“A partnership?” Ruth asked quietly.
“Precisely,” Lady Lynmouth said with a bit more enthusiasm. “Once I explain myself, I hope you’ll encourage your board to agree to my proposal.”
“If St. Agnes’s and its board of directors can assist you then we’ll be happy to do so.”
“Thank you, my lady.” The countess folded her hands in her lap, and her wariness eased somewhat, although there was still critical assessment in her gaze. “All the children at Caring Hearts are given a general education and at the age of thirteen, they’re apprenticed at one of several farms or manufacturing businesses throughout England.”
“That’s extraordinary. How did you convince the owners to take on your children as apprentices?” Ruth asked with amazement. Why in heaven’s name hadn’t she thought of something so simple?
“My brother owns numerous properties and arranges the apprenticeships with local businesses.” Lady Lynmouth’s response made Ruth frown. Was the woman’s brother exploiting the orphanage’s children? She would never be a party to such a scheme.
“That sounds like a . . . profitable venture.”
“Good heavens, no.”
The woman looked mortified and glanced at Millstadt, who quickly straightened in his chair. He stretched out his hand in the countess’s direction in a comforting manner as he looked at Ruth.
“The properties are indeed profitable, but the monies are used to pay the children who work there,” Millstadt said as he shifted positions in his chair as he warmed to his topic. It was clear the orphanage’s operation had impressed him. “Once the child’s apprenticeship is complete, they have the option to seek employment elsewhere or stay. Any extra monies not used to maintain the property or pay the workers are returned to the orphanage. A remarkable setup, actually.”
The man was right. It was an impressive feat to care for children while creating an environment for them where they could become self-supporting. Something told her Millstadt would be making a proposal at the next meeting of the board of directors that a similar plan be put into place at St. Agnes’s. It was a proposal she’d be more than happy to endorse, but this didn’t explain why the countess had come to see her.
“I admit that I’m most impressed with the operations of your home, Lady Lynmouth, but what could I possibly offer you in a joint venture?”
“At the moment, Caring Hearts is bursting at the seams. Although my brother just purchased a new property this morning, the improvements to make it suitable for children will take several weeks. I was hoping to find a safe haven for some of my older children until we can place them in an apprenticeship or until the new property is ready for use.”
“Although we’re also crowded here, I’m sure we can find a way to take in a few more children. And I’m certain St. Agnes’s board of directors would be more than happy to be of assistance,” Ruth said, her mind already calculating how many more children the orphanage could handle.
“Thank you.” The woman leaned forward, gratitude lighting her beautiful face. “In return I would be more than happy to arrange apprenticeships for the older children here at St. Agnes’s.”
“That would be most kind,” Ruth said as she smiled at the woman across the desk from her. “As it so happens, I also just purchased a new piece of property—a small estate in West Sussex. I expect to finalize the sale tomorrow. Improvements are already underway, so Crawley Hall should be ready by the end of the month.”
“Crawley Hall?” The countess’s voice was a choked gasp, her expression one of astonishment.
“Lady Lynmouth, are you all right?” Millstadt asked with concern, and the woman gently waved aside her escort’s attentive manner.
“You bought Crawley Hall?” Disbelief echoed in the woman’s voice as she stared at Ruth.
“Yes. Do you know the property?” Ruth frowned as she studied the other woman’s bemusement.
“Quite well. It was one of three we’d been considering,” the woman said with a frown, as if working through a problem. “But, your offer was higher than the bid my brother Garrick made on the estate.”
“Your brother?” Startled, she stared at the countess.
“Yes, I believe you know him, the Baron Stratfield. He’s spoken of you to me, and I am under the impression that he holds you in the highest regard.”
The woman’s response sent Ruth’s head spinning. Lady Lynmouth was Garrick’s sister. It explained why the woman had looked so familiar to her. The two siblings looked very much alike.
