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about this evening?” he asked.
      “I have the privilege of outlining our plans for the Academy.”
    “By plans, do you mean the building you’ve had designed and the classes you intend to offer?”
    She nodded solemnly. “Yes. We hope to have a full curriculum, with instruction in mathematics, Latin, geography and history as well as the classics.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “And I’ve just received some wonderful news. Something very exciting.” Her cheeks flushed pink again, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
    Charles smiled. The solemn little bookworm looked almost pretty. “Madame, you must confess at once,” he teased. “What is this thrilling news?”
    “We’ve decided to have special courses of instruction for females – not only the usual arts curriculum, but sciences and mathematics as well.” Miss Simms sat back, hands clasped together at her chest. She looked inordinately pleased with herself.
    “Indeed?” Charles arched one eyebrow and nodded solemnly. “I feel I should dispatch myself at once to warn the unsuspecting male population of the area. I have heard there is nothing more dangerous than an educated female.”
    Miss Simms’s pleased look vanished. “You mock me, Lord Worthington.”
    “On the contrary, Miss Simms, I salute you.” He raised his tea cup in a toast.
    The waiters brought around a vegetable dish – some sort of stew of potatoes and beans, from what he could determine. Why did they never serve anything more substantial at these gatherings, something like roast beef? “Tell me, Lord Worthington, what exactly is it that you do in England?” The question was posed by the newspaper editor, Adkins.
    Charles gave Adkins a cool look. As if sensing a faux pas , the newspaper man was quick to add, “Forgive my abruptness, but I have a reporter’s insatiable curiosity.”
    Charles’s pleasant expression concealed his inner annoyance. What did he do in England? He rearranged the vegetables on his plate with his fork and framed an innocuous answer. “Oh, I’m being groomed to follow in my father’s footsteps. Oversee the property, look after the retainers, that sort of thing.”
    “It must be exciting to be a member of the nobility.” This from Adkins’s wife, another banner-wearer with mouse-brown curls.
    Exciting? Charles couldn’t keep the pained expression from his face. Riding a wild bronco was exciting. Trying to turn a stampede of raging bulls was exciting. Winning a hand of five card stud was exciting. His life in England was dull. Dreadfully dull. “I assure you it would make for very boring newspaper copy.”
    “Mr. Adkins is writing a series of articles on the need for higher education in this part of Texas,” Miss Simms said. “I’m sure he’ll arouse a great deal of interest in our cause.”
    “Oh really? I myself have never been one to be aroused by mere rhetoric.”
    Miss Simm’s face flamed crimson, and Charles bit back a laugh. He really shouldn’t bait the poor woman, but she made it so damnably easy. He searched for some remark to ease Miss Simms’s discomfort, some flattery to smooth ruffled feathers. Before he could speak, his attention was drawn to a commotion across the room. “What’s going on?” he asked, staring at the knot of people by the door.
    “Someone trying to crash the dinner,” Adkins said, rising. He whipped a notebook from his jacket and started toward the disturbance.
    Suddenly a young man dressed in a dark suit and a cloth cap broke from the crowd, dragging a young woman in a soot-colored dress and shawl along behind him. Something about the woman struck Charles as familiar, though he couldn’t say why.
    The intruders paused beside the table nearest the door and the young man spoke to an elderly gentleman. Everyone at the table turned to stare at Charles’s group. The young man tipped his hat, and headed toward them.
    “You can’t come in here without an invitation!”   Mrs. Joseph Dillon