by Liana Lefey
“His inheritance hinges upon attending the affairs of the Hospital personally no less than twice a year,” Harriett explained. “Last year, he came and looked at the ledgers from inside his carriage—I say ‘looked,’ but I really know not what he did other than sign in the necessary places and have his man hand them right back through the door. This year, the other governors demanded that he actually enter the premises.”
“I see. But if you knew he was coming, why in heaven’s name were you even there?”
“Because although Mr. Blume had arranged to bring him tomorrow, Manchester for some unfathomable reason decided to arrive on his own a day early. I had no warning. He was wandering about in the hall when I came out of a room.”
“I imagine he was most displeased to have you pop out in his path,” said her sister with an irreverent smirk.
The displeasure had been mutual. “Indeed.”
“Why Harriett, I do believe you’re blushing.”
She looked up to see Cat’s eyes sparkling with mirth. “If I am, it is because he vexed me most grievously! He’d been imbibing prior to his arrival and was quite rude.”
Her sister’s face darkened. “Did he make you cry? If he did, I’ll have his hair by the roots! I’ll—”
“I would sooner die than give that man the satisfaction of seeing my tears,” Harriett snapped. She amended her tone in reaction to Cat’s raised brow. “There is nothing he could say that can hurt me. His words are the inconsequential mutterings of a worthless drunkard.”
“Even so, you have but to say the word and I shall put him on my list.”
Harriett observed her scowl with humor, but knew better than to laugh. Cat was quite serious. David Stratford was still on that list seven years after having yanked a pigtail. Once her sister lost her regard for someone, it remained ever lost. “Your loyalty is truly appreciated, but I am quite capable of fighting—and winning—my own battles. Now, we had better go before we are late.”
Seven
Harriett woke with a groan, wishing with all her might that Manchester had not seen her yesterday. Today would have been an at-home day, which would have meant sleeping in after her night out, enjoying a relaxing late breakfast, and having some leisure time. But that had all changed thanks to him. She dragged herself out of her warm, comfortable bed, determined to best the devil.
Donning a modest dark blue gown that covered her from neck to toe, she hurried down to eat a quick, lonely breakfast before beginning her journey. A note left for Papa ensured her early absence would not cause alarm.
The sun was still hiding behind the buildings when the carriage deposited her in front of the Foundling Hospital. She stopped for a moment to look at the work that had been done. The fence around the perimeter was almost complete, and the bricked-in enclosure between the wings would soon be finished. The fence was iron and tipped with spikes to keep out thieves, and the new wall would ensure the children a safe place to play outdoors.
The sunshine and fresh air would do them a world of good.
Mounting the steps, she entered. Normally the place was quiet at this hour, but what she found this morning was chaos. Nurse Hayes trotted out of W—no, it was not William’s office anymore, it was the Administrator’s. It belonged to the current Lord Manchester. A sharp pang stabbed her in the chest, stealing her breath.
“Oh, my lady!” whispered Nurse Hayes, bustling over and wringing her hands. “It’s terrible—he arrived half an hour ago, and he’s been turning everything upside down. The master’s office is in an awful state.”
“It is his office now,” Harriett reminded her, careful to show none of her resentment. “Go about your duties. I shall see to our visitor.”
“Yes, my lady,” said Nurse Hayes, giving her a grateful smile. She turned to go, but a sharp voice issuing from within the Administrator’s office halted her.
“Nurse Hayes! Entries for food purchases stop after the first week in December. Am I to believe no supplies were needed for the remainder of that month?”
Nurse Hayes cast a nervous glance at her.
Harriett waved her on and watched as the woman hurried from the room. Steeling herself, she strode across the foyer with purpose. What in the seven hells was he doing here at this hour?
Causing trouble, that’s what.
It didn’t matter. Everything was in perfect order. Or at least it had been before Lord Pain in the Arse had arrived to muck it up. All she had to do was keep calm—at least on the surface—until he left. If she felt like a gibbering fool inside, she certainly wouldn’t let him know it.
“Nurse Hayes!”
Though Manchester’s bark made her jump, Harriett steadied herself and peeked around the door frame. There he sat at William’s desk, his head bent over the ledger, a pipe in his hand.
“You needn’t bellow, Your Grace. She isn’t deaf.”
His head snapped up. “You’re certainly here early, Lady Harriett. Most ladies of quality do not deign to rise before the tenth hour.”
“And good morning to you, as well,” she replied, keeping her tone light. “I am accustomed to rising with the sun, Your Grace.”
“How very odd,” he drawled, his whiskey eyes raking her over. “But then, I suppose you would be better rested than those indulging in frivolous evening entertainments.”
Meaning he didn’t think she had been invited anywhere, of course. Keep calm, she told herself. This is just beginning. There would be an entire morning of this, from the look of it. “As it happens, I did enjoy a delightful party hosted by Lord and Lady Abernathy yesterday evening. Yet, as you can see, I am still here to serve in what capacity I may. If everyone had the self-discipline to rise early and put their faculties to good use, the world would be a better place. Unfortunately, most people are far too taken with shallow pleasures to consider the good of their fellow man.”
