Page 16 of Pining for Lord Lockhart
“Certainly. You don’t think that just because she’s doing something wrong, something that is likely paying for her food, that I would refuse to help her?”
He held up his hands. “I’m saying, will she get to keep anything you give her?”
As they watched the girl run by the man again, depositing more into his hands—which he stuffed in the bag on his shoulder—she realized the truth of what he was saying reflected her own fears.
She wanted to help that girl. More than anything, she just wanted her to have a bite to eat. Charity jumped out of the carriage.
And Lord Lockhart followed right after.
Every eye on the street noticed them. Most pretended to still be about their activities but Charity felt a very real scrutiny.
The young girl ran toward them, but before she could get close enough to bump into her, Charity slipped a biscuit in her hand.
The girl stopped, almost tripping up. “What’s this?”
“I remember you, from last night. You asked for a bit of bread.”
Her eyes widened. “You came back.” She looked from her to Lord Lockhart. “To give me food?” Her eyes narrowed.
The man in the corner stood taller, watching them.
“Eat it. It’s yours.” Charity smiled. “I have more. Are you hungry?”
The girl almost swallowed it whole and so Charity shared cheese with her next. And then another biscuit.
“If I give you more to take with you, will you have to give it away?”
Her face filled with fear and she ran.
Charity walked through the crowd, handing out some of Cook’s finest morsels until her satchel was empty, and they returned to the carriage.
On their return to the duchess’ townhome, they said little. Her mind was racing with thoughts, plans, hopes, logistics. But after a moment she sat back in frustration.
“I don’t know the slightest thing about running a school.”
“Nor I. But I’ve been to one, so that helps somewhat perhaps.”
When they arrived, she waved him in. “You must join us. We have preparations for the salon to complete, but perhaps after, with a few remaining friends we can discuss more about the school.”
He followed her into the house. The smells of breakfast filled the air, and his stomach rumbled.
“We might take the morning meal as well. Come.” She led him into what looked like a smaller dining room. Breakfast was set up on the side table and the duke sat with multiple papers and flyers on the table in front of him.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” Charity curtseyed. He was a dear man, no matter that he complained of her blue influences on the duchess.
He lifted his eyes and then his eyebrows as he eyed Lord Lockhart. “Lockhart.” His tone a greeting, a question and a warning all in one; the man knew how to act in his station, certainly.
“Your Grace.” He bowed.
“Lord Lockhart is here for breakfast and to aid with the salon we are hosting.”
“I’ll be making my way to Whites. You’re free to join me if you like.” He went back to reading his paper. Charity smiled to see the latest Whims and Fancies column on the back of the page he was reading.
“Kate’s been writing about gloves of late.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, she’s determined that more color make an appearance.”
