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Lord Hawthorne raised his hand, stilling her words. “I am impressed, Miss Dowding. You have quite a punch.”
“I assure you that I have never drawn blood before.”
“How often do you box?”
“I practice nearly every morning,” she admitted.
He bobbed his head in approval as he lowered the handkerchief in his hand. “I am glad to hear that. No one would expect someone of your stature to hit so proficiently.”
“I will take that as a compliment.”
“I assure you that it was meant as one,” Lord Hawthorne said.
Madalene glanced down at the bloody handkerchief. “Would you care for a clean handkerchief?” she asked.
Lord Hawthorne followed her gaze. “It would appear that I ruined this one.”
“No need to concern yourself with that,” she assured him. “I have many, many more.”
He smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a grimace. “I’m afraid my nose is not ready for me to smile,” he admitted.
“Did I break it?” she asked hesitantly.
Lord Hawthorne brought his hand up to touch his nose. “It doesn’t appear so. But even if you did, it wouldn’t be the first time I have broken my nose.”
Unsure of what to say, she started, “I am truly sorry, and—”
“It was not your fault,” he interrupted. “I was the one who told you to punch me.”
“That may be true, but I shouldn’t have hit you as hard as I did.”
His lips quirked slightly upward in a hint of a smile. “I have a feeling you have been wanting to hit me for quite some time.”
“No, of course not,” she rushed to say.
Leaning closer, his eyes held an amused glimmer. “Liar.”
A giggle escaped her lips, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “Well, perhaps.”
“I assumed as much,” Lord Hawthorne remarked, taking a step back. “If you are not opposed, I shall call on you tomorrow to continue our discussion.”
“I look forward to it.”
Lord Hawthorne tipped his head. “Good day, Miss Dowding.”
“Good day, Lord Hawthorne,” she replied, dropping into a slight curtsy.
He opened his mouth as if he intended to say something, but then he closed it. Finally, he spoke. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Madalene watched as Lord Hawthorne departed from the room, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he had intended to say.
Baldwin lay onthe filthy straw mattress as he stared up at the dry rot on the ceiling. It was only a matter of time before the ceiling collapsed, he realized. He truly hoped he wouldn’t still be around when that happened.
Most of the other side of the building had collapsed in on itself, but people were still residing in the rooms, at least the habitable ones. What horrible conditions these people had to live with every day just to survive. He could hear the wail of a little child further down the hall, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had enough to eat for the day.
Perhaps more workhouses would be a good thing, he thought to himself. It would give these people a chance to do more than just make it to another day. But the funding had to come from somewhere else besides the Home Office.
His swollen nose started throbbing and he brought his hand up to gently touch it. A small smile came to his lips at Miss Dowding’s reaction after she hit him. He could hear the slight panic in her voice, as if he would be upset with her. But he wasn’t. In fact, he was impressed by her strength. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she surprised him.
