Page 29 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

Gabriel’s expression was unreadable. “You like to think you’re different, I suppose.”

She bristled, fury rising. Why was he suddenly being so annoying? “I am different.”

“But until I told you about the poverty of these children you had no idea.” His tone was faintly mocking, and the glitter in his eyes told her he was perversely enjoying himself.

“No one had ever told me.” She could feel herself becoming defensive. “I didn’t know.” She had a strong feeling that this wasn’t the way for him to go about recruiting her help, which she’d felt sure he might be going to do this morning. Maybe he’d just invited her to the park so he could show her up and make her feel guilty and angry. If that had been his intent, it was working.

He gave a short, rather condescending laugh, which did nothing to make her feel better. “A feeble excuse. You are a human being, are you not? You have eyes. You have ears.”

He was now ushering her away from the child and along the street. They were back amongst the crowd of those who ignored what was going on under their own noses, and for some reason this made Phoebe feel most uncomfortable. Perhaps because they were those with whom she’d belonged until a very short time ago. “Of course I’m a human being,” she snapped. “And of course I have eyes and ears.”

“And do you not think all human beings should have at least the bare necessities of life? A clean and dry place to sleep, food to eat, work to do so they can earn money to feed their children without having to turn to the workhouse? Which, if you didn’t know it, and I strongly suspect you don’t, is a place of dire despair and terrible conditions.”

Suspecting a trap, she bridled. “I do…”

He was quick to jump on her answer. “And yet you and those like you have never noticed the poverty on your own streets. It’s been there all the time you’ve lived in London, but you and your like have been blind to it.”

She fell silent, her heart heavy, mainly because this was true and she couldn’t deny it. Since coming to live in London with Aunt Fanny and Mattie, her only excursions had been to museums, or the park or gardens, often in Aunt Fanny’s carriage. She hadn’t even stopped to think that not everyone might live as she did. And back at Coakham, when Papa had been alive, the most she’d seen of how others lived had been the estate’s farming families, who’d all seemed content with their lot in life, hard though it might be. She’d even played with some of their children, who’d not seemed so very different to her. Or maybe Papa had hidden the bad side of country life from her?

She pressed her lips together, confused by Gabriel’s behavior. Why was he suddenly so argumentative? Was he itching for some sort of fight? She’d been looking forward to this excursion since yesterday and it was turning out to be nothing like she’d expected. Perhaps it would be best to apologize for her lack of attention. That might be what he wanted. Papa had long ago drummed into her that apologies should always be made if one was in the wrong, and she was not a girl who liked to stay on her high horse.

“I’m very sorry I’ve been so blind.” As she spoke, she managed to trip over her own feet and had to hang on tightly to his arm to prevent herself from falling, which reduced the gravitas of her apology somewhat.

“Easy to apologize,” he said, guiding her across the street and past ample evidence of where horses had been.

A boy in an ancient, battered tricorn hat was sweeping the road and helping another larger boy shovel the droppings into a barrow. Would she have noticed these children before or just taken it for granted that someone kept the roads clean for ladies like her? Guilt began to replace the anger as she thought of her own cossetted childhood. Hours spent with her governess in the schoolroom no longer seemed like such drudgery. Not when quite small children were to be seen out working for their living in the freezing cold of a grim February day.

“But I am sorry,” she repeated, anxious he should believe her. Because it was true, and she wanted to mend what she saw as the broken bridge between them.

Gabriel indicated across Grosvenor Square with his chin. “That is where I spent some of my childhood. My father’s house. Although nowadays he prefers Wentworth to London. My stepmother, however, loves to spend the Season here, cocooned in her ideal world of parties and balls and luxury. She, and those like her who are legion, live in a world of make-believe. They’ve quite forgotten the lesson of what happened in France not so long ago. They’ve forgotten how the French punished the aristos for their blindness to what was going on around them.”

“Are you…are you a revolutionary?” She had to admit the thought was a trifle intoxicating.

They were now in Upper Grosvenor Street and ahead she could see the tall brick wall that surrounded the park. He shook his head. “No. I’m someone who wants to see better treatment for the voiceless poor. Someone who wants to help the innocent children caught up in the problems of their parents. I don’t advocate guillotining those who are so ignorant of the world around them. I’d rather educate them.” He grinned, suddenly mischievous. “And hit them where it hurts by depriving them of their belongings now and then.”

“Oh.” Unable to think of anything else to say, she stared up at him, glad Atkins was too far behind them to have heard any of this, and cringing internally at what Aunt Fanny would say if she was privy to it.

He halted. “If you mean what you say, perhaps you would like to do more than dispense alms to little match girls.”

She gazed into his blue eyes, shocked at the ferocious determination that had so swiftly replaced the mischief. “Why,” she managed, “yes, I would like to do more. I think…” What was she committing herself to? She wasn’t quite sure. But it might mean returning to Denmark Street and having to meet Eliza Thorogood, with her angry glares, again. That was rather a frightening thought.

He scowled at her. “It’s no use only saying you think. You must be certain. This is not a task that will be easy for you. It isn’t for me. It is not an undertaking that can be made only when you feel like it then cast aside whenever you’re too tired, or bored, or have something else to do that you think would be more fun.”

The enormity of what he was suggesting settled over her slowly, and with it came rising confidence. “Do you want me to help you with your deserving orphanage, or help you steal things from the rich, undeserving people who go to balls? Because you have to remember how clumsy I am, and if you think I could tiptoe round someone’s house without waking them up, you’re sadly mistaken.”

She saw him biting back a smile. “I think, for you, just the help with the orphanage. Thievery is probably not your forte. But only if you feel you can dedicate your time to it.”

She bit her lip again. It was going to be sore if she wasn’t careful. “I have one question, then. Why are you asking me? Why not someone else? Someone less clumsy, for a start. I mean…” And here she paused, trying to get the question correct in her head. “What makes you think I am someone who would be as dedicated as you?”

Gabriel tapped the side of his nose, the mischief back again. “I have what my mother, the duchess, would have called a nose for people. I can tell, straightaway on most occasions, what someone’s very soul is composed of.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s not possible.”

He shook his head. “On the contrary, it is. And I could tell as soon as I met you that you are a young lady with a strong social conscience just waiting to be awoken.”

She chuckled. “You worked all that out while I was trampling on your toes? And you decided to rob me in the middle of the night just so you could meet me again?”

He shook his head. “I had planned to meet you again at another ball. But I couldn’t resist the lure of your very valuable pearls, of course. As you might imagine, it was not my intention to be caught by you and felled with a cricket bat.”