Unseemly Ambition by K.B. Owen Page B

attention to.
    Gertrude Pomeroy nodded. “I see.
Unfortunately, your absences have been noted by others—”
    “ Indeed they have,” a deep
voice interrupted, and Randolph Maynard walked in. Concordia
wondered how long the dean had been listening at the
door.
    “ If your personal troubles
are causing you to shirk your duties, Miss Wells,” he continued,
glowering at her under those thick black brows, “you are free to
give notice and attend to them at your leisure. Here at the
college, we expect our staff to give the needs of the students
their highest priority.”
    Concordia bit back a retort
about how the male staff were permitted to have private lives, without being
accused of compromising the care of their students.
    “ That won’t be necessary,”
she merely said, through gritted teeth. Blast the man.
    “ And you , Miss Pomeroy,” Maynard said,
turning to the lady principal, “the female teachers and students
are your responsibility. Are you going to permit your teaching
staff to simply leave whenever they wish, without a care for their
duties? What sort of example does this set for the students? You
are flirting with anarchy here.”
    Concordia rolled her eyes. Quite a
leap in logic from a single teacher with a personal emergency to a
student revolt.
    Miss Pomeroy flushed a mottled red,
but otherwise remained composed. “Mr. Maynard, the students of Miss
Wells’ cottage were well cared-for and properly chaperoned by the
cottage matron in the meanwhile. I’m confident Miss Wells ensured
that before she left.”
    Concordia stayed silent, realizing
that she had not in fact done so. Thank heaven for the ever-patient
and understanding Ruby.
    “ Be that as it may,”
Maynard said, “Miss Wells’ reputation precedes her. When I first
got here, I learned enough about this young woman to know I’d have
to keep my eye on her. The lady
sleuth. Climbing out of windows. Finding
dead bodies. Trapping an embezzler. Confronting a murderer, alone,
in the dark. Getting herself nearly strangled while confronting
yet another murderer.” He waggled a finger in Concordia’s direction. “You,
young lady, invite trouble.”
    Concordia listened to the diatribe in
stunned silence. She had assumed the gossip about her had died out
long ago. Of course, he’d overheard the newspaperman’s comment at
the reception, so it was naïve of her to assume he would let it go.
The way Maynard characterized it, her conduct seemed most unsavory.
Certainly not decorous behavior from one’s teaching
staff.
    But Maynard couldn’t know the urgency
that guided her actions at the time, the necessity of protecting
her students, her family, and herself. She knew she would do it all
over again.
    “ And now,” Maynard
continued, when no one said anything, “you are no doubt involved in
another unseemly undertaking, and playing detective
again.”
    Although this was uncomfortably close
to the truth, Concordia folded her hands and looked Maynard square
in the eye. “Indeed?” was all she trusted herself to
say.
    Inwardly, she felt less than composed.
Having the dean closely monitor her activities would pose a
problem, should she and Capshaw persuade Miss Hamilton to come and
resume the search for Eli. Concordia planned to ask Miss Pomeroy’s
permission for Miss Hamilton to stay at DeLacey House, where the
women administrators and senior teachers lived. Perhaps that would
be too close for comfort. It would not do for Maynard to discover
that Miss Hamilton was a Pinkerton detective.
    Maynard pounded his fist on the desk,
making both women jump in their chairs. “You aren’t paying me any
attention, Miss Wells.”
    Miss Pomeroy stood, her expression
grim. Concordia stared, open-mouthed, as the lady principal stalked
over to Maynard and leaned close. Maynard shrank back, despite the
fact that he was a foot taller and at least eighty pounds heavier
than the diminutive old lady.
    “ I will deal with my staff
as I see fit, Mr. Maynard,” the