“In what way was she the most suitable?”
A flush worked itself over Harrison’s features, and he tugged at his cravat. “Miss Lydia Martin is twenty-five years of age, and she is the daughter of a baronet. Her cyphering skills are excellent, and she is fluent in French and Latin. She was also sent to finishing school and is more than capable of teaching the children the social skills and etiquette needed to mingle in polite society. They have met her, and I must say, they were quite taken with her.”
“And what was Mr. Dobson’s objection?”
A muscle jerked in Harrison’s cheek, but he schooled his expression into a neutral mask. He was not quick enough, and Richard was curious at his interest in the lady. He’d met Harrison in the war, and they had become fast friends despite the difference in their stations. Their relationship had become even stronger when he rescued him from a French enemy camp. Several months after the war ended, he’d found him on the docks, tattered clothes hanging off his gaunt frame and begging for work, despite only having one leg. The wounds inflicted from torture had seen his left leg amputated from the knee down, and England’s elite cared little for anyone outside their society, and little indeed for the disabled soldiers who had given their souls, lives, and even limbs for their country. The worst blow Harrison had suffered was to learn his wife and child had perished from cholera while he’d been fighting. Richard had hired him, and the man had worked his way into his employ to become one of the few people he trusted to have his back in any situation.
“She has a five-year-old daughter.”
“And?”
“She was never married. Her family does not recognize her and her child, and she is without references and prospects.”
“Is she your lover?”
Tension shifted through Harrison. “No.” The unstated not yet hung heavy in the air, evidenced by the possessive hunger that curled through his dark eyes before he lowered his lids. “I wouldn’t presume to court Miss Martin. She is a gentleman’s daughter.” He waved to the peg that had replaced his left foot. “I wouldn’t have much to offer her, and she is quite determined to support herself.”
“I see. And who is the second woman?”
A single sheet of paper was pushed across the polished surface of the desk. A quick scan revealed Mrs. Jennifer Watson to be forty-five, with impeccable references and moral character. Richard hardly involved himself on the smaller scale of the vast operation he was running. He held meetings such as these once a week, for the entire day, keeping abreast of everything. This decision was not his to make, yet something about the clear need Harrison felt for this Miss Lydia Martin tugged at the cold, lonely place in his heart. If Richard were smart, he would warn his foolish friend to not give over his trust and loyalty so easily, yet he hesitated, once again looking down at the draft which summed up her existence. He read between the lines, able to envision the hardship she must have endured by having a child out of wedlock. Abandoned by her family and society, how had she survived? He distantly noted he admired the fact she had kept her child against all the odds. She’d not abandoned her to a life of poverty and degradation for her own ease of comfort.
“Inform Miss Martin she has a job here if she is willing to relocate. There is a three-bedroom cottage only a mile from the main residence that would be hers. However, she has the option of living on the main estate with her daughter.”
Shock flared in Harrison’s eyes. “You would hire her…for here?”
“Do you doubt her character?”
“No,” he said quickly. “You would not regret your decision. She is…she is excellent, Richard,” he ended gruffly.
“Good. Then the matter is settled, and I will leave it to you to take my offer to her.”
He nodded and withdrew several more piles of papers showing how the estimated budgets of opening and staffing each house for the next few years compared with the initial cost. The meeting ran for another two hours before it started to wind down. A quick glance at his watch showed it to be a little after noon. His Emily would soon clomp down the stairs and barge into the library.
Richard closed the last folder and leaned back in his chair. “I think this was the last of it.”
“It is.” Harrison cleared his throat and peered at Richard over his spectacles, an imperceptible air of tension surrounding his large frame.
A warning crawled over Richard’s skin and burrowed its way under his flesh. “Is there something the matter?” he asked smoothly, leaning back in his chair, watching every nuance of his expression.
Harrison grimaced. “There was a situation at one of the houses… I was urged not to make a report to you because the matter has been handled, but I am discomfited.”
A cold knot formed in Richard’s gut, and he calmly gathered the sheaf of papers into a neat pile and set them aside. He stood, went to the mantel, and poured brandy into two glasses, handing one to Harrison. Richard sat on the edge of the desk and took a sip of his brandy, appreciating the slow burn sliding down his throat.
“Urged by whom?”
“Your lawyer in Richmond, Mr. Clearwater. One of the young ladies was revealed to be with child, four months along, I believe. She was given a sum of two hundred pounds, a fortune I am sure she has never seen, but she was denied a place in the manor there. I did not believe she was a poor example to the others there, but my counsel was ignored.”
A cold surge of fury lit in his veins. “Who was she?”
“A Miss Imogen Green. She is sixteen, my lord, a rare beauty, and is rumored to be the bastard daughter of Lord Cofield. She has been living in Richmond these past eight months. When questioned, she was tight-lipped about the identity of her seducer. Mr. Clearwater thought he had little choice but to turn her from the house.”
Richard was almost muted with rage. “That goddamned blackguard. Why would he turn away a child to flounder on her own? Our houses are to be safe,” he snapped. “How was she seduced? Was an investigation done into the matter?”
“No. Mr. Clearwater simply gave her the money and allowed her to pack her belongings.”
“When was this?”
Harrison flushed in evident discomfort. “It has been two weeks.”