Page 30 of The Gentlewoman Companion

Their conversation in his study had sparked a small connection between them. He’d been warm and vulnerable and seemed to find comfort in connecting her supposed mourning to the anguish he felt at his father’s passing. He was twice wrong.

Though she mourned her mother, that loss had not driven her to destroy her clothing. She knew the endless ache of losing a parent, but their experience was not the same. In losing her mother, Louisa had lost her only advocate, while Halverton retained every advantage and needed no one to speak for him.

Halverton studied the far wall as if searching for a long-erased marking. It suddenly struck Louisa as absurdly amusing, this lord, traipsing the floors in his stockings, so collected and somber. She laughed then covered her mouth.

He turned his scowl on her before dropping his hand.

“What are you saying, my lord?”

“My speech for the House of Lords. This blasted weather…and I can’t remember my third point.”

“What are the first two?”

“I contend that we use taxes to support funding for the Foundling Hospital. Firstly, a significant portion of the funding is already sourced from charitable donations, thereby minimizing the requirements for substantial public funds. Secondly, funding such a project is a just use of public taxes because the institution provides sanctuary for children—innocent souls who are unable to care for themselves. However, I find myself struggling to articulate my third point.”

In Bath, Louisa had seen homeless children huddled together, cold and listless in dark corners, some even dying in the streets. She shivered, knowing if things had turned out differently, she could have been among them.

“Perhaps I can help.” She copied his manner, extending her fingers. “First, country parishes are not always equipped to give needy children proper care. They often overburden the financial resources of country towns. Second, if wealthy gentry such as yourself, whose means are near limitless, are unwilling to share their bounty with the less fortunate, who can we expect to do it?”

He looked at her, silent and motionless, until heat rushed to her cheeks.

“Well?” She sat up and patted her gown. It was still damp.

“That is a perspective I have not been privy to.”

“My father is a squire and magistrate. I hear enough of county business to know that abandoned and orphaned children can strain a community.”

His brow furrowed. “I hold manorial courts. As the local authority, I should hear of these things, yet I have not.”

“Most disputes are resolved before they arrive at your door.” Lady Halverton sat up and wiped the creases from her gown. “How long did I sleep?”

“Over an hour.” He looked out the window. “It’s not letting up.”

“At least you benefitted from Louisa’s wisdom.” Her gaze fell on Louisa, indulgent and adoring. Louisa’s mother had looked at her that same way.

“She is wise,” Lord Halverton said. “When horses are not involved.” His mouth ticked up, lopsided.

“Oh! You can make a joke.” She could not suppress a smile.

Lady Halverton broke into laughter.

Some part of the knot that weighed on Louisa unraveled. As Charles’s younger sister, she knew what it was to be mocked, ruthlessly and unfairly, nothing like Lord Halverton’s gentle tease. These two people, whose status was far above her own, seemed to like her. She sighed, feeling the warmth of the fire, the support of the chair, a calm enveloping her.

She shook it off, not trusting the sensation, for that man had also made her feel clever, and the idea that had led to the Great Misjudgment had brought promises of peace that would never be fulfilled.

“Perhaps we should brave the rain?” Louisa suggested. Slogging through mud was better than remaining in the close room where emotions tapped at her consciousness.

“If we do not, we may be here through the night,” Lady Halverton said.

“It is not worth the risk of either of you catching a cold.” Lord Halverton sat down and crossed his arms as if the case were settled.

“We are a hearty bunch.” Lady Halverton sprung to her feet as if to show her agility. “It is not so much cold as wet. Graham can ride ahead and have hot chocolate and baths waiting.”

“Thirty minutes in the rain, and a cough is sure to beset you,” her son said. “I will go for a carriage.”

“A carriage won’t make it through the mire. Let’s go, Louisa.” Lady Halverton waited by the door. “James can remain here if he is afraid of falling ill.” She winked at Louisa when Lord Halverton joined them.

The deluge soaked them within the first steps, but Louisa welcomed the cleansing rush of water and the mud that sucked her boots to earth.