“Mr. Winters,” Miss Walters called. “Perhaps just one.”
The damn man slid behind him, crossing and lighting a candle just next to Miss Penny Walters.
He straightened up with a breath of irritation. What was happening that she’d usurped him in his own house? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the man to get out of the room. For that matter, the man could leave the house entirely. But the words died on his lips.
Because Mr. Winters had never been a normal butler and Logan was used to the man, he supposed.
But he soon forgot all about his errant butler. Because bloody hell if Miss Walters wasn’t even more lovely with added light. “Mr. Winters, after Miss Walters is gone, you and I need to have a chat.”
“Of course, my lord,” the man answered, sounding wholly unconcerned. Then the butler left again without another word.
Penny cleared her throat. He studied her again and noted that while her features were as stunning as he’d first imagined, her clothing left a great deal to be desired. Threadbare, her dress looked as though it had been mended several times. His little Penny was as poor as her name implied.
“My lord, you’re right of course. I only need a moment of your time.”
“How much?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“I beg your pardon. How much of what? Time? As I said, just a moment,” she said, her brows drawing together.
Her hand trembled ever so slightly, betraying her nerves. Somehow that knowledge helped him relax. She wasn’t as immune to him as he’d first believed. He leaned against the door jamb, one foot kicking in front of the other. She’d unsettled him after a long day and her calm had further made him feel inferior.
He’d been an ass for forgetting their meeting, he knew that. But he was also the one with the fat purse. He could afford to be ill-mannered. She could not, he thought dryly.
“How much money do you need for your orphanage?” he asked, crossing his arms. Best to move her out as quickly as possible and now that he thought about it, he might feel better to have accomplished one of Daring’s two goals so quickly. He was glad she’d stayed after all.
“Well,” she paused “One thousand five hundred pounds—”
“Done,” he said before she could finish.
One of her brows quirked. “Annually should suffice for this first house.”
His teeth ground together. “Three thousand pounds this one time and I want my name on the front plaque of the orphanage.”
She shook her head. “The sum is very generous but without an annual income, I cannot afford the plaque because there will be no orphanage.”
He scrubbed his face then. “Try to understand, Miss Walters, that a one-time sum is all I am willing to contribute.” It would fulfill Daring’s request and allow him to move forward with the deal. That was all he really cared about.
She let out a sigh, her bosom rising in the most alluring way. “Very well. But you’ll have to provide the plaque yourself.”
Chapter Two
Lord, this man was odious.
Penny shifted, ever so slightly. She’d learned to adjust her posture without actually appearing to move in her first orphanage at the age of twelve. The head mistress had insisted that they line up in perfectly straight lines and stand there for a very long time. It was an exercise in patience and conformity and Penny, disliking the little wooden stick used for corrections, had been an apt pupil.
He didn’t seem to notice her movement and stared back at her with a thoughtful expression, his eyes crinkled at the corners.
She’d calmed the beast that had roared into the room, at least. It was her gift. Stay calm, talk slowly, ask for what you want with a concise detachment.
And he was a man who was used to people bending to his will. It was written in every handsome line of his face.
The Earl of Goldthwaite.
He was nothing like who she’d been expecting. His features were gorgeous with a square jaw, blond hair, and piercing golden eyes. But he had all the warmth of marble.
His broad shoulders flexed as he pushed off the door jamb. “Three thousand pounds and a plaque?” He scratched his chin. “Very well. You’ve got a deal.”
A rush of pleasure coursed through her. While the donation was not what she’d hoped, that sum would sustain them for two or even three years. Maybe more if she stretched. They needed a new home, of course. And she wouldn’t be able to buy one with this sum. But they’d eat and they’d have clothes. The house would just have to wait.
It wasn’t just the space. More and more fine streets of London were moving the lower classes out and pressing them together into the East End. The neighborhood was changing, growing rougher.
Penny flexed her hands. That was a problem for another day. At least they’d eat and be warm. There was plenty of time to find other benefactors that would allow her to purchase a larger facility.
The very idea made her exhausted. It was so hard to navigate this world on her own but a single thought of the four girls depending on her and she straightened her shoulders. They didn’t deserve to stand in perfectly straight lines with whip marks on the back of their legs as correction.
That was what she offered. A real life for them and a real home. Like she’d had as a young child. It had been ripped from her of course, and part of her yearned to have that life back, but at least she had her memories of a loving family and a real home. And she’d give that to these girls no matter how hard it was.
She stretched out her hand once more. Would he refuse to shake it again? Her breath caught as he tentatively reached out. He’d already removed his gloves and his skin slid against the fabric covering hers, which sent an unexpected shiver racing down her back. His hand was strong, but his fingers were elegant, and they made her stomach flutter in the strangest way.
“Thank you, my lord.” Heat filled her cheeks and she looked to the side at an overstuffed chair rather than at him.
“I’ll have to collect the funds. Shall we meet here the day after tomorrow, say ten in the morning?”
She gave a curt nod, disappointment making her breath stall. She didn’t relish another day wasted in waiting. “Perhaps you could leave the funds with Mr. Winter just in case you’re not here.”
He chuckled then, low and deep. “So you weren’t happy about waiting after all.”
She blinked, her gaze snapping back to his, which might have been a mistake, his eyes seemed to see straight into her. She had the feeling of being exposed and she visibly shifted this time. “Would you be?” she asked by way of response. She’d been furious. But she’d learned a long time ago that persistence was her best ally. The few donations she’d managed to obtain from other members of the peerage or from successful merchants had come from calm persistence and incessant smiling, and so she’d quelled her anger and settled in to wait. The first few hours had been rather nice.
The walk had been long, and her life was rather busy, so resting here on his exceptionally comfortable furniture had been a welcome change. But as the hours had stretched, she knew Clarissa was bound to be worried. And she dreaded the return walk home. The East End of London was no place for a woman to travel alone at night.
She’d liked to have vented her frustration the way he had. But that never got her anywhere. So she’d held it in.