“I’m flattered that your brother thinks me worthy of his admiration,” Ruth said quietly as she studied Lady Lynmouth’s unreadable expression. Something in the woman’s voice said she wasn’t happy that Garrick even knew her. It wasn’t unexpected that Garrick’s sister would disapprove of her, but for him to discuss her with his sister left her feeling exposed. Prompted by the sudden need to escape any further conversation until she’d gathered herself, Ruth stood up and circled the desk in a clear signal that the meeting was concluded. She offered her hand to the board member sitting across from her.
“Mr. Millstadt, I believe we should call a meeting of the board to secure their approval of her ladyship’s request.”
“Of course, my lady. I’ll see to it as soon as I’ve seen the countess safely home.” Millstadt got to his feet and kissed her hand then turned to the woman still seated in front of the desk. “Shall we, Lady Lynmouth?”
Garrick’s sister frowned and shook her head. “Mr. Millstadt, would you mind giving me a moment alone with her ladyship?”
“Why . . . of course . . . certainly, my lady,” the man said with surprise as he looked from Lady Lynmouth to Ruth and then back again.
With a slight bow to them both, he left the office, closing the door behind him. Ruth had a strong inkling as to what was to come. She’d had visits from mothers in the past, demanding that she stop seeing their sons. No doubt, Garrick’s sister would do the same. She returned to her seat behind the desk, but didn’t sit down. The furniture would provide a sufficient barrier to help distance herself from the woman. Not willing to wait for the attack that was certain to come, she held herself rigid and straight with her fingertips pressing into the mahogany desk.
“I’m sorry for your distress at hearing I am the new owner of Crawley Hall.” She drew in a deep breath and released it. “I hope for the sake of the children you will see fit to continue with this joint venture between our two orphanages.”
“I wouldn’t think of refusing your generosity. I was merely surprised to hear that you were the one who’d outbid Garrick. It’s the first time he’s ever failed to buy a property he wanted.”
Ruth’s muscles grew taut. Property he wanted. The other night he’d told her the exact opposite. He’d said Crawley Hall didn’t suit his needs, and yet his sister was saying something different. One of them was lying. Then there was the woman’s surprise that Ruth had been the one who supposedly outbid Garrick.
The countess must assume she was poor as a church mouse. The assumption wasn’t far from the truth. She’d had to sell all of her jewels and the house near Bath to pay for the Hall. Although she still had the town house, she would eventually have to rent it to subsidize her income from her other investments. She would have enough to live on, but she would always have to be careful with money.
She frowned as she questioned why Garrick would tell his sister he’d bid on Crawley Hall when he’d done nothing of the sort. Then there was the question of why he would tell her the property didn’t suit him when his sister said otherwise. Lady Lynmouth eyed her intently, and Ruth tried to recall what the countess had just said. Something about her reason for buying the Hall. The woman was as inquisitive as her brother.
“It would seem that Lord Stratfield and I have been working at cross-purposes. I bought Crawley Hall so that I might send the more sickly children out into the country.”
“Ah, I see.” Lady Lynmouth narrowed her eyes at her. “So you don’t intend to
retreat to the country . . . permanently.”
Ruth sucked in a sharp breath. The woman’s words created a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, leaving her queasy. Why would Lady Lynmouth ask if she planned to retire to Crawley Hall? Something Ruth had revealed only to Garrick, when he’d pressured her for her reasons for purchasing the Hall.
What in heaven’s name had made her tell him she planned to retire at Crawley Hall? She could have told him the real reason why she wanted the house, but most of the men in her life had always had an aversion to children. Men didn’t like to talk about children, even their own. Why should she have thought him any different? Telling him anything at all had been against her better judgment, but he’d been so damned persistent. Now the bastard had told his sister that Ruth planned to retire to the country.
She stiffened with horror. Oh God, if the real reason he’d not placed a bid on the property was because he felt sorry for her . . . she swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Suddenly, she felt older than ever before. It was a deep, gnawing ache that twisted its way through her body until she could have sworn she’d aged twenty years in less than a few moments.
