Page 67 of The Devil and the Heiress
No one but August, and the gossips who continued to speculate about the state of their relationship, knew that she hadn’t spoken to him in months. No one but her immediate family knew that he would not be able to summon such a large donation from his own personal wealth. Had he used her funds? The funds that he had sworn were hers alone? She didn’t think he would, but she hadn’t actually required Mr. Clark to show her the monthly transactions.
“Is everything all right?” Helena asked.
Violet nodded, but she didn’t know.
“I don’t have to tell you how much this means to us. We can help to improve so many lives. Many more children will be able to be raised by their mothers instead of given away. We can train and educate even more women to improve the jobs available to them.”
“Yes, it’s wonderful. I shall tell Christian myself how his gift has been received.” It was wonderful. The unease swirling in her belly was due to the fact that he hadn’t told her any of this.
Helena smiled. “You must be very proud of him.”
“Well, yes...” There was something more in Helena’s eyes, something lurking behind that statement. “Why do you say that?”
Helena rose and walked over to the desk where newspapers had been left to pile up in various stages of being read. Rifling through them, she retrieved the one she was looking for. “He had an essay published on the need to reform married women’s rights. It’s caused quite a stir among the stodgy set.”
Violet accepted the newspaper from her. She had stopped reading the papers when the gossips had decided her relationship with her husband was too much to ignore. When they had begun to write of the rift between them, she had told Winston to keep all the papers for himself.
The article’s headline read, “Marriage Turns Devilish Earl into a Saint for Women.” The reporter began by outlining the argument Christian laid out in his essay: that married women should possess their own legal identities and be allowed to control their own assets. The reporter referred to the essay as “a love letter to his wife.” She couldn’t help but smile at that. Was that why Christian had written it? Was he wanting to win her back, or did he really believe those things? Or were both possible?
The piece went on to discuss speeches Christian hadgiven earlier in the summer regarding protections for women and children who worked in factories. She hadn’t known about those. While some supported his stand, the newspaper maintained that many were offended by his insinuation that those needs exist. The article even commented on the fact that the Belgravia house was staffed by only women, as if it were further proof of Christian’s taking the side of the women. The assertion wasn’t quite true, given that Winston and Thomas still held their positions, but close enough to the truth to print, apparently.
“Leigh’s essay is on the next page if you want to read it,” said Helena.
Violet turned the page and skimmed his words, hearing them spoken in his voice in her head. He admitted with humility that he had not deigned to notice the abysmal state of the law in regards to women until his own wife had been forced to hand over complete control of her finances to him. He had been unable to find a legal way for her to even receive an allowance from her family without it passing through him. He had looked! A tender ache swelled in her chest. If he was so troubled by the law, then certainly he had been telling the truth about not wanting her settlement. Love unfurled in her heart after months of shielding itself.
“He has changed so much since your marriage, Violet. You’ve influenced him for the better.”
She saw his face as it had been that night in their tiny bedchamber above the Mitchells’ kitchen when she had mentioned marriage. A shy and tender sort of hope had passed over his features as he had offered his heart to her. These actions she would believe from that man. Perhaps that man was who he really was. Perhaps the man before, the man who had schemed to marry her for his own will, the man who had lied to her, was not who he was at all, not underneath where it mattered.
“I don’t believe that people truly change,” she said.
It was true of her parents. This mercenary side of them had always been present. Violet had realized that over time as she had examined their actions here in London and compared them to their actions back home. They were the same people, but circumstances had changed. Perhaps the same could be said of Christian. Perhaps he had been warm until circumstances he had faced as a child had made him cold to protect himself. It didn’t mean that the warmth was gone, only that it had been hidden deep. She had gotten too many glimpses of his warmth to think it had never existed.
“This side of him has always been present.” No matter what else had happened, that much was true. She was certain of it.
“Well, you certainly brought more of it out of him, my dear.”
She had. Being together had brought out the best in both of them. If she was right about that, then she had wasted so much time.
“Helena, I’m sorry, but I must be going.” It was late afternoon, and she still had to drive home to retrieve her ledger before going to Mr. Clark’s office before he left for the day. She would get to the bottom of this right now. Knowing where he had acquired the funds for the donation would answer a few of her questions.
“Of course.” The woman rose with her. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I think so.”
She called out a quick goodbye and hurried to her carriage, giving her direction to her driver. On the entire drive, she wondered if perhaps she had been as right as she had been wrong. Infatuation would have passed, so what she still felt for him was love. It wasn’t a spell or a trick. It was her own heart. But how could she trust him if he had done what logic said that he must have? If he had used her funds for the donation?
Traffic was slow, and with the stop at home it was anhour later when she stepped into Mr. Clark’s office. She had only been here once before, because he usually came to her home. She wasn’t surprised that his clerk failed to recognize her.
“Good afternoon, madam.” The young man stood and gave her a respectful once-over, though the creases in his forehead wondered what she was doing here.
“Good afternoon. I do not have an appointment, and I apologize for bursting in like this, but I must speak to Mr. Clark at once.” She glanced toward the closed office door beyond, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man through the glass.
“My apologies, madam, but he is extremely busy. If you would like, I can make an appointment for you.” He was already pulling an appointment diary from underneath the papers littering his desk.
“No, I must speak with him now. Tell him Lady Leigh is here.”
The man dropped the book, his eyes wide in shock. “I shall try, my lady.” With that he knocked on the door once before disappearing inside. When he returned a moment later, it was to nearly run into her standing at the door awaiting him. “Yes, he will see you now.”
