“Get th
is carriage moving!” Jennette shouted as she sat back against the cushions.
“Who was that woman?”
“My friend, Victoria,” she replied and then pulled the curtain back to look out the window.
Victoria? Of course, Miss Seaton. The woman who cared for the orphaned children.
Why would she hide from her friend?
He continued to watch as Miss Seaton slowly picked up the packages and surveyed the carriage rolling away. Realization finally dawned on him. Those packages were the same he’d seen Jennette carrying from the stores yesterday. They were not for her but for the orphans.
The orphans.
Not her.
God, he felt like an idiot.
He’d spent the past two days criticizing her behavior when all she had done was buy clothing for some orphan children. Yes, he was definitely a fool, he decided.
Jennette finally relaxed against the black velvet squabs and sighed. She had no idea what to do with the man who sat across from her. In all the years she had been supplying Victoria’s orphans with clothing for Christmas, no one, save Sophie, had discovered her. Nor had she ever wanted anyone to find out what she did for the children. Buying clothing for the children made her feel good, but she didn’t need admiration for the charity. She preferred to stay anonymous.
Victoria was proud of the work she did with the orphans. While Jennette knew she struggled with money at times, Victoria hated to take money from her friends. Even though it was a month earlier than Jennette normally left the packages, Victoria would know they were for Christmas.
“I believe I owe you an apology,” Matthew said softly.
“Oh?”
“You refuse to make this easy on me.” He leaned forward and clasped her hands.
“And for what do you apologize? Believing the worst of me? Calling me spoiled? Or kissing me without my permission?”
His sensual smile made her heart pound wildly in her chest. “I will never apologize for kissing you, Jennette.”
She could only stare at his face. The shadows in the carriage made it difficult but she could close her eyes and remember every detail. She would love to sketch him, or better, paint his portrait. Charcoal would never do justice to the strands of red in his dark brown hair. Nor would it capture his eyes—the color of a stormy day.
“But I do owe you an apology for thinking the worst of you. I had no idea you were buying all those items for the orphans.”
“You never asked. You just assumed I was buying for myself.”
He looked down at the floor of the carriage. “I made a dreadful error. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”
A part of her wanted to mock him further, but he did look sincere. “Apology accepted.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me what you were doing?” he asked softly.
“I do not buy the children clothing so everyone can congratulate me on being such an upstanding lady.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because the children should have decent clothes to wear. Because Victoria is a dear friend but won’t take money from me out of pride.” She paused then whispered, “Because it is the right thing to do and I have the means to do it.”
He nodded. “And you don’t care what people think of you.”
If only he knew the inaccuracy of his statement. “If they wish to believe I’m a frivolous spendthrift, then let them. I know the truth.”
“And now, so do I.”