impression. But I'd like to hear your opinion of her.'
She realised she should have foreseen he would ask her this and prepared a considered judgment, neatly expressed.
To give herself time to think, she said, 'Do you mean academically or generally?'
'Both.'
'Well... I'm not in a position to compare her with her contemporaries, but by the standards of my day I'd say she's extremely bright. She enjoys learning. I don't have to push her. Sometimes I have to restrain her from overdoing it. As a person, I think she's a darling... sensitive, generous, full of fun—'
Before she could list any more of Emily's good qualities, he interrupted her.
'You make her sound a paragon. Has she no faults in your estimation?'
Again his tone was so dry as to make it obvious he suspected Summer of sycophancy.
She lifted her chin. 'Everyone has faults, Lord Cranmere. I feel it's a negative attitude to dwell on children's defects rather than their virtues. If you'd let me finish, I should have added that Emily is inclined to be untidy and she has a quick temper. But considering that thirteen is a notoriously awkward age, she's very easy to handle and I think she has great potential—even though, at the moment, she has no clear-cut vocation.'
'She tells me that asthma has prevented her from going to school. How often does she have these attacks?'
'Very seldom. But if she were in a different environment she would probably have them more often.'
'But that theory hasn't been tested?'
'No.'
'What are your qualifications as a tutor, Miss Roberts? Are you a graduate?'
'No. I was at Somerville for a short time, but I had to come down for family reasons.'
'You must have been an exceptional scholar to be given a place at one of the Oxford women's colleges. Why did you have to relinquish it?'
She hesitated, unwilling to discuss a subject which she felt couldn't be of any real interest to him.
'The aunt I lived with was taken ill. There was no one else to look after her.'
'Are you still looking after her?'
'No, she's dead now.'
'Isn't it possible for you to go back to Oxford?'
'I don't know—I haven't enquired. I don't particularly want to go back. It was going to lead to a teaching career, and that's what I'm doing.'
'But your present pupil won't keep you occupied indefinitely, and then what?'
Was this the first hint that dismissal was hanging over her?
She said quietly, 'I'm sure I shall be able to find another post when my time here comes to an end. I imagine you don't mean to make any drastic changes until you've been here long enough to make wise decisions, Lord Cranmere. I'm sure you're aware that Emily has already had two bad shocks this year, and that it would be better for her to get over losing her grandfather before there are any more disturbances in her life.'
'Were she and her grandfather fond of each other? He must have mellowed since my time if they were'—was his sardonic comment.
'No, perhaps not precisely fond,' she admitted. 'But he was her only close relation after she lost her parents. I've no doubt you and she will have a much warmer relationship... given time. Have you any daughters?'
He rose abruptly from his chair. There was restlessness in the way he thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers and took two or three strides away from the desk before suddenly swinging to face her.
'No daughters. No sons. No wife. My motto is: He travels fastest who travels alone.'
It didn't surprise her to learn that he was a bachelor. He didn't look like a family man. In spite of his elegant clothes, there was something... untamed about him.
'But now that the future of your family hinges on you—' she began.
'My family, if and when I have one, won't be living here,' he informed her. 'I prefer the New World, Miss Roberts. I've made a life for myself there and I've no intention of sacrificing my achievements on the altar of tradition. I came to England for two reasons; first, to disclaim the title and, secondly, to