So he concentrated on the fact that her attention wasn’t on him, was on the others as they struggled to make sense of the words that told the story of a young girl who dreamed of attending a ball and capturing the attention of a prince—very much as Miss Trewlove dreamed of capturing the attention of a lord at her upcoming ball. He imagined her being whisked over the dance floor, the joy that would light her eyes, the smile she would bestow on her partner. She would meet more than a handful of other gents, become enamored of them, and perhaps one would take her for a ride in a hot air balloon—if he cared enough to learn about the things she might enjoy. If she wasn’t merely a dowry to fill empty coffers. If they would look beyond her birth in order to appreciate the remarkable woman she was.

She had the skills and intelligence to successfully manage a bookshop. She had the generosity of spirit to make books available to those who couldn’t afford them. She sought to better the lives of the overlooked by giving them the gift of reading. She didn’t sit in judgment of people, not even women who earned their keep upon their backs. She was goodness, and kindness, and saw the best in those around her.

Becoming aware of the echo of books closing, he realized he’d lost his way in the narrative, hadn’t been listening as passages were read. Not that it mattered, not tonight. He wasn’t a tutor, merely an observer.

People stood. Offering words of encouragement, she hugged each one before they began wandering toward the door. She even had something reassuring to say to the pupils Mr. Tittlefitz had worked with. While the secretary began tidying up, spreading chairs throughout the room, not having to bother with the refreshments because the footmen had cleared all that away before taking their leave, she turned to Matthew. “What do you think?”

“It’s a commendable endeavor.”

“Will you be part of it?”

He gave a brisk nod. “On the nights when you’re not available.”

Her beatific smile nearly dropped him to his knees. Did she have to be so bloody grateful?

“He’s going to assist you, Mr. Tittlefitz.”

“Jolly good.” The man’s tone lacked enthusiasm, and Matthew was left with the impression the fellow didn’t think it was good at all. “I’ll see you Wednesday, then. Good night, Miss Trewlove, Mr. Sommersby.”

“Enjoy the remainder of your evening,” she encouraged him.

With a brusque nod, the young man made toward the exit, surprising Matthew by his willingness to leave him alone with Miss Trewlove, although he supposed her young clerk was about somewhere.