Joan nodded. “I’ll look into it today.”
Sandra answered. “The woman who contacted me is Miss Corinne Vanderhaul. Mention my name when you meet her. She’ll explain what is needed. You can reach her by sending a missive to the hospital. She’s expecting some referrals.”
“Thank you.” Joan squeezed her friend’s hand and moved to leave, but heard her name.
“Lady Joan?”
Joan turned toward the voice and noted the one new face in their meeting. She moved to offer a kind welcome, but the girl was quicker and extended her gloved hand as Joan approached.
“Forgive me for being so bold, but I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Miss Bronson, my father is Baron Treyson. I believe I saw you last night at the Moorson rout.”
Joan grasped her hand. “Yes, indeed, I was there. And it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Is this your first time attending? Or have you met with a different chapter before?”
Miss Bronson shook her head, her brunette curls swaying as her brown eyes widened. “This is my first time, and I’m quite certain my mother wouldn’t approve, but my father is actually the one who suggested I attend. He’s forward-thinking.”
“How lovely! What a blessing. Does that put him at odds with your mother, however?”
Miss Bronson grinned. “Only if she finds out.”
Joan giggled. “I see. Then I suppose it’s best if she does not.”
“Indeed.” The young woman grasped her skirt nervously. “I overheard a little of the conversation between you and Mrs. Bookman. If I may be so bold, would you mind if I accompanied you? I’d love to help in any way I can.”
“Of course, I’m sure they can use all the help they can get. I was planning on sending a missive to the contact Sandra gave me this afternoon. I can send a message to you when I find out what’s needed. Or would that not be good since you’re trying to keep this from your mother?”
Miss Bronson twisted her lips. “That could be a problem. However, since it is the Foundling Hospital, I can say I’m volunteering, not how I came about volunteering. Perhaps that will solve the problem.”
“Brilliant.” Joan said her goodbyes to the rest of the ladies and proceeded to her carriage. But as she started on her way home, her chest grew tight and her mind uneasy as she considered her voiced opinions at the meeting and how they correlated with her earlier conversation with the Duke of Westmore.
The rain started to fall in gentle drips that slid down the glass of the carriage, adding to her melancholy mood. The next social event was on Friday, and thus several days away, and unless the duke paid a social visit, she would be carrying this troublesome burden of irritation along with her for the next few days. Assuming he’d even noticed, or cared, that she had been put out with his words.
Frustration clenched her belly as she realized how this was another constraint on women in society. If she were given the same social latitude as a man, she could direct her carriage to his residence, seek an audience with him, and have a civil conversation.
But because she was an unmarried woman, she had to wait on his leisure or inclination to remedy the rift.
Again, assuming he noticed or cared.
She wanted him to care.
She tipped her head to the side as she considered that truth. She wanted the Duke of Westmore to care, to think highly of her opinions and thoughts, to…favor them. It was a sobering realization, and in her current frame of mind, she further considered if this was also a societal constraint on women.
Or if this was something more.
Like falling in love.
And if so, that put her at a far greater disadvantage.
Because what if he didn’t return the interest?
She thought back to the suitors who had paid her court the day after her come-out and would probably come to her at-home hours today as well. The duke had not participated in the courtship ritual of paying a social call. No, his social call had been directed at her brother.
She had seen him first and proceeded to have a conversation.
A conversation that she still carried with her.
Drat the man.
The carriage came to a halt in front of her home, and with a resigned huff, she straightened her gloves and stepped out onto the gravel of the driveway. Taking the stone steps, she made her way through the door and down the hall toward the grand staircase. What she wanted was to find a distraction from caring about the Duke of Westmore and wondering whether he happened to care about her. She was almost to the stairs when she heard her brother’s voice.