Page 8 of Too Scot to Handle
Drat the luck. “One doesn’t speak of financial matters.”
Lord Colin laughed, a hearty sound at variance with the stillness and greenery around them. In two hours, the park would be as busy as the surrounding streets, but the fashionable hour had yet to arrive.
“Financial matters are what make the world go ’round, Miss Anwen. You can bet that your uncle the duke and his duchess discuss financial matters, everything from the news on ’Change, to the budget for candles, to the latest attempt by Parliament to fleece the yeoman of his profits.”
Anwen had thought to enjoy a pretty day, but if she didn’t raise the topic of the orphanage’s finances with Lord Colin, then with whom could she have that discussion? The Windham ducal heir, the Earl of Westhaven, was the family accountant, but he was also…Westhaven. If Anwen brought up a financial matter with him, he’d smile sweetly, ask after her health, and admire her bonnet.
Oh, to be six years old and once again regarded as the tempestuous Great Fire of the Windham family.
“You’ve gone silent,” Lord Colin said. “I hope I haven’t given offense.”
“I’m thinking. My orphanage is in want of funds. I’d like to propose a means of addressing that problem to the directors, for they’ll tut-tut and such-a-pity while my boys are turned out onto the streets again. The Lords will dash off to their house parties in July and their grouse moors in August, and the children will never know safety or security again.”
Some of the boys were eager for that fate to befall them, especially now that spring had arrived.
“You are asking me how an orphanage might raise funds?”
How refreshing. Lord Colin wasn’t laughing or peering down his nose at her.
“Indeed, I am. Mr. Hitchings advised me to hold a charity ball, bat my eyelashes, and hope the attendees are motivated to part with coin on the basis of my flirtation.”
“Many would be happy to part with coin if you held a charity ball.” Lord Colin didn’t come right out and say it: If you held yet another boring, predictable, dull, barely endurable charity ball.
Anwen wouldn’t want to attend, much less organize, such a gathering.
“Say I hold a ball. Then what happens next year when the funds are again exhausted? I repeat my performance? What if something happens to me? What if my simpering isn’t convincing enough? The children still have to eat, and they have nothing and no one without that orphanage.”
Anwen surprised herself with the vehemence of her response, but when both Lady Rosalyn and her brother had failed to attend today’s meetings, Lord Derwent, the chairman of the board of directors, had declared that without a quorum, he could only preside over an informational meeting.
Hitchings had informed them funds were running short. Fifteen minutes of throat-clearing and paper-shuffling later, the meeting had broken up with nothing decided and no plans in train.
“Has anybody told you that you’re fierce?” Lord Colin asked.
“Not since I was six years old.”
“Well, you are. Give me a moment to think, because in your present mood, only a well-thought-out answer will do.”
He’d not only taken her question seriously, he’d paid her a compliment. “Take as long as you need, Lord Colin. If the topic were easily addressed, every orphan in London would have a secure future.”
* * *
Silly and Charming—Scylla and Charybdis—were on their best behavior, suggesting Miss Anwen met with their approval. The geldings also liked Hamish and Edana, and they positively purred when Rhona accompanied Colin.
For Miss Anwen, they’d gone beyond purring to perfectly matching their steps, and spanking along at a trot Colin could have set his watch to. More than a few horsemen stopped to gawk, though in all eyes, Colin could see the question: Wonder what he paid for that pair?
“Has anybody explained the concept of interest to you?” Colin asked the lady beside him.
“As in, small boys have an interest in sweets?”
All boys had an interest in sweets of some sort. Miss Anwen had no brothers. No wonder her urchins fascinated her.
“Not quite,” Colin said. “If you wanted to borrow your sister Charlotte’s blue parasol, and she agreed, but said in return, you had to lend her your green parasol for an outing in two weeks, that would be an exchange without the financial version of interest.”
“We’d be trading favors, which we do all the time.”
“Correct. If Charlotte instead said that yes, you could borrow her parasol, provided that in two weeks’ time, she could borrow both your parasol and your favorite reticule, that would be a transaction where she was said to charge you interest.”
“The extra cost to me for borrowing her parasol is interest?”
