He clenched his jaw. She made it sound so cold! Which, he supposed, it was. But it was how things were done.
“Faircliffe was a highly respected title for generations,” he explained. “My grandfather was arguably the most esteemed of the line, but an apoplexy caused my father to inherit at a young age. He spent the subsequent decades dismantling every advantage our predecessors had fought to attain.”
Lawrence fought a wave of memories better left suppressed.
“If my father could undo two centuries of high regard with a series of poor choices, then it is my duty to restore our lost stature with a series ofcorrectchoices.”
“And Miss York is the right choice?”
“She is,” he said firmly. “For myself and for future generations.”
“You’ll have a circus together?”
Lawrence could not picture that at all. “We will not. But I’ll be able to give my children a sterling reputation, financial security, and societal approval.”
“Is that what children want?”
“It’s what theyneed.” He swallowed hard. “It’s what any father who cared about his offspring would strive to give them.”
“What about a better world outside of the home?” she asked. “Do children want that?”
“I strive for that as well.” This was much safer ground. “It is my hope that Miss York’s father and I will champion complementary issues in our respective chambers of Parliament. Indeed, one of my pet projects for reform is excluding children from workhouses and other means of exploitation, such as their use as chimney sweeps.…”
Lawrence was deep into this familiar territory when he realized he’d been speaking for five minutes straight, and the usually inquisitive Miss Wynchester hadn’t said a word.
Was he boring her? This was a topic he dared not bring up outside of Westminster for a reason. It was hardly the stuff of flirtatious dinner parties.
He trailed off and made an apologetic face. “I beg your pardon. One cannot help becoming passionate about such subjects.”
Miss Wynchester’s eyes flashed. “Then please allow me to take a counter position.”
He lifted his palm.
She gave a sharp smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Poverty is not limited to children. By generalizing the adult poor as rabble who eschew ‘honest work,’ you paint a picture wherein it is onlychildrenwho do not deserve exploitation and unpaid labor—”
“Pardon me,” he interrupted. “You do not understand how Parliament determines—”
“I’ve determinedyoudon’t understand.” She pushed to her feet.
“Oh dear,” Great-Aunt Wynchester murmured, no longer asleep. “Now you’ve done it.”
“Miss Wynchester—” he began.
“I shall smarten myself up for the party.” She scooped up her basket and stalked away from him without a backward glance. “I ‘understand’ your people value looks over brains.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. How he wished he hadn’t botched everything! He and Miss Wynchester both wanted the same things. But Parliament was a slow-grinding machine. He was the one in a position to do something about it.
“You’re wrong,” Great-Aunt Wynchester said flatly.
He glowered at her. “What did you say?”
“She knows more about Parliament than you do.”
He straightened. “I scarcely think—”
“Obviously.” Great-Aunt Wynchester glared at him. “My niece, on the other hand, rarely misses a session.”
“I never miss the House of Lords,” he informed her. “And I’ve never seen your niece at Westminster.”
