Page 16 of Her Passionate Duke

“No, not at all. Most of those who attend my parish church, especially, have generously donated food and clothes, and offered apprenticeships to some of the oldest boys, without which they wouldn’t be able to begin life on their own once they leave here. I’ve actually been writing a history of the orphanage — would you like to see it?”

“I would, very much,” Linnet said eagerly. “It may help me to get a better sense of the place.”

“It’s in my study. Wait here for a minute.”

Mrs. Trellick rose and returned to the study while the orphans leaned forward quietly, their eyes on Linnet, who pretended not to notice the attention they were discreetly giving her. Her eyes fell on one child, a girl no older than eleven, who sat in a wooden chair reading a history of England with apparent enjoyment.

While she sat watching her, she became conscious that the boy who had let her in was inching steadily closer. Having started near the door, he was now creeping along the wall like a man trying not to be seen. Linnet got the impression that he thought he was being very sly and subtle.

She sighed, hoping that what she suspected was not true – he was, she thought, perhaps fifteen, if that – old enough to think himself a man, but not old enough to really know anything about being a man. Their eyes met for half a second and he knew that he had been caught. Straightening up rapidly, he spoke in a casual voice.

“I wish I had money, my Lady. This is a good place, don’t take me wrong, but I wish I could maybe look forward to being more than a footman, when I leave here. I’ve known men wot owned carriages, and men wot rode horses regularly, and I envy them.”

“I have a carriage, as you saw” said Linnet. “But it’s expensive — having to stable the horses and feed them, and have somewhere to store the carriage too. I’m lucky that my family have enough money for it – But I suspect you’ll be better off just walking wherever you need to go, or taking a cab, until you can save up a lot of money. Not having to support a horse and carriage would let you get wealthier, faster.”

The pale young man nodded as though they were the wisest words he had ever heard spoken.

“But I should like to own one, just the same.”

He sounded very wistful.

“What would you do with a carriage if you had one?”

“If I had a horse of my own — a horse, and the money to stable and care for it — I’d buy myself a burgundy velvet cap with an ostrich feather plume, and a coat of the same colour. And I’d find out where the lady I admire lives, and I would ride that horse back and forth outside her window, back and forth all night until she came to the window.”

Linnet nearly snorted at the absurd picture, but seeing that he was serious, she held herself in check.

“And is there a particular lady you have in mind?”

The young man nodded and said slowly.

“There weren’t when I awoke this morning. But there is now, if you follow me.”

Linnet thought that she did follow him, and it was as she had suspected – a fact which made her begin to feel uneasy in his presence. An awkward silence fell between them in which the young man seemed to be gathering the courage to announce his affections directly, while Linnet searched the room in vain for an escape.

While this was going on the children watched them with wide eyes and curious faces, heedless of the silent drama. And underlying it all, the itching of her arms rose to a crescendo of irritation.

It came as a great relief when at last the door at the end of the room opened again and Mrs. Trellick returned to the parlour.

“Now I’ve been putting this history together in bits and snatches ever since St. Agnes’ was founded.” She sat down at a table and opened the book to the first page, motioning Linnet to take a seat beside her. “Back then this area was partly farm land and — are you feeling alright, miss?”

“Yes, I’ll— I’ll be alright,” said Linnet, conscious that the young man was still watching her. “Why don’t you tell me more about the children, their lives before they came here, and how you found them, as well as the history of St Agnes’?”

Chapter Seven

Linnet laboured over her speech for much of the next week. She rehearsed it for Lady Caroline and practiced delivering it in front of a mirror until she had practically committed it to memory. And that, despite the fact that they had attended two Balls and a soiree during the week as well. Events at which, each time, she saw the Duke of Grantsham, and, helplessly, found herself more enamoured of him every time she saw him.

He was kind, and courteous, he greeted her with apparent pleasure, and he even danced with her, which was enough to make her nearly faint on the spot, so difficult did it become to breathe in his presence. But still, underlying every moment of it, the speech played over and over in her mind – was it good enough?

Even in her dreams, she saw him, indeed, was held, and even kissed by him, only to have him laugh at her speech, and turn away. She woke from those dreams distressed, and ever more afraid that she would not do well enough, that she would let him, and his mother, down.

When she went to call on Lady Caroline on the afternoon before the fundraising dinner was to be held, and found herself holding forth, complaining about the injustice of the poverty laws, Lady Caroline suggested that maybe it was time to stop worrying about the speech so much.

“You’ve spent at least ten hours preparing for this three-minute speech,” Lady Caroline said, looking up from her needlework. “At this point I think you might be over-preparing.”

“Maybe so.” Linnet stretched her stiff back. “But I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the Duchess of Grantsham.”

Lady Caroline raised one brow in mock surprise.