“For what?” She looked up at his profile and he felt the heat of her gaze on his cheek.
He felt the heat of her everywhere.
“New York is a motley collection of people from all over the world, but some neighborhoods—” he swept his arm broadly as they turned south from Madison Avenue onto 5th, “—remain an island.”
“And you’re unwelcome.” A statement of fact, a realization he watched her process. When she sucked in a breath to speak again, he expected pity. “That is utter shit.”
A laugh burst from Ben’s chest, so powerful he had to stop and double over for a moment to contain it. “It is,” he managed, quickly stifling his laughter.
“How can you smile at such…shit?“ She stomped forward as though her righteous indignation drove each step.
“Because I’m accustomed to it.” He was surprisingly heartened by her outrage on his behalf. “I’ve lived in this skin for thirty-five years, so it no longer surprises me.”
“It’s happened before?”
He shrugged. “Countless times.”
They walked a long block in silence, though he could practically hear Rose thinking, formulating a question she did not know how to ask.
Ben took pity on her. “As I said, my mother was a Japanese immigrant. She came to San Francisco as a young woman with her family and took work in a factory.” He paused. “She stuffed blasting powder into canisters. The factory employed immigrant women and children because of their small hands.”
Rose recoiled and stared at him in horror. “Children?”
She had no idea how the world worked, did she? “Children are the backbone of industry in this nation. Frankly, they’re the only way most families can afford to survive.”
“They should be in school.”
“They should be lots of places beside a factory floor,” Ben replied. “But it’s no different in England and Ireland.” He watched as a flush climbed up her neck and softened his voice. “Did you not know that?”
She shook her head. “It seems there are many things I didn’t know.”
“Don’t judge yourself harshly. You had no reason to know about the harsher elements of the world.”
“That isn’t a good excuse.” Rose looked over at him and gave a quick nod. “I’ll do better, I swear it.” She hesitated. “Would you help me?”
For a moment, Ben wanted to refuse. This girl was far too pure, too unsullied to have her mind filled with this kind of knowledge. He should let her life be an endless stream of pleasure, a fairy tale deserving of a princess.
But he’d already found he could refuse her nothing. “Of course, Rose.”
Another block of silence before she spoke again. “And your father?”
Ben released a long sigh. “Gerald North owned the factory employing my mother.”
“How lovely,” Rose said. “Like a Cinderella story.”
“It was nothing like a fairy tale,” Ben said with a bark of humorless laughter. “He took advantage of the women working for him, offered them more lucrative spots on the lines and a few extra coins in their pockets for suffering his attention. His only saving grace was that he took responsibility for his byblows.”
He claimed a quick moment of victory in silencing Rose completely, then guilt upon seeing her pained expression. “Don’t pity me,” he said. “He took a great deal of interest in me, as I turned out to be the only son he fathered. My mother and I lived in a nice house, and she stopped working on the factory floor after I was born. He paid for me to attend boarding school and university, so at least the man bearing his name wouldn’t be a complete embarrassment. It was the least he could do for his half-breed bastard.”
“Ben—”
“I’ve been called worse.” He kicked a loose stone down the sidewalk. The surrounding crowd was thinning as dusk fell and painted the streets like the watercolors his mother enjoyed using.
“But you shouldn’t call yourself that,” Rose said, watching the stone as it tumbled over the curb and into the street. “Your parentage doesn’t define you.”
Ben’s chuckle lacked humor. “That’s easy for you to say. A simple change of clothing and a different escort would have gained you entry into that mansion today. The circumstances of my birth are a burden I have to carry.”
“And how is my life any different? My station determines my choices just as much as yours does, remember?”
