“Perhaps. Or perhaps they do not concern themselves with the plight of the lesser, so long as they may remain untouched by their miseries.” She turned to him, the spark in her eyes sharpening. “But what is the difference between Mary Ann, a mother in the workhouse at fifteen, and this young girl riding in her mother’s curricle? Birth alone. And the wealth that comes with it.”
She choked on her words and stared ahead at the circular reservoir that stood in the drive before them. “Would you like to guess who fathered Mary Ann’s child? That tiny, helpless being?”
“A heartless cad such as myself, I suppose,” Darien said heavily.
“Not a husband. Not a lover. Not a man she chose of her own free will.” Henrietta leaned over and spat on the ground like any fishwife in the streets. Darien looked around to see if anyone he knew had seen the gesture.
“Herfather, the man who is supposed to protect, nurture, guide, and shelter her, traded her to a friend to pay a debt. As if she were nothing more than coin.” She curled her hands into fists on her lap.
Darien wished he could soothe away that unhappy frown, but he didn’t dare touch her. The footmen would see it. They were not on the fashionable Ring, where those who knew him were airing themselves and their costly attire, but he guessed from the many stares in their direction that he had been recognized. And he was quite sure her half-sized groom would leap from his seat and sink teeth into him if Darien laid hands on his mistress.
“Perhaps that should be the topic for my debate,” she said in a broken voice. “The duty of men toward their dependents.”
He felt this as a spear through his insides. She did not condemn him to his face, but she lumped him part and parcel with the lot of dishonorable men. He might deserve it. Even his father felt he had stained the Bales name.
“Henrietta,” he said quietly. “That is not how a man ought to behave, but too many men behave in such fashion. We cannot save all their victims.”
“We can try.” She swiped at her cheek, unashamed to cry in public, given they were tears of righteous fury. “Might I go home, please? I have had quite enough of being fashionable for one day.”
She sat wrapped in her own thoughts until they reached Manchester Square. It was a new experience to have his companion preoccupied with something other than him. Darien found he did not like it.
He leapt down from the carriage and held her hand to help her descend, curling his fingers around hers. “There is a way you might oblige me, if you feel I have been of assistance to you in any way.” He took great care to sound offhand. “Your uncle has a place in the prime minister’s cabinet, does he not?”
She dropped his hand. She had such slender hands and a firm grip, another unfeminine quality he found interesting.
“Marsibel is not for you,” she said in a cool tone.
He almost smiled at her prickling like an adorable hedgehog. Instead, he shrugged. “I have no designs on your cousin. There is a legal matter I thought your uncle might advise me on. That is all.”
She raked him with that level gaze, her eyes back to the gray-green of a cloudy pond. “You had best approach Sir Pelton yourself in that case. I have no influence with him, and I make it a practice not to bring supplicants.”
Thus she destroyed in a moment the careful offensive he had spent hours building. He’d wasted the morning combing through the city’s many workhouses in search of her so he might play the noble rescuer. He should have guessed that Henrietta Wardley-Hines would upset all his plans.
“It is not pressing,” he lied.
But Lord Darien Bales was not a man to go down easily in defeat. Ignoring her protest that Charley would not like it, Darien allowed the butler to show him into a lovely parlor furnished in blue and gold, where Lady Clarinda sat like Venus in her shell of pearl.
The lady could not hide her delight at finding Henrietta in the company of an eligible male. She welcomed him in, sent for tea, and in five minutes had reacquainted herself with the entire Bales family history.
Darien sensed Henrietta hanging on every bit of information, though she tried to appear disinterested. When Lady Clarindaconveyed her condolences on the loss of his nephew, Henrietta shot him a shrewd glance, guessing why he had marked her white armband.
Darien let Lady Clarinda lead the conversation, knowing she would reach his desired end if he merely sat through a review of the Wardley, Hines, and Warrefield family tree. Mentioning Rutherford’s scholarly bent put the seal on things. The polite fifteen minutes concluded, Darien stepped into the street in possession of an invitation to dine at the Wardley-Hines table the next night, with Lady Clarinda promising to send to Lady Pomeroy to make up a small family party.
Henrietta saw him out with a frown. “I intended to spend tomorrow evening preparing for my debate, and now I must plan a dinner,” she grumbled. “I expect there will be no end of talk. Why on earth would Lord Daring join the Wardley-Hines for a very dull evening at home?”
“It will smooth over any damage to your reputation for being seen with me. Dining with your family will assure the gossips that they condone our association.”
Perry would congratulate himself that Darien was taking his advice to rile his father by dangling after unsuitable females. Darien would bear Perry’s derision with cheer if the night gave him access to Sir Pelton.
Still, his male pride was nettled that Henrietta could take so little notice of him. While he’d chatted with Lady Clarinda, she’d busied herself with sorting through her correspondence. Now she fretted about what to feed him and where to place him at table.
She was determined to ignore the attraction that hummed between them, and Darien knew he should allow her the deceit. But that pride of his reared again. She felt the hum; he’d known it the moment she tripped in the Ellesmere gallery and he caughther. The spark had singed him through his gloves, and she hadn’t been able to hide the blush that rose to her skin.
Still, exasperating woman, she snorted and looked him in the eye.
“Let us be clear. Lady Mama might condone an association with you. Charley is going to have kittens.”
She kept pretending she was immune to him. He wanted her to admit that she was not.
