“Beast has a heart of gold. He’s always finding strays or those suffering through hard times and doing what he can to better their lives.” She leaned conspiratorially toward him. “I suspect she’s a fallen woman—both of them actually—and Beast is striving to reform them. Learning to read is the first step.”

“You’re not put off by them?”

“If not for my family, it’s quite possible I might have traveled the same road they did. I don’t sit in judgment, Mr. Sommersby. If you do, then I mistook you for the caring sort, and you are probably not the one to help us out when I’m occupied.”

Her eyes reflected her disappointment in him, and it irked that he may have given her reason to find fault with him. “I’m not judging them.” He’d be hypocritical if he did. He’d turned to prostitutes in his youth. High-priced ones, to be sure, but they still plied their wares like the poorest of girls who catered to those who lived in the rookeries. “Many women I know wouldn’t be as accepting as you. You’re quite remarkable.”

Lowering her head slightly as though embarrassed, she looked up at him through her long sooty lashes. “Hardly.”

He couldn’t help but think that suffering through a lack of acceptance in her youth made her more tolerant of others now. “If I’m to replace you, it seems I’d benefit most from sitting in your circle.”

Before she could respond, footsteps caught their attention. A woman crossed the threshold and staggered to a stop at the sight of him. Her cheeks flamed such an intense red that he was surprised they didn’t ignite.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bennett,” Miss Trewlove said. “I believe you know Mr. Sommersby. He’s considering assisting Mr. Tittlefitz on the evenings when I’m not available.”

His maid-of-all-work gave a little bob of a curtsy. “Mr. Sommersby, sir.”

“Mrs. Bennett, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

“She’s one of our best students,” Miss Trewlove said.

He’d thought it impossible for her face to flare any redder, but it did, and with slowly dawning awareness, he realized she was mortified he knew she came here. He also now understood why she hadn’t left him a note to alert him that Miss Trewlove had paid a call. She couldn’t write. “I’ve no doubt of that whatsoever.”

Mrs. Bennett held up her primer, a bit frayed at the corners, the spine bent. “’Tis a gift to be able to read.”

“One that is easily shared,” Miss Trewlove assured her. “I daresay, Mrs. Bennett, you’ll be teaching before too long.”

“Ah, I’m not there yet. But soon, hopefully. My husband can read but hasn’t the patience to teach me.”