ellen and her colleagues raised their hands.

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