Butler Dawson maintained the same dignifiedposure that <b>one </b>might expect <b>from </b>an English butler of a bygone era, even in the <b>face </b>of Ileana’s usations.
“<b>Miss </b>Ileana, if I were you, I’d pretend nothing ever happened. Don’t you see <b>by </b><b>now</b><b>? </b>I’m not the one who refused to give you Mr. Tate’s number. Nor was I the one <b>who </b>let Miss Morton in. My loyalty lies with the Tate family, with Mr. Tate, and with his sons. But you, Miss, are not among them.”
It hadn’t been Dawson’s decision to withhold the phone number–that was Scott’s explicit order. After Ileana’s disastrous scene at the family wee dinner, her value in Scott’s eyes had plummeted. No family of stature would tolerate a daughter–inw who lost herposure in public over some minor slight<b>, </b>embarrassing them in front of their guests.
As for letting Alessia into the house–that was entirely Max’s doing. Alessia’s influence at home stemmed mostly from Max’s support.
Ileana, by contrast, was simply ignored. She couldmand the other staff, but when it came to Dawson–the man who managed every detail of the Tate
household–she had no leverage whatsoever.
“It’s gettingte. I suggest you get some rest. I’ll be on my way. As for the lock, I’m afraid you’ll have to manage for tonight. I’ll have someone rece it for you in the
morning.”
With that, Dawson turned and left. The door closed softly behind him, but Ileana’s shrill scream pierced the quiet, grating on the nerves. ss shattered and things crashed to the floor, but Dawson didn’t so much as nce back. He simply descended the stairs, leaving the chaos behind.
By dawn, the storm of the night had passed.
Alessia, ever efficient, had managed to resolve Ivan’s situation before morning. The so–called “assessment” was little more than an excuse to tailor a curriculum to Ivan’s needs; even if he didn’t ace it, it wouldn’t dy his admission.
To be thorough, Alessia took the day off and personally apanied Ivan to Berlington Elementary. To her surprise, the principal and two teachers were waiting
at the entrance.
“Mr. Linden, it’s been a while,” Alessia said, gently squeezing Ivan’s hand–a silent reassurance that seemed to steady him.
11:55
Lessie! I was starting to think you’d never call Charlie Linden<b>, </b>Just shy of fifty bur looking a decade younger, greeted her with a broad, genuine smile.
“I’ve been briefed on the situation, so I didn’t bother with any extra staff. Just as <b>you </b>asked, I brought York’s homeroom teacher and the assessment supervisor.
“Thank you so much,” Alessia replied politely, keeping a touch of distance <b>in </b><b>her </b>tone. Charlie, however, was <b>as </b>warm as ever.
“Oh, don’t thank me! I’m still racking my brains over how to repay you. You’re so young, so talented, and yet never arrogant. Are you sure you won’t consider my son? He’s only five years older than you–not exactly ancient! Looks and brains <b>to </b>match, too.”
Alessia stifled a sigh. “Mr. Linden, I’m only seventeen. I haven’t even graduated high school yet.”
“Which is exactly why you should strike while the Iron’s hot! Someone as
outstanding as you, once you’re in college, you’ll have suitors lined up from here to Rome. Wouldn’t you at least let myzy son cut the line?”
“If you keep this up, I’m leaving. Let’s talk about Ivan’s admission, shall we?” Alessia pretended to step away, knowing persuasion was pointless.
“No, no, don’t go! It’s rare to have you reach out to me.” Charlie quickly caught her arm, not wanting to let her escape.
The two teachers exchanged nces, surprised to see their normally stern. principal acting so animated. They couldn’t help but wonder who this girl really
<b>was</b>.
“This is Ivan, the student you mentioned?” Charlie asked, recovering hisposure in an instant. “I’ve
cleared his throat all the details. Let’s head inside and talk in the office.” He
all business once more.