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“Why haven’t you told Mrs. Foster the truth about your mother?” he prodded.
“I don’t want anyone to think less of her.”
Baldwin looked at her incredulously. “Instead you shouldered this burden alone?”
She nodded slowly. “I thought I was strong enough.”
“My dear,” he started, “there is no shame in asking for help.”
“If anyone discovers the truth, then my mother’s legacy will be tarnished,” Miss Dowding declared. “And I’m not willing to risk that.”
“Then I shall keep your secret.”
Miss Dowding offered him a timid smile. “Thank you, my lord. I must admit I find some relief in confiding my secret to you.”
“I had no idea that you were carrying such a heavy burden,” he admitted. “You hide it remarkably well.”
“I believe everyone hides a part of themselves from others.”
Baldwin heard the music start back up again. Rising from the bench, he said, “I should return you to the ball.”
“Must you?” she asked as she rose.
He chuckled. “Do not tempt me. I would much rather stay out in the gardens with you than be in that stuffy ballroom. But I believe Mr. Thatcher, kind as he was to allow me the set, would still like to dance with you.”
As they started walking along the footpath, Miss Dowding remarked, “I have noticed that you have sat many of the sets out.”
Baldwin lifted his brow. “Have you been watching me, Miss Dowding?”
“I have not,” she asserted as an adorable blush crept up onto her cheeks.
Taking pity on her, he replied, “Frankly, I detest dancing.”
“That is a shame, my lord, because you are quite good at it,” she said, sparing a glance in his direction.
Baldwin smiled at her remark. “Perhaps all I need is the right dance partner.”
“In my experience, I have found that usually makes all the difference,” Miss Dowding remarked.
Baldwin sat atthe head of the table as he read the morning newspaper. He reached for his cup of tea and took a long sip before returning it to the saucer on the table.
Pratt stepped into the room and asked, “May I have a moment of your time, milord?”
“You may,” Baldwin replied as he lowered the paper.
The butler gestured towards the door and a familiar lanky man walked into the parlor, his eyes darting nervously around the room. He was wearing a tattered brown jacket and matching trousers and his dark hair was slicked to the side.
“You may remember Mr. John Harvey,” Pratt said. “He shared that you two met briefly in the rookeries.”
Baldwin tipped his head in acknowledgement. “That we did.”
“We have hired John on as a gardener, and we reimbursed his travel expenses as you ordered,” Pratt revealed.
“That is wonderful news.” Baldwin turned his attention towards Mr. Harvey. “How have you settled in at Hawthorne House?”
“Very well, milord,” Mr. Harvey replied. “And I wanted to humbly thank ye for this opportunity. It will go a long way to feed my family.”
“I am pleased to hear that.”
