AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Fourteen
Seth had seen many a man brought down by hearsay and gossip. When one was in trade, a man’s reputation was most important. You couldn’t garner the necessary agreements if you were talked about poorly by others.
Simply put, what others said about you would allow a man to rise in terms of prosperity, or it would sink him.
Charlotte wasn’t in trade, and she was certainly far lovelier than any man Seth had ever met, but the concept was the same.
Her work with The Asylum for Orphaned Girls depended upon what other members of the committee thought of her. If she was able to make a difference in the lives of orphaned girls or not depended on her reputation among them.
Unfortunately, this morning’s asylum meeting had only made it all too clear that Charlotte was not spoken well of any longer.
The meeting had ended over two hours ago, but Seth was still making his way home. Though it was hot enough that Seth had to carry his hat in hand rather than subject his head to the heat it held in, Seth had still chosen to take the long way home—theverylong way home. He’d needed the time to clear his head and calm himself down. Also, he’d not been able to get concerns for Emma out of his head, so he thought he’d ride by Lord Baxter’s home, maybe even call on the young woman, himself.
Charlotte said she’d written to the young woman a couple of times. Though Emma was clearly hiding something, she hadn’t yet trusted Charlotte with the truth. Still, Charlotte persisted.
How could the gentlemen on the committee speak so poorly of a lady as brilliant as Charlotte? It was foolish on their part—infuriating on his.
Still, Seth had kept his wits about him. Mostly.
There may have been an outburst on his part once or twice.
They’d deserved it, though. Popinjays, the lot of them.
However…now that he’d had a bit of time to think, some of the things he’d said were sounding a bit less beneficial in his mind and a bit more harmful. Justified, certainly. But harmful to Charlotte’s cause all the same.
“Please, sir,” a soft female voice came from down the street behind Seth, “let me pass.”
Seth turned in his saddle to see a young maid, of no more than fifteen or sixteen years, head bent low and dressed in garb that clearly needed a good washing. Her bright red hair and many freckles left him with no guess as to who she was.
But she wasn’t speaking to Seth. Instead, a young dandy in a bright purple waistcoat and well-togged jacket danced around her, a cane twirling in one hand.
“But I don’t care to,” he said, his haughty voice enough alone to cause Seth’s jaw to tighten.
“I have chores I must see—”
“Is that so?” the dandy asked, taking an intimidating step forward and forcing Emma to move several steps back so as not to be trampled.
“Well,” the young man said, sauntering out of her path, “perhaps you are right.”
She took three hurried steps in an effort to pass him, but the idiot only skipped around, his back ever toward Seth, and blocked the young woman’s path once more.
“Then again,” he said, his voice turning ugly, “maybe not.”
Seth alighted and tossed Brushfire’s reigns over a nearby tree branch. He didn’t recognize the young man, not from the back anyway, but neither did he care. No one treated a young woman like that in his presence.
Seth reached the dandy and slammed his hand down heavily on the young man’s shoulder.
The dandy startled, his thin legs and arms jerking out wildly as he spun around. The movement reminded Seth of a spider scurrying away from a boot.
“It is time you left, sir,” Seth said, his voice low and even.
The dandy quickly recovered. He could not have been more than twenty himself, his chin was so smooth and his shoulders so narrow. Still, he assumed an air of supreme importance and smirked at Seth.
“Well, if it isn’t London’s most famous upstart.” The young man brushed his fingertips over his jacket sleeves as though removing dirt from them and then fluffed his cravat. Then he pointed to himself, “I am Lord Biddle and heir to the Baxter title.”
Ah, so this was Lord Baxter’s oldest son. Seth had heard stories of him.
“Sir Mulgrave,” Seth said, his voice even.