Not even when Marston had left her less than a month ago had she ever felt so desperate to be young again. Determined not to reveal how devastating Lady Lynmouth’s observation had been, she straightened her shoulders as she looked at the woman.
“My plans are focused on St. Agnes’s and the children.”
“I admire your devotion to the children, but it is my brother I am really concerned about.”
“I think your fears warrantless in that direction.” The woman was assuming Ruth’s influence over Garrick was one of great substance. It was anything but.
“Perhaps. Then again, you might underestimate your charms. My brother has only had one mistress, who he just parted with a short time ago. I’m certain he would find your . . . experience . . . a strong attraction.”
Lady Lynmouth’s statement sliced through Ruth with the precision of a finely sharpened blade. The word experience suddenly took on new meaning, and she could feel the wood giving way beneath her fingers as she fought to control her emotions. Insults were something a woman in her position dealt with fairly regularly, but Lady Lynmouth had chosen to highlight the fact that Ruth was a mature woman with a younger man. In other words, she was old.
“As I said a moment ago, your fears are misplaced.” The terse note in her voice made Lady Lynmouth have the decency to appear contrite.
“Forgive me, my lady. I love my brother very much. Garrick looked after me, my sister, and my younger brother when we were growing up. His happiness is all that matters to us.”
“An admirable sentiment, but your brother and I are little more than acquaintances.”
Did acquaintances kiss in a carriage with the heat and intensity that Garrick had kissed her with the other night? The memory created a languid coil of heat in her belly. It did so with a speed that alarmed her, forcing her to realize that there might be more truth to Lady Lynmouth’s fears than Ruth had thought.
“Acquaintances at the moment, but I saw the way Garrick looked when he talked about you. His heart is not lost yet, but if you continue to see him . . . I simply do not wish to see him hurt.”
An abrupt blaze of anger lashed through her at the woman’s words. While she could understand Lady Lynmouth’s desire to protect her brother, to imply that Ruth was somehow responsible for Garrick’s pursuit of her infuriated her.
“Lord Stratfield is more than capable of making his own decisions, and to imply that I am responsible for his continued association with me is not only insulting, but ludicrous,” she bit out in a freezing tone. “I am not pursuing your brother, as you have suggested, Lady Lynmouth. In fact, I have done everything to dissuade him from furthering our acquaintance. To suggest that I have encouraged him tells me it’s either my reputation or maturity that you find so threatening where your brother is concerned.”
“I am only—”
“Yes. I know. You’re only concerned for your brother’s heart.” The caustic tone of her voice made Lady Lynmouth frown with what almost looked like regret. Ruth didn’t care as she sent the woman a cold stare of anger. “I think it’s time you left, Lady Lynmouth, before I do something rash and penalize others for your rude, offensive behavior.”
The woman appeared on the verge of speaking, and Ruth uttered a noise of outrage as she circled the desk to move toward the office door.
“Lady Ruth—”
“Spare me the obligatory apologies, please. We both know they’re not sincere,” Ruth said coldly as she jerked the office door open. “I think you can see yourself out, Lady Lynmouth.”
The sarcastic emphasis on the woman’s title made it clear that Ruth didn’t find Lady Lynmouth’s behavior noble in any way, and she allowed herself a small nugget of satisfaction at the woman’s quiet gasp. Good, the barb had hit home. Maybe the woman would think twice before insulting someone else in the future. Her stride filled with anger, she charged out of the office and down the hall toward the kitchen.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry. Not since the day she’d seen one of the local pickpockets slapping little Jenny Chapman in the face had she been this furious. She’d not encouraged Garrick in any way since their initial meeting. You accepted his friendship. She ignored the voice in the back of her head.
The man had been so insistent, it had been impossible to refuse him. Not impossible. She released a small noise of frustration at the nagging voice that hammered away at her. She wasn’t the one who’d asked for jewelry. He’d sent it without any encouragement from her. You kept it. She shoved the silent accusation aside.
