Jane wondered that Miss Dunkirk would boast so of knowing him, almost as if they had the intimacy of family. “I must bow to your judgment, since I know so little of the man and you study with him.”

“He is such a wonderful teacher. Truly he is. Though I wish I had half the talent that you do.” Miss Dunkirk sighed and sat on the bench in the middle of the roses. “He is like my brother: They both think that the arts are the highest accomplishments and think little of people without those skills.”

A small hope flared in Jane’s breast that Mr. Dunkirk might learn of Melody’s deficiency in the matter of the arts, but she quashed it as ruthlessly as she could. Though she felt she would have been justified in exposing Melody after her trick the day before, Jane would not—she could not—bring herself to be anything less than virtuous with regards to Mr. Dunkirk if she had any hope of gaining his—

Jane reined in her thought there. No. She had no hope of that. She must remember herself and not be tempted by the idle thoughts of Mr. Dunkirk’s sister, who was, after all, very young and given to fancies.

“Now, I know you have spoken falsely, for your brother holds you in high regard.”

“Well, he is bound to! Mr. Vincent is not, but I begin to think that he likes me a little, because he is not so cross as when he first came. I have seen him once or twice almost smile at me when I did something right.”

“Ah. ‘Almost smiles’ are indeed something worth working for.”

“You may teaze me, but Mr. Vincent’s praise is more valuable for being rare.” Miss Dunkirk’s gaze turned inward, and her countenance darkened. “Teachers with quick praise are not to be trusted.”

Jane regarded her, wondering again what her history was that gave her periods of such darkness. These moods had become rarer as she and Miss Dunkirk had gotten to know each other, but some chance word or turn of phrase would still cast her spirits down from time to time. Jane wanted to bring her back to her former laughing self, so she said, “I have always thought that the least trustworthy teachers were the ones with tonics.”

A laugh broke out of Miss Dunkirk, restoring gaiety to her face. “I thank the heavens I have never had a tutor with tonics.”

At that point, Mr. Dunkirk and Melody finally reached the center of the maze. “There you are. We have been hearing your laughter, but could not find you. At least, I could not. I am certain that Miss Melody knew her way through the maze precisely.”

“It does not do to go too quickly to the heart, Mr. Dunkirk,” Melody said, her gaze cast downward, looking out from under her eyelashes at him. “I knew you would find your way sooner or later.”

Oblivious to Melody’s flirtation, Miss Dunkirk hurried at once to her brother’s side. “Oh, Edmund. You must build a shrubbery at Robinsford Abbey with a maze in it. I can think of nothing more charming. Say you will. Do, say you will.”