Chapter Twelve

Gwen spent a good hour on Edwin’s lap in his office after they’d finished making love on his desk. Fully dressed, unfortunately. They didn’t want to push their luck. And with that thought in mind, Gwen finally spoke up.

“We should tell the boys,” she said.

“Tell them what?”

“That we are a we.”

“We should?”

“We are a we, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he said, grinning.

“Good. Then we should tell the boys we are a we before they figure it out on their own. Better to hear it from we—I mean, us. Otherwise the rumors will start flying.”

“They are nosy gossips.”

“Especially Laird.”

“He’s likely already planning our wedding.”

“He loves you like a father,” Gwen said. “He wants to see you happy.”

“I am happy,” Edwin said. “You on my lap in my office…I must have died and gone to Heaven.”

“I didn’t know they had sex that good in Heaven. I need to rethink my theology.”

“Wouldn’t be Heaven otherwise.”

She gave him a heavenly kiss goodbye and left him to his work. Apparently they’d only slightly soiled Edwin’s desk blotter. No report cards, thank goodness.

Gwen returned to her cottage, graded papers, and had dinner in the dining hall with Mr. Price and Mr. Reynolds. After dinner she went for a walk in the paths outside the orchard. She spent an hour trying to figure out a way to tell the students she and the headmaster were a couple. Had it been a larger school, it wouldn’t have mattered. But everyone knew everyone here. All told there were thirty-three people at the school. No keeping secrets in a school so small. She’d much rather be open and honest about their relationship than keep sneaking around, waiting for someone to catch them kissing or holding hands. Or worse.

Laird.

That was it. Of course Laird. He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. That gossipy twerp was just who she needed. Next time he asked about her and the headmaster—probably tomorrow—she’d tell him the truth. A heavily edited and family-friendly version of the truth, of course. And by dinner, everyone on campus would know. Probably everyone within a fifty-mile radius.

Gwen walked back to her cottage and took a long bath. When she checked the clock she saw it was hardly past nine. If she was good and asked very nicely, maybe she could talk Edwin into a repeat of today’s performance, but in his bed instead of on his hard office desk. She peeked out her front door. First she looked left. Then she looked right. Then she looked toward the dormitories. No one seemed to be out and about. She was safe to jog over to Hawkwood and hunt the headmaster down. After how good he’d made her feel today, she thought she should return the favor. It was the only ladylike thing to do.

The image of giving Edwin another ladylike blow job put a grin on Gwen’s face and preoccupied her so thoroughly she almost didn’t notice the lady in white standing near the wall. But when Gwen did see her, she decided that now—right now—she’d get to the bottom of this mystery. Gwen didn’t care that “The Bride” was dating one of the boys in secret, but she was sneaking on and off campus in all hours of the night. It wasn’t safe. Not out here in the middle of nowhere.

Miss?” Gwen called out. “Miss, can I talk to you?”

The Bride froze but only for an instant. In another instant she ran off so fast Gwen couldn’t keep up with her. She’d never seen a woman run so swiftly and so surely. She skirted every bump, every stone. She disappeared around a corner of Newbury and was gone.

Gwen stood staring at the school courtyard. Where on earth had the girl gone? She couldn’t just disappear into thin air, could she? Had she gone over the school wall?

With her heart pounding from the chase, Gwen walked back to Pembroke where she’d seen The Bride standing. She saw some footprints in the soft soil, but nothing else. No, something else. She found a scrap of white fabric on the porch that had gotten caught on a nail. Gwen pulled it free and studied it.

White. Lacy. Embroidered. It was nothing but a handkerchief. She sensed no magic in it, no ghostly presence. It didn’t even smell of a woman’s perfume. And it belonged to The Bride. Or did it?

Gwen turned it over and noticed a tiny set of initials sewn into one corner. She recognized the initials in an instant and knew something was very wrong here at William Marshal Academy. She’d hoped the girl was simply a girlfriend. But now Gwen knew better.

She marched back to Edwin’s quarters and knocked on his door. When a knock didn’t get his attention, she pounded on it.

Edwin threw the door open. He wore silk pajama pants, his dressing gown, and a look of consternation on his face.

“Gwendolyn, what on earth—”

“Call the police,” she said. “Miss Muir’s still living on campus.”