The man had been attempting to apologize, and with a great deal more imagination than any other suitor she’d ever had. No. Garrick wasn’t a suitor—he was a friend. Not even that. Friends didn’t discuss her with others, not even family. She could just imagine what the man had said about her.
When Lady Lynmouth had asked whether she was going to retire to the country, it had made her ill. It could be a coincidence that the woman might think Crawley Hall was a place for Ruth to live out her remaining years, but it all seemed a bit too convenient. Worse, it meant she was an object of pity, and that was something she wouldn’t tolerate.
She’d had no choice in the life she’d chosen. Her father had seen to that. When he’d abandoned her mother, he’d abandoned her, too. She’d done what she had to to survive. Now that she was teetering on the edge of retirement, she didn’t want anyone’s pity, least of all Baron Stratfield’s. She rubbed her fingers across her forehead in an effort to stave off the headache threatening to overpower her. There were still dishes to do, and worrying herself silly over either Garrick or his sister’s visit was pointless.
Hours later, she’d finished helping with putting the younger children to bed and was debating whether to stay another night at St. Agnes’s. She had a sudden longing for a long soak in a hot tub of scented bath salts. Her fingers undid the knot at the back of her apron as she descended the back staircase of the orphanage into the kitchen.
Candles were the room’s only light, as the sun had set more than an hour ago. She smiled as she saw Annie sitting by the fire warily eyeing Simmons, who was sitting in a chair by the back door. Dolores had decided it was time she came home, and her friend had sent reinforcements to ensure that outcome. The moment he saw her, the man quickly stood up, his derby hat in his hand.
“I’ve come to fetch you home, my lady.”
“Yes, thank you, Simmons.”
She removed her apron and dropped it into the laundry basket in the far corner of the room then accepted her cape from her butler.
“Annie, come lock the door behind us, and make sure Thomas locked the front door as well. He’s a good boy, but can be forgetful.”
“Yes, m’lady. I’ll make sure he does. Do you want me to tell Mrs. Beardsley anything?”
“Just that I’ll resume my
normal visits next week, and if she has need of me to send me word.”
“I’ll make sure she knows, m’lady. I’m glad to see you going home to get a proper night’s sleep.”
Annie’s dismay that Ruth had spent two nights in the orphanage was evident in her voice, but Ruth didn’t respond. It was impossible to argue with Annie once she’d made up her mind about something. And the girl was convinced Ruth was doing things unfitting to her station in life. Instead she simply smiled and allowed Simmons to usher her out into the night.
As the carriage rattled through the still busy streets toward her town house on Carlisle Street, her thoughts drifted back to Lady Lynmouth’s visit earlier that afternoon. She’d thought her anger had vanished, but it hadn’t. The woman’s audacity in lecturing her about how she was an older woman leading on an innocent young man infuriated her.
The idea was ridiculous, but the woman’s scandalized tone had been a stinging reminder of the other night when Garrick had taken her to the opera. Everyone who’d seen them together had reacted the same way as Lady Lynmouth. Horrified to see her in public with a younger man. She should have known better when she agreed to his offer of friendship. Well, the sooner he was out of her life, the better. The man was proving to be nothing but trouble. She ignored the rebellious voice crying out a protest.
The vehicle rocked to a gentle stop and less than a minute later she was climbing the steps to her house as Simmons saw to the business of returning the carriage to the mews. As she walked through the front door, Dolores came running down the hallway to greet her, a worried expression on her face.
“Oh my lady, I’m so sorry—”
“Where the devil have you been for the past two nights?”
Garrick’s voice made her jump as she whirled around to see him standing in the doorway of the salon. Her initial impression of him was that he looked tired. Almost as if he’d not been sleeping. A frown furrowed his brow, and his expression wavered between deep worry and another emotion she hesitated to name. For a moment, she felt the need to go to him and ease his concerns. She stopped herself as the memory of his sister’s visit shoved its way into her thoughts. She longed to race upstairs and away from a confrontation, but it would only put off the inevitable.
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