Page 22 of Too Scot to Handle
The words ‘Oh, this old thing?’ were on the tip of Anwen’s tongue, exactly what Lady Rosalyn would have said.
“Thank you, but flattery at this hour isn’t necessary, my lord. Shall we ride on?”
“Flattery ought never to be necessary, but sincere compliments are always appropriate. Tell me something you admire about me.”
Was this flirtation? Before the sun had even gained the horizon? “I’d rather discuss the House of Urchins with you.”
“Now,” he said, petting his horse’s neck, “there you go being tenacious and devoted to your cause, which I admire about you. I’m determined to practice my social discourse this morning, so you will please oblige me with a compliment.”
Anwen was tempted to argue that the orphanage was more important, but she sensed Lord Colin would only turn that to more banter—while he gently stroked his horse’s crest.
Where to start? He was a kind and genial escort to his sisters.
He thought for himself when it came to training horses rather than accepting sermons handed down since Xenophon had been a boy.
He was loyal to his friends.
He didn’t idle about waiting for a quarterly allowance when he could instead apply himself to gainful occupation.
He was patient, deft, and gentle when untangling bonnet ribbons and hairpins.
“You apply commonsense to the business of whether to wear a hat for a morning gallop.”
“Do you hear that, Charlie?” The gelding’s ears swiveled at the use of his name. “I’m a sensible fellow, at least where my hat is concerned. That is a unique compliment, Miss Anwen, and I shall treasure it. Is that Rosecroft showing off at such an early hour?”
Cousin Devlin’s horses were taught classical airs, and this morning he was schooling his gelding in passage.
“Rosecroft makes a dashing picture, wouldn’t you agree, my lord?”
“He’s dashing, but I’m sensible. I prefer the compliment you gave me to the one you gave him. How bad is the shortage of funds at your orphanage?”
Anwen told him, told him at length how ineffectual the directors were at addressing the problem—how unmotivated.
“I suspect the problem isn’t a lack of motivation so much as a lack of imagination,” Lord Colin said when they’d been riding for thirty minutes. “These are not people who’ve ever had to earn coin, much less manage it to the penny. They are out of their depth.”
“But they are from the best families, all of them claiming significant wealth. Imagination won’t feed my boys.”
“At the risk of contradicting a lady, I humbly suggest you’re wrong. The building that houses your orphanage is enormous, and yet, you don’t have it filled nearly to capacity.”
“We can’t afford to fill it to capacity,” Anwen shot back. “Every extra boy means more food, more candles, more laundry, more—”
“So rent out the nicest rooms to young gentlemen, and provide them breakfast trays, laundry service, and a stall in the mews for a horse. The boys can learn to be valets, footmen, and grooms. Moreover, the children will hear proper diction from young toffs every day, as well as earn coin from the occasional vale.
“The gentlemen get safe, affordable accommodations with all the amenities,” he went on, “and the cachet of aiding a worthy cause without spending any extra to do it—while spending less, in fact, than they’d pay at the Albany or many of their clubs.”
The sun chose that moment to break through the trees, which surely qualified as an omen from on high. Anwen turned the scheme over in her mind—the empty accommodations at the House of Urchins could generate coin, staff on hand could provide services for hire, and the paying boarders could teach the boys skills.
She could find no fault with it. None at all. “How did you come up with this idea, Lord Colin? Have you read about it in some book or seen it done in Scotland?”
Like many brilliant notions, this scheme had why didn’t I think of that written all over it, not that anybody would have listened to Anwen if she’d suggested it.
“If Hamish hadn’t opened up the townhouse, I’d be one of those young gentlemen, looking for a quiet, modest place to retreat to when being useless, drunk, and merry paled. Such lodgings are nearly impossible to find during the season, though we’ve missed the opportunity for this year.”
“But it’s an idea, and the little season attracts some young men to Town, at least until the hunting starts. The holidays are the same, and as soon as Parliament sits again…”
Anwen had been out of bed for well over an hour, but Lord Colin’s casual suggestion woke her up in a way tea and toast, and even fresh morning air, had not.
“You don’t think we could start this scheme anytime soon?” she asked.
