The thought of proving herself, not just to Hugo, but to the entire judgmental ton, was surprisingly appealing.
“Very well,” Elspeth agreed, lifting her chin with a renewed sense of determination. “I accept the challenge. With yer help, of course, if ye will give it.”
The Dowager Duchess’s smile widened. “Excellent. I knew you had it in you, and I am happy to answer any questions you have. But now, for your assigned charity.” She paused, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “It is the St. Jude’s Orphanage.”
Elspeth blinked.
St. Jude’s?
She’d heard of it in her brief time in London, at least by reputation. It was often the pun of some unseemly joke. It was a notoriously struggling, unfashionable orphanage, tucked away in a grimy corner of the city. No lady of rank, certainly no one vying for social prestige, would ever willingly touch it. It was dilapidated, poorly funded, and utterly devoid of any glamour.
Of course. They wouldnae give me something easy, would they? This is another test.
A wave of exasperation washed over her, quickly followed by a spark of defiance.
They think this will break me? They think this will make me give up?
Her mind immediately began to churn, not with despair, but with ideas.
An unfashionable orphanage… that means there is nowhere to go but up. It means no one expects anythin’. It means I can truly make a difference, nae just throw a pretty party. Those bairns need me!
The challenge, far from being a deterrent, ignited a familiar spark of resourcefulness within her. She stood up and began pacing the drawing room.
Let them underestimate me. Let them give me the impossible task. I will show them what a real Highland lass is capable of!
“St. Jude’s,” Elspeth repeated, a faint, determined smile touching her lips. “Very well. Where do I begin?”
Chapter Sixteen
“So, this is it,” Elspeth declared, rubbing her hands together. “What do ye think, Yer Grace?”
She stood before the imposing, soot-stained facade of St. Jude’s Orphanage, filled with a sense of trepidation and grim determination.
Beside her, Hugo shifted impatiently, his expression a mixture of disdain and resignation. He had been surprisingly easy to convince to accompany her, though his presence felt more like that of a grim guardian than a supportive companion.
“Are you quite certain this is necessary, Lady Inverhall?” he murmured, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated building as he kicked a rock. “Surely a donation, discreetly delivered after the party’s conclusion, would suffice. There is no need to… immerse oneself in such squalor. I am sure the other ladies in this contest do not stoop to such levels, nor do such research.”
Elspeth shot him a sharp look. “How can one truly help a charity without understanding its needs, Yer Grace? A real assessment of what has to be done, so I can convey their plight.”
“Like you did for the people at Inverhall?”
“Aye! That is exactly right. How can I organize an event for these children if I daenae ken them? Do they nae deserve the same decency as other folk with more favorable circumstances? I ken what it is like to be down on one’s luck.”
She took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The interior was dim, smelling faintly of old wood and damp, hitting her in the nose as she walked in.
“You must be Lady Inverhall,” a harried-looking matron greeted. “Oh my goodness, and Your Grace!”
She was clearly shaken not just by the sudden appearance of Lady Inverhall, but also by the appearance of a duke. Elspeth, however, quickly put her at ease, her genuine warmth cutting through the woman’s apprehension.
“Aye, it is I,” she said with a warm smile. “We are here to take a tour of the grounds so I can paint an accurate picture of the important work ye do here.”
“Very well, My Lady.” The matron gave a small smile. “And Your Grace. Right this way.”
“Please, can ye remind me of yer name?” Elspeth asked thoughtfully.
“I am Miss Caruthers, my lady.”
“Thank ye, Miss Caruthers.”
