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Suddenly, irrationally, she felt cold and afraid. This was poverty, not the fate her mother had been bemoaning. Instinctively, Evie realized this could not be the worst of it, as they were not in the heart of the slum. It seemed inconceivable she stood only on the periphery. As if someone else controlled her motions, she walked farther down the street, her gaze bouncing from one heartbreaking face of despair to another. Children, women, men in grimy and tattered army uniforms.
A woman of undetermined years rushed over to her, a child in her arms and two more clutching at her frock. “If ye please, miss, do you ’ave any coins for me youngons?”
“I…no, they took it all earlier,” Evie responded helplessly.
The woman hardly spared her a glance as she moved her begging to the gentleman behind Evie, even going as far as to grasp his jacket. Evie gasped when he cuffed the side of the woman’s head and she stumbled, the child slipping from her arm. Evie rushed over, stooping and helping them to their feet.
“Have you lost your damn senses?” a rough voice demanded from behind.
Richard. The oddest sensation tugged deep inside of her, and she wanted to fling herself into his arms. She was gripped gently and herded away to the side of a building.
“Explain yourself—what madness brought you here?”
She was unable to speak past the tears of shame and sorrow choking her.
“Evie, do you have any idea of the manner of risk you assumed?”
“A child was being beaten, and I reacted without much thought.” She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. “I…I took my maid and two footmen.”
“They would not have been able to protect you,” he growled. He glanced at Miss Rogers, who hovered close by. “Go. I will return her home safely.”
Miss Rogers dipped into a quick curtsy. “Yes, my lord. I’ll let the countess know you’re calling on Her Grace, my lady,” she said and hurrie
d away with the two footmen.
Richard shifted his regard to Evie, his eyes searching her face with disturbing intensity. “What is wrong? So help me God, I will bury the person who harmed you.”
“No one hurt me,” she gasped, stricken by the leashed violence thrumming from him.
“Then why are you crying?”
Oh! She swiped at the tears spilling over. Her gaze once more strayed to the begging children, the old street hawker, and the man without his limb lying in the gutter. “Their suffering shames me,” she blurted hoarsely.
“Don’t cry,” he said gruffly.
“How can I not? There are children here, who are cold, barely eating, with soot on their faces, and they are so…so meager in appearance. Meanwhile, we have balls after balls, with so much food and champagne discarded afterward.”
Evie commanded her fingers not to tremble. Tears once again burned the back of her eyes. She dropped her head to his chest, fighting to keep her composure. Her entire world had revolved around learning the delicate art of witty conversation, how to walk and dance with refined elegance, how to flirt artlessly, and how to capture a gentleman with at least ten thousand pounds a year. “How have I been so ignorant?”
A raw, ugly sound burst from her, and she swiped furiously at the tears streaming down her cheeks. With a low, indecipherable curse, Richard tugged her to him in full view of everyone.
“Don’t,” he ground out. “For Christ’s sake, Evie.”
“I’ve never given a thought to those who suffered. I was not even aware of the poverty and the despair. And how can that be when it is so plentiful? My life has been about my coming out, being the belle of each ball when this… I truly have been residing within a perfect gilded cage,” she choked out.
It was then she understood how he had changed, the distaste he felt for the ton and those who refused to aid the less fortunate. It had been shame that had broken him and hope that had reformed him into the man standing before her.
His hand moved in a slow, soothing stroke over her back. “Dammit, Evie, my words were never meant to drive you here.”
“They did not, it was happenstance the coachman diverted to this side.”
“Come, we cannot stay, there are footpads lurking around every corner,” he said, bundling her away toward his waiting carriage.
A protest welled in her throat. “Did you see the little girl lying over there on her side? I think…” She swallowed, fear burning her throat and squeezing the joy from her heart. “I think she is no longer living. Would you please check on her?”
He squeezed her gently, then released her and walked over to the small form hugging the side of the alley. Richard bent, moved the thin blanket, and examined the girl. He shrugged from his coat and then scooped her into his arms. Hope flared inside Evie. Unable to wait, she hurried over to him. “Does she live?”
“Yes, but she is faint from starvation. We must get her to Mrs. Cranston immediately.”
