The Headmaster Read Online Free Page B

loved the quaintness of the keys. These weren’t cut at Home Depot on a machine. They looked like skeleton keys, a jailer’s keys from a Wild West sheriff’s office or keys to a castle gate. He opened the door and she peeked into the office. Clearly a woman had worked here. Gauzy white curtains graced the windows. Instead of Headmaster Yorke’s carved wooden monstrosity of a desk, this little office boasted a petite writing desk with a feather pen and inkwell.
    “No computers?” she asked.
    “Computers?” Headmaster Yorke said with abject derision as if she’d asked where the dungeons were instead of the computer lab. “I don’t know what sort of school you think this is, but we have nothing to do with computers here. They can learn that in university if they wish.” He said the word
computers
like he was pronouncing a word in a foreign language.
    “Interesting. That waitress said Marshal didn’t let students have phones. No computers either?”
    “The students here use books. Books and pens and paper. Handwriting is taught here. The art of letter writing. I will not allow these boys to leave this school without knowing how to write a proper thank-you note. When you grade their work, you will grade their thoughts as well as their presentation. Form and content go hand-in-hand.”
    “So I have to grade their handwriting, you mean.”
    “Precisely.”
    “I can do that.”
    “You will do that,” Headmaster Yorke said as he closed and locked her new office door. “Since Miss Muir has left us, there have been no women on campus. You’ll likely feel unwelcome here and lonely.”
    Gwen looked up at him. She had to crane her neck a bit.
    “You’re very handsome and charming when you’re being overbearing and disdainful,” Gwen said.
    Behind his glasses, Headmaster Yorke’s eyes widened in momentary surprise.
    “Then I shall endeavor to be less overbearing and disdainful in the future.”
    “Pity,” she said.
    “As you will be the sole female resident at William Marshal, you’ll have your own cottage.” He stood by a window and pointed at a small Tudor home that sat back far behind the main building. Gwen inhaled and covered her mouth with her hand.
    “What is it?” Headmaster Yorke asked, sounding concerned.
    “Nothing…” Gwen shook her head. “It’s just so lovely. I get to stay there?” She looked at him and smiled.
    “Yes, for one week while you’re teaching.”
    “Thank you,” she said in a small voice.
    “It’s only a house,” he said, seemingly surprised by her enthusiasm.
    “I’m sort of homeless right now. I planned on sleeping in my car tonight. I can’t believe I’ll be staying in that house.”
    Headmaster Yorke looked at her and, for the first time, he seemed to see her. She wondered what he thought as he looked at her. His eyes were not unkind, only curious.
    “You were planning to sleep in your car? That’s not at all safe for a young woman. I would never allow that if I were your husband or father.”
    “No husband. No father. I’m on my own.”
    “Not anymore. You’re here at Marshal now and under my protection as long as you remain here. And you will not be sleeping in your car. That’s madness.”
    “I was moving to Chicago,” she said. “I have my whole life in the car, and I didn’t want anyone breaking into it.”
    “Better possessions stolen then your life endangered.”
    “You’re very chivalrous.”
    “I’m merely sane, Miss Ashby. Will you be missed in Chicago?”
    “No. I only know one person there, and she was going let me crash on her couch. So this…” She pointed at the cottage. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome, Miss Ashby,” he said, and for once all the glaring ceased. When he was glaring, he looked very handsome. When he wasn’t glaring…well, he probably should start glaring again or Gwen was going to have that sex-on-a-desk fantasy again. “But remember, this is only for one week. Don’t get comfortable.”
    “I’ll