Her return jab resulted only in his lips forming their familiar smirk. “How unfortunate that not everyone has your dedication and fortitude, Lady Harriett. Be that as it may, I have dragged myself from the considerable comforts of my bedchamber this morning to review the operation of this facility. Including this ledger, here.” He tapped it with the mouth of his pipe.
“Excellent. Let us not delay you from your comforts any longer than necessary, then.” She came around to his side of the desk and leaned over to point to a notation in the ledger’s margin. A queer expression, almost like panic, flickered across his face as he looked up. It was gone in the next instant.
She must have imagined it.
“As you can see,” she continued, “there were indeed no food purchases for the remainder of December thanks to a generous Christmas donation of food supplies from Lord and Lady Bracknell.” She fixed her gaze upon her own neat handwriting, determined to ignore the way he was staring at her.
At last, he looked to where she pointed. “Yes. I see that now.”
“You will find that any and all irregularities in the monthly expense column, no matter how minor, are annotated so throughout the ledger.”
He gave no response.
That’s right, you son of the devil. She’d left no room for questions—or criticism. “Was there anything else?” she asked, smiling to herself over his bent head.
“Thus far…no,” he said, sounding both strained and disappointed. He straightened. “There is far too much to digest in one sitting. I’m afraid I shall have to review the rest over an extended period.”
Her triumph faded. “Naturally, you must take as long as you desire, Your Grace.” What else could she say? “I would not wish you to hurry in your examination, though I trust you will find the rest to be just as satisfactory.”
“Mm,” he grunted. “In retrospect, I realize I have been far too distant a manager.”
“You did not feel that way when you thought I was Mr. Dun,” she snapped before thinking better of it. Now he looked up at her, his smirk back in place. She cursed herself for giving him the reaction he’d sought.
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br /> “That isn’t the reason why I am doing it,” he told her. “I thought about what you said yesterday, and you were correct. I have never taken the interest in this place I ought. You should be glad, Lady Harriett, to know your words had an impact upon my poor, under-used conscience.”
His speech was pretty, but his tone conveyed another meaning entirely. Her blood boiled. “You have no conscience. The only reason you are here is to torment me.”
“Torment you?” he asked, his features rearranging into a mockery of distress. “How very ungenerous of you. Rest assured that, despite your rather self-centered explanation for my being here, my motives do not solely revolve around you. I have a duty to discharge here, and I intend to discharge it—thoroughly.”
“There is a first time for everything, I suppose,” she countered, no longer bothering to hide her rancor. At least he’d not denied she was part of the reason he was here! “That said, if you truly wish to benefit the Hospital, you’ll conduct your investigation and then leave us in peace.”
“Leave you in peace, you mean.”
Her cheeks heated. “I will not deny that such is also my desire. But in truth, my only interest is in seeing William’s legacy firmly established. As long as that is also your purpose, I will gladly tolerate your presence. But I expect you to behave yourself in a manner befitting a gentleman.”
~ * ~
Unfortunately, he didn’t feel very gentlemanly at the moment. What he felt like was taking the irritating woman over his knee. “As I shall tolerate yours, provided you show me proper respect.”
“As long as you conduct yourself respectfully, Your Grace, I shall do the same so that we may interact without conflict for the benefit of the Hospital. As far as my respect…”—her lip twitched on the verge of a derisive curl—“I’m afraid that must be earned.”
Rich was wrong. It would not matter if he apologized. It would not matter if he sprouted angel’s wings and a halo, this woman would never regard him with anything other than thinly veiled contempt. “If you do not approve of my conduct, madam, you know the way out.”
Her delicate brows came together. “Unlike some, I will not abandon my duty because it is inconvenient or uncomfortable. Rest assured you shall have no complaint of me, Your Grace.”
He gazed at her, at the woman William had called his “divine angel of mercy.” She looked anything but divine. Her gown was almost as bad as the one she’d worn yesterday. Her plain, brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and there on her hand gleamed William’s mourning ring.
It was a stark reminder. As was the image of his brother staring at him from the wall beside her. He ground his teeth and refrained from glancing at it, concentrating instead on the difficult female standing before him. In spite of everything, he could not help the desire that swept through him as he observed the too-proud line of her jaw, the tilt of her narrowed eyes, and her tight, compressed lips. She was nothing spectacular to look upon, especially when she wore such a haughty, disapproving expression; but even so, something about her stirred him.
Damn. He’d thought sobriety would dispel his unwanted attraction to her, but it was not so. “I shall do my best to tread lightly while I am here,” he lied. “And in return, I shall expect you to answer every question I put to you.”
Her chin rose another increment. “I shall do so gladly—provided such questions pertain to the running of this Hospital.”
Rather than dissuading him, her evasive response made him burn with curiosity. What sort of woman was she when she wasn’t angry? Had she been tender with William? Had she laughed with him? Knowing such thoughts would cause him nothing but trouble, he shoved them into the darkest corner of his mind. “Agreed. May I count on your cooperation for the duration of my visit, then?”
After a long moment, she nodded. “Yes. Let us begin with a proper tour of the grounds.” She turned and marched out of his office, her spine as straight as the boards upon which she trod.
He made it all the way to the door before it hit him that he’d just come to heel like any well-trained dog. The thought brought him to an abrupt halt. His face warmed as he spied her waiting for him by the rear exit.
“I’m sure you have a great deal to accomplish today, Your Grace,” she said, her tone that of a mother speaking to a naughty little boy. “I shan’t keep you any longer than necessary.”
His pulse jumped with irritation, and he debated refusing to follow. Before he could act on the impulse, Rich’s words came back to haunt him. If he did so, it would only reinforce her poor opinion of him. Gritting his teeth, he did as she bade.
As he passed her, he again caught a whiff of lavender. It was a soft, warm scent, reminiscent of happy summers spent in the country. It seemed a gross incongruity that she should choose to wear such a scent, given that she was so harsh and demanding a person.
They entered the hallway, and he again marked how nice everything looked. The surroundings were not by any means lavish, but they were neat and comfortable.
“The older children, those between the ages of three and six, live here on the first floor,” she said, showing him a chamber similar to the one he’d seen yesterday. “The infants and younger children are above on the second floor. The live-in staff members are housed on the third floor.”
“How is it that you are able to find homes for all these children? It is my understanding that London’s orphanages are overflowing.”
“Unfortunately, while we are able to place many, we cannot do so with all,” she explained. “Some do age out.”
“What do you do with them? Surely you don’t turn them out into the streets.”
Her look was one of horror. “Certainly not! Once a child turns four, he or she begins proper schooling here. We teach them their letters and numbers, and the beginnings of reading. Upon reaching the age of five, boys showing an aptitude for scholarship are sent to a school in Newcastle. We have an agreement with the parish church there. Some of the boys will eventually take vows and join the ranks of the clergy, and others will graduate to find clerical work.”
“And what of those who do not show a scholarly aptitude?”
“They are placed in apprenticeship with one of the local craftsmen with whom our school has built a relationship.”
“And the girls?”
“They prove a bit more difficult, as I’m sure you can understand,” she said, her brow creasing with concern. “Last year, we helped found a school here in London specifically to take our girls. They may, depending upon their bent, become ladies’ maids, cooks, or seamstresses. As with the boys, those with the mind for it may continue academic studies. Eventually, those will become teachers or governesses. Eligibility for such extended education is determined by academic performance. A girl must earn her merit scholarship each year in order to continue.”
“That seems like a long-term, rather expensive arrangement.”
“It is,” she agreed, fixing him with a piercing gaze that made him feel about as big as an ant. “But you need not worry, for it is not one that affects your purse. We have partnered with a church and three other orphanages, and garnered contributions from several benefactors for the endeavor. The expense is borne entirely by them.”
Again, his hackles rose. “Had I known you were doing it, I might have also contributed.”
“You were informed, Your Grace. I had Mr. Blume bring you the documents detailing the plan two years ago, documents that asked specifically for your participation. You sent them back—unsigned.”
If it was possible to shrink to a size smaller than an ant, he would have done so. “I must have missed it amid all the other papers he shoved under my nose at every visit.”
They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. He knew exactly what she thought of his sorry excuse. And he knew it was every bit deserved. He hadn’t read those papers. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d wanted to pretend this place didn’t exist.
He watched as she took a long, deep breath and turned awa
y to resume their tour. “Children placed with families are not forgotten,” she continued. “We maintain contact with them for a minimum of four months, conducting both planned and unplanned visits to ensure their safety and care. If there is even the smallest hint of anything untoward, they are removed at once.”
“Your thoroughness is astonishing.”
Whirling, she again faced him, nearly causing him to run into her. Her hazel eyes narrowed, regarding him with open hostility.
“I meant only to compliment you,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m quite sure no other establishment goes to such lengths.” Hell, his own father had hardly done as much, and that only under duress. He’d been let run completely wild until after his eighth birthday. Only after William, returning home for a visit from university, commented on his shameful state had their father even thought to make arrangements for his younger son’s education. That Roland had excelled in his studies after such neglect was due solely to his determination to impress his brother, who prized knowledge above all things.
“Thank you,” said his nemesis, looking a bit flustered. Turning, she walked away, forcing him to move on down the corridor. A dull rumbling of noise grew as they neared the door at its end. “Here is the dining hall,” she said, opening the door and standing aside to let him see.
Beyond, he saw the long trestles, now filled with children. “So many,” he murmured.
“We would care for more, if it were possible.” Her expression was wistful as she gazed out over the children’s heads. “But we haven’t the space to hold them, nor do we have the funds to provide for their keep. Not yet.”
“There have to be at least fifty children here.”
“There are sixty-three here and twelve more upstairs, not counting the infants,” she answered. “The children in the sick ward are fed separately to prevent the spread of contagion—in either direction. Both the ill and the healthy must be equally protected. And that includes our nurses and other staff here.”
He glanced at her, wondering briefly if she was thinking of William, too. “I’ve seen enough,” he said, turning away. “Let us proceed